“Because you’re making shit up.”
“Why?”
“Because Blomqvist fucks.”
I sit back in a semi-zonked state and force myself to think about Lukas
Blomqvist—a rare occurrence for me. People assume that I’m fascinated
with everything that goes on in a pool, but nope. The only sports I find
remotely interesting are diving and land-diving (or, as the normies call it,
gymnastics). The rest is out of my purview. There’s just too much stuff
going on in aquatics. I can’t keep track of Stanford’s water polo teams, let
alone the swimmers.
And yet, Blomqvist is hard to ignore. Because of the truckload of
medals, maybe. The world records. Plus, if the captain of my team is part of
an athletics power couple, it behooves me to be aware of its other half. And
Pen and Blomqvist have been dating since forever. For all I know, they
were betrothed at birth to cement US-Sweden diplomatic relations.
I close my eyes to resurface my spotty memories of him. Black
Speedos. Tattoos. Short, choppy brown hair. Above-average wingspan. The
majestic and yet improbable build of every other DI swimmer who ever
lived.
Victoria is right. We can safely hazard that yes, Blomqvist does fuck.
“I didn’t say he doesn’t. He’s great. Just not . . .” Pen winces, and it’s
such an odd break from her sparkling self-assurance, it slices right through
my mimosa haze.
The thing about Pen, she’s kinda great. Aspirational. The type of person
who instinctively knows how to make someone feel at ease. She’ll remind
you to drink water. Offer the ponytail holder on her wrist when your hair
sticks to your lips. Remember your half birthday. I could take personal
development workshops till I turn fifty and let a team of data analysts
reprogram me, but I still wouldn’t have a third of her charm, because
charisma like hers sprouts from base pairs nestled in chromosomes. And
now she’s biting into cuticles like she just discovered social anxiety? I don’t
love it.
“Just not . . . what I want. And honestly, vice versa,” she adds in a low
mumble.
“Which would be?” Bless Victoria for asking what I don’t have the
courage to. The extroverted, filterless member every team needs.
“Oh my god. I just want to . . . you know, sometimes . . .” Pen groans.