Liam’s waiting for me in the vestibule between sets of double doors. I let him wrap me in a hug, rest my cheek against his chest for a long moment, before we break apart and I get on my toes to kiss him hello.
“Hi.”
“Hi.” He reaches back and tucks in my tag. “How’s break been?”
“Okay I guess. Yours?”
“Eh. Is it weird I’m kind of glad we go back to school tomorrow?”
“Not that weird.” I am too. Jasmine and I are barely talking. “I missed you.”
We’ve never gone so many days without seeing each other since we started dating.
“I missed you too.” He kisses my forehead. “Ready?”
As we get changed—repeated exposure hasn’t made the sight any less overwhelming and excellent—Liam says, “Sorry I something-something. Car’s back in the shop.”
“Again?”
“Some sort of coolant leak.” He sighs and tightens his drawstring. “Mom thinks I should get a new one before college. Doesn’t want me driving all the way to Texas.”
“Oh.” Even though we’re still in the locker room, I feel like I’ve plunged into water. I don’t want to think about Liam leaving for college.
I’m pretty sure that’s a regular thing when your boyfriend’s a year ahead of you. It doesn’t mean I haveabandonment issues.
The pool is way busier than usual, filled with parents praying their kids will swim off their spring break energy. A harried-looking mom is wrangling five kids in the far lane, trying to get them going in a line as they work on their doggy paddle.
Liam and I share one of the middle lanes. He has me swim a couple lazy laps, just to warm up, before he starts correcting my form again, demonstrating how he wants me to scoop the water at the catch, maintain even pressure on the pull, get my arm angle right on the recovery.
His signing has improved so much he barely has to fingerspell anymore, which is great, but he also doesn’t have to demonstrate by moving my body around, which is disappointing.
I’m halfway through another lap when it happens. At first it feels like someone’s grabbed my calf, and I kick harder to get loose, but that makes it worse. I’ve never felt pain like this before. It messes up my stroke, and my breath, and before I know it I’m bobbing and sputtering, drifting back toward Liam as he swims out to collect me.
“Cramp?” he asks, helping me back to the wall.
“Yeah.”
I hold on to the wall as he helps stretch my leg until the cramp releases. I sigh with relief, but it’s still sore.
“Come on, let’s take a break.” He leads me under the lane lines to a ladder—usually, we just pull ourselves out, but he can tell I can’t do that right now. He spreads his towel out on a bleacher, has me sit, and wraps the other towel around my shoulders.
He sits beside me, has me spin a bit so he can get my leg on his lap, and presses at my calf. I hiss.
“Breathe.”
“This ever happen to you?” I ask.
He nods.
“I’m never getting back in the pool.”
He laughs. “When you’ve been swimming as long as I have, you get used to it.”
I’m quiet as he works on me. We’ve touched each other plenty (all still above the belt), but this is different somehow. It’s not exciting, exactly, but it feels tender and special in its own way.
Jasmine’s wrong. This isn’t all going to go south.
Liam cares about me. I care about him.
