Deep End

by Ali Hazelwood

“Plus, we need to check those MCAT scores.” “What—why do you even remember that?” “Because I listen when you talk. You’re on such a brave streak, you can open one little email.”

“I thought you were from Stockholm.” He lifts his most I know you bookmarked the bio section of my Wikipedia entry on your Chrome browser, on Safari, and maybe even on Internet Explorer eyebrow.

“Right? But on the upside”—he holds out my phone—“you get to book a despair tattoo if you don’t like your MCAT score.”

“Scarlett.” He looks at me like he’s having fun. “I don’t think you get it.” “I…maybe I don’t.” “You and I have an agreement, don’t we? And the agreement says that until you say stop, I can do what I want with you. Even if it breaks you into pieces. Even if it makes you cry.”

“I get it.” I just do. “Good girl,” he murmurs, kissing my cheek.

“I know it’s not my business, and you and I—but when she called you last week, I thought…And Pen is sleeping with other people, and you and I are not using condoms, so—” “Scarlett. It is your business.”

“I walked into your room, and you looked at me, and you said…” His hand loosens, and I take in a big gulp of air. “I don’t know. I don’t remember.” “You asked if I was there for a pity fuck,” he whispers in my ear.

“Does this”—he rolls his hips—“feel like a pity fuck to you?” “No.”

“What do you do if you want me to stop, baby?” I’m trembling. My ass cheek is hot, pain and pleasure radiating from where he hit me. He kneads the soft flesh, the fat, the muscle, and I—I thought I knew what being turned on meant, but I had no idea. “Scarlett.” Another slap—less firm. To get my attention. “What do you do if you want me to stop?” “I—I say stop.” “Good girl. Should I stop?”

“I fuck you—” He pushes deeper. “Because—” Deeper. “It’s all I want to do—” Deeper. “From the moment I wake up.”

“I fuck you because you’re the most perfect thing I’ve ever felt, Scarlett.”

“Mostly, I’m afraid of attempting something and not being perfect at it.” Sam nods. Smiles. And I realize that she knew this all along.

Later that afternoon, during practice, I manage two terrible inward pikes.

“He got back a few days ago, but immediately left for Seattle. Med school interview.” “No shit?” “He should be back tomorrow.” I force myself not to wonder why she knows, and I don’t.

What about while you two were getting busy on top of me? The bench in front of my locker asks. It’s been calling me a slut for two weeks. You know what you did. I turn away. First you disgrace me, then you ignore me.

“What about you, Vandy? Do you miss Lukas?” I choke on my coconut water, and Pen starts patting my back with unnecessary force and glee. “Why would Vandy miss him?” Bella asks. “It was just a joke,” Pen says. “No reason.”

eres tonta?

He glances at my Stanford Swimming and Diving hoodie. “Swimming?” “Diving.” “Had a fifty percent chance.” I make a sympathetic face. “And you got it wrong.”

“Actually, the math isn’t—” “No one likes a know-it-all, Vandy.”

“Scarlett,” she says, voice trembling. “I need to talk to Lukas. Right now.”

y a mi qué me cuentas, pesada?

“Basically, I’m the new and improved version of you,” I tell him with my most self-satisfied smile, which makes his own lips quirk. “And here I was, thinking you were a troll.”

Then—why not?—Lukas, who says, Swedish better be next. I don’t know why, but it makes me kick my feet.

“You are quite similar.” “Me and Carissa?” “God, no. You and Lukas.”

“Confidence is not about being able to do shit, Vandy. Confidence is showing up, and trying, and not giving up because deep in your heart you know who you are and what you’re capable of.”

Lukas: I could tell from the live stream. He watched the live stream.

“This smells amazing. Is it Chinese?” He nods. “It’s my favorite. Had I mentioned?” Another nod. I landed in the state less than two hours ago, and he came to see me.

Grips my wrist again, and this time pins it next to my head. “I think you forgot who’s in charge.”

“My brilliant, beautiful girl.”

“You’re beautiful when you dive.” I flush. Look away. “Yeah, you mentioned.” “That’s not what I mean. I always respected divers, but never found real pleasure in watching them.” His eyes are dark in the dim kitchen light. “Until you.”

“People shouldn’t brag about their accomplishments, or think that they are special, which can make it hard for them to celebrate their successes.” Lukas has once again gone unreadable. “Reminds you of someone, huh?”

“I’d love to see Amsterdam with you.”

“You’re fucking adorable, Scarlett.” He tilts my chin up. Another kiss, this time on the tip of my nose. “It makes me want to wreck you.”

“I don’t know why it’s such a turn-on that you’re so much smarter than me, but every time we have a project meeting, I have to go home and jerk off until my dick is raw.” “I’m not that smart—” “Shut the fuck up, you brilliant, beautiful genius.”

“Can what, Scarlett?” I look down at him, still winded. “Come on, sweetheart. Use your words.”

“But that’s not what I want.” And yet, he rises to his feet and pushes me down on my knees. I open my mouth, willing, eager, and— He presses it closed with a thumb under my chin. “I said no,”

Scarlett: Are you the fika police? Lukas: Unlike you, I speak Swedish.

Two minutes later, my email pings with a message. Someone gifted me a yearly premium subscription to Duolingo. Lukas must not know my middle name, because he went with Scarlett Troll Vandermeer.

He should tele-dom me. Order me to suck his cyberdick.

I wondered for years why she kept her married name after the divorce, and at eighteen I realized that it wasn’t because it was Dad’s—but because it was mine.

Scarlett: You’re luring me there with the promise of depraved sex rituals, while planning to use me for depraved human sacrifices. Lukas: It’s a real invitation. Ideally you should come when Jan’s here.

Scarlett: He probably thinks we’re dating. We should set the record straight. Lukas: Or maybe we should just start dating.

Lukas: I checked. This year Midsommar overlaps with the US Olympic trials, and as much as I want you in Sweden, I want you to come to Melbourne with me more.

“All I’m saying is, I kinda thought of her as off-limits—” “She is.” It’s Lukas’s usual, laid-back tone, just a brush of tension sitting at the edges.

Lukas: 767 Scarlett: 235843 Lukas: ? Scarlett: Are we just sending random numbers?

“Move your stuff in here.” “What?” “Stay in this room. With me.”

“Why?” “Scarlett.” He drags me down to him. Kisses me slowly, lingering, like getting enough of this, of me, is a concept not translatable in his language. “You know why.”

“Okay. We’re at a major competition. I won’t ask you to have this conversation right now.” What conversation? “But if you’re ready, I can tell you why I want you here.”

“So…?” Callum asks. His eyes travel from me to Lukas, asking a question I cannot interpret. Lukas immediately shakes his head. “No.” “You sure?” “Very.” “What can I do to convince you?” He smiles. “Absolutely nothing.”

NOOO, PERDIMOS UN TRIO

“Aww. Poor, innocent, seven-feet-tall baby.” “I’m not seven—” “Hyperbole. Get in the shower, Bigfoot,” I order.

His fingers close around my wrist. “I asked for you.” “What?” For a few moments, his jaw works. “Every single person Pen and I had sex with was her choice, and I was okay with it. But when you joined the team, I asked her if she could approach you.”

With whom, I fear, I might be a little bit in love. It’s a gut-punching realization. I’m ready to panic, but Lukas stops me with a single word.