Page 116 of Stroked Long
He’s wearing his Team USA Fastskin shorts, which I’m not going to lie, make my mouth water. Not because they look like they’re painted on, but because they sit so damn low on his hips that I clearly see the deep V that rests at his waistline.
Kale does my man well.
Once the announcer finishes listing the swimmers, they all jump in the pool and position themselves against the wall, their hands gripping the poles on the diving blocks. Through a megaphone, one of the officials speaks as the stadium quiets down.
“Take your mark.” The swimmers crouch toward the diving block. My eyes are only on Bodi.
Beep
In unison, the swimmers do a backward dive into the water and dolphin kick to the surface. Bodi is one of the last to reach the top but his longer stint under the water puts him in the lead.
I can’t believe they can go that fast.
Arms fly backward, like human windmills, propelling their body through the water, striving to be the fastest in the world.
Yeah, in the world.
Sometimes I forget how monumental the Olympics are. It isn’t just about being good at what you do; it’s about being the best on the entire planet. Out of the billions of people who live here, there is only one person who can say they are the best at the 100m backstroke.
I’m hoping that person today is Bodi.
They hit the wall, flip turn like dolphins, and propel themselves up through the water to the other side. The last stretch, Bodi is in the lead by probably an inch or two. Monsieur French is giving him a tight race. So tight that I find myself rubbing the palms of my hands against my legs, hoping and praying my movement helps propel Bodi faster.
They are at the final twenty-five. The stadium is blasting with screams and cheers. I can barely hear myself think. Water is flying everywhere, legs are kicking, arms are flailing, nerves are jumping. My mouth dries out, my anxiety is at an all-time high, butterflies sputter around in my stomach. Just a few more strokes . . .
Bodi touches the wall and instantly looks up at the scoreboard.
Representing the United States, Bodi’s name reigns on the top of the board, edging out the competition by milliseconds.
Taking his swim cap and goggles off, he tosses them on the deck and observes the board some more, taking in all the times and names. Swimmers from both sides, even Monsieur French, congratulate him by shaking his hand and pulling him into a hug. From afar I can see how stiff he is and how uncomfortable it is for him. If I wasn’t so overjoyed my heart would reach out to him.
But this is good for him, to interact with others, to celebrate with others.
Bodi Banks, returning gold medalist of the 100-meter backstroke. Three years in a row. I could not be prouder.
During congratulations, he looks up into the stands and I see him nod at someone. I look in his direction to see Lauren and Eva jumping up and down, American flags in their hands, decked out in red, white, and blue. What I wouldn’t give to be with them right about now, instead of listening to the pathetic sniffles of Bellini Chambers.
I’m happy, but a little part of me can’t help but be jealous, maybe a little envious of Lauren and Eva, that they can celebrate that moment with Bodi by just a head nod. If he knew where I was sitting, would he want to celebrate with me too?
I believe he would.
Still doesn’t mean I’m not jealous over the fact that I can’t have that moment with him.
We spend another hour in the stadium, watching heats and finals go by, none really interesting to me since Bodi is not in them, but they still are entertaining. My favorite part, watching the family members cheer on their loved ones. I caught myself multiple times watching the crowd rather than the actual race. Seeing the pure joy on the face of a supporter when their loved one accomplishes their dreams, yeah, that’s pretty freaking awesome.
We are outside of the swimming venue, Jasper is reading off our schedule, and Bellini is barely listening as she plays around on her phone.
“Ruby and Melony, you have the rest of the night off. Get some sleep, we’ll be up early.”
“Rhubarb is going to work on sewing now,” Bellini snaps. I instantly deflate. I know that’s why I’m here, to sew stupid dog clothes, but I want nothing more than to congratulate Bodi.
My phone beeps. Speak of the devil.
Bodi: Outside the venue. Where are you?
Ruby: Talking with Jasper and the camera crew outside as well.
Bodi: I see you.
