She never got out this early.
“By less than three-tenths of a second, Meadows has finished in 9th place. Disappointment from the stands. Remember, Meadows is the only U.S. swimmer in this event, and she’s representing the host country this year.”
Okay, he’s grating on me now. I shoot the commentator a glare.
He’s unaware, fixed on his tiny TV monitor, and he couldn’t hear me if I said a thing. Not with his microphone headset on.
“If you’ve seen those clips today, her family is here watching. Meadows hangs her head for a second. She’s yet to leave the water. At poolside, her boyfriend Akara Kitsuwon watches in horror.”
Awesome.
Just awesome.
I don’t change my face. And I’m not horrified. I’m concerned. There’s a difference.
“Her second boyfriend is approaching Kitsuwon.” He’s not second to me or to her.
I see Banks before the sports commentator announces his arrival. He chews on a toothpick, his brows bunched in worry, and he keeps glancing back at Sulli.
“Not good,” I whisper.
“I saw.” He speaks really deeply, huskily, almost inaudibly. “Shot to the heart.”
“Right through.” My nose flares. “She has five more heats. It’s not over. She just needs more confidence.”
“And a new pair of fucking goggles.”
“She’ll probably double-cap to secure them better.” I massage my knuckles, then pause. Is Banks limping? “Are you limping?”
He tenses. “Busted my knees pretty bad.”
“Go ice it.”
“Nine—”
“That’s an order.”
“Go talk to her. She needs one of us.”
“She needs both of us,” I correct.
Banks cracks a waning smile. “One is all she’s getting right now.” He puts a hand on my shoulder, and I can feel him bracing his weight on me. He must’ve really tweaked his knees.
“I don’t like this feeling,” I tell him before we separate.
He nods. “Yeah, I know.”
It’s the feeling of choosing one over the other in a given moment. Sulli over Banks. Banks over Sulli. We all need each other, we all want each other, but there are times where we have to choose whose needs come first.
And right now, I head for Sulli.
18
SULLIVAN MEADOWS
“The fucking goggles,” is all I keep saying, is all I keep feeling. Those fucking goggles. What a stupid mistake that cost me a medal.
It is tearing and clawing at my insides.
“Hey, screw the goggles, strong bean.” Akara is squatting at my lane.
“You mean string bean?”
“Strong bean. The mightiest of beans. The one that’s built from giant beanstalks that not even guys named Jack can climb.”
I laugh.
Kits has the ability to make me laugh when sadness mounts to un-fucking-bearable heights. Tears gather in my eyes, more easily than normal.
“Hey,” Akara whispers, seeing my eyes glass.
“They’re not sad tears, Kits. I’m just…” Fucking emotional. Hormonal, I guess.
He looks like he wants to hug me.
I’d love a hug from my boyfriend.
But I’m submerged in the water. The next event is in thirty-minutes. Women’s 400m freestyle, and my heat is first, so I’m gripping onto the pool’s edge with one hand and chugging a Ziff Power chocolate protein shake with the other.
I’ve already double-capped and secured my goggles. I won’t be making the same mistake twice. No fucking way.
And at least Banks is okay. He’s icing his knees, Akara said. My sister is okay.
“You’re going to advance to the finals for the other five heats,” Akara assures. “Easily. Like last Olympics.”
Like last Olympics.
Where I didn’t have boyfriends.
I had never been kissed.
I ignored even the thought of romance. If, for a second, I thought Akara was hot on the sidelines, I said, who the fuck cares? Swimming is my first and only love. Swimming is all that matters.
Now, it’s not all that matters to me.
I’ve felt their lips against mine. I’ve felt their strong arms around my waist. I’ve felt their hands dripping down my body. I’ve felt their desire and their lust and their love, and I’ve wanted for more—I’ve wanted for them.
I have them.
“Sulli?” Akara can see me drowning in my thoughts.
“What if I was only great four years ago because I loved nothing else but swimming?” I ask in a quiet, raspy voice, a lump swelling in my throat. “What if I’ve split myself into too many pieces and I’ve given this sport the smallest one?”
“I don’t believe that at all.” Akara stares deeply into me. “There are so many athletes who could give up everything and never be where you are. You’re here because you were born to swim. And you, more than anyone, should know you can love more than one thing without severing that love into pieces.”
I let that wash over me, and his words lift me and my spirits.
I am filled with more love than four years ago. That should propel me further, not hold me back.
“Thanks, Kits.” I’m about to put the rim of the protein drink to my mouth. But Akara stretches closer—and he kisses me.
I smile against his kissable lips.
He deepens the kiss with sensual sweetness that hums throughout my limbs. I could practically float into his arms.
TV cameras are definitely rolling, and chatter spreads like threads of gossip across the pool and to the stands. But like the kiss with Banks from the clinic, I wish this could last longer.
Akara has to pull back. He’s smiling like me, but he hesitates a little. Almost nervous, I think. “Is that going to distract you, Sul?”
“Just the opposite.” I swig the protein shake. “It’s going to motivate me.” I’m done trying to block everything out. Done trying to forget I’m pregnant. Done trying to be the Sullivan Minnie Meadows from four years ago.
I’m a new fucking woman. I have two boyfriends who I want to kiss at the end of the race. Who I want to swim towards. The song that Banks sang to me fills my head.
Swim to me.
Swim to Banks.
Swim to Akara.
Swim to our baby.
Swim to them.
19
AKARA KITSUWON
WE ARE CALLOWAY 4EVER – Facebook Page
For fans of the Hales, Cobalts, & Meadows – we discuss the docuseries & current events following our fav families!
42m like this page
Posted 1hr ago:
BREAKING NEWS
Sullivan loses the 200m IM after a tragic goggle malfunction, but she advances to finals in 5 other events!
15.7k likes - 600 shares - 2.4k comments:
Cynthia Bird: Knew she’d kill it tonight! The goggle thing was such a fluke accident.
Talia Rey: She’s totally going to beat that Hansen girl. There’s no way Sullivan won’t take 5 golds home.