Devil May Care (Boys of Preston Prep 1)
“What’s that?” I ask, pointing to the clipboard in her hand.
Best to get the train-wreck over with.
“I want to get everyone’s phone number so we can start a group text,” she explains. “I’ll split it down by subcategories, like relays and strokes. It’ll be easier to contact people that way and might also be good for reminders if people start slacking off or skipping practice.”
It all seems a bit tedious to me. I mean, most everyone on the team already follows each other on ChattySnap or some other social media. Why reinvent the wheel? I open my mouth to tell her that, but then I remember. Gwendolyn doesn’t participate in social media, at all. Not after what happened with her sister. She’s completely out of the loop.
“Go for it,” I sigh, reaching for my goggles.
“Listen up!” she calls, her voice drowned out by everyone talking. “Hey! I need your attention, please!”
She visibly flounders for a moment, eyebrows knitting together, teeth beginning to worry at her lip. I can see the wheels in there moving. Her insecurity is being broadcast like a fucking billboard, and the second they see it, they’ll eat her ass alive. I just can’t watch it any longer.
Turning toward the crowd, I bark, “Devils!”
The room falls silent.
I make a gesture to Gwendolyn, who gives me a look of reluctant appreciation, but doesn’t waste the opportunity.
At least a little of her poise has returned. “Before you get wet, I need you to fill out your information on this clipboard. It’ll make communication a lot more efficient,” she says. Her voice wavers a bit halfway through, nerves obviously getting the best of her, not that she’d ever acknowledge it. Not stubborn-as-nails Gwendolyn Adams.
The diver is the first one to step forward, of course, loping forward with a fond grin. She smiles at him so gratefully that it’s like the tension just pours right out of her frame. Like he’s done something heroic. Like he’s the one who got everyone paying attention and spared her from an afternoon of being ignored. What’s with him anyway? Does he want to fuck her, too? And why is everyone suddenly wanting under Adam’s swimsuit?
She smiles at him appreciatively and a stark realization hits me like a punch in the gut.
Maybe she’s already screwing him.
I yank on my cap and adjust my goggles, diving into the water to cool off. I should be focusing on training. Nothing else.
Nothing else.
“Tight enough?”
I wince, more from the cold than the pain. “Yeah, it should hold.”
Icing my shoulder is part of the daily process and Janet, the trainer, attaches the heavy bag over my shoulder with tape. Truthfully, now that we’re back to regular practices, there are days where the pain is bad enough that just looking at my book bag in the mornings is enough to make me want to scream.
Obviously, no one can know this.
“Twenty minutes,” she says, and I nod in reply.
I walk out of the training room and down the empty pool deck to the office, willing my shoulder to stop aching. I’m somewhere between ‘grin and bear it’ and ‘just ignore the pain’ when an object flies from out of nowhere, landing inches from the edge of the pool.
Or... not from nowhere. From the office I share with Gwen.
Upon closer inspection, the object in question is the clipboard from earlier. Out of curiosity I go over, pick it up, and skim the list.
Tyson Riggings
Neil Down
Harry Dong
Anita Dick
Ben N. Syder
Curley Pubes