Never Ever

21| Once bitten, twice shy

If there's one thing I've always been good at, it's self-discipline. You have to be to meet the arduous demands of an athlete, and though it was hard - at times, impossible - I'd learned to keep my head above water no matter how much it felt like I was drowning.

Until Noah.

My reaction to him was the one thing I hadn't seen coming. It was like I'd been taken over by someone else last night, someone braver, bolder, and more trusting - someone I'd thought was gone. And that's one of the things I like about him, I realize.

He brings out the Ever in me.

It's also what scares me the most. While I can admit there are certain feelings to be had regarding Noah, it also means that sooner or later, I'm going to get hurt.

I always do.

***

I first met Aaron as a senior in my post-accident, everybody hates me, era. He was a freshman in college: kind, funny, and possibly the only person who used the local library more than I did, which is where we officially met.

My table was tucked away in the section of the library nobody bothered - or needed - to venture, and every night like clockwork, I'd sit in my seat, take out my Ipad, and gulp down a liter of water.

I wasn't an idiot, I knew the likelihood of rejoining the swim team was slim to none, but I kept up my routine as if one day, I would: two liters of water, daily land drills, and evening sessions in the gym followed by a night of intense studying.

On one particular night, I was more distracted than usual. It was meet night, which meant my former teammates would already be getting changed in the locker room and buzzing with that pre-meet excitement. And there I was, surrounded by books and torturing myself with thoughts of what if: what if I swam again? Would my teammates stop hating me? Would Coach take me back? Would I get to be me? By the time I looked up, a stranger had slipped into the seat opposite and pulled down his headphones.

The first thing I noticed was his size. He was tall and skinny, with broad shoulders seemingly too big for his frame and a thin, angular face. His hair was short and dark, messily tousled with just enough gel to keep it under control, and his eyes, blue and ringed with hollow shadows, scanned my face with intense focus.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

It was a question I hadn't expected from a stranger. My parents, sure - they'd asked me that question every day since the accident - but no one else had. They were too busy judging me.

It was why it took me a moment to say, "Define alright."

With a softened expression, he pulled out his backpack and emptied what looked like the entire contents of the vending machine onto the table. "I've got snacks and time. Wanna talk about it?"

Compelled by the growl in my stomach, I reached for the nearest chocolate bar. "Overachieving high schooler gets kicked off the swim team and is destined to spend the rest of her life unhappy-" I looked up and added, "-tale as old as time."

He stuck out a hand, his long, calloused fingers stretched toward mine, forcing me to shake it. "Self-professed loner who prefers reading to social interaction-" he paused and added, "-an even older tale."

"Then why are you talking to me?" I asked.

He leaned back and smiled. "Sometimes it's nice to break tradition. I'm Aaron, by the way."

"Ever," I said and smiled back.

From that moment on, we spent almost all our evenings together, either studying, eating, or talking about books - sometimes all three, and I loved it. After weeks of having nobody to talk to, I finally had a friend again.