A Matter of Heart (2 page)

I
'm lying on a couch, my feet up on the armrest. I'm not sure how I got here. It's like I'm waking up, only I wasn't asleep. I'm in a room with overhead lights and seriously strong bulbs. I close my eyes again, wanting the dizzy to go away.

“Honey?”

Dad's voice. I swallow and try my eyes again. The lights don't feel so bright this time. I shift and there's a squeaky noise. The couch is leather, and I'm stuck to it in my wet swimsuit. There's a scratchy blanket on top of me. My head clears and I look down at myself.

I'm going to ruin this couch with my wet suit, and where did this blanket come from and when was the last time it was washed? I push it off—it's brown and nubby and it doesn't exactly smell Bounce fresh. I sit up. Dad reaches for my shoulder
to steady me, but I don't need steadying. I push the hair off my face. It's still wet, and my fingers get tangled for a second. My thoughts feel the same way. Tangled.

“Where am I?”

“An office inside the swim facility.”

“Oh.”

“You okay?” There's a question in his voice, along with worry.

“Yeah. Just got dizzy all of a sudden.”

“Probably the exertion and a little dehydration.”

“How is she?” A woman peeks in at the door. She's wearing glasses and her chin is down as she looks at me over the top of her maroon frames.

Dad smiles. “She's fine. Much better.”

“Water?” the woman asks.

“That would be great,” he says.

I watch as she backs out and my stomach rolls a little.

“How do you feel now?” Dad asks.

“Like we just took a plane trip with a bad landing.”

He studies my face, but I'm not sure what he's looking for. “You scared me.”

The woman is back, and this time she hands me a small paper cup. “Sorry. We don't have any bigger cups.”

“Thanks.” I take a sip and feel the cold slide all the way to my stomach. It wakes me up a little, and my brain starts churning. I'm suddenly a little freaked out—I remember being cold, but then it's all a blur. I wait until the lady disappears again and then I ask Dad, “Did I faint?”

“Maybe, but only for a second…” He lets out a breath. “You lost your balance, started folding up—”

“Folding up?” I interrupt. “Like a chair or something?” I rub my hands over my face. “Were people watching? Did Connor see?”

“I doubt it. Connor was getting ready to swim. Besides, you were very graceful. You folded up nicely.”

“Dad!”

“It happened in a split second,” he says calmly. “We were standing so close to the door, I don't think anyone even noticed.”

“I don't remember.”

He rubs my arms. “Like I said, it happened so fast. You didn't look right. Your knees started to buckle and I reached out before you could fall. You mumbled something about being cold.”

“I was talking?”

“A little,” he says. “Then I helped you inside and the lady at the desk pointed me in here.” He looked around. “I think it's someone's office.”

Today's meet was held at the Liberty Community Center. Sometimes the facilities are no more than a locker room and bathrooms. Here, there's a whole complex with a gym and a rec room.

“I've got to get back out there,” I say. “Connor must be done by now.” I stand, but Dad still has a hand on my arm and he pushes me back down.

“Connor can wait. I want to be sure you're okay.”

“Dad, I'm fine. It was just the excitement of winning.”

His whole face changes as he remembers. “I think it was your flip turns. You're coming off the wall so crisp. A little more work and you won't just be competing in the trials—you'll make the team.”

I nod. Fortunately, my head no longer feels like it's full of scrambled eggs. “I'm all for more work, but can we talk about that later? Right now, I just want to bask in my victory.”

Dad laughs. “Of course, of course. Bask away.”

“So can I go now? Connor is going to wonder what happened.”

Another face appears around the corner, but this one I know.

Coach Rick strides in, his blond eyebrows puckered up like they're ready to kiss each other. “What happened? Someone said you fainted? Your dad had to help you inside?”

“I'm okay,” I say.

He squats in front of me. Coach is a big, strong guy on the edge of stocky, but he still has the look of an athlete. His blond hair is cut short and barely falls over his wide forehead. He's tanned year-round from all the hours coaching poolside and has enough lines around his eyes to make him look like he has a permanent squint. He's squinting now as he looks me over.

Dad shifts to the couch beside me. “She seems fine now.”

I smile to prove it, but Coach doesn't look convinced. “What happened?”

“She got dizzy and lost her balance,” Dad explains. “But once I got her in here and seated, she came out of it right away.”

Coach nods, but his blue eyes are saying something different. “Did she lose consciousness?”

Dad runs a hand around the back of his neck. “I don't really know. It happened so fast.”

“Just to be safe, you better get checked out.”

“I'm fine,” I say. “I just had my physical two months ago.”

He looks at Dad as if I'm not there. “Does Abby have a doctor she can see, or should I arrange something through the school?”

“No, she has a doctor,” Dad says.

“Coach—”

He stops me with one look. “You don't swim in my pool until you've been checked out.”

I sigh dramatically. “Fine.”

He stands. Then his mouth softens, his lips tilting up a tiny bit. A rush of warmth fills my chest. I don't know how else to explain it. Coach doesn't fawn ever, and he doesn't praise much. But when he does, it means something. It means everything. That tilt of his lip is like a cartwheel coming from Coach.

On his way out, he says offhandedly, “Not bad today, Lipman,” like a throwaway comment, but I know it isn't.

I shrug like,
Yeah, whatever
. But inside I'm lit up like the Fourth of July.

B
y the time I get back outside, there are screams from the pool area, but I can tell I'm too late. The race is over.

Jen intercepts me before I make it through the crowd of parents. She's got sweats over her swimsuit, and her wet hair is pulled back into a pony. She swam the 100, too, though the 200 is her best event. Usually we meet at our towels after the required parental visits and cool down. No wonder she looks pissed.

“Where have you been?” She sounds pissed too. She's a total control freak and doesn't like to have anything out of place. Including me.

“Dad and I went inside for a minute.” I'm not telling her about the folding-up-like-a-chair episode. She'll make it into a huge deal.

“It's been a lot longer than a minute.” She rolls her eyes, which makes me smile.

The first time I met Jen, she was rolling her eyes. We were six years old, waiting for swim camp to begin, and she was disgusted by the disorganized coach. If she'd been tall enough to reach the guy's clipboard, she would have taken it and had us assigned to lanes and swimming warm-ups in two minutes flat. That first day, Jen asked me if I had a day planner. She showed me hers, complete with a coloring calendar and stickers.
A day planner?
I still had a baby blanket. I'm not sure if I nodded, but I was in awe. And as it turned out, the girl could swim too. We've been best friends ever since.

“Connor just swam,” she says. “Against Alec. I can't believe you missed it.”

“It was my dad's fault,” I say, which is the truth. “Did Connor win?”

“Come see.”

Jen grins and grabs my elbow. She uses her impressively wide shoulders to open up a lane to the pool. I follow, laughing because she's laughing, and because I feel fine and I just took first place, and because I'm on the way to see my incredibly hot boyfriend.

Just when I think this day can't get any better, I see the scoreboard.

Connor Moore first.

Alec Mendoza second.

Yes
.

Connor is standing by the edge of the pool, his cap and goggles in one hand, his chest still heaving. Tanner and Logan are giving him high fives. Connor's hair is short enough that even wet it doesn't cover his eyes, so I can see how happy he is, how pumped, and I don't blame him. Connor lost the top spot to Alec when he got sick in the middle of September. It's hard to believe
he's got his times back so quickly, but the scoreboard doesn't lie. Two meets into October, and the king has his crown once again.

“Chalk up another one for the good guy,” Jen says.

“He wants to celebrate tonight,” I tell her.

Her eyes zero in on mine. “You mean…
celebrate
?”

She knows what I mean. Connor and I have gotten closer over the past few weeks. Just not
that
close. Not yet.

“Abby, you can't. Your frontal lobe.”

“Yeah, I know.” Jen and I both took Childhood Development last spring and our teacher told us that a person's frontal lobe isn't fully functional until the midtwenties. She said no teen could make an informed decision about sex with only half a brain. Or something like that.

Jen decided long ago that she was saving herself
at least
until college, so frontal lobe development makes perfect sense to her. It makes sense to me, too, but in a logical, light-of-day sort of way. After all, I just turned sixteen in September. But Connor is nearly eighteen. And the topic doesn't usually come up in the light of day. It's generally more in the light of his dashboard clock while we're in the backseat of his car.

“Don't worry, I'm not going to say yes,” I tell Jen.

“But are you going to say no?” She waggles her eyebrows at me.

“That's my plan.” My gaze shifts back to Connor in time to catch the ripple of his muscles as he stretches his shoulders. I sigh. “It's not as easy as you think.”

Jen folds her arms over her chest. “I'm not the one who told you to date a guy who looks like that.”

“So I'm supposed to date someone ugly?”

“For the sake of your frontal lobe, yes.”

Garrett wasn't ugly
. That's what I think, but I'm smart enough not to say it. Garrett was Jen's one and only crush, and it all went wrong in middle school before either of us knew what a frontal lobe was. “So where's your ugly boyfriend?” I say, playing along.

“I'm saving myself. I haven't met anyone hideous enough yet.”

I hear Connor's laugh and look over. “You think maybe he's a little happy?”

“You think maybe someone else is a little
un
happy?” Jen says, knocking my arm with her elbow and gesturing past Connor.

Alec is standing alone, rubbing a towel over his dark hair. It doesn't take an expert in reading body language to know he's pissed.
Good
. “Serves him right. All those stares he's been giving Connor.” Plus, I don't like to admit it, but I'm still mad that he had me fooled when we first met. I thought he was a cool guy. Then he turns out to be a bad loser. I hate bad losers.

“What's up with that, anyway?” Jen asks. “Did you ever ask Connor?”

“He says it's nothing. Just tells me Alec can't handle finishing second and to stay away from the guy. Like I need to be told.” I pretend to shiver, but it's not completely fake. Alec's glares have spread my way the past few weeks. Maybe he hates me, too, because I'm dating Connor. I know I should ignore him, but it isn't easy.

There's something about Alec's eyes—they're deep set and so brown they're nearly black. You can look into them, but you won't see anything but shadows.

Mystery Man. That's what Jen called him when he showed up at our first practice in August. I already knew him because he
was a new hire at the gym where I teach swim lessons. We'd said hello a few times but worked different shifts. Still, I'd seen how much the kids loved him. I'd also watched him in the lap pool, and the guy
worked
. I liked that.

Then this rivalry started between him and Connor. Over the past two months, it's gotten worse, and now there's something hot and angry in those eyes. I've caught him staring at me like he's trying to figure something out. I have no idea what. We barely talk. I see him every morning at practice and every Sunday when we both teach, but that's it. Now that I've seen how he handles losing, I want to keep it that way. I have no respect for whiners. You deal with defeat by working harder, not by glaring at the competition.

Jen's nudge brings me out of my thoughts. “Oh my gawd, look at this.”

Alec is walking toward Connor. It's not just a stroll, either. It's an I'm-coming-to-rip-out-your-throat sort of walk. Tanner and Logan back up a little because everyone on the team feels the tension.

My heart thumps against my ribs as Jen stiffens next to me. “No disrespect to your guy, but if there's a fight, my money is on Alec.”

“They're not going to fight.”

“Hope not,” she says. “You think Alec keeps a switchblade in his Speedo?”

I swallow. I'm not going there. Not to switchblades or to Alec's Speedo.

He's only a foot from Connor now. They're about the same height, but Alec seems taller because he's leaner. Connor is built
a little thicker, and right now his shoulders are back and his hands fisted. Even though he looks ready for a fight, Jen is right. Alec looks ready to
win
the fight. Any fight.

I start forward. I don't know what I'm going to do, but before I move a step, Jen grabs my arm and holds me back. “Abby, no.”

Alec leans in toward Connor. Close. I barely see his lips move, but I know he's saying something. A muscle pulses under Connor's jaw.

Then it's over. Alec moves past and I let out a breath I don't realize I'm holding.

Then nearly choke on it.

Alec is headed for me.

A second later, he's standing in front of me, so close I can feel the heat coming off his skin. Pool water drips from his hair, and I half expect it to evaporate into steam as it hits his chest. My breath is trapped halfway down my throat. I step back and Jen wraps her arm through mine, moving closer. I love her for that.

“Nice win,” he says, sarcasm heavy in his low voice. Alec's eyes are like laser beams and I'm caught off guard for a second by their intensity. “If you can call it that.”

What does that mean?

He pushes past and his shoulder brushes mine, just enough for me to feel his anger like a living thing.

“Jeez,” Jen whispers. “That guy has serious issues.”

“Ignore him,” I say. “Who cares?” I turn to look for Connor. This has been an amazing day, and no one is going to ruin it. Not even Alec Mendoza.

It takes me a minute to realize I'm still rubbing my shoulder where his skin touched mine.