Page 48 of Freestyle (Boys of Frampton U #2)

Phoenix

T he lights overhead feel like judgment, bright, unrelenting.

The smell of chlorine coats everything, thick and chemical, sinking into my skin like ritual.

I’m at the edge of the world, crouched low behind the starting block, fingertips grazing slick metal, breath shallow and coiled like a loaded spring.

This isn’t just a race.

It’s atonement .

The last heat still echoes in my veins, the loss, the burn of failure and I can feel my team behind me, banking on redemption I haven’t earned yet .

The crowd’s cheers rise and fall like waves, a cacophony that drowns out my racing thoughts. Today is crucial. My heart pounds in my chest, a relentless drum that echoes the weight of expectation.

I glance up at the stands, searching for her.

Rowyn. She’s a beacon in the chaos, wearing my name emblazoned across her back, a promise and a reminder of the love that fuels me.

My breath hitches as I spot her, surrounded by friends, laughing, her smile bright against the backdrop of blue and silver.

The colors of our team. Gray’s last name is painted on her cheek, a symbol of our unconventional love, and I feel a swell of pride.

We’re a team, all three of us, bound together in this intricate dance of affection.

The whistle blows, pulling me back to the moment. I shake out my limbs, feeling the adrenaline coursing through me, igniting every nerve ending. The water glistens under the harsh lights, inviting yet intimidating. I can almost hear it calling my name, whispering promises of victory and defeat.

I glance back at the pool just as Gray finishes his heat. He touches the wall, and I can see the relief wash over his face. The camaraderie between us is palpable, a shared understanding of the sacrifices we’ve made. He smiles back, and for a moment, the world fades away.

But then the reality crashes back. I’m next.

I take a deep breath, inhaling the sharp scent of chlorine, my lungs filling with the urgency of the moment.

I can feel the eyes of my teammates on me, the weight of their hopes and dreams pressing down like a heavy cloak.

I can’t let them down. I can’t let myself down.

As I step to the edge of the block, I hear Rowyn’s voice cutting through the noise, “You got this, Phoenix!”

The warmth of her encouragement wraps around me like a lifeline. I nod, a small gesture, but it carries the weight of my determination. I’m not just swimming for myself; I’m swimming for her, for Gray, for everything we’ve built together in the shadows of our intertwined lives.

The starter’s gun fires, and I launch myself into the water, everything outside fading away.

The noise of the crowd, the pressure of expectation, even the weight of my own thoughts.

It’s just me and the water now, a world of fluid motion where I can find solace.

I kick hard, my legs propelling me forward with practiced precision.

The cold envelops me, a stark contrast to the heat of the moment, and I feel my body surge into a rhythm, a dance of muscle and will.

My arms slice through the surface, each stroke deliberate and powerful.

I focus on my technique, the fluidity of my movements.

I rotate my hips, engaging my core, and pull through the water with a strong, sweeping motion.

My fingertips graze the surface before my palms enter, creating minimal splash.

I can feel the water parting around me, a sensation that ignites a fire within.

This is where I belong, lost in the depths, where every stroke is a testament to my strength.

Breathing becomes a mechanical rhythm, timed perfectly with the cadence of my strokes.

I turn my head to the side, inhaling sharply, the taste of chlorinated water lingering on my lips.

I can feel my lungs expanding, filling with air, before I plunge back into the depths, surrendering to the embrace of the water once more.

The world above is a distant memory, a chaotic blur that has no place in this moment.

I focus on the pull of my arms, the way they slice through the water, each movement a calculated effort to maximize my speed.

My legs kick in unison, driving me forward, feeling the burn in my muscles, a reminder that I’m alive, that I’m fighting for something greater than myself.

I visualize the finish line, the touch of the wall and the roar of the crowd, but here in the water, it’s just me and my determination.

With every stroke, I push aside the doubts that creep into my mind.

I remind myself of the hours spent training, the sacrifices made, the love that fuels me.

I feel Rowyn’s encouragement, her unwavering support, wrapping around me like a warm current.

I’m not just swimming for myself; I’m swimming for us, for the bond we share, for the strength of our relationship .

As I approach the final stretch, I dig deeper, channeling all my energy into each stroke.

My heart races, not from fear, but from the thrill of the chase.

I can almost feel the finish line drawing closer, the water rushing past me, urging me forward.

This is my moment. This is where I prove my worth, not just to my team, but to myself.

I surge ahead, the world above forgotten, lost in the power of the water and the strength of my resolve.

In one final burst of energy, I launch myself forward, fingertips grazing the wall before I pull back, my body coming to a sudden stop. I’ve done it. I’ve won my heat.

The roar of the crowd, the whistle, the screech of the final time posted, none of it matters.

My chest heaves, lungs raw with the burn of victory, but I don’t care. I’m already moving, slipping out of the pool, water streaming off me in sheets, feet slapping hard against the tile as I shove past outstretched hands and stunned teammates trying to congratulate me.

Later.

Let them celebrate later.

Right now, there’s only one thing I need.

I spot her instantly, Rowyn, leaning over the rail, cheeks flushed, her eyes wide with disbelief and something brighter— pride . That look . That look is worth every stroke, every missed breath, every moment I thought I wouldn’t make it.

I reach her.

She opens her mouth, maybe to say something, maybe to breathe.

I don’t wait.

I pull her into my arms like I’ve earned it, because God, I have .

I spin her, hard and fast, until she squeals and grabs fistfuls of my damp shoulders to steady herself.

Her laughter bursts like wildfire across my chest, and then I kiss her, unthinking, unfiltered. Full of chlorine, adrenaline, devotion.

I pour everything into it, into her .

The crowd erupts. People are screaming, whistling, chanting my name.

But all I hear is her heartbeat against mine.

“You,” I murmur against her lips, “ you are my little lucky charm.”

She laughs again, a little breathless. “Pretty sure that was all you, Nix.”

“Not a chance,” I whisper. “You were with me the whole time. I swam like hell just to get back to you.”

Then a warm body presses into our side, arms curling around both of us.

Gray .

Still damp, still flushed from his own race and smiling that rare, unguarded smile, the kind that only shows up when he forgets to hold the world up for everyone else.

He hugs us tight, forehead resting briefly against Rowyn’s temple.

“We did it,” I say.

Gray’s voice rumbles quietly beside me. “You did.”

Rowyn threads her fingers through both of ours. “You both did it.”

And for one golden moment, drenched in sweat and water and everything we’ve built, we just stand there.

Three hearts beating in sync. A team. A family. A love no one else will ever quite understand.

But we don’t need them to.

The second we step off the deck, it’s mayhem.

Someone screams my name like they’ve won the lottery, and then we’re surrounded, towels whipping, arms flailing, wet bodies crashing into ours with the kind of reckless joy that only comes after months of bone-deep sacrifice finally paying off.

Coach is shouting something triumphant from across the pool, clipboard forgotten, fists in the air.

Teammates are grabbing my shoulders, ruffling my soaked hair, slapping my back so hard I nearly stumble.

I think someone even tries to lift me, which ends about as well as you’d expect with this many wet limbs and adrenaline.

Gray laughs beside me, deep and unguarded. He’s still got an arm around Rowyn, and she’s laughing too, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, her hands caught between holding on to both of us and shielding herself from the chaos.

“You lunatic!” Jett yells, nearly tackling me in a one-armed hug. “Where the hell did you pull that finish from?”

I grin, barely able to catch my breath. “The abyss?”

He barks a laugh, already yanked away by someone else, and the wave keeps rolling.

One of the underclassmen yells, “That’s what I’m talking about, Nix! That anchor leg was savage!” Another throws a towel over my head and howls something about needing to rename the relay after me.

For a moment, it’s wild. Noisy. Frantic.

But even as I’m pulled from one teammate to another, getting drenched in secondhand hugs and dripping high-fives, my eyes keep drifting back to Rowyn.

She’s tucked beside Gray now, his arm a shield, his hand splayed across her lower back in quiet reverence, and she’s watching me like I’m the miracle.

It steadies me in a way the cheers never could.