Page 3

My body jolts suddenly from side to side, pulling me awake from a deep sleep. I’m being tussled about in bed, disoriented and unable to gather my bearings, but I sense Caro’s presence. Of course, she’s the source of all the commotion.

I blink to find her bouncing up and down on the mattress, grinning like the goofball she is.

Yawning and stretching, I watch as she giggles and flops onto her knees, straddling me.

“Olympic trials start today, bitch!”

Howling, I grab her waist and pull her down to the bed beside me. We both lay on our backs, staring up at the ceiling, taking in those five words. Qualifying starts today in Adelaide and lasts for eight days. By the end of it, we could both have a ticket to the Melbourne Olympic Games—we compete for Australia in Australia.

“Lacy?”

I face Caro. “Yeah?”

“This could be the beginning of our futures.”

Great minds think alike.

Sighing, I glance back up to the ceiling. “Today could be the start of our journey. The day the world acknowledges our hard work.”

“We got this, don’t we?”

“Yeah, we sure as hell got this!”

“Good, let’s go then.” She leaps up from the bed, pulling me with her and out to the kitchen. There lies our fruit, with a side of egg white omelette. She’s on the game today.

“You made breakfast?”

“Well, someone was trying out for the Sleeping Beauty contest this morning, so one of us had to step up,” Caro teases.

Rolling my eyes, I take my plate and smile. “Thank you.”

We eat quickly, get dressed and pack everything we need for the day’s events. Then we head off to the SA Aquatic and Leisure Centre at Oaklands Park. It’s our home base, so we have the advantage of knowing the pool inside out. It’s where we train and live when we’re not at the unit.

Walking in the centre it’s all a buzz. There are people everywhere, and as we step in further, we see Tuck talking to the one… the only… Kyle Watley! Australia’s four-time Olympic Champion! Order of Australia Medallist! Former record holder in three events, winner of five gold medals, four silver, and one bronze! This guy’s a legend, and our coach is talking to him.

I nudge Caro. “Can you believe that?”

Caro shakes her head. “Nup. I didn’t know Kyle would be here, let alone set my knickers on fire, then douse them out with an insatiable wetness.”

“Oh my God, Caro!”

“What? He’s hot… Oh, wait, speaking of hot…” She turns her head toward a couple of guys walking past us.

They’re both smoking hot, but one grabs my attention. He’s tall with a muscular build. His brown hair is just long enough to flop slightly on top. His eyes are the most striking blue I’ve ever gazed upon. He glances at me and smirks, sending a shiver down my spine. I break out into goose bumps. His smirk is gorgeous. My heart races. My palms sweat, and my thighs buckle as my mind wanders.

Just imagine those perfect smirking lips kissing my neck.

His friend struts past and flexes his biceps in our direction. My eyebrows curve upward, and my eyes bug out. Before I drool over his friend, I turn to Caro and pull her away.

“Awww, I was having fun with the guys. They were hot and showing off,” she coos.

“We need to concentrate on the heats, not the heat around the pool.”

Caro pouts. “You’re no fun.”

I walk us over to Tuck, who’s setting up our stuff now that Kyle has disappeared.

“Tuck, we’re here,” I call.

He turns and beams. “Good, and on time, too. Lacy must have gotten you out of bed, Caro, right?” he teases.

I giggle as Caro crosses her arms and scoffs.

“Actually, I got Miss Sleeping Beauty out of her bed this morning, Tuck. I think you’ll find I’m the committed one here today. Lacy’s too busy checking out the boys. I tried to stop her, but she’s a dog on heat. Can’t stop her from dry-humping shit.”

Tuck shakes his head as I slap her arm. “You’re a bitch.”

She wrinkles her nose. “You love me.”

“Mmm…”

“Okay, well, now you ladies have had your fun, it’s time for some serious talk. There’s a lot of veterans racing at the trials, but there’s always room for new up-and-comers. Kyle is keeping his eyes open for fresh talent, and I told him about you both, so give your all this week.”

“You mean the sexy Kyle Watley will be watching out for… moi?” Caro gushes.

Tuck guffaws. “Yes! So do your best.”

“Yes, coach!”

While Caro and Tuck chat, I’m distracted. Caro isn’t far off the mark. I am like a dog on heat. Because that guy from before, well… he’s standing over there setting up, and I can’t tear my eyes away. There’s something about him—he’s a magnet for my eyes, and I just can’t break the connection.

“Lacy, earth to Lacy?”

I snap my head back around to face Tuck and Caro. “Huh, what?”

Tuck frowns, turning from me to the guy and then back to me. “Eye on the prize only, Miss LaBelle!”

I try to rein in my racing heart and breathing.

“A ticket to Melbourne.”

“Good. Don’t forget it. Don’t get distracted. This is too important, Lacy.”

I push away the thought of his hands running up my thighs. “Yes, coach. I’m focused. I promise.”

“Glad to hear it. Now, go get changed.”

“Okay.”

Caro links her arm with mine, and we head to the changing rooms, where we begin our preparations for the meet. The room is abuzz with swimmers from all corners of Australia. We change quickly. There’s a special address coming up soon, and we all have to be there before the first heat starts. We rush out of the change rooms and down to the marshalling area. There, we file in and squish together for the welcome address.

Caro and I link our arms. There’s no one else I’d rather have by my side.

A bunch of people speak. It’s as boring as shit, then finally, Kyle Watley steps onto the small dais. Caro and I snap back to reality.

“Hi everyone, I’d like to officially welcome you to the Australian Olympic qualifying trials. We’re all here for one reason and one reason only… a ticket to Melbourne. To get that ticket, you have to not only give it your all this week but also put your best foot forward in all aspects. Respect the sport. Respect your country. Respect your teammates. Do Australia proud. Strive for your ticket to Melbourne. Show the world what world-class swimmers look like!”

We all cheer. Pride washes over me. I can’t believe that I’m even here with these amazing swimmers. I was in this position four years ago when I was sixteen. Back then, I was too young, and the stress was too much. But now I’m in my prime. I can take on anything.

I. Am. Ready.

“Go out there now and give this everything you’ve got, be your best, do the best. Swim hard, swim fast. Let’s see some good numbers today, people.” Kyle steps down from the dais. We scatter.

“Good luck, you’ll smash it.” Caro kisses my cheek before rushing after some hot guys.

The first round of swimmers get ready for the Multi Class Women’s 50m Free, which the men will follow. Then I’m up for the 100m Butterfly, which is the only race I’m trying out for other than the Olympic relay team. So I sit in the marshalling area to the side of the pool. It’s an enclosed seating area where I wait patiently for my time to come around. Television screens are conveniently placed on the walls, and the area is quiet enough for us to prepare mentally for a particular race.

The trials bring in huge crowds. The television stations record the heats for their highlights later that night. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the idea of being on television, but I’ll deal.

I’m sitting back, not focusing on anything but the first Multi Class race. Then my arm tingles. Furrowing my brows, I catch the hot guy from earlier. He’s wearing his swim shorts and a Playford-branded swimming shirt. Tensing as he comes into view, I quickly turn away as my breathing rushes and my muscles clench. When he sits down next to me, I tingle even more. Chewing the side of my cheek, I slowly face him.

He’s smiling so brightly it knocks my socks off. “Hey, I’m Coby Mathers. I swim for Playford… obviously. This your first time?”

His easy-going nature soothes me. “I’m Lacy. I’m with Marion, and this is my second. I didn’t qualify the first time.”

“Let’s change that this time, hey?”

I check the information board to see the men’s 400m Free after my event. “You’re a Freestyler?”

He smiles. “Yeah, I try to freestyle everything.”

What an odd thing to say.

I snigger. “Interesting. So this is obviously your first trials, too, then?”

He nods. “Yeah, I’m a late developer, but I’m well-developed now.”

I give him an idiotic grin. “Good timing then.”

He ogles through his lashes. “Couldn’t have timed it better.”

“What do you mean it’s only just started?”

He chuckles. “ ’Cause I met you. That’s a pretty good start to this week, wouldn’t you say?”

I slump. “Distractions are a very bad idea.”

He smirks. “Well then, let’s only be distracted after hours.”

“Or not at all,” I rebut.

He chuckles. “Geez, Lacy, you’re a tough one to crack.”

I raise my shoulders. “You have to be tough in my life.”

He winces. “There’s a story there. I want to hear it one day when we’re allowed to be distracted.”

“I live down south, you live up north. So—”

“How very observant of you.”

“That’s not something on your mind?” I huff.

“What’s on my mind right now… is eels.”

Furrowing my brows, I jolt back slightly and stare at him. “Um… what?”

“Eels glide through the water. I need to be an eel.”

“Right, I see your logic.”

“Plus, if I’m an electric eel, I can blow my competition right out of the water.”

I shake my head. “Really?”

He grins. “Was it that bad ?”

“I’m thinking A-grade Dad joke, to be honest.”

He lifts his shoulders. “Shit, I need to work on my form.”

“I think you do there, eel boy.”

He bumps his shoulder into mine playfully. “Hey, a few of us are heading to a café tonight for dinner. You should come.”

“Me?”

“No, the other Lacy.”

Rolling my eyes, I click my tongue. “Smart arse. Um… can my friend Caro come?”

“That girl you were with earlier?”

I nod.

He smiles. “East thought she was smokin’.”

Furrowing my brows, I tilt my head. “East?”

“My mate Easton, the bicep guy. He’ll be there. Would be nice to get to get better acquainted without the time restraints.”

“Maybe. Let me talk to Caro, see what our plans are. I’m sure I’ll see you around more today.”

“I hope so.”

“100 Fly, please get ready,” a marshal calls.

Nerves hit me like a ton of bricks.

Coby winks. “Good luck, Lady Butterfly.”

“Thanks, Electric Eel.” I’m not sure whether I’m giddy because of my first heat or Coby.

I take my position in the lineup, adjusting my blue caps slightly. I’m wearing two, as my hair is a little longer these days.

The line starts to move. Taking a deep breath, I walk. The girl behind me trips me. I catch my footing, and then I face her. She’s short and gives me a shit-eating grin.

I recall her from the last trials.

Katie Reynolds.

“Hi, Katie,” I grumble.

“You didn’t even talk to me in the marshalling area. How rude!”

“Sorry, I was talking to Coby.”

“Yes, being a tease.”

I ignore the jab.

We arrive at our positions. Taking a deep breath, I sit on my designated chair and scan the crowd. It’s huge. My nerves are getting the better of me as I jump up and down on the spot.

“Jennifer Hancock… Adelaide Swim Club.”

“Lacy LaBelle… Marion Swimming Club,” they call out next.

I rise to my feet as the crowd erupts into cheers. A grin spreads across my face—I’m lucky to have the home-crowd advantage, and I’ll take every bit of support I can get.

Waving and smiling brightly, I pull off my Marion shirt and toss it aside. Then, with steady hands, I strip down, placing my clothes neatly into the provided bins.

The adrenaline kicks in—I’m ready for the race.

“Katie Reynolds… Nunawading Swimming Club,” they announce next.

I cringe.

Katie wasn’t nice to be around four years ago. I doubt that she’s had any sort of ‘nice’ transplant since then.

They announce the rest of the lineup as I swing my arms, getting the blood flowing into my shoulders. I space out before recalling my mantra.

I am building a fire, and every day I train, I add more fuel. At just the right moment, I light the match.

My goggles fit snugly around my eyes and pull taut onto my scalp—just the way I like it. They command us to step up to the starting block. I wait for the buzzer. My heart is pumping, the adrenaline surging. My skin prickles with excitement at the thought of hitting that water and racing.

I don’t need to come first—I just have to make sure I place for the semi. That’s my goal—push and push hard. The buzzer sounds, so I step up onto the starting block. I try to control my breathing, I don’t need to be out of breath before I hit the water.

“Take your mark.”

Bending down, I get into position and focus. Even though I’m dying to get in the water, I won’t budge until I hear that gun. A false start is unacceptable. A loud bang echoes through the centre. I leap off the starting block. I dive, staying under for as long as I can before resurfacing. I take in a short breath and then throw my arms over my head. I slam them back down into the crystal blue depths.

I move quickly and effortlessly. The thrill of being one with the water soothes my nerves. Pure determination courses through me. The wall comes up. I duck, slamming against the tiles. I dive back, swaying my body up and down in a perfect rhythm before surfacing.

Taking a breath, I raise my arms and slam them back down. They say Butterfly is the most powerful of all the swimming techniques, and I feel pretty powerful in the water at this moment. I push as my lungs burn and my muscles ache. But that match is lit once more. Now, I’m propelling through the water with even more determination. I vaguely hear the crowd cheering as I surface for each stroke. They spur me on. I glide through the beautiful, clear blue liquid, then duck and slam into the wall.

My head pops up out of the water as my lungs take in short, much-needed breaths. Perusing the display board, I find out I’ve come in second behind Katie. She’s a second off her personal best.

Panting, I smile at Katie. She tilts her head as if she knew she was going to smash me. I’m excited that I’ve made it through, but bummed I didn’t do my own PB. But still, there’s always the semis. I can do better—I still have energy reserved.

Stumbling out of the pool while taking off my caps, I mentally berate myself for not doing better.

Katie approaches me. “How’s second-best?” she sneers.

Scrunching my brows, I shake my head as I step in behind her.

“Good swim, Butterfly,” Coby chirps as he passes me on his way out for his Freestyle event.

“Good luck, Eel. Shock them out of the water,” I tease.

Coby beams. If my bathers weren’t already wet, they are now. He marches off as I stroll into the marshalling area, taking a seat. I should go and change, but I focus on Coby. Studying the television, I wait as they announce him. He takes off his shirt, revealing his well-defined abs and a strong set of shoulders. He is a spectacular vision.

They take their positions. Coby steps onto the starting block. The camera zooms in on him. I whimper. It comes out louder than I expected. I scan the room to see if anyone heard me, but luckily, everyone’s too busy getting in the zone to catch me lusting over the television screen.

“Take your mark.”

He bends down.

I wish they would get a behind view right now.

A small smile pulls at my lips as the starting signal goes off. He dives into the water and stays under for an extended period of time, coming out in front of the pack. His arm comes up, his stroke is flawless as his muscles ripple and glisten in the water. I lick my lips while marvelling at him.

He’s a full body length in front of everyone. It’s hardly a race at all. He’s just that good. Coby hits the wall, flipping over and heading back down for the first hundred of the event.

Coby’s an endurance swimmer, so his muscles have muscles. I have trouble breathing after a hundred metres, so I have no idea how he does it for three times longer. I smile slyly before mentally slapping myself.

The entire race is incredible. I’m on the edge of my seat as another swimmer comes closer to him. I don’t think Coby’s fading, but the other guy lights the match.

“C’mon, Coby,” I plead as they turn for the final fifty.

Coby’s still in front, but it’s only by one stroke. The other guy’s catching up quickly. I stand up as he slowly gains on him. Unlike me, Coby doesn’t have a semi. This race qualifies you straight into the final. Yes, second place will get you there too, but first gives you a better starting lane.

“Push, Coby, push,” I yell louder than I’d intended.

A couple of people stare at me, but I continue to stare at the screen. As if he heard me, he pushes harder and starts pulling out in front a little further.

I bounce up and down on the spot, inwardly screaming for him. “C’mon, Cobes,” I plead.

He ducks and slams his hands against the wall.

“Yes!” I call.

Everyone stares at me again, and I shrink into myself as I glance back at the screen. Coby is still in the pool, his huge smile beaming with the realisation that he’s come in first—just barely.

“Miss LaBelle, can we have a random sample, please?” an official cuts in.

I hesitate, my eyes flicking back to the water. I wanted to be here when Coby came back in, to celebrate with him, to see his face light up.

But the test is mandatory.

Clutching the kit, I turn and take off, the cheers from the pool echoing behind me—louder and louder—until they’re all I can hear.