Dres doesn't come back out of the kitchen, not that I particularly want him to. Part of me wonders what he wanted to say, but I'm glad I stood my ground with him. At two, Halston comes in, relieving me of my shift.

     I've only got an hour to kill before I have to be at school for my meet. I'm too nervous to eat so I go home, deciding I'll try to get a power nap in. My mom's home when I get there, watching a cooking show in the living room. I forego the nap to sit with her.

     "How was work?" she asks.

     "It was fine."

     She raises an eyebrow questioningly, but doesn't press. "I thought you were going to go straight to your meet?" I shrug my shoulders as a response. "So, do you want me to drive us?" she asks.

     "Yeah, that's fine. Grace is on her way over. She's coming, too."

     My mom nods and says nothing else. She's always been able to read me the best, knows when not to press a situation. When Grace shows up, we pack into my mom's Nissan and drive to school. Grace regales my mom with tales about classes and cheerleading. I rest my head against the window, trying to ready myself for my meet, but all I can think about is Dres.

     By the time I get there and change in the locker room, some of my teammates are already warming up. I slide into the water to the do the same. As I work my way through all four swimming styles I forget about everything that isn't swimming.

     My first event is the 100 Butterfly. The butterfly is what I'm best at so I'm not really nervous for it. 100 is nothing. When I'm up, I get onto the starter block, adjust my goggles, and stare down the water like it's an enemy on the front lines. I let the sounds fade out into a distant fuzziness. The horn blears and I'm in motion, diving into the water like I was born there and am returning home.

     I work my arms through the water, synchronized motion with my legs. I'm unthinking, I'm unbreathing. I am water. It's all I know. As I double back to the starter block, my muscles churn and ache. I love the feeling. Can't get enough of it.

     I place first.

     Coach slaps me on the back and says encouragingly, "You swim like that all day and you'll be the next Phelps." Coach always says things like this. I think, sometimes, that I don't want to be the next anybody. I want to be me. I want people to want to be me. I grin, nonetheless, nodding my head to let him know I intend to keep it up.

     I'm about to sit down when I see him. Dres. He's standing near the end of the bleachers, by the doors, arms folded across his chest. Stoic. Unmoved. The very same Dres I'd given attitude to today, the very same Dres I dream about at night, the very same Dres that drives me crazy.

     I look away quickly, hoping he doesn't notice that I've noticed him. My stomach bubbles with nerves. The meet always mattered but now there's more weight to it. This is the first time Dres is seeing me like this, in my element, doing the thing that I love. I want to show him that I, too, am skilled at something.

     I sit down, dizzy, and lean my elbows on my knees, hoping to calm my nerves.

     It feels like seconds later I'm back up on the starting block for my 200 IM.

     The IM is easily my least favorite event. I have to do all four swim styles and the backstroke is my worst. It's what I always lose my time on. I don't like it. I've never liked it. For as much as coach and I work on it, I can't pick up my time.

     The key is to be twice as fast in my butterfly and breaststrokes that way I've got room in my backstroke. I'm distracted knowing that Dres is there and Dres is watching. I'm both water and land, in the pool but outside it, staring at Dres. I am unable to detach from the concrete version of myself and so I sink.

     I place third, my worst placement since sophomore year in the IM. While the IM isn't my best event, it's one that I train for enough to maintain a first or second place. Coach is disappointed in me, but he doesn't say so. "We'll get the next one, Calvin. Shake it off," he says. I hate myself in that moment.

     Next up is the 500 freestyle. It's twenty laps of foreverness. If this were practice, I'd want to die. I'd contemplate my death in vivid detail. This isn't practice, though. My mom is here, Grace is here, Dres is here. I've got to redeem myself.

     I try not to think about any of these things as I get on the starter block, drop down low, my shoulders hunching forward. I stare at the water, hard, telling it to make me float, to work with me instead of against me.

     When I surface on the twentieth lap, I can't get enough air. My lungs tremble, trying to make gas exchange faster than my intercostal muscles can move. I'm sputtering, and blinking, water in my nostrils and my eyes.

     Coach is beaming down at me, giving me a hand out of the pool as he says, proudly, "You beat your times on that one, kid."

     Kid.

     I look over at the doors, and Dres is still there, sitting now, leaning forward with his elbows braced on his knees. He meets my gaze like he knows it's there, and his expression that normally tells me nothing, is saying so much, too much, that I have to look away.

     My last event is also the last of the meet, the 400 Freestyle Relay. It's not so bad, only 4 laps but I'm the anchor, swimming last and the deciding figure on how we place.

     James is up first. He stalks towards the block confidently, making sure to knock shoulders with me when he passes. I wince, not from the pain, but from the blatant openness of the act. My eyes dart over to my mom sitting on the bleachers, hoping she didn't see it, but she's busy talking to Grace. Thank god.

     My gaze moves farther down the bleachers where Dres's eyes are waiting to connect with mine. He's frowning at me, telling me that he not only saw it, but that he remembers exactly who that person was.

     Fuck.

     I've got to come up with a story, something that will keep Dres from doing anything rash, like telling my mom.

     Frank is second up and slows us down considerably. He always slows us down. Holden dives in next and then I'm up on the block, crouched and ready to dive when he gets back. We're behind where we should be if we want to make first and I want to make first.

     When Holden finishes his last lap, I dive into the water pushing off and slicing through the water like I can out swim all of my problems if I'm fast enough. People are cheering loudly enough now that it has intercepted my focus; excitement prickles in my chest and I push my arms and legs harder. If I could break them to move faster, I would. I'd unlock my joints, let the bones flop wildly against the ligaments and tendons, extending farther and wider.

     I cut the water, my chest and lungs filling with a pressure that makes me dizzy, makes my sight blotchy in my goggles. I push again, my teeth pressing into my bottom lip hard enough to bring a metallic taste to my mouth. And then I'm slapping my hands again the wall and breaking the surface with a breath that gives me life, reignites all my organs so that they can repurpose themselves.

     Coach is over the moon, grinning madly, as he hoists me out of the water. Some of my teammates crowd me, screaming loudly things I can't hear because my ears are clogged. I lean over, still panting, my chest aching with every raw breath.

     "Calvin," Coach is saying pulling me upwards. I'm unsteady on my feet, and use his shoulder to keep myself up. "That was brilliant. Amazing. Absolutely astounding. I'm telling you, kid, that was a performance of a live time."

     I grin at him, nodding my head, mostly to clear my vision of the black spots. "Thanks, Coach." I push away from him, staggering towards the bench to grab my towel and dry off. I drop it over my neck as I reach for my water bottle.

     The scores are tallied and my team gets the win.

     We're in a competitive swim division, but we always end up going to State's. Coach receives our trophies, and then they line us up for our medals. I receive three gold's and a bronze.

     Afterwards, I head over to Grace and my mom, dropping my towel on the bench beside them as they stand to hug me. "You did so well, honey!" my mom cries kissing my head. "I'm so impressed."

     "Thanks mom," I say patting her back. I pull away, saying, "I'm gonna' get you all wet."

     She laughs, rolling her eyes knowing it's mostly that she's embarrassing me. Grace socks me in the arm, smiling as she says, "You kicked ass." My mom shoots her a look. "Butt," she rectifies quickly.

     I remember Dres and say, "I'll be right back. Wait here." Before either of them can say anything I'm walking through a crowd of people towards the end of the bleachers, where Dres is sitting, watching everything with a plaintive look on his face. He gets up when he sees me.

     I push my wet hair back, and go, "What're you doing here?"

     Dres ignores my question and says, "Why didn't you tell me you had a meet today?"

     I stare at him like he's crazy. We could literally have a hundred conversations of not answering each other, I realize. "Who told you I had a meet today?"

     "Not you," Dres snaps. He's offended for some reason by this. I hesitate, slightly. "Halston." I shake my head. Of course. She's such a blabbermouth.

     I go to respond but Grace and my mom are walking over so I start shoving Dres towards the door, instead. He looks at me like I'm crazy. "You need to leave," I say quickly as the two of them get closer. It's too late.

     My mom calls to me, "Cas, who's this?"

     Dres glances at me, barely, pushing me aside to give my mom his hand. "Dresden Gibson, mam," he says smoothly. His tone has changed completely, the coldness seeping from his face like someone has siphoned it all out of his bones.

     I grimace, not in the least bit enthused to have my mom meeting Dres. Or Dres meeting my mom.

     "Oh," my mom exclaims, this smile breaking out on her face that she saves for company. "Calvin's boss. It is so nice to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you..." she says and I all but choke. "About you and your business," she adds quickly, giving me an apologetic glance. "The cup cakery. It sounds like it's going very well for you."

     Dres is smirking, slightly. It's barely noticeable but I notice it.

     "Have you tried any of his cupcakes, Mrs. S?" Grace asks. "They're amazing."

     My mom gives me another look, this one a bit more pointed. "No, I haven't tried them."

     I see it. I see it and am helpless to stop it.

     Dres says, all pseudo-charm and friendliness, "You should come by tonight. Pick some up."

     "You know, that's a great idea. I've been meaning to come by and see the place. What do you say, Cas?" She looks at me.

     I sputter, silently fuming, "I have to shower."

     She shrugs lightly. "That's fine. I can wait." Dres shoots me a look. Grace shoots me a look. My mom is all look. I refrain from glaring at all of them.

     "Why don't you guys head over," I find myself saying before I've thought about it. "And I'll meet you there when I'm done."

     My mom frowns, slightly, glancing around at my teammates who are shuffling into the locker rooms. "I don't know, maybe we'll just wait for you. You don't have your car, after all," she adds like this is her actual reasoning and not that she's concerned about leaving me with my teammates.

     "You don't need to wait for me," I say sort of annoyed by the whole thing. "It's a short walk." I practice with my teammates every day, I want to add. They're not going to suddenly kill me.

     "I can wait for Calvin and drive him over," Dres says, his tone flat like this a simple solution, one that means nothing, one that suggests nothing. But I know better.

     I'm ready to debate it, to say that I don't need anybody to wait for me. Grace is grinning when she says, "That's a great idea. Come on, Ms. S." She links her arm through my mom's, turning her towards the door before my mom can debate it, either.

     I stand there, gawking, as my mom walks out with Grace. Then it's just Dres and I.