Here Comes the Flood Page 15

  Tim caught himself holding his breath again as he waited for Isaac to emerge. Isaac walked out a moment later, wearing the heavy-looking coat again, his cap in place and goggles on his forehead. He waved at the crowd with both hands. The applause was deafening.

  Tim realized Isaac was probably the defining story of the Olympics right now. And Isaac would hate that.

  Isaac went through the dance again, carefully taking off everything but his swimsuit, cap, and goggles. At the side of the pool, while everyone got ready, one of the officials fiddled with some piece of equipment, delaying the start. The longer this drew out, the tenser Tim became, watching and unable to do anything to help Isaac.

  “He’s better at the two hundred,” Ginny said, “but the breaststroke is his best stroke.”

  “Do you run his fan club?” Tim asked. He hoped it didn’t sound snippy, because he didn’t mean it to be.

  She grinned. “I just like him. I think he got a bad break. He made some mistakes, and the establishment kind of abandoned him. But here he is, winning races again. It’s inspiring, isn’t it?”

  The racers got up on the block. One hundred meters was one lap, just down the length of the pool and back, and the whole race would take about a minute. But Tim’s heart pounded.

  Up on the blocks. Set. Go.

  Isaac got in the water fast. Everyone seemed pretty much on pace, but the field started to spread out a little as they approached the first turn. According to the scoreboard, Isaac was third in that turn, but he caught some kind of momentum and pulled into second place once he began the back half. Tim slid forward on the seat, leaning to try to see better. Isaac came up to the guy in first place. If no one else caught him, he’d win a medal at least. But Isaac wanted the gold; Tim knew that. Isaac closed the gap in the last twenty-five meters. And then they were at the wall, but so much water splashed up, Tim couldn’t see who reached the wall first.

  The results flashed up on the screen.

  Isaac had won his third gold medal of the Games.

  “Holy shit,” Tim said.

  “Oh my God,” said Ginny.

  Everyone in the audience buzzed. The woman Ginny thought was Isaac’s mom sobbed all over the woman beside her. Tim really hoped she wasn’t Isaac’s secret girlfriend or something. Then he shook that thought off; Isaac wasn’t Pat. He could trust him. The woman was probably his sister. And when she turned and looked back at Ginny, currently screaming her head off, Tim thought he could see a family resemblance.

  That had been the last race of the night, so Tim bent down to grab his bag, but Ginny said, “Let’s stay for the medal ceremony and sing the national anthem like it’s a pop song.”

  Tim thought it might be nice to see Isaac get his medal. His third medal this week. Jesus.

  People filtered out of the stands as the athletes went to change and a crew set up the podium. The first medal was awarded for a women’s event, and then Isaac and the other medalists from the 100-meter breaststroke came out to raucous applause.

  The ceremony itself seemed to drag. The athletes stood on the podium, chatting with each other while they waited for the medals to be carried out. Once the woman who held the medals on a tray arrived at the podium, each athlete in turn shook hands with the other winners, stepped up to his place, and received a handshake, his medal, some cheek kisses, and the little statuette of the Madrid mascot—a cartoony bull—they were handing out instead of flowers. So it took several minutes before Isaac even stepped up to the top of the podium to receive his medal. Then the flags were lowered, and the national anthem began, and Ginny, true to her word, belted out, “Oh say can you see?”

  But Tim couldn’t take his eyes off Isaac. Isaac seemed somewhat overcome, his eyes a little red as he looked toward the flags, which happened to be lowered directly in front of where Tim sat. Isaac’s eyes searched the crowd below the flags and his gaze seemed to settle on his mother, who gave a little wave. Then Isaac looked up. And his gaze met Tim’s.

  Isaac looked startled for a moment, but then his gaze locked on Tim, and they stared at each other through the rest of the anthem. By the time Ginny began to shout, “Oh say does that star-spangled banner yet wave!” Tim knew with certainty Isaac saw him there.

  Tim also knew his destiny had just taken a left turn.

  Because there was no way he was letting this man go when he flew back to the States.

  “HALF THE dive team wound up in the audience tonight,” Luke said when Isaac walked back into the locker room.

  “I noticed.” Isaac wanted to get to Tim more than he wanted to breathe. He’d packed up his bag before the medal ceremony, so he stopped now to fish his phone out of it, and then he hoisted his bag onto his shoulder.

  “It’s nice of them to be supportive,” Luke said. “Katie said they cheered louder than anyone.”

  “We’ll have to thank them,” Isaac said as he texted Tim to tell him not to leave without him.

  Do you care if the whole dive team sees us together? Tim asked.

  Nope was Isaac’s reply.

  He didn’t give a fuck about keeping this relationship a secret. Because it was a relationship. He’d realized as he’d stared at Tim’s eyes during the medal ceremony that Tim was the best thing to happen to him… well, since rehab, probably. And he’d be a fool to let that go.

  Isaac had a moment’s hesitation wondering if he cared about being outed—he didn’t. He’d survived being arrested and the shame of admitting he was a drunk. He felt no shame about his sexuality and didn’t really care who knew about it, because it didn’t affect how he swam, and he generally viewed it as a positive, something to take pride in. His friends and family all knew. So if he got some press for being with Tim, so be it; it could never be as terrible as the press he got after the DUI.

  “Tim’s here,” Isaac told Luke. “I mean, with the dive team.”

  Luke grinned. “Go get him. You just won your third gold medal in as many days. Live your life, Isaac.”

  “I plan to.”

  When Isaac and Luke reached the athlete’s exit of the Aquatics Center, Tim waited there with a few of the other divers, most of them wearing their official warm-up suits or jackets that said USA Diving. One of the female divers, who had red curly hair—Isaac didn’t know her name—squealed when he walked out. “Oh my God, congratulations!”

  “Thanks. Tim, I—”

  “That was so amazing,” the redhead said. “Nobody expected you to win.”

  “Uh, thanks. So, Tim, I—”

  “I think you just pulled off a miracle,” Tim said.

  And then, because the only people standing there were three divers and a couple of the swimmers waiting for the bus back to the Athlete Village—and also because Isaac didn’t really care what anyone thought anyway—he reached for Tim, grabbed his head, and pulled him in for a hot kiss. Tim went with it, hooking his arm around Isaac’s, but Isaac sensed more people coming outside, so he pulled away.

  “So, you two know each other,” said the redhead.

  “Um, yeah,” Tim said.

  “I did not know you were gay, Isaac Flood.”

  “Bisexual,” said Isaac, frustrated with the girl. “Tim, I—I’m really glad you’re here.” He let out a breath, glad he finally got to say what he wanted to say.

  “Me too.”

  They all boarded the bus back to the Athlete Village. Luke got on the bus shortly thereafter, and he punched Isaac lightly on the arm. “Well done all around,” he said.

  Isaac nodded.

  Tim said, “Isaac, I—”

  “Shh.” Isaac lowered his voice. “You’re spending the night with me, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then whatever. Bask in my glory.”

  Tim laughed. “Yeah, but….” Then he shook his head.

  Isaac supposed it was out now that he and Tim were… doing whatever they were doing. He didn’t care if the swim team knew—and they were all hooking up with each other anyway; Exhibit A was Luke and K
atie, who canoodled whenever they were together—and he wondered how long it would take for this piece of information to leak to the press. He felt a pang of regret at the idea that the story would likely become “Flood is gay!” and not “Flood came back from rock bottom to win three gold medals,” but Isaac could only control himself and his own happiness. Headlines would fade, the public would forget him, and some things were more important.

  “Do you trust your teammates?” Tim asked.

  “Sure.”

  “I’m just worried…. I mean, I don’t mind other people knowing about us, but if it leaks to the press….”

  “So it leaks to the press.”

  Tim let out a frustrated grunt. “If it leaks to the press, then the story stops being about gold medals. For me, it will be all gossipy stories in tabloids about how I’ve moved on from Pat. Or I’m dating a vulnerable swimmer who just got out of rehab and doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

  Isaac narrowed his eyes. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

  “I know, but just….” Tim looked out the window for a moment. When he turned back to face Isaac, he said, “I want the story to be about what I did here athletically. Not what I did with my dick.”

  Isaac nodded. He did a quick inventory of the bus. There were the kids in diving T-shirts that were Tim’s teammates, and there were five members of the swim team. That was it. So Isaac knelt on his seat and said, “Hey, guys?”

  It was a small enough crowd that he got everyone’s attention.

  “Cone of silence, right? What you all saw… I mean, you know now, Tim and I are kind of seeing each other. But it doesn’t leave this bus. Got it?”

  There was a murmur of assent. Luke gave Isaac a thumbs-up.

  “Because I trust you guys. And me and Tim just met. It’s not really a thing yet.”

  “Understood,” said one of the divers.

  “Yeah, we won’t say anything,” said the redhead.

  “Okay. I don’t want to be a dick, but it’s important. I trust you all. Just so we’re clear.”

  Everyone nodded. Isaac felt pretty confident that they understood the situation. A couple of the divers looked young, so they might have been inexperienced, but they knew now. Luke had already given the swim team a “Don’t talk to the press about team gossip” speech a few days before.

  Isaac slid back into his seat. “Okay?”

  “Yeah,” said Tim. “Thanks. So we’re clear, it’s not shame, it’s just….”

  “No, I get it. Believe me, I understand how stupid the media can be.”

  Tim nodded. He was quiet for a moment. Everyone on the bus fell into conversations with their seatmates, and Isaac closed his eyes to savor the little bubble of privacy he had with Tim for the moment. He opened his eyes again and met Tim’s gaze. They smiled at each other.

  Tim reached over and fingered the medal that still hung from Isaac’s neck. “This might be the closest I get to a gold medal.”

  “Aren’t you a reigning Olympic champion?” asked Isaac. “Do you not already have a gold medal?”

  “Sure, but that was the last Olympics. That medal is not in Madrid. Look how pretty this design is.” Tim traced the edges of the design, a floral motif clearly inspired by the architecture and design in Madrid. It was slightly different than the pattern on Tim’s silver medal. “Also, the diving competition is fierce, so I don’t know if I’ll ever get one of these.”

  “Competition, schmompetition.”

  Tim laughed. “You seem so mellow. You’re riding quite a high right now, aren’t you?”

  “I feel amazing. If I come in dead last in the rest of my races, I won’t even care.” Isaac sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “Three gold medals. What the fuck?”

  They spent most of the rest of the bus ride in comfortable silence, and they seemed to move that way through the building that housed the Americans, stopping at Tim’s room briefly before going to Isaac’s.

  Safely in Isaac’s sanctuary, Tim said, “You’re incredible.”

  “No. I’m an ordinary man who just did an incredible thing.”

  “All right. Well, watching you was sure incredible.”

  Isaac grinned. “Do you want to make this night more incredible?”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  Chapter 15

  ISAAC WORE a navy blue jacket with red sleeves—the official Team USA jacket that was part of his medal ceremony uniform—over a USA T-shirt and a pair of black warm-up pants. Tim wondered if Isaac’s whole wardrobe had been supplied by the USOC. Tim had a similar pile of clothing he’d been issued at athlete check-in, which happened shortly before he flew to Madrid. And just in case any athlete thought he didn’t have enough USA garb, there was more available at the America House shop.

  Tim didn’t hate all the free stuff. Everything was custom-made. His dive suits had been made to his body’s exact specifications, in part to prevent wardrobe malfunctions.

  But it was funny to watch Isaac, a guy who probably didn’t have a whole lot of patriotic zeal, slide off the jacket and tug at the hem of his star-spangled T-shirt.

  “So, before we get down to business…,” Isaac said. He waggled his eyebrows and paused for Tim to take in his meaning. “I have a favor to ask.”

  “All right.”

  “My hair’s growing back. On my body, I mean. It’s sort of patchy, and just in a few spots. There’s a woman on staff who does waxing, but I only need some touch-ups. When Luke and I roomed together, we used to shave the hard-to-reach places for each other, but he’s busy fooling around with Katie, so I wondered if you could help me.”

  “You want me to shave you?”

  “Yeah. A little.”

  Shaving Isaac felt like a new level of intimacy, although he’d had Isaac’s come smeared into his skin the night before, so maybe they’d crossed that threshold anyway. The idea of shaving Isaac excited Tim. “Yeah, okay.”

  “Good.” Isaac reached for the hem of his T-shirt.

  But Tim stopped him. He was revved up from the adrenaline of watching Isaac win and from the crazy kiss outside the Aquatics Center, and he’d been thinking about that chest all evening. “Let me.”

  Isaac smiled. “All right.”

  Tim stepped toward Isaac. He ran his hands under Isaac’s T-shirt, over Isaac’s abs and pecs, touching all that soft skin before he revealed it. Isaac’s chest was still smooth, making Tim wonder which parts of his body needed shaving, but he savored the feel of that skin under his hands before he pulled—with some effort—Isaac’s shirt off over his head.

  “You’re really tall,” Tim said.

  “That’s the rumor.”

  Tim pressed his hands into Isaac’s back and leaned in to plant kisses along his collarbone. Isaac threw his head back and put his long arms around Tim. He said, “Mmm. But there are more important matters at hand.”

  “What do you need shaved?”

  “Well, let’s take a look. The lighting is better in the bathroom.”

  Isaac led the way into the small room. He flipped the switch and gestured toward the razor and shaving cream he’d left on the counter. “It’s mostly my legs and arms,” Isaac said.

  “Okay. I’ve never shaved another person before.”

  “You’ve shaved your own face and chest, though, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Same idea. Try not to nick me.”

  Isaac pulled off his warm-up pants, leaving him standing there in a pair of blue briefs. He sat on the toilet and propped one leg up on the lip of the tub, then grabbed the can of shaving cream. “I had my whole body waxed four days ago. I can usually go a week to ten days without needing much touch-up, but my leg hair is stubborn. So, see, there are all these little lines of stubble?” He gestured to his shin. “My thighs seem okay, but down here by my ankles, the hair is growing back.”

  “This is a little weird.”

  “You don’t understand weird until you have a swimmer roommate who asks you to shave his
back hair. Because that has happened. And it’s about the least sexy thing on this planet.”

  Tim laughed. “Okay. Lather up.”

  “I think I can do most of my leg, but maybe you can spot me and get anything I can’t reach.”

  Isaac turned on the water in the sink. Then he smeared shaving cream in a thick layer over his leg and got to work. After each pass, he rinsed the razor in the sink.

  “You missed a spot near your ankle,” Tim said as he settled to sit on the lip of the tub, right next to where Isaac had his foot propped up.

  “You do it, then.” Isaac handed the razor over.

  Tim worried he’d nick Isaac’s skin, but he followed Isaac’s lead, went against the grain, and moved the razor over Isaac’s skin in the same direction Isaac had.

  They managed to shave any errant hair off both Isaac’s legs by passing the razor back and forth. Isaac did his left arm but asked Tim to do his right, since he was right-handed. Tim tried to apply the amount of pressure he’d need if he were ambitious enough to do this kind of hair removal. The scrape of the razor along Isaac’s skin and the repetitive pattern of movement soothed Tim too, and he got over the weirdness and began to relax.

  “Armpits,” Isaac said, raising his arm and his eyebrows.

  Isaac lifted his left arm, so Tim smeared the armpit area with shaving cream. Isaac’s body was stubbly there, not super hairy, and the muscles of Isaac’s arm cast shadows that made it a little hard to see. But Tim went to work, scraping the razor over Isaac’s skin until most of the hair and shaving cream were gone. He wiped off Isaac’s skin with a damp washcloth and inspected his work. Then Tim gave in to temptation and pressed his face into the skin there, feeling the newly smooth texture of Isaac’s underarms and smelling. There was a faint sweaty scent, but mostly Isaac smelled of his minty shaving cream.

  “All smooth?” Isaac asked, his tone wry.

  “Yup.”

  Tim repeated the process under Isaac’s other arm, feeling it with his face again and kissing it this time. It was strange to be with a man who didn’t have hair there. Tim had liked the armpits of some of his past lovers, because their scent, concentrated there, was more intense. But being this close to Isaac was sexy too.