The Line Below

by Ali Dean

  Weeks go by and Julian doesn’t approach me. Sometimes, I catch him looking at me at practice, but he doesn’t show up at our condo and he doesn’t try to talk to me. I want to assume he got over it, realized Jett and I are a real couple and came to his senses about pushing it.

  Kick hasn’t had another episode like our first meet. Actually, she doesn’t really party at all as far as I can tell. I’m spending a lot of time with Jett, and it’s not like I used to party with Kick all the time anyway, but Beatrice tells me Kick’s been laying low, binge-watching Netflix on the weekends instead of drinking and hooking up. She hasn’t talked to me about quitting the team again either. I should ask her about it, and I keep meaning to, but she seems all right and I have to wonder if maybe it was all just a reaction to a shitty day.

  I’ve never been so strong this early in the season in the pool. This past summer was the only one I trained straight through. I didn’t take any summer jobs or internships and focused only on training for trials, wanting to leave open the possibility that I’d be at the Olympics the rest of the summer. The consistency is paying off. That and simply building on one solid season after the next since I was five years old probably has something to do with it too. My times at these early meets are close to my PRs, and I nearly broke my own school record in the 100 fly at our December invitational meet in Arizona. It’s the first time I had some real competition and when I turned it up a notch, I had a lot more power than I was expecting.

  Coach Mandy recognizes this isn’t a situation where I’m going to crash and burn before championship season. I’m still building up my strength, not anywhere close to fatigued or ready for a break. She’s thrown me in the pool with the guys’ team for a few key butterfly workouts. It’s a little weird since I know it burns the guys’ egos that I’m faster than some of them. While Tori is close to my pace when she’s doing backstroke, and the top women freestylers are actually faster than me when I’m doing fly, there’s something about swimming with other butterfliers that can’t be replicated, even if they are dudes.

  Butterfly is the only stroke that can totally fall apart when you’re fatigued. Yeah, the other strokes start to get less efficient when the muscles are tired, but fly is actually difficult to do at all after a certain point. Knowing I’m not alone in it, that there are others trudging through the fly sets with me, trying desperately to keep that rhythm and not fall apart, it gets me through sets I never could have done on my own.

  The only problem is Julian – he’s a butterflier too. There are five of us in the lane. He always leads since he’s the fastest, and I’m usually third or fourth when I join them. Every time I pass him going the opposite direction in the line, there’s an unavoidable tug of comradery and connection, and I don’t like it, even as I can’t help it.

  I love the intense training though. Feeling so worn out with exhaustion after a solid set of fly that I know there was nothing left in me to give.

  And even as I train with deliberation and maybe even a little desperation, I fill out more applications for internships this summer. I’ve set a goal for myself, one that others on the team are now clued in on, but don’t know about the ultimatum. There’s already buzz about me taking the NCAA title in the 100 fly this year, and I won’t deny that’s what I want. If I get it? I’ll let myself ditch the internship to train all summer. And if I keep improving, keep moving forward after that, then maybe, just maybe, I’ll train for the next Olympic trials and put the real job on hold after graduation.

  I’d have to get the national record or win more than one event at Nationals to feel totally certain about going pro, but if I can just win one event, that will be enough to secure my plans this summer, no matter how hard my mom will try to talk me out of it.

  It’s the last Saturday before winter break, and Jett and I have been together for over two months now. He finally has a home meet and since our invitational was last weekend, I’m free to come watch him race.

  Somehow when I’m with him I forget that he’s actually famous. He’s not such a celebrity that people come up to him randomly on the street, although that has happened a couple times around campus. When I get to the indoor track with Beatrice and Kick, I sense immediately that in this world, Jett Decker is a god. It’s only an early-season meet, nothing too special, but the stands are packed, and Jett’s name is zipping around the fieldhouse like electricity. I guess I underestimated the fanfare that comes with a newly-minted Olympic medalist.

  We’re able to squeeze into standing room overlooking the track. The stands aren’t very big and definitely not designed for a crowd like this. But the 200-meter dash starts in ten minutes, and that’s the big show.

  I spot Jett jogging around the outside of the track, Keenan next to him. He’s wearing warm-up pants and a zip-up hoodie, looking loose and relaxed, laughing at something Keenan says. They stop at the other end of the oval track, directly across from me, and start doing dynamic stretches. We do them sometimes after warm-up, between getting out of the water and heading over to the blocks. It’s the same as stretching except with more movement. Jett seems to shift his mood then, gathering his focus. I’m mesmerized watching his movements, the shifting of his athletic body.

  I vaguely register Bea asking about Daryl, if he’s in this race too, but I shrug because I don’t know the answer and I can’t take my eyes off my guy. It’s hard to believe he’s mine. That he made it clear that’s how it would be right from the beginning, over two months ago. All these people in the stands, they want a piece of him. And I’ve got him. It’s kind of a stunning realization.

  When he takes off his warm-up pants and unzips his jacket, some girls holler from the end of the stands. I can’t see them, and Jett’s either ignoring them or doesn’t hear. He’s in the zone as he jogs down the edge of the track next to Keenan, this time picking up speed in short bursts. It’s kind of like a swim warm-up only he doesn’t do the short warm-up sprints from the starting block like we do. Maybe he’ll get to that.

  Kick whispers in my ear, “You’re drooling.”

  I nudge her in the ribs with my elbow but manage to take my eyes off him for a few seconds to take in the rest of the scene. Basically, a lot of super-fit people jumping, jogging, stretching or sitting around. The women’s 200 meters final is up and I note that there isn’t a single white girl. It reminds me of Tabitha’s and Hailey’s comments about Jett being with me and even has me wondering if they are right. I mean, I don’t really get it, how could I? But I do wonder why Jett is interested in me. He hangs out with all these really athletic women on his team all the time. What drew him to me that night at Mirage? Why was he so into me so easily and quickly?

  It’s weird to have doubts suddenly like this, after a couple of months’ smooth sailing. I guess since I fell hard and fast, I assumed it was the same for him, and that was that. But now that I’m on his turf, really seeing him in his element, a seed of doubt is forming. Sure, we do have a lot in common in some ways – we understand the drive and focus we have for our sports – but in other ways, we come from different worlds. Is he just playing around, enjoying someone different for a while?

  “You okay?” Kick asks.

  “I feel kind of sick.” And I do. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  “Hurry, he’s up in a few minutes.”

  I jog to the restroom, needing to get away for just a minute. Where did that onslaught of insecurity come from? One minute I’m ogling my boyfriend, admiring his athleticism, and the next I’m wondering if I’m just a short-term thing for him, if we’re too different to last.

  I’m splashing cold water on my face when a stall door opens and Hailey walks out. Talk about bad timing.

  I shouldn’t be surprised she’s here for Jett’s first home meet. What does surprise me though, is that she offers a small smile when our eyes catch in the mirror.

  “Hi Shay,” she says softly, apologetically. Or maybe I’m just going crazy from my meltdown.

  “Hi Hailey.”
r />   “Hey, I’ve been wanting to talk to you alone.”

  My stomach drops. This is the last thing I need right now. But she’s Jett’s sister, and I don’t want to burn bridges, so I listen.

  “I was pretty bitchy the first time we met.”

  I’m hesitant to think this is an apology. If she has the feelings Jett explained to me, a few weeks of us dating isn’t going to change anything.

  “I think I need to explain. It’s not personal, obviously.”

  I try to keep my face unreadable, but she lets out a dry chuckle when my eyebrows raise at that comment.

  “Okay, maybe not so obvious. Which is why I’m explaining. I’ll make it quick so we don’t miss his race. Here’s the thing. You reminded me of Jett’s high school girlfriend.”

  “High school girlfriend?” I echo. Jett’s never mentioned a high school girlfriend, or any girlfriend for that matter.

  “She was really blonde, like you, and a swimmer too.”

  “I take it you didn’t like her?”

  “Nope. I mean, she always rubbed me the wrong way. Thought maybe that was just how it was when your little brother has his first real girlfriend, ya know? That it’s a protective thing not to like her, but now I know that wasn’t it.”

  “What happened?”

  “She cheated on him.”

  My chest aches for Jett hearing this. How had he hidden this from me? Or is that not something couples talk about?

  “Yeah,” Hailey continues. “They were together for over a year. A long time in high school. Planned to go to the same college. Cal U actually. But then she went to some overnight swim thing, hooked up with another swimmer, and Jett found out about it. A girl on his track team who also swam told him about it, and he thought she was lying at first, because a lot of girls liked him and wanted him to break up with his girlfriend. But when he confronted her, she said it was true. They broke up and went to different colleges.”

  “She doesn’t go here?”

  “Nope. Texas.”

  “Wow, that’s really shitty.” I mean, what else am I supposed to say?

  “So, that’s why I had my doubts about you. But now that you’ve been around, I don’t get those same vibes as the ex, so I’ll give you a chance.” She puts her hands on her hips and levels me with an intense gaze.

  “Uh, thanks?” I pull my long ponytail over my shoulder, tugging on it as I try to decide whether to be offended by this exchange or grateful for the honesty.

  “Just don’t cheat.”

  “Right, okay. Yeah, no, I wouldn’t.” I have never been in this position before. The one where I’m the threat, and I’m totally out of my element. How do you go about reassuring your boyfriend’s sister you’ll be faithful? There’s gotta be a manual about that somewhere.

  “Good. Let’s go watch our boy, huh?”

  “Sure,” I say with a sigh, grateful for a break from the intensity.

  In a daze, I explain my friends are in the opposite direction and we split up to go to our spots in the stands. Jett’s already kneeling at the starting block, and my head spins as I watch him.

  He does a practice start, and I vaguely register that track athletes do warm up from the block like we do, but not until right before the event. My heart is hammering in my chest, and it has nothing to do with Jett being about to race.

  He had a girlfriend in high school. They were going to go to the same college together. That’s huge. I mean, I had a boyfriend in high school for over a year too, and I didn’t even consider going to the same college as him. Unless you think you’re going to get married or something, it seems crazy to make such a big decision for a relationship at such a young age. I don’t know anyone who did that or even thought about it.

  As I reflect on the conversation, I realize I might know the girl. If she just did high school swimming, not club, and didn’t make the state championships, we wouldn’t have raced each other, but if she’s decent, we might have crossed paths. I should’ve asked if she swims in college. If she was thinking of going to Cal U, then she’s good. I don’t think Hailey mentioned her name but I’m burning up with curiosity. If the announcer wasn’t telling the athletes to take their marks, I’d be searching Facebook like a detective for more information.

  With a loud beep, six runners explode from the blocks in their lanes, and I forget about everything as I watch Jett surge to the front. He’s in his own lane going around the curve, but it’s easy to see he already has a lead. All the guys on the track are solid muscle and run with striking power, but Jett looks smooth and comfortable, like he’s barely even trying. His legs turn over quickly, his arms and face remaining relaxed.

  On an indoor track, the 200 meters is only one lap, and as he turns the next corner and they move into the straight, his significant lead becomes more apparent. While the other five runners are battling for second through the final stretch, Jett soars confidently through the line, slowing to a walk with an ease that borders on obnoxious, at least if you’re one of the dudes competing against him. He’s barely winded while the rest of the racers are bent over, heaving for air.

  He looks up in the stands and waves to his family, who I can now see farther down in the stands, near the front. They’re cheering for him. His parents, sisters, nieces, and nephews seem to all be in attendance. It’s far from an important meet, but that doesn’t seem to stop them from supporting him anyway.

  When my eyes move back to Jett, he’s looking at me, and he winks with a little smirk. I smile, wanting him and excited to shower with him after the meet. But then my stomach churns, and I feel sick again.

  Is there anything else he’s not telling me? Something about this ex-girlfriend does not sit well with me. Is it because she was a swimmer and part of my world? Moments earlier, before the run-in with Hailey, I was wondering why he chose me over any of the girls on his track team. If anyone knows how convenient and easy it is to get with someone on your team, it’s me. Hailey’s revelation multiplies my doubts. My insecurity grows and festers as my thoughts spin. Am I some sort of replacement for the ex? A second chance?

  Jett doesn’t act like a guy who’s had a broken heart. I don’t have personal experience, but I’ve been around guys after Kick is through with them, and they lose some confidence, at least for a while. Jett definitely didn’t lack confidence at the beginning with me. He knew exactly what he wanted and went for it. Almost too smoothly. Do I remind him of her? Is this his way of getting back at her, through me? I mean, I know it’s been years, but still.

  “Can we get out of here?” I ask Bea and Kick. “I don’t feel so great.”

  Beatrice looks disappointed. Kick tells me Bea wanted to stay to watch Daryl race. The two of them have been flirting at every opportunity and we’re all waiting for when they finally get together, which is bound to happen soon.

  “That’s fine. You guys stay. I can walk back.”

  “’Kay, be careful,” Kick says, which is ironic, coming from her. Sure, it’s dark out, but it’s Saturday night and the sidewalks will be busy with students coming and going from parties, with plenty of streetlights.

  “Okay, Mom,” I say with an eyeroll.

  I don’t even realize I’m walking to the natatorium instead of the condo until I’m standing in front of the building. Habit, I guess. Instead of turning around, I decide to go up the steps, finding the door unlocked. I’m not usually here on Saturday nights unless there’s a swim meet, but I guess they keep it open for people. There’s a weight room, indoor tennis courts, and a basketball court in this gymnasium in addition to the two swimming pools and diving well. Somehow, I’d rather be here than in the condo alone. The gymnasium is empty and quiet. Lights are still on, but not as bright as during the day. I make my way to the stands overlooking the pool and follow the smell of chlorine inside, until I’m sitting in the front row, feet resting on the rail.

  It’s strange being in here with no one else around. It might be a first. With all the hours I spend in the pool surrou
nded by teammates, I’ve never been here when the pool is calm and empty, without a single person in sight.

  Questions and doubt about my relationship with Jett battle for my attention, but I push them away. Why create non-existent problems, right? Everything is good. Easy. I’ve never considered myself an insecure person and I don’t want to start now.

  Instead, I think about swimming. My name takes up most of the record board, with records in just about every event except breaststroke, backstroke, and distance freestyle. Kick holds the 100-yard breast record, and the medley relay records with me. She wasn’t on the A relays when we broke the free relay records. While she’s incredibly fast at breaststroke and pretty fast at back and fly, she’s comparatively not that good at free, which is weird. Usually everyone is good at free.

  “Everything okay?”

  I scream. And jump up from my seat, hands on my chest. What the hell?

  I’m practically hyperventilating when I turn around and glare. “Julian, what are you doing here?” I can’t hide the anger from my voice, and he hears it.

  “Whoa, chill. Why are you so pissed? I’m sorry I scared you but you scared me first.”

  “What are you talking about?” Anger dwindles to annoyance that he interrupted my alone time. I was finally starting to calm down and now I’m freaked out and wound up again.

  “I was going to the lockers to grab my phone and saw a shadow sitting here when I walked by. It was creepy.”

  He’s coming down the stairs toward me, and the only way out is up. Nothing he’s saying or doing is inherently threatening, but I feel super uneasy. It’s that sixth sense again.

  But I play it cool, trying for a laugh. “Yeah, I meant to walk back to my place but showed up here out of habit.” Shrugging I add, “Just thought I’d pop in, take a break.” I realize I’m actually the weirdo here, not Julian. Who just pops in to sit in the stands and stare at an empty pool? I do, apparently.