Changing Tides 《COMPLETE》

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Morning practice seems to last far longer than sitting through one of Roland's insufferable cooking shows. I get through my first 1000 meters and am ready to call it quits. My arms are shot, my legs are stiff, and my lungs are burning for more air. Somehow I manage to push through the pain, though.

Maybe it's because every time I get done with a lap, I think of Bennett's bet again and the need to win keeps me moving. Maybe it's the encouraging looks Roland keeps throwing my way. Or maybe it's just because I've felt so much failure in my life over the past year, I'm ready to start succeeding again.

By the time the final whistle sounds, I grip the edge of the pool like a lifeline. I pant in and out, the cool down doing little to slow my racing pulse. The guys in the other seven other lanes don't seem nearly as winded as I do. One by one they begin climbing out of the pool.

Erik notices me as he towels off and gives me a surprised smile and small wave. I nod my head to him in return. My eyes try to find Roland, and I eventually spot him near the starting block talking to who I assume to be Coach Andrews. Every once in a while, the pair of them glance over at me. Hopefully that's a good sign.

I wait until most of the team has made their way back into the locker room before pulling myself out of the pool with shaking arms. It's official – the second I get done with my math final, I'm crawling into bed and sleeping away the rest of the afternoon. Roland jogs over to me, beads of water sliding down the planes of his stomach.

If I didn't know the guy, I wouldn't peg him as a swimmer. Sure, he's tall and thin, but he's not all that muscular. Or athletic. He reminds me of one of those coffee snobs who uses fancy words and loves to talk all philosophical over a game of chess. Lucky for him, he's earned enough 'Trey Cool Points' to keep me on board with his friendship. Because I tell you what. If he was all about cooking shows, Calculus, and reading the morning newspaper, I would have written him off a long time ago.

"Nice work," Roland says – not breathless at all, by the way.

I try to make it seem like I'm not winded, but I know my cheeks are about as red as the coal in an old fashioned furnace. If he notices though, he doesn't make a comment. In fact, the longer he stands by me, the more I notice his features softening into an expression of pride.

"You looked great out there," Roland continues. "Reminded me of how you used to swim from back in the day."

"Surprised I could keep up?"

My best friend smirks. "A bit."

I roll my eyes and head towards the bench to grab my towel. Roland follows me over and takes a seat beside me. He notices I'm out of water and offers me his spare bottle of Gatorade. Punctual and prepared. Like always.

"Thanks," I say and twist the top open.

The two of us sit on the cool bench in comfortable silence, watching the few stragglers grab their things and head to the locker room. The last bit of movement in the pool has subsided, and once again the clear water smooths into a silky plane of perfection – still and untouched. Even though swimming is the last thing I want to do right now, seeing the pool in such a beautiful state makes me want to jump back in.

"Have you missed it?" Roland asks.

"Yea."

"I could tell."

I glance over and raise a brow. Roland takes a drink of his red Gatorade, and a single red droplet misses his mouth and slides down his lip and over the edge of his chin. He wipes it away with the corner of his towel.