Here Comes the Flood Page 13

  “Really?” Isaac had never seen it that way. It seemed like some athletes or countries had different advantages and deficits—countries with more money could afford to provide their athletes with better training facilities, state-of-the-art equipment, and other resources—and viewers and the press made assumptions about who would win or lose. Often the press-driven narrative felt like a self-fulfilling prophecy, or that certain outcomes were preordained.

  “There are, of course, some barriers to success. Some teams have more money, better training programs, a culture that supports them. Some athletes are blessed genetically. How tall are you?”

  “Six four.”

  “Which gives you an advantage in swimming, I bet.”

  “It does.” Isaac was a little uncomfortable with this conversation. He squirmed but didn’t stop Tim, liking the sound of his voice if not what he was saying.

  “I mean, the great athletes often have these advantages. The best runners have long legs. The best gymnasts are short. The best volleyball players are tall. Athletes tend to fall into the right sports for their bodies. I was too tall to be a gymnast. I always felt like my arms and legs were in the way. I was never good at the apparatuses anyway, but I could tumble all day long, so I was better suited to diving. I’m not saying it’s a completely even playing field. Still, race, sexuality… none of it matters as much as being in top physical shape and performing in your sport to the best of your ability. The best time wins the race.”

  “That’s true.” And Isaac did believe that in his heart. But Tim was talking about an Olympic ideal, not necessarily the reality. Although maybe Tim had a point too. Isaac tried to relax and listen, to hear what Tim was saying without his own experience and bitterness tainting it. Tim was naïve, maybe, but he also saw the world in a way Isaac liked.

  “And now all these barriers have been broken. I’m not the first openly gay athlete. I’m not even the first openly gay diver. Several came before me. But kids still look up to me. They tell me, you know, it’s important to see people like themselves be successful.” Tim took a deep breath and flattened his hand against Isaac’s belly. “You could be that role model, you know. If you do the interview, I mean. Show that it’s possible to make mistakes and make amends. That alcohol doesn’t own you. That you can hit bottom but still get back up to the top.”

  Isaac pressed a hand to his forehead. “Jesus. I mean, I get what you’re saying, but it’s so hard to talk about.”

  “I know. You may decide it’s better to lie low. But it could also be good publicity if you frame everything in a smart way. Or maybe you can help someone. Particularly athletes. We train our whole lives to reach the pinnacle of our sports. I mean, you know. How many hours a week do you spend in a pool? How hard has it been to hold down a job around your training schedule?”

  “Yeah.” Isaac mostly lived off his endorsement money, which was why his apartment was so sad. He trained six days a week during the swim season. He’d had a few part-time jobs, but he didn’t have enough hours free to take on a full-time job. Many athletes needed endorsements and prize money to support themselves while they trained.

  Tim said, “Our careers are done before we’re forty. Some athletes are done a lot sooner. And if you’ve trained for the Olympics your whole life and not only do you not win, but your career ends soon thereafter? I bet a number of athletes have to deal with substance abuse or depression after the Games are over. Maybe you can help show them their lives aren’t over when their athletic careers are done, after all.”

  It was a nice sentiment, but Isaac wasn’t the right man to deliver that message. He wasn’t noble; he didn’t have a pat story he could sell in a thirty-second commercial. He was too much of a fuckup. “Shit, this role model stuff is not for me. I’m no role model. I’m an alcoholic who happened to win some swim races.”

  “I think you sell yourself short,” said Tim.

  “I’m not… I mean, Luke is the team captain. Everyone looks up to him. He’s a good guy. Likes to mentor the younger swimmers.”

  “I don’t think you have to be a mentor to be a role model.”

  “I’m selfish. I’m here for selfish reasons.”

  “I don’t think you’re selfish either.” Tim ran his hands over Isaac’s pecs, over his shoulders.

  “No? Because I am. Totally fucking selfish.” Isaac sensed a change in Tim’s tone. The serious conversation was over.

  “Maybe it depends on the context,” Tim said, snaking his arms around Isaac.

  “I suppose I give back in certain ways.”

  “I suppose I want you to give me something right now.”

  Isaac stifled a chuckle. God, Tim was cute. He leaned over and pecked Tim on the mouth. “Yeah?”

  “Kiss me like you mean it, asshole.”

  Now Isaac laughed. “Sounds about right.”

  They kissed. Isaac thrust his fingers into Tim’s hair and opened his mouth, really kissing Tim, sliding his tongue into Tim’s mouth. Tim tasted like toothpaste, which was endearing. So was Tim’s daring move to get something started. Isaac hesitated for just a second before running his hand down Tim’s back, over his ass, and hooking his hand behind Tim’s knee to pull him closer. Tim was hard under his warm-up pants, his cock pressing against Isaac’s hip. Isaac’s skin tingled and his own cock grew hard against Tim’s belly, which Tim must have felt in return.

  “Should we?” Isaac asked.

  “God, I want to.”

  Isaac’s body was here for it. His hips practically drove themselves forward as he pressed into Tim. “I want to fuck you so bad.”

  “I’ve wondered a little how bottoming would affect my diving.”

  That pulled Isaac out of the trance. “Oh shit, I didn’t think of that. I don’t want to hurt you in any way.”

  Tim smiled. “Tell you what. If I win an individual medal, I’m all yours. For now, though, I don’t see how an orgasm can hurt anything.”

  Tim took the lead, pressing Isaac onto his back and straddling his thighs. Tim shimmied out of his pants, which seemed to take some effort but revealed a gorgeous, hard cock, bigger than Isaac had expected. Isaac reached for it, but Tim slapped his hand away. Instead, Tim peeled Isaac’s pants down and pushed them to Isaac’s knees, trapping his legs there. Then Tim shimmied forward, lined up their cocks, and took them both in his hand.

  Isaac moaned.

  The friction was delicious, but more than that, watching Tim writhe above him was something he’d take and hold on to for later. Tim’s face was something else. His mouth fell agape as he stroked their cocks together, his brow furrowed as if he was working out a complicated math problem, and he thrust his hips forward in a way that put pressure on Isaac’s balls in the most delightful way. Isaac reached up and tweaked Tim’s nipples, which pulled a moan from Tim’s mouth.

  “This is gonna be fast,” Tim said. “I’ve been wanting you all week.”

  Isaac thrust his hips up, his cock lining up better with Tim’s, wrapped in Tim’s warm fist. He already felt the telltale tingle. He wanted to point out that he hadn’t had sex since before rehab, but he couldn’t make his mouth form words. Instead he nodded, thrust against Tim, and got his own hand in the mix.

  Tim hissed.

  Isaac pulled him down, trapping their hands and cocks between them, and he kissed Tim hard. He was careful not to bite Tim’s lip, though he wanted to—there were too many TV cameras around, too many concerned coaches. Tim had to be near-naked on TV in a few days for the individual qualifying dives, so Isaac couldn’t leave marks. But he could hold Tim in his arms. And they could come together, have a messy orgasm together.

  “Oh, sh—” Tim said before moan-sighing. His whole body vibrated, and then Isaac felt him come hot between them.

  The sudden slickness, their hot hands, the pressure…. Isaac’s orgasm felt like Tim had unleashed something in him. He threw his head back and arched off the bed, practically howling as he came. It was probably messy and loud, but he didn’t care
. He pulled his hand away and threw both arms around Tim, hugging him close, panting as he came back down.

  This man. Isaac had never been with anyone like him. So sweet and idealistic, but smart and sexy too, with his own baggage that he could somehow move past when it counted. Isaac connected with Tim in a way he had rarely connected with anyone, something his sobriety was probably a factor in. Maybe he’d been too drunk to really be intimate with anyone beyond a quick fuck. Maybe he hadn’t been ready.

  Tim wriggled a little, getting his trapped hand free, and then he pressed a kiss to the space between Isaac’s pecs.

  “Have we just doomed ourselves to failure and obscurity?” Tim asked, also panting.

  “Probably. Oh well.” He pulled Tim up for a scorching kiss. If he was doomed, so be it.

  Chapter 13

  Day 4

  TIM HAD slipped out of bed early Tuesday morning, but Isaac decided to linger, enjoying Tim’s scent on his sheets. When he got to the Aquatics Center a few hours later, Luke was waiting for him. “How are you, old man?”

  “I’m doing okay.” Isaac actually felt pretty loose. Relieving some of the sexual tension with Tim likely helped with that.

  “We’re in the same heat for the 400 free.”

  “Oh. Great. Gee.”

  “They say the heats are randomly assigned, but I wonder sometimes if there isn’t someone with a masochistic streak pulling the strings.”

  “Who else is in the heat?”

  “Hsu. That Italian guy, Perinelli. Coreirra. Then a bunch of guys I don’t know.”

  “Stacked heat.”

  “It’s suspicious.”

  Isaac shrugged. “Happens.”

  “You don’t seem concerned.”

  “I don’t have to win my heat. I just have to swim the sixteenth-fastest time. Besides, if I can’t beat those guys, I don’t belong in the final.”

  For whatever reason, that finally got Luke’s shoulders to drop. Luke smirked. “Think you can beat me?”

  “I know I can. I routinely clocked in faster than you in practice the whole month leading into the Games.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Isaac went into the locker room and changed into his suit. He did a few laps in the warm-up pool before Adam told him to get ready for the race.

  When Isaac got to the ready room, Luke was already sitting in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs, his hood over his head, his coat zipped up to his chin. Isaac pulled on the coat Adam handed to him. Isaac didn’t bother to zip it, but he pulled the hood on over his swim cap and sat next to Luke. The coat kept him from cooling down too much from the air; the warmth helped keep muscles loose, but also, the Aquatics Center clearly had the AC set to Arctic.

  Luke grinned and said, “First.”

  “Oh, you think this means something? You’re ready first so you’ll win the race?”

  “There’s an old wives’ tale about children who are born early always being on time and children who are born late always being tardy. I was born three weeks early. I get to the end of the race early.”

  “Is this your form of trash talk?”

  An official called their heat, so Isaac moved to stand up, although Luke got to his feet sooner. “First.”

  Isaac rolled his eyes.

  He stood on the block a few minutes later, two lanes away from Luke.

  And he decided he didn’t care what Luke did in this race. Luke could win now for all Isaac cared. Isaac’s only goal was top sixteen. He had to swim a fast race, but as Adam had told him right after his warm-up, as long as he touched the wall under 3:50, he’d be fine.

  The buzzer sounded and Isaac got in the water. The start felt good, and maybe that was all that mattered. The feeling. If he felt good in the water, if he wasn’t holding back, then he could do anything. He wouldn’t swim all out in a prelim, and he had to swim two more races today so he needed to conserve his strength, but he wouldn’t slouch too much either.

  Eight laps of the pool. Isaac slid through the water, vaguely aware of swimmers in his periphery. He had the sense he kept pace with everyone until, after about the second lap, the swimmer in the lane to his left slipped away. Somewhere in the third lap, the swimmer on his right slipped away too. Swimmers in more distant lanes might have had huge leads right now, but with only five heats, Isaac felt good about his odds of making the semis.

  New technology on the bottom of the pool let him know how many laps he had left, which helped because he had a moment when he doubted he was really almost finished. But it said right there on the bottom of the pool that he’d swum into his last lap, so he turned it on a little, deciding to sprint the last length of the pool. He reached his hand out, touched the wall, and popped out of the water.

  He’d swum it in 3:45. He came in second, behind Luke. He’d made the semis easily.

  When he got out of the pool, Luke was already waiting. “First,” Luke said.

  “We’ll see,” said Isaac.

  As he got back to the locker room, though, a guy in a lab coat stopped him and handed him a cup. Adam stood next to him, looking grim.

  “Sorry, Isaac.”

  Isaac shrugged. “It’s fine. The only things I’ve put in my body today are egg whites and orange juice.”

  That made Adam’s frown deepen. “You’re gonna need to eat more than that if you expect to race tonight. Should I have Carl make you lunch?” Carl was USA Swimming’s staff chef. Isaac hadn’t even realized he’d come to Madrid, but there was an odd cabal of people following the team around, including the therapist who specialized in Chinese medicine and an aesthetician who helped with body waxing and shaving.

  “I… all right. Sure. I am pretty hungry.”

  “I’ll get you and Luke set up. Meet me at the American Lounge after you pee in the cup and change.”

  Forty minutes later Luke and Isaac had been herded into one of the kitchens where stadium concessions were prepared, where they sat on rickety stools at stainless steel tables.

  “We were one and two overall in the prelims,” Luke said as Carl slid plates in front of them. Then Carl gave a little wave and took off.

  “That’s good,” Isaac said as he observed the calorie-fest before him. There seemed to be half a chicken on his plate as well as a shit-ton of vegetables, piled high in colorful mounds, and then a baked potato, probably because Carl knew Isaac loved a baked potato and would eat them all day long if he didn’t burn off starch so fast.

  Luke tilted his head. “I’ve never seen you so mellow at a competition.”

  “It’s prelims, bro.”

  “I know, but you used to get really tense. Like, the minute we entered the arena for a meet, you’d be all business.”

  “Well, part of that is something I worked on in rehab. You gotta take each day at a time, right, so I approach swimming as each event at a time. I can’t focus on the whole meet or I’ll get overwhelmed and want to drink.”

  “You want to drink now?”

  “I always want to drink. I know, for example, that the walk-in fridge behind you is full of bottled beer, and all I’d have to do is walk in there and take one. I won’t, but it’s distracting me.”

  Luke glanced back at the fridge. “Should we move?”

  “No. I’m all right. I’m just saying.”

  “Is it true you used to swim drunk?”

  Isaac tilted his head. Had they never had this conversation? Luke had taken plenty of drinks out of Isaac’s hand and had encouraged him to go to rehab, but maybe they’d never really talked all this out before. “No. Never drunk. Hungover? Yeah. Many times.”

  “And you still won?”

  “I won a silver medal four years ago while hungover. Although I lost some races too.”

  “So basically, had you been sober four years ago, we’d be having conversations about how you’re the greatest swimmer of all time.”

  “Probably not of all time. I’d take ‘of this generation,’ though.”

  Luke nodded. “You get drug
tested today?”

  “Yep.” Every athlete at the Olympics was subject to random drug testing, especially because the World Anti-Doping Agency and the IOC were cracking down hard. Isaac suspected the high-profile athletes got tested more often, though he couldn’t prove it. “Adam makes them take my blood alcohol too.”

  Luke’s eyes went wide. “Seriously?”

  “Adam thinks it’s a deterrent. I actually don’t mind. If anything, I can say, hey, here’s incontrovertible proof I’m sober now.”

  “This is apparently how it is now. Those Russian athletes got caught doping, and now we all have to get tested more often.”

  “Doping never interested me. I don’t need drugs to win.”

  “Plus, I’ve heard some of those drugs kill your sex drive and shrink your balls. Who needs that?” Luke winked.

  “Exactly. I have a reputation to maintain.”

  A laugh burst out of Luke. “Of course you do.” He shook his head. “You know, the worst part is that the swimmers who got caught this time? They all swim far slower than you do on your worst days.”

  “Maybe everyone should take up drinking.” Isaac dug into the meal. Carl sure could cook a chicken; it was juicy and well-seasoned.

  “Hey, don’t knock it. Best baseball player of all time was Babe Ruth, right? He didn’t need PEDs. His whole career was fueled by booze, hot dogs, and women.”

  “There you go.”

  Luke ate a few bites, then said, “Speaking of sex, how are things going with Tim?”

  Isaac didn’t feel ready to talk about it, but since this was Luke and there was no one else around, he said, “Good, I think. I mean, for what it is. We both know it doesn’t have a future past the Closing Ceremony.”