should have, to collect himself and because he wasn’t quite ready to face the score yet.
But… nines. A couple of 9.5s. Tim was back in second place.
Pat had rarely come to see Tim dive when they’d been together, which had the effect of making Tim feel kind of alone at meets, despite having this high-profile relationship. Sure, his parents came to all his big meets, but it wasn’t quite the same. Now Tim was secretly dating Isaac, who was right out there in the stands, supporting Tim, cheering for him. Tim knew in his gut that Isaac wouldn’t think less of Tim if he didn’t medal and that Isaac would be excited and proud if he did. It was a nice feeling, reassuring, like a warm hug even if Isaac was fifty feet away. Isaac would probably be proud as long as Tim put his all into the competition, no matter the outcome.
It made Tim realize how lonely he’d been when he and Pat had been together.
So why was Pat here now? Would Tim have to talk to him? Really, what Pat did with his time was none of Tim’s business anymore. Tim could still refuse to talk to him, the same way he’d turned down that tabloid reporter who’d shown up at training. There was no reason Tim and Pat needed to have anything to do with each other.
He shook that off and stood under a shower for a few minutes, closing his eyes and mentally rehearsing his last dive. One more to go. That was all he needed.
The final dive was the showstopper. Tim jumped off the springboard and into a pike, which he rotated once before straightening out and twisting until vertical and entering the water. It had the highest degree of difficulty of his dives, and if he pulled it off, it was worth a lot of points.
The stakes were low, he told himself as he climbed the ladder to the springboard. His parents loved him no matter what, which he knew because he’d pushed them pretty hard the past couple of years through all the drama with Pat. Isaac was watching, but his affection was not contingent on Tim performing this dive flawlessly. Pat was here somewhere, for some reason, but fuck him. Sure, a medal was on the line, but Tim didn’t care about this one as much as he did the platform final, which was still several days away. The springboard was a lark, something Donnie had wanted him to do, because no one had medaled in the springboard and the platform in the same Olympics in several decades.
The media called Tim the best diver since Greg Louganis, a compliment Tim treasured, but he knew it was his sexuality as much as his skill that invited comparisons. Greg sat in the coaches’ area now—Tim still thought it surreal that he got to talk to his idol before Olympic competition—and had told Tim earlier that day that he had the potential to do something no one had done in a long time. But Tim didn’t want to let that weigh on him. He was a skilled diver. He was a world and Olympic champion diver. The gold he wanted was the platform gold, though, so if he won a medal on springboard, it was gravy.
He caught sight of Isaac in the audience, and imagined they made eye contact. If Isaac felt half as much for Tim now as Tim had felt for Isaac during his last race, Tim and Isaac would be fine. Winning a medal would be amazing, but it wasn’t everything.
Tim took a deep breath, reminded himself he could do this—but if he didn’t it wasn’t a big deal—and he launched off the end of the springboard.
He felt good as he entered the water.
Diving had so many variables. You had to get a good hurdle and take off from the end of the board; then you had to not just complete the elements of the dive, but you had to do so with perfect form; then you had to get vertical again so that you went into the water straight, and you had to place your hands in exactly the right position to push the water aside so that you entered with very little splash. You had to keep pulling once you were in the water to keep your legs vertical until you completed that dive. If any one of those things went wrong, you’d be penalized. If conditions were less than