Deep End

by Ali Hazelwood

The subject line just reads What you need. The body: If you decide to go for it, I think it should be me.

“That first day, the Sunday, I almost called you a dozen times. It was…difficult. Last week Pen mentioned that you two were having lunch together, and I went to the dining hall just to—I don’t fucking know. Look?” He shrugs, detached. It’s like he’s reporting the results of an experiment. On me. On himself.

“Did you consider that I might be the type to hold a grudge? Or self-respecting enough to pick up the phone on the fifteenth day and say, ‘Fuck off’?” He nods, like I’m being nothing but reasonable. The quiet, impersonal civility of this conversation is…devastating, actually. “I think part of me hoped you would.” “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.”

“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.”

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

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.” “I…” My cheeks glow, on fire. “Why?” But I remember something I haven’t thought of in months: Pen’s words at Coach Sima’s barbecue. I know you think she’s hot. You said so. “You were beautiful, but that wasn’t…You seemed so quiet and reserved. We have this saying in Swedish, ‘In the calmest of waters…’ I couldn’t stop thinking that you were hiding something. That there was a secret in there, something everyone else was missing. And…” A silent laugh. “I was right. It was there. Same as mine.” He looks at the slowly setting sun. “So I asked Pen about you. It was the first time I did anything like that.”

The prospect of him disappearing from my life tears through me with such violence, the only person who could sew me back together is… Lukas.

His renamed contact reads Lukas Scarlett.

“You know,” he says against my lips, “I wanted to be righteously angry at you. I told myself I wouldn’t be with you until you were ready to be honest.” I don’t ask about what. It would be supremely dishonest. “But I’m just so fucking happy to see you, Scarlett. I can’t be mad at you, when every time I think about you I am reminded that you exist.”

while heading to the dining hall, I hear running steps behind me. A hand closes around my upper arm, and he’s there. I’m bursting, with… It has to be love. It’s expansive and all-consuming and full and joyous. Hungry. Thick. At once heavy and light. Everywhere and golden. It’s him and me and the myriad of little strings that tangle us together.

arm. “It’s about you having a concussion and not telling me.” “How do you know?” His eyebrow lifts. “It wasn’t a big deal. I was cleared the following day. And you were splashing around the East Coast. Winning shit. Übermensching.” “You need to tell me these things.” “What things?” “Everything. You need to…” He inhales. Looks away, then back to me. “I want to know this stuff.” “Why?” “Because it’s about you.” Another spill of heat. My stomach is made of butterflies. “I’m fine,” I reassure. Grasp his hand lightly, a silent apology, a promise that I’m safe, and he sighs deeply.

“What have you done to me? You made me happier than I’ve ever been, Scarlett, that’s all.” He tilts my face up, until our foreheads press against each other. “Pen is not heartbroken. She’s not in love. This is just possessiveness. She’s lashing out because she lost two of her favorite toys, and she wants someone else to hurt as bad as she does. And I—I’ve been trying to tell you how I felt for months. And I know it’s hard to hear, I know this stuff doesn’t come easy to you, but it’s out there now. You don’t have to be terrified of it anymore. I love you. I’m in love with you. And you’re in love with me. We can say it.” “Lukas.” “I have been in love with you for so long. And I won’t stop. I know it.” “Lukas—” “This is it, for me.” He presses a kiss against my cheek. “Remember back in the fall? When I was being a total asshole, trying to prove to myself that I could exist without you? I can’t, Scarlett. I can’t be without you. And for the first time in my life, I don’t care. I think of you all the time, and I want to make plans with you, I want to talk about the future, and I’m fucking happy about it—” “Stop.” It’s the word—our word. The one I never used. And Lukas recognizes it, because he immediately straightens.