Deep End

by Ali Hazelwood

Bless CBT and its lack of bullshit. There is this thing you do that’s bad for you. I’ll teach you to not do it, your insurance will give me money, and we’ll each go our merry way. BYO trauma. Tissues are on me.

Because what Pen actually says is, “You two should have sex!”

“No! Luk, she is it. She’s the sandwich.” He sighs. I don’t follow—then I do. Sandwich. Sub.

“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?” “You know how.”

Penelope: LMAO two truths and a lie, too. Penelope: “I pee in the pool.” “I hate tomatoes.” “I once got so wasted that I tried to get my ex and my teammate to fuck each other.” Scarlett: Very worried atm since I’ve seen you eat tomatoes with my own two eyes. Penelope: They pump so much chlorine in there!

“The elephant in the room.” I swallow. Is he referring to…? “The one with the ball gag in his mouth.” Laughter pops out of me. “Wow. Ball gags?” He shrugs. “Not really my thing, actually.” I stop myself from saying, Not mine, either, because—it’s not like he cares. Still, the knot of tension between us loosens. “Maybe the elephant’s just…blindfolded?” He nods slowly. “And tied up.” “And doing as it’s told.” He looks like he might find that more appealing. “What a good elephant.”

“Come closer,” he orders. Lukas stopped a step behind me. I turn and frown up at him. “Why?”

“Because I just asked you to, Scarlett.”

“If Pen hadn’t…if you guys hadn’t broken up, would you have just gone with vanilla sex for the rest of your life?”

I’m starving, but my walk to the athlete dining hall is slow, because I’m busy writing an email to one Dr. Olive Smith.

Unknown: I do. I have a thing for women who are smarter than me.

“You’re at ease with me. I don’t think you realize it, but you tend to move closer when others are around. Sometimes you look to me, for reassurance maybe. And we’re alone right now and there are no signs of distress, and—at some point you chose to trust me, and you get why that gets me going so hard, right?”

don’t get to finish that sentence. Because Lukas Blomqvist takes a long step, pushes me into the wall, and kisses me.

“That’s lovely of you.” His kiss is light, sweet on my mouth. “In that case, I want you to get on your knees and go down on me.”

I laugh. “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?”

“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’ve never done this. Any advice?” I think about it. “Make sure you jump into the water.” “Great tip.”

“I get it, I get it.” Barb rolls her eyes, but she reaches out to me. My fingers twine with hers. “What you’re saying is, unless I’m willing to break my Hippocratic oath and shank a handful of young women, I shouldn’t buy nonrefundable tickets to Amsterdam?”