Deep End

by Ali Hazelwood

“Tenth circle of hell: you find the love of your life, but the sex is intensely meh.”

I sit back in a semi-zonked state and force myself to think about Lukas Blomqvist—a rare occurrence for me.

👁️👁️

The only sports I find remotely interesting are diving and land-diving (or, as the normies call it, gymnastics).

And yet, Blomqvist is hard to ignore. Because of the truckload of medals, maybe. The world records.

I close my eyes to resurface my spotty memories of him. Black Speedos. Tattoos. Short, choppy brown hair.

I may not look forward to the agony that comes with exposing the squishy bits of my soul, but I’m not some cliché detective refusing to see a shrink in an eighties crime show.

Spontaneity? Only if prearranged.

I feel this so hard

And when you’re like me (a goal-oriented, control-focused, overachieving perfectionist), finding someone like Maryam is a gift. Not a good gift, but I’ll take it.

He’s right. I suck in some air. “Come on, Luk. I know you think she’s hot. You said so.” Silence. “And I see the way you look at her.” A buzz of unease bursts in the back of my skull. “How do I look at her?”

My photo will end up in one of the glossy magazines they send to all Stanford alumni to promote school spirit and solicit donations. Meet the girl who has been diagnosed with dumpster fire brain by a team of board-certified neurologists. And give us money.

A small smile, exchanged. Private. “Maybe Pen was right,” I muse. “And we’re made for each other?”

“Seriously, what is this word soup? Did you kidnap a middle school dropout and force him to write this at gunpoint? Is it AI generated? What was the prompt? ‘What if crotch smell was an essay?’ ”

Scarlett: Do you really want to be reminded of my computational superiority that often? Unknown: I do. I have a thing for women who are smarter than me.

a real man

“Kyle, where’s Luk?” “He and Hasan are talking about soccer—sorry, football—somewhere in the living room. It’s so European in there, I had to get out before my dick turned into a bidet.”

I could tell when you didn’t know I existed, and I could tell when you became aware of me.”

“Come on, Scarlett.” His mouth twitches. “You know who I want to have sex with.”

Free? It’s Lukas. My pulse trips, but quickly steadies. I tilt my head and type: Scarlett: In Sweden, when you text, do they charge you by the word? Lukas: There’s an emoji surcharge, but I’ll make an exception for you: Lukas:

I hate that the emoji doesn’t show in this highlight because I laughed so hard at this

A scattered thought occurs to me, that Lukas might be testing me. Does she really mean it? How far is she willing to go? But it’s fleeting and immediately discarded, because in this moment only one thing matters. He asked me to do something. And I cannot imagine anything better than to follow his instructions.

“You’re not cold, Scarlett,” he says. “You’re…soft.” “I’m not soft.” “You are with me.” His eyes meet mine. A dark, unflinching look that sands layer upon layer off me. “Maybe I make you soft.”

“And there hasn’t been anyone else?” I shake my head. “Not because I’m hung up on Josh. It has more to do with being premed and practice schedules. Plus, with my luck, I’d swipe right on someone who stormed the Capitol and hates routine vaccinations.

LMAO

“Hey. Hey, baby.”

Oooooh pet names he didn’t call Pen

I nod with a happy, sated smile. And a handful of seconds later I fall asleep.

Another thing he and Pen didn’t do 🤪

I could keep these marks forever, and no one would see. Not even Lukas, because as it becomes obvious by Friday, he has no interest in further contact with me.

LUKAS WTF

“Well, I’m sure you already know how good he is at denying himself. The more he wants something, the less he’ll let himself have it.”

LUKAS BE SO FORREAL RIGHT NOW

“Why?” It takes him a while to answer. When he does, he’s not looking at me. “Because sometimes I can’t breathe when you’re around.”

“I owe you respect, I owe you care, and I owe you the truth. You, on the other hand, do not owe me forgiveness. But if you ever enter this kind of relationship with someone else…” His jaw grinds, tense. I don’t think he likes the idea. “These are the things you should demand.”

“No reason. But he was taking my mind off stuff. As good as anything.” “I’m sure you can find something better.” “I have heard great things about being stuck in traffic?” “Vacuuming is excellent, too.”

“Sadly, I don’t have a car. Or—and you’re not going to like this—a vacuum cleaner.” He looks genuinely worried. “What conditions do you live in?”

His healthcare portal is the same as mine. He clicks through a handful of lab results, and I lean toward the screen. “Okay?” he asks once I’m done. “Okay,” I reply. I want it to be like last time: my mind wiped, and my body on fire. Lukas takes my chin between his index and thumb. “After,” he starts. “Don’t just leave.”

“Did Jan get home okay?” Lukas nods. “Asks me to send you his regards every time he texts—and he texts a lot.” “Oh. Did you tell him that we…?” “He figured it out all by himself.” “When?” He shrugs. “About two and a half seconds into seeing the way I look at you, according to him.”

“I have hobbies,” I counter weakly. Sometimes, when I’m done with homework at a decent hour, I read Mafia erotica until I fall asleep. Eat crackers in bed. Consider calling 911, just to talk to someone.

I feel as though we could be besties Scarlett

“There’s a guy here to see you.” I blink at her. “Who?” “Tall. Wearing Stanford Athletics gear. Looks like he’d be a good source of protein.”

“How do you even know that I was at Avery? Did you GPS me, or something?” “Oh, sweetheart.” My belly swoops at the endearment. His tone lives somewhere between sympathy and amusement. “If you don’t think that I’m very aware of your presence, always, you have no idea what’s going on.”

I don’t know what to say. So I ask, “Do you want to have sex?” His smile is quiet. “With you. Yes. But that’s my default setting, so don’t read too much into it.”

“It’ll be okay, baby. No matter what happens, you will still be you. No matter what happens, you will be okay.”

I get to take you apart and split you open—but if anything else, anyone else makes you feel sad, upset, cracked, I also get to be the one who puts you back together. Until you say stop. You get it?”

“Mostly, I’m afraid of attempting something and not being perfect at it.”

this hits a little too close to home rip

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.

“I’ll just say it straight to you. Pen Ross? You need to watch your back with that one.”

👁️ 👁️

Because in my hands there’s a tie-dye shammy.

WHAT

Damn Pen is gonna be the bad guy

He’s a wonderful means of transportation—safe, timely, comfortable. I want a yearly pass.

“Now that I got a better look, it’s not as bad as I thought,” he adds. “What?” “Your apartment. I expected muddy shoe prints and sentient mold.” He glances around like a judgmental landlord. “This is livable.” “High praise.”

His arms lock around my waist, hands splayed open over my flanks and ribs. It’s not until much, much later that I hear him murmur, “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.”

“Sometimes I’m afraid that this is the best thing I’ll ever have. For the rest of my life.”

“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. I wonder if Kyle notices. “To you,” Lukas adds, which feels a bit like a threat.

🤪🤪🤪

“I’m impressed. She’s seriously cute. The dimples are cute. The little gap between the front teeth is cute. Her t—” A glass is set on a surface. None too gently. “Consider carefully whether you want to finish that sentence, Kyle.”

“They wanted to know whether I’d join them for dinner.” “And? What did you tell them?” He guides me out, fingers pressed against my upper back. My world coalesces to five points of contact. “I told them that I had better things to do.”

“I don’t know. You have fans. People love you. The king loves you!” “The king’s elderly and has no idea who I am, thank fuck. And this shit, it’s not the kind of love I’m interested in, Scarlett.” He says it so pointedly, into my eyes,