Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Lawson takes pity on me. Rather than really shoving his foot in his mouth, he winks at me and smiles. “Just a wreck without my beauty sleep, Coach.”
“Uh-huh. Get out of here,” Coach dismisses him, but asks me to hang back a minute.
We’ve had too many of these talks.
“Despite how he comes off, Lawson really does want to swim,” I assure Coach. “I know his attitude sucks, but if you can get past that…”
“Yeah,” he groans, unconvinced. “So you keep telling me.”
“He just finds it easier to make people hate him.”
“I’m not interested in fixing the kid’s head. If he wants to swim and learn to be part of the team, I can help him there. Kent’s got all the natural talent to be a force in this sport. If he can get out of his own way.”
“I think he knows that.” I also think it scares him, but I don’t say that out loud.
“So do you. Having that natural talent, I mean.” His frustration dissipating, Coach leads me to the bench against the wall and gestures for me to sit beside him. “If you want to swim collegiate, you’re good enough to go anywhere you want. I can make those calls, Silas. But you need to decide what’s most important: your future, or your friend. If you’re not careful, you’re going to end up on the bottom of the pool with him.”
This isn’t the first time we’ve had some version of this conversation. Hell, it took plenty of convincing to get Lawson on the team to begin with. He has that effect on people—near-instant animosity. Because he doesn’t let most people know him the way I do.
Still, that doesn’t mean the routine doesn’t get old. It’s exhausting sometimes.
“I get you, Coach. I’d appreciate anything you could do to help me out with colleges. I promise I won’t let you down.”
“If you want to thank me, talk to that other friend of yours. Shaw. I think he’s got something we could work with. Get him in here to try out.”
RJ? I almost burst out laughing. I know Coach saw him swim, but Fenn’s stepbrother is even less enthusiastic about the team than Lawson.
“I barely know the guy,” I admit. “I’m not sure I have any pull there.”
Coach gives me a slap on the back that leaves no room for discussion. “You’ll figure it out.”
In the locker room, Lawson’s waiting for me with a frown.
“Some people have no sense of humor, huh?” He sighs when I don’t respond. “My bad.”
“Don’t apologize if you don’t mean it.”
I grab my towel to go shower, but Lawson blocks my path.
“Oh, come on, man. I mean it, okay? I’m sorry you had to take one on the chin for me. Alright?”
“Are you? Because that’d be a first.”
He looks momentarily wounded. There’s an instant pang of regret that I’ve gone too far this time. But there’s a bigger part that knows I’m right.
Lawson puts on his sunglasses and unaffected grin. “Feel better?”
“It’s fine. Just let me shower so I can get out of here.”
“Whatever. I’ll leave you to your thoughts, then.” He backs off and shuts his locker to walk away.
I remember then I’m still wearing my swim cap and goggles on my head, so I throw them in my locker and take a second to type a quick text to Sloane.
ME: Lawson’s one stunt away from getting us both relegated to a community college intermural swim team next year. Had to sit through another parent-teacher conference after he staged an underwater protest.
I feel shitty as soon as I hit send. Most of the time, Lawson’s antics don’t faze me. He’s just looking for attention or validation. He’s bored and restless and doesn’t understand limits. Mostly, he’s always trying to remind people how much he doesn’t need them so he can’t be hurt when they leave. It’s a coping mechanism that’s turned to white noise in my head. Other times, though…
My phone buzzes in my locker as I’m about to close it.
SLOANE: Just finishing up at the track. I’ll come by.
Chapter 22
Sloane
Silas is in a mood when we meet up after his practice. The unfortunate consequence of being Lawson’s wet-nurse is having to clean up his shit.
“How mad was your coach really?” I ask as we walk across campus toward his dorm.
“I don’t know,” he says with a shrug. “Like at some point we’re all culpable, right?”
“It’s still a choice. For example, I choose not to make Lawson my headache and it works out fine for me.”
That summons a slight smile from him. “Seriously, though. How much can Coach expect from the guy when he’s put up with him this long?” Silas rationalizes more for his own benefit than mine. “If he was going to kick him off the team, he probably should have done it the time the bus got searched by the highway patrol when someone at our meet told them Lawson was dropping acid between heats.”