when I was an infant, and I’ve been swimming ever since. After that, it’s kind of a chicken and egg thing. Genetics might have given me my height and my long limbs, but the rest of it’s all training.”
Nikki grinned as if she didn’t believe him. Isaac did have an incredible body that seemed designed specifically to move him quickly through water, but Tim understood exactly what he meant.
Nikki said, “So what’s next?”
“Well, I’ve got at least one more race. Two if I do the IM relay on Saturday.”
Nikki laughed. “And what about after that?”
Isaac shrugged. “Guess I’ll go back to Raleigh.”
“More swimming?”
“Yeah, maybe. I’m not a hundred percent on that yet, but I think I’ve got a few more world championship races in me.”
“Do you have another Olympics in you?”
Isaac smiled but then shrugged. “We’ll see. Four years is a long time in the life of an athlete.”
The interview wrapped up soon after that. Tim sipped his iced tea and watched as the show went to commercial, letting himself dwell on the idea that Isaac would go back to Raleigh when the Games ended. Or sooner. Just that morning Tim had heard some of the swimmers talking in the locker room about getting flights home on Monday.
The very idea of losing Isaac so soon left Tim bereft. They’d only just found each other; it seemed cruel for Isaac to leave so soon. He knew intellectually that when the Games ended, they’d go back to their own home cities, but even contemplating that made Tim feel hollow. They had so much more to learn about each other, to explore together. There had to be more of a future for them than the end of the Olympics. Right?
Isaac intended to stick around past the end of swimming, Tim thought, but they hadn’t talked about it. He thought he remembered Isaac saying his flight home wasn’t until after the Closing Ceremony, but he couldn’t swear to that.
Tim’s phone chimed. He looked down and saw a new text from Isaac.
Miss u. TBC is making me do entertainment show interview.
That sounded like Isaac’s nightmare. The American network, TBC, owned a half-dozen channels and had a lot of hours to fill. And that included their evening block of tabloid-esque shows that covered celebrity news. Tim had seen the Hollywood Tonight reporters talking to people after the incident during practice, so he knew they were still hanging around Madrid. But the idea of Isaac going on the show seemed so strange.
Tim texted back, Sounds terrible.
Isaac returned: I’ve been warned I’ll have to answer love life questions. Wouldn’t it shock the hell out of the people back home if I told them I’ve been hooking up with a dude?
Oh boy. Tim’s stomach flopped. I’d love that, but I don’t want to go public about us until after the diving finals.
It wasn’t that Tim was ashamed of the relationship or even unsure about it anymore. He just didn’t want the press attention to distract him from what he was there to do. He was pretty sure Isaac understood that, but he made a mental note to clarify with him later. He’d happily go public about dating Isaac Flood thirty seconds after his last dive.
Isaac texted back a smiley face, then: Understood. I’ll be vague. I’m off the market. Dating a nice young fella.
Tim laughed, inadvertently snorting, which made Jason look at him with both eyebrows raised. “I’m texting with Isaac,” Tim said.
“The guy who was just on TV?” Jason shook his head. “The Olympics are surreal.”
IN 1972, Mark Spitz—Isaac’s idol—won seven gold medals, then the record for most medals won in a single Olympics. Michael Phelps, probably the greatest swimmer of all time, came along later and won eight.
Isaac wouldn’t be breaking those records—he hadn’t qualified for enough races—but he walked out to the blocks for the 200 IM final with four golds and a bronze acquired only in this past week. If he medaled tonight and swam in the IM relay tomorrow night, he had the potential for seven medals this Olympics. Not a record, but still really fucking impressive.
He was pushing his body to the limit of what it could do. He was tired and sore, although his muscles hummed now with anticipation.
He excelled at middle-distance races, liked them more than sprints. He’d always had the balance of speed and endurance that was best suited to the 400. The 200 IM was more like a sprint, doing each stroke for only one length of the pool