Toxic - Serena Akeroyd Page 0,48

the after-effects, but when someone around me was ill, there was nothing I could do other than help. No matter the aftermath or the toll it took on me.

But at the Olympics?

Fuck.

Talk about shitty timing.

“I don’t get what’s so special about it.”

The sneer came from Rachel Lewis-Hove. She and I competed in almost identical races, but I was ten times faster than her so that gave her a boner for me—and not in a good way.

“What’s to get?” Lori questioned, and I could hear the shrug in her voice. Not only because she didn’t like Rachel, but also because she wasn’t interested in whatever Rachel was bitching about.

I shoved my feet into my flip-flops and started to tuck my hair under my swim cap. Next, I slipped my AirPods into my ears, following through with the routine that never changed, that couldn’t change because it was my ritual. We all had them, and I was no different.

Once I was ready, I turned around and saw Rachel was staring at a picture on her phone. One glance, and it registered what she was moaning about.

The picture of Adam and me after my first gold medal race.

I sucked in a breath at the sight, the connection between us never failing to send shivers down my spine. But, even though it triggered a visceral response in me, I just said, “People like to speculate.”

Lori was evidently a better actress than me, because she’d sounded bored by the conversation, but she’d been pestering me about Adam ever since the photo had gone viral.

I didn’t think I’d done that great a job of fending off Rachel, because she reprimanded, “He’s married—” Like I was unaware of that fact. “They shouldn’t be speculating about anything.”

As my heart went pitter-patter in my chest at her words, I adopted the best poker face in my arsenal and shrugged. “I have no control over what people think or do.”

She huffed. “It’s gross.”

“Don’t look at it then. It’s not like anyone is making you,” Lori groused, shoving her own hair under a swimming cap. “What the hell are you doing over here anyway? Your locker’s there.” She wafted a hand in the distance, and Rachel sniffed then flounced away.

My lips twitched in amusement. Sure, what she’d been saying was shitty, but I’d heard worse in my time.

Lori caught my eye then rolled hers, making me snicker.

“Thanks,” I told her with a wry grin.

She shrugged. “Gotta protect my star swimmer.”

This time I didn’t just snicker, I fucking laughed. “Oh, that’s all it is, huh? Nothing to do with three years of friendship?”

The twinkle in her eye deepened. “Nope. Nothing to do with that.”

Shaking my head, I let her haul her arm around me, even though I wanted to shrug it off—being half-hugged wasn’t part of my ritual.

Still, she was partly involved in hers, so I slipped on the right track on my iPhone and waited for us to be called out. I hated this part. Hated waiting and hated letting my nerves run away from me. It sucked. Totally sucked. If I could have just started in the water, I’d have been fine, but having to hang around people screwed with my head so I always let Linkin Park soothe my nerves.

Evidently hearing the loudspeaker when I was mentally miles away, Lori squeezed my arm, and I realized it was our time.

We all gathered into the appropriate clusters before we marched out to our respective lanes. Rachel was going first, then Lori, then Jamie, a really cool sixteen-year-old who was all big eyes at being here, and then me. To make up any shortfall in the times.

Shame that I was feeling like one big shortfall today.

Hoping I’d improve once I was in the pool, I began to strip, focusing on my calming breaths for a few moments just as the others stopped streaming out of the locker room and were on their lanes.

Standing in my swimsuit had me shivering, and I pulled on my goggles, hoping to fuck that I wouldn’t wimp out in the lane. Lori was strong, so was Jamie, but Rachel could lag if she was having a bad day.

I gnawed on my lip for a second, then did what I never do—looked out into the crowd.

He was there.

Of course he was.

I didn’t even need to seek him out. He was in a different spot in the stadium, but still, the connection between us made finding him amid the manic crowd easy as pie.

The heat arced from him

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