Chapter 26

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Lennox

It smells like chlorine. I wrinkle my nose, pausing in the hallway just outside the double doors that must lead to the pool.

I can't believe I'm here.

I want to be. I want to be here for Reed. I want to be here because he asked me—to watch him, to meet his friends, to see his world. But my stomach is churning, and there's a sharp burning in my throat. My hands are shaking as I fist them in the pockets of my hoodie. The air is hot and humid, but I don't take it off.

"You okay, Lenn?" Jamie pauses with the door open. Apparently, I've come to a complete stop in front of everyone. There's a family behind us with about fourteen million kids, all of them dressed in "I love polo" t-shirts.

I clear my throat. "I'm good."

I don't sound good. I sound like a frog has taken up residence in my mouth.

"I'm glad you're here," I tell him. I was surprised when he wanted to come with me. He's still uneasy about Reed, but I see him trying. I see him reaching out, and I always reach back.

"I figured you wouldn't want to go alone." He scrubs Willis off his head and shoves it into his back pocket.

We make our way inside. It's crowded, the stand packed, the sound echoing. Both teams are already in the water, warming up.

Reed.

I halfway freeze, my throat drying.

He's treading water with his teammates. He twists to catch a ball, his hand held up, the back of his shoulders slick with water. He holds the ball for half a second and then tosses it to one of his teammates.

This is what he loves .

I breathe out the tension that had tightened along my back.

He shouts something, and then he's swimming toward us.

His long arms stretch out in front of him, his tattoos flashing. His narrow hips seem to almost float as he swims.

It takes two seconds for him to reach the edge of the pool, and then he pushes himself out, hauling himself onto the pool deck with those long arms. He's so fucking tall that he's towering as he crosses over to us.

Water drips off him, down his chest and clinging to the tight red speedo he's wearing. Fuck, it shows everything .

He told me that, and that it's necessary to wear a tight suit or there's a chance of it getting kicked off when players get rough, but holy mother fuck . I can't keep my eyes from moving down, from lingering.

I slip my hand out of my pocket to rub it along the side of my neck.

He smiles at me. He's wearing a padded cap, with guards over the ears. He unties it and pulls it off, water flinging from his hair, his tattoos dark over his arm and chest.

"You're here ." His grin is so big that those laugh lines indent his face.

Something beats hard in the middle of my chest, and it feels like more than my heart.

"Uh, yeah." I gesture toward the bleachers. "Is there anywhere specific where we should sit?"

"That's our side." He points towards a cluster of people. "Here, let me introduce you to Colin's mom."

He heads that way, his wet feet slapping on the deck, water dripping down his shoulders, off of his ass, and onto his thighs before trailing down his calves.

Reed introduces us to a woman named Marla with cropped blonde hair who scoots to give us a place to sit. She starts to explain the rules to Jamie, loud and excited, but Reed reaches for my forearm, and his wet fingers brush just under my elbow.

We're standing in front of the bleachers, noise echoing all around us. His fingers linger on my forearm, his tongue slipping out to lick water off his bottom lip. Every single ridge of wet muscle gleams under the bright lights, his suit tied so low that a glimpse of hair lingers just above.

A couple of his teammates are looking at us, all wearing those white padded caps and treading water. One of them tilts his head, swimming closer.

"Hey, Lenn. I'm gonna take a piss before this starts." Jamie's suddenly right next to me. He gives Reed a sharp look, but then nods. "Reed."

Reed nods. "Thanks for coming, Jamie."

"Sure." He looks between Reed and me, then shakes his head and walks off, Willis sticking out his back pocket.

Reed leans closer to me. "Can you stay after? Meet some of the guys."

"Uh, yeah." I scrub my neck again, the humidity sticking my jeans to my thighs.

His gaze moves down me, his chest expanding. Then he makes a fist, clearing his throat as he leans into me. "Don't get me hard before the game, Lenn."

I smile. "Your own damn fault for looking."

He laughs, his breath tickling my ear. "That's true."

The distance between us has closed, his wet skin an inch from mine. His shoulders curved forward to speak to me.

"Chambers," a voice shouts from behind him. "Hey, bro, get over here. We gotta?—"

Reed stiffens, half turning. His jaw tightens, his countenance completely changing in an instant.

I glance at the guy crossing toward us, same tiny red Speedo, same white cap, same tall, long-limbed body. Fuck, he looks almost like Reed. He looks like?—

All my air dumps out at once, my fingers and toes numbing, vertigo hitting me so hard that I don't even know if I'm still standing.

He walks toward us, water dripping down his chest, his long fingers coming up to adjust his cap. He stops a foot away from Reed, and then his eyes settle on me.

I haven't seen Archer in four years.

Eleven months after I started T. He still looks the same. Exactly as he does in my memory, standing in that hallway outside the pool.

How the fuck can he be here ?

And then… it hits me. He was a swimmer, but there was something about water polo. Our school didn't have a team, but he talked about it. So many years ago.

The water polo world can't be that big in Massachusetts. And a quarter of our high school went to college somewhere around Boston.

Archer .

And he's friends with Reed.

Reed is friends with him .

The vertigo slams into me harder, the concrete pool deck wavering, the echoing noise getting sharper and louder. Reality is falling away.

Reed's height is suddenly too tall. The bleachers seem to stretch far behind me.

"Andrea." Archer says a name that echoes from the past.

A name that's long gone and forgotten. A name that's buried.

I shake my head. "No, Lennox."

"Oh, yeah." He points at my chest. "You…"

Then his eyes swing to Reed.

There's a pause. An extension of time that feels like déjà vu. A hesitation where Archer holds so much fucking power over me. Why does he still hold power over me?

He shouldn't hold power over me anymore. But it's like I'm locked in the past. Shoved back into a memory.

Reed is friends with him . And that hurts. It's hot-tipped and raw.

A whistle shrills, and I flinch.

Reed's fingertips graze my elbow, a drop of water falling off him and spotting my hoodie. "Lenn?"

I don't understand.

I don't fucking understand.

A sickness crawls up my esophagus.

"No, not him." I'm shaking my head.

Not Archer.

This person who I thought loved me.

But he was nothing like he seemed.

He was cruel. And he was dangerous. And he was heartless.

And they're fucking friends.

"Get away from me," I say to Archer. My voice strains, my shoes pushing back.

But he's just standing here, dripping water like Reed is next to me.

The whistle blows again. The humidity makes the air feel like it's closing in. The smell and the echo. It's all so familiar.

And yet it's not familiar, too.

Because I'm not that person anymore. Years ago I ran. I hid from it. I curled into myself because I didn't know who I was. Or what I wanted. Or how I wanted to live my life.

"What's going on?" Reed steps closer. He's not looking at Archer, or the pool, or the bleachers, or anyone else. Just me, his eyes zeroed in, his fingers still at my elbow. "Wait, do you know Archer?"

"He outed me," I say. "To my entire class when I was just starting to figure out who I was." I swallow, turning to Archer. " Why ? Why did you do that?"

Archer's eyes narrow on me. "You kept saying shit. Come on, like I was just supposed to accept that…" He swings a hand down me. "People needed to know."

"They did?" I shake my head. "Why? So that you could feel better about yourself? So that you could have control over me? That's what it is right—outing someone? It's taking control over them. Taking their choices and their options. And you, the outer, gets nothing in return, other than knowing that you failed someone else."

I look over at Reed. "And you're friends with him."

Is that fair?

I don't even know their relationship.

Reed's still so focused on me, water dripping down his nose and lips in a line. "He did that to you?" His gaze moves from me to Archer, his shoulders straightening, a low kind of intensity seeming to vibrate through him. "You did that to him?"

Archer holds up his hand. "It was years ago."

"I don't care when it was." Reed's voice grates, his entire countenance shifting, muscles hardening, intensity spiking. "We're not friends, Archer." His eyes swing to me. "Archer and I aren't friends. I'm done tolerating anything with him. Anything ."

A ref shouts something from the side, walking over this way.

Voices murmur from the bleachers. Attention has shifted to us now. Another one of Reed's teammates comes up behind Archer.

His ice-blue eyes settle on Reed. "Is everything okay?"

"No," Reed says. "It's not. It's not okay. You—" He points at Archer. "You need to stay away from both of us."

Archer's hands are still up. "What the fuck, bro?"

"Stop calling me that," Reed snaps. "We're not friends, and I'm not suffering this shit with you anymore. You need to examine yourself. You need to take a good hard look and decide if you like what you see."

"Like you're a fucking god who gets to determine," Archer bites back at him, his hands falling, his eyes flash.

That sick feeling constricts my throat.

How did I ever think that I loved Archer?

It was that other, wavering me, from years ago. The one I don't recognize anymore.

"Hey." A ref stops by us. "Are we playing?"

"Yes," I say.

Reed's hand moves to my waist, and he tips over me, his whisper close to my ear. "Lenn, I don't need to play. It's?—"

"Play." I tip my chin up. "Don't let him take that from you."

His eyes move around my face, softening as they do. His lips part, his tongue flicking behind them. "I want to be alone with you. I want to talk about this. I want to hear everything."

My lips lift. "I know. But what you love to do is waiting over there." I nod toward the pool.

He swallows, leaning closer. His eyes settle on my lips, his chest moving with a slow breath. The world hazes, the noise fading. The past and the people in it ebb away. At the first touch of his lips, I'm still not sure if he's going to kiss me. But his hand cups my jaw, his lip moving delicately against mine. Water drips from his hair onto my face, his damp body folding around mine.

This man is kissing me. In front of everyone, wet in his Speedo, while he should be playing a game. He's kissing me, and there's no reservation, no hesitation.

When he breaks the kiss, he smiles down at me. "I have so much to tell you."

"You do?"

He nods. "I do."

A hand settles on Reed's shoulder. I stiffen, but it's not Archer. He's already gone. I don't see him. I don't know where he went. I don't care.

"It's time to go," the blue-eyed teammate says.

Reed drags in a deep breath. "Are you going to stay? I understand if?—"

"I'll stay." I reluctantly step back from him. "I want to watch you. I want to see what you love to do."

His eyes crinkle at the corners, his smile not leaving. "I love to do you ."

I laugh. "Flirting again?"

"Yep." He winks before he turns and then heads towards the far side of the pool. "You know it."