Chapter Text
I had made a mistake joining the swim team at my new school.
It was hard being the new kid, let alone the new, poor kid, so I’d thought that joining a team would be a good idea. Plus, it had the added benefit of looking good on my college applications. Swimming had seemed like the natural choice—basically a solo sport, cheap, and I could swim well enough.
Well enough, however, was not good enough for my swim coach.
“Listen up, everyone,” Ms. Coleson called from the front of the bus. Despite the fact that it was moving, she was standing on her seat and facing us, expression stern. “You all know the expectations for today.”
Yes, she had made her expectations for today perfectly clear. We were an okay school—public, not private—and yet, somehow, we were in the same class as the ultimate private school, Heights Country Day. Unfortunately for us, Ms. Coleson had a vendetta against that school, and she was determined to beat them today.
“I know for some of you, this will be your first time swimming against HCD, but that is no excuse. We need to be on our A-game, people. We’re not just going to beat them today—we’re going to crush them,” Ms. Coleson said, making a fist and hitting it on the back of the seat.
“Seems a little overzealous,” I muttered under my breath. Beside me, there was a short burst of laughter. I glanced over, across the aisle, to see Thomas smothering the rest of his laughs under his hand.
Thomas looked exactly like a professional swimmer, leanly muscled with a broad chest and back; he probably was the best swimmer on the team. As a junior, I hadn’t expected him to talk to me, a lowly sophomore, but he was kind and had helped me rise to the challenges that Ms. Coleson had presented.
Thomas glanced up at Ms. Coleson, who was still talking though most people had stopped listening, and hopped across the aisle to sit beside me.
“Nervous, Grambs?” he asked.
“Just that Ms. Coleson is going to make us all swim a million laps if we lose this meet,” I said.
“She won’t,” he assured me. “Only like a hundred.”
I groaned, my arms already aching. Thomas laughed again and nudged me with his shoulder.
“I’m kidding! Everything will be okay,” he promised.
“You sure?”
“For you? Definitely. You’ve done a lot of good work these past few weeks, and the underclassmen at HCD aren’t where we struggle. It’s the upperclassmen.”
“So, the people you swim against?”
“Pretty much.” Thomas shrugged. “I’m just thankful I don’t have to go against Hawthorne. That’s Greg’s job.”
I cocked my head. “Hawthorne?”
Thomas stared at me, a little incredulous. “You know, the Hawthornes? Tobias Hawthorne? The billionaire?”
“I don’t pay attention to rich people,” I told him. I was much too concerned with my own survival, not the thriving of the one percent.
“He’s the richest person in Texas,” Thomas informed me. “He’s got four grandsons, and three of them are currently enrolled at HCD.”
“And one of them’s a good swimmer?” I guessed.
“Nationally ranked,” Thomas said.
My eyes widened. “Damn.”
“Yeah, but like I said, I don’t have to swim against him. He’s a senior this year, so maybe next year we’ll have a chance at actually winning.” Thomas shrugged as if to say, What can you do?
“So, basically, there’s no escaping Ms. Coleson’s wrath?”
“None.”
“Great.” I dragged out the middle of the word as I slumped back against the seat.
“On the bright side,” Thomas said, reaching out to pat me on the head, “Grayson Hawthorne is hot.”
I gave an over dramatic gasp of surprise. “Thomas, are you fraternizing with the enemy? What would Ms. Coleson say?”
Thomas snorted. “I wish. I’ll point him out to you, and you’ll see what I’m talking about. He makes everyone weak in the knees.”
I rolled my eyes. “Not me. I don’t have time for boys.”
Thomas gave me a look. “For Grayson Hawthorne, you’d make time. Trust me.”
I simply shook my head and turned my attention back to Ms. Coleson, who was still talking. I didn’t care what Thomas said—I had too many things going on to worry about a boy, no matter how cute he might be.
My hair was a wet, chlorinated mess. I tightened my pony tail at the base of my skull, checking on the band of elastic to make sure it hadn’t loosened. I was thankful, though, to have taken off the rubber swim cap. It pulled at my hairline, and honestly, no one looked good in those.
My laps for the meet were over, so now I just got to sit on the bench in my swim jacket, a thick, black material that fell to my knees. I pulled the ends of my jacket closer together, shivering a little. Despite the warmth of the water and the humidity of the room, the air still held the chill of January.
Thomas walked past in his tiny swimming shorts and cap. I gave him a thumbs up as he passed, but he stopped and bent down to whisper in my ear.
“The guy on the opposite end of the pool, with the blond hair and the navy shorts? That is Grayson Hawthorne,” he told me. I rolled my eyes and shoved at his shoulder.
“Go swim,” I said. Thomas just laughed, taking a couple steps backward before giving me a salute and turning to go get in place for his swim time.
Still, I found my eyes searching for the boy that he’d pointed out, just to see what all of the fuss was about. He was fairly easy to spot. I had a feeling that I could have picked him out of a crowd, even if Thomas hadn’t told me what to look for—there was just something about him, something that made people stare.
From far away, I couldn’t make out much about the boy aside from the blond hair and the lean build. He looked like a swimmer; I watched as he leaned down to grab something, and the muscles in his back flexed enticingly.
A whistle blew, and I tore my eyes away from the Hawthorne boy and over to where Thomas had jumped into the pool. I joined the rest of my teammates in cheering for Thomas, forcing myself to focus on his laps. I clapped half-heartedly along with everyone else as he swam, coming in second to the swimmer from Heights Country Day.
I chanced a glance over at Ms. Coleson—her lips were pressed in a thin, white line as her nostrils flared, a clipboard under her arm as she clapped. Almost as if she knew I was looking at her, Ms. Coleson’s eyes locked with mine.
“Avery,” she shouted over the noise, “come over here.”
I winced but did as I was told. The whistle blew again and the sound of splashing filled the air as the next round of swimmers entered the pool. I came to a stop in front of Ms. Coleson and crossed my arms over my chest, pulling the large sleeves of the jacket over my hands.
“Yes, Ms. Coleson?” I asked.
She pulled out her clipboard and looked at it. “Your swim times were impressive today.”
My jaw dropped, but I shut it as quickly as I could, hoping she hadn’t seen it with her eyes on the clipboard.
“Really?” I was disbelieving.
Ms. Coleson nodded. “I can tell that you’ve been putting in the work. I know that this year has probably been hard for you, but I appreciate—”
“Jane!” A man appeared beside Ms. Coleson. He had an easy smile and long arms, slinging one over her shoulder. Ms. Coleson stiffened, hands tightening around her clipboard so much so that her knuckles turned white.
“Henry,” Ms. Coleson managed to get out through gritted teeth. “Shouldn’t you be with your team?”
“My kids know what to do, and I wanted to come say hi to an old friend,” the man, Henry, said.
“Hi.” Ms. Coleson practically spat the word.
Henry seemed to recognize that he was making her uncomfortable, but instead of backing off, he pushed forward.
“It’s nice to be competing against each other again, huh? Just like old times?” he prodded.
“There are several differences,” Ms. Coleson said.
I felt very awkward. For the first time, Henry seemed to notice me. He brightened immediately.
“Is this one of your swimmers?” He turned to me directly. “I saw you swimming earlier—you’ve got talent.”
“Uh, thanks?” I didn’t know what talent I had in regards to swimming—poker, more like it—but I didn’t really feel like arguing.
Henry’s eyes caught on something behind me, and then he waved. “Grayson, come here!”
My stomach dropped, and I fought the urge to turn around. Instead, I stood rigidly straight, rivalling Ms. Coleson, as the boy in question made his way to us. I felt more than saw him come up beside me, and I let out a breath, forcing myself to relax. I had never met this guy before; so what if I had spent half a minute checking him out? People checked other people out all of the time—it wasn’t like he could read my mind.
“Grayson, this is Jane Coleson. We used to swim against each other,” Henry said.
This, it seemed to me, was my chance to observe Grayson. He held a towel in his hand, drying off his blonde hair, strands of it sticking to his forehead. He had gray eyes that seemed to shift and move in the light. Water dripped down his bare torso, but I refused to let my eyes linger, lest I look like a creep. Or worse—a lovesick teenager.
Grayson smiled politely at Ms. Coleson. “It’s nice to meet you.”
His voice was infuriatingly pleasant, low and silky. He spoke with the assuredness of someone who knew that wherever they went, they would be liked.
Before Ms. Coleson could respond, Henry was talking once more. “Grayson is my best swimmer. I just took over this year, but from what I hear, he’s been at the top since he was a freshman.”
“That’s true,” Ms. Coleson said, fighting a grimace. “He’s been beating my kids at every meet for the past four years.”
Was there a way that I could sneak out of this conversation? I did not feel needed in any way, and I was growing increasingly aware of my awkwardness.
“Well, I think you’ve got a promising swimmer in this one.” Henry nodded towards me. “What’s your name again?”
I felt more than saw Grayson turn his gray eyes on me. My face burned.
“Avery,” I said. I squeezed my sides, hoping that I could fold myself into nothing and disappear. I didn’t like the feel of Grayson’s stare—or rather, I didn’t like that I liked the feel of his stare.
“I haven’t seen you before,” Grayson said. I forced myself to hold his gaze, to seem as unaffected as possible. And honestly, what was I doing, being reduced to a blushing mess by this boy I’d never met before? So what if he was hot? Plenty of people were hot, and those people were not worth the trouble.
“I just moved here this year,” I said, resolve settling into place.
“Did you swim at your old school?” Grayson asked.
“No.” I didn’t elaborate.
“Avery and I should get back to our team,” Ms. Coleson said, breaking me out of the staring contest that I’d suddenly found myself in with Grayson Hawthorne.
“Yeah, we should probably get back, too. I think the meet is almost over,” Henry said. He put his hands on his hips and sighed. “Well, I guess I’ll see you next week, Jane.”
Ms. Coleson pressed her lips together, as if to keep herself from screaming. I didn’t blame her. “Yes, I’ll see you then.” She stepped forward and placed a hand on my shoulder, turning me in the direction of my fellow swimmers. She kept her hand there as we walked towards the benches, and while normally, I would have been pissed at being led around, I was grateful for her hand. It kept me from looking back at Grayson.
Finally, Ms. Coleson let go of me, and I beelined for my spot, my towel still laying crumpled in a ball. Thomas sat beside it, peeling his swim cap off of his head. He smirked when he saw me approach.
“Did I see you talking to Grayson Hawthorne?” he teased.
I gave him an unimpressed look. “I said, like, ten words total.”
“Is he just as hot up close?” Thomas asked.
I rolled my eyes. “Stop talking.”
“Okay, okay,” Thomas said, laughing. “But seriously, what was that?”
“I have no idea. Ms. Coleson told me that my swim times were impressive, which was strange in and of itself, and then the swim coach from Heights Country Day came over, and Ms. Coleson started acting even stranger. He said that they used to swim together,” I said.
Thomas gasped. “Do you think they were a thing?”
I shrugged. “Maybe. Anyway, then the swim coach called Grayson over, and that was that. Nothing special.”
Thomas looked at me. “It didn’t look like nothing special.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“I’m just saying that the way Grayson Hawthorne was looking at you—it seemed a little special.” Thomas smirked. I stuck my tongue out at him.
“Whatever.” I shook my head and went about cleaning up my spot, shoving my towel into my bag. But I couldn’t help glancing over at Heights Country Day and seeking out blond hair. Almost as if he knew that I was staring, Grayson looked up and locked eyes with me.
I looked away and ignored the blush on my cheeks.