Never Ever

27| Breathe

I wake up on the morning of tryouts with the world's worst headache. I call it my swimming headache because it always rears its head on the day of a meet, but I'm determined not to let it get to me.

After downing a few painkillers, I start with breakfast and land drills before sitting on the edge of my bed, Ipad in hand, and pulling up my notes.

You'd think I was interviewing for the C.I.A., given the amount of research I've put into this. I'd filled out all the registration forms, paid the seventy dollars to become a member of USMS, and now each section of my notes is divided into sub-divisions, from who the coaches at Shore Aquatics are to a detailed, annotated pool map.

I scan it twice over, feeling the familiar uptick in my heart. There's a brief chat with the coach before tryouts, so a page of notes is dedicated to the club's founder, Ariana Jackson.

According to their website, Coach Jackson has done everything from swimming in nationals to coaching college swim teams, all of which went on to beat national records, so clearly, I'll be in good hands. If I make it, that is.

I'm still analyzing my notes when my phone vibrates. I look at the screen, spotting the first line of the Instagram message, and my heart skips.

Big day, Blue.

I re-read the message at least three times before writing back: I hadn't noticed, Atterwood.

He starts typing, then stops, then types again. I have practice tonight, and I'm a dead man if I miss it, but can I drop you to tryouts?

I'm about to type no way before realizing it comes off as abrupt. It's not that I have anything against Noah riding with me to tryouts – in fact, it's kind of sweet – but I know it will only make things worse in the end.

For as long as I can remember, the drive to swim meets has always involved me, my headphones, and some form of a window to stare aimlessly out of, because it was the only way I coped with the nerves. It's how I plan to survive today, too.

Thank you, but I need to do this alone.

He doesn't respond for a few minutes, and I wonder if maybe I've hurt his feelings when a message comes through: Want to meet me after to celebrate?

I can't help it; I smile. You don't even know if I'll make it.

You will, so...Want to celebrate?

For a minute, I forget how insanely nervous I am and fight another smile. You've exceeded your message quota.

I'll make it up to you later.

My heart skips for the second time, but instead of wanting to run a mile, I find myself typing back: You better.

I rush to click send, knowing his eyes will be bulging right now, and then I tuck my phone away. Unfortunately, I have several classes before tryouts tonight, so after another glance at my schedule, I leave a snoring Addy behind and head to the coffee shop.

I've barely sat down and opened my Ipad when Natalia slinks into the seat opposite. "Hey," she says, clutching her to-go cup. "Mind if I sit with you?"

Despite the knots in my stomach, I smile and say, "Sure."

Sipping our coffee, we spend a few awkward minutes catching up about classes before Natalia says, "So, Addy tells me we're officially sharing a room for Cabo." She leans forward a little, dropping her voice as if ready to tell me a secret. "Although I'll tell you now, I am so not looking forward to sharing a room with Addy. That girl snores like a foghorn."