of competition and they thought he’d get nervous and tense up.”
“Somehow he didn’t. I think I was more nervous.”
Isaac smiled. “Where’s your medal?”
“In my room… which I’ll have to return to in the morning. I’m supposed to rendezvous with Jason before we go to the broadcast center for interviews.”
“That’ll be fun.” Isaac led Tim into the room and pointed at the bed, so Tim sat. He was thankful for it, leaning back and relaxing into the mattress, willing himself to stay awake because he didn’t want to fall asleep and miss a moment with Isaac.
Isaac didn’t sit, though. Instead he paced along the length of the bed, hovering over Tim, and said, “Speaking of TV appearances, here’s a puzzle for you. Marcus Holt wants to do an in-depth interview with me.”
“The guy from Wake Up, America!? Does he want to talk about rehab and all that?”
“I think so. He wants to put the emphasis on my recovery, but I think it’s only really worth doing if I talk about the whole shebang. I can’t decide if I should, though. Like, do I talk about everything I went through? On one hand, it might be good to get it all out there. On the other hand, all my business will be out there. I’m starting to get calls about endorsement deals and sponsorships again, and I don’t want to jeopardize that. I feel like talking about the last three years will only remind people that I’m an alcoholic, and that’s not exactly the guy you want repping your sports apparel brand, you know?” Isaac sighed and sat on the bed finally. “It may depend on how the next few days play out.”
“Okay.” Tim tried to come up with something better to say. Which path was correct? Tim could see arguments for doing the interview—being honest, possibly helping someone watching at home who struggled with the same demons Isaac had. Or staying mum—keeping the public out of his private life and earning some money. Tim’s own endorsement and sponsorship money paid his mortgage because it was hard to hold down a job when he was training, so he understood why that money would be important. He shook his head, unable to come up with any decent answer to the question.
“Do you think I should do it?” asked Isaac.
“That’s really up to you. I mean, I think it could be great. You could be an inspiration to someone struggling. This could be the move that makes your career. Or not. I don’t really know.” Tim bit his lip because he thought there were two possible outcomes to the interview: either everyone would drop Isaac like he was a toxic hot potato, or everyone would see what an inspiration he was and fully embrace him. And if the first thing happened, Tim didn’t want to be the one who’d talked Isaac into doing something that ruined his career.
Isaac nodded slowly like he was mulling it over. Then he smiled. “Sorry, I don’t mean to steal your thunder. You looked great today. You and Jason both, but you especially. I can see why everyone says you’re so good.”
“Everybody says that?”
“Yeah. Although also, you look amazing in that tiny bathing suit.”
Tim smiled and patted his hard belly. “It’s why I’m not allowed to eat sugar during the competition season. The men in my family tend to get doughy. I’m fighting against genetics.”
“No sugar at all? Winning a silver medal has to at least deserve a cupcake or something.”
“Not all of us swim enough to burn off six thousand calories a day.”
Isaac winked. He seemed to be in a good mood, at least. “So how tired are you?”
Tim knew what Isaac meant, so he replied, “Pretty tired. Now that I’m winding down from the victory high, I’m getting sleepy. Winning a medal takes a lot out of you.”
“I have to swim three times tomorrow. A prelim, a semi, and a final. I mean, I feel good now, but if you’re tired….”
Tim laughed. “You know? There’s a part of me that’s like, ‘Forget your exhaustion, let’s just do it.’ But good God, even my bones are tired.”
“It’s a feeling I’m familiar with.”
Tim laid his head on Isaac’s shoulder. Isaac slung his long arm around Tim’s back, so Tim snuggled in closer. He liked being pressed against Isaac. He’d liked waking up with him too. This second night in a row spent together implied nights like this might become a habit. The bed in the room was barely wide