With Akara gone, I blink a few times and my mind races in bad directions and my breath heavies.
What kind of father will I be?
Never thought I’d have a question rage-fucking in my head as much as that one. But it’s been loud. Like a teenager blaring their metal music at 3 a.m., that question is gonna keep me up at night. It’s stayed with me all day.
Every time I try to shove it away, it creeps back in. There’s no real answer. I have no downright clue what being a dad looks like for me. Can’t conceptualize it, so now I’m tormented with thinking about it.
Focusing on my job—bodyguard to my beautiful girlfriend—is another welcome distraction to my own thoughts. And so I zero in on Sulli.
She’s moved to a bench. Sitting cross-legged, she still listens to music, her concentration face as cute as a pack of puppies. Her forehead wrinkles as she thinks harder.
Alright, definitely cuter than puppies.
My mouth curves upward.
Her 200m IM heat is first, and I’ve been giving Sulli a wide berth of space. Anything she needs. And so I almost keel over in fucking shock when she raises her head, locks eyes with me, and waves me closer. To her.
Kid you not, I glance over my shoulder like a royal dumbass, looking at the wall, like she called over some other bastard.
Sulli smiles, noticing what I just did.
I almost laugh at myself. She doesn’t have to call me twice. I move my ass and reach her bench. “How you holding up?”
“I can’t stop…thinking about everything except what I need to be thinking about,” Sulli admits in one stressed breath. She sees me towering. “Can you take a seat for a sec?”
I sit down, adjusting my radio and then resting my forearms on my thighs. “I’m not distracting you?”
“My thoughts are a bigger distraction.” She yanks the headphones to her neck. “I just need to be here. In the present moment. And not stuck up in my head.”
“Yeah,” I say deeply, “I understand that. I’ve been trying to get my mind right too.” Our eyes search one another with a vigor that digs to the depth of my core. And I hate needing to break that connection and scan her surroundings. But I do. And I say, “Let’s stay in the moment together, mermaid.”
Sulli exhales another anxious breath, then scoots closer to me. “Usually listening to All Saints is enough.” She completely removes her headphones. “But it’s just making me think of the…cinnamon roll.”
I take her headphones. “You need a different song?”
She shakes her head. “I like hearing you, Banks.”
That reaches a soft part of me. And I must wear some type of smile because her eyes drift along my lips like she’s tracing the movement.
After placing the headphones behind me, I collect her hands in mine. Something overcomes me—love, stupidity, brilliance, passion for her—whatever the affliction I’m drowning inside, I find myself singing.
I can’t really sing.
But here I am, belting softly, slowly, and off-key to Sulli. The lyrics to “Song to the Siren” by Tim Buckley come out scratchy, rough, but quietly enough that I know no one can really hear but her.
She clutches onto my knees. Her eyes nearly glassing, and I hold her cheek as the music pours out of me. We sway a little.
Cameras on us. Athletes watching.
I couldn’t care less.
Watch.
Sulli looks at me the way I’d think Juliet would look at Romeo. Like our stars crossed in some fabled tale, and here we are.
“Swim to me,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “Oh my heart.” I change up the lyrics now and sing, “You’re gonna smoke your competition. Yes you are.”
Sulli laughs into a heartfelt smile. “…wow.” She breathes a strong breath. “I’ve never heard that song before.”
“It’s an oldie, mixed in with Banks Roscoe Moretti original lyrics.” I almost tell her why I thought of the song, but that might not help get her mind right.
Sulli has this overwhelmed smile now. “Fuck, that was the most 10 Things I Hate About You romantic moment of my life.”
I end up smiling too. “Never seen that movie.”
“Heath Ledger sings to Julia Stiles…pretty fucking dramatically and in the best, cutest way. But this…this was better.”
“That was the first time I’ve ever sung to a girl.”
“Really fucking really?”
“Really fucking really.” I skim her up and down. “I guess I won’t make it the last time.”
“As long as it’s to me.”
“Only to you, mermaid. And maybe Akara.”
“Definitely Akara.” She rotates a little. “Speaking of the asshole.”
“Ha ha,” Akara says dryly, a smile cresting as he approaches. He waves the phone. “Your dad called, Banks.”
I try not to tense. She’s safe here. “What about?”
“We were just going over positions of the temps before the heats. Everything looks good.”
Sulli relaxes.
I nod a couple times. Trusting that everyone will do their jobs tonight. But I’m keeping my head on a swivel.
Sulli makes more room on the bench. “Take a seat, Kits.”
Akara lowers down on the other side of our girlfriend, phone still in his hand. And then Sulli’s swim coach nears. “Can I have a minute with Sullivan?”
She answers first, “Yeah, sure.” Sulli stands and shuffles away, slipping us a pleading look that says, don’t go anywhere.
Despite Akara leaving for some phone calls, he’s stuck around her detail a lot more ever since the gun incident. I love when he’s with us, so no way in hell am I complaining about the change.
We watch the coach give her tips.
“What were you guys talking about?” Akara wonders.
Sudden guilt creeps in. We’ve been sharing a close-to-equal amount of time with Sulli lately. Christ, usually we’re all three together. Somehow I’ve managed to have multiple moments alone with Sulli. More than he’s experienced recently. And I feel fucking bad.
“She was trying to get her mind right and block out intrusive thoughts,” I explain. “So I sang to her.” Why the hell am I nervous to tell him this?
Akara makes a face at me. Half amused, half confusion. “You can’t sing.”
“I didn’t say it was any good.”
Akara laughs. “What song?”
“‘Song to the Siren.’ Tim Buckley.”
He contemplates this, maybe thinking about the lyrics, and his lips slowly rise.
“You know it?” I wonder.
“Yeah.” He smiles more. “That’s a good one.” He lets out a laugh at another thought.
“What?”
“You don’t give yourself enough credit, man.” He catches my gaze. “You claim you know nothing about relationships and romance, but you’ve consistently swept Sulli off her feet since we’ve been together. You’re good at this whole romance thing.”
He’s full of it. “You fling a piece of her own hair at her and she bursts like a shooting comet. Once in a blue moon, I have some bastardly charm.”
“You are so fudging wrong, Banks. You know how impossible it is not to love you?” He focuses back on Sulli. “Now, me, on the other hand—it takes work to love me.” He acts like it’s a joke. But I can tell he thinks there’s truth beneath the words.