Here Comes the Flood Read online

  As Isaac pulled away from his mother, he started scanning the stands. He knew Tim was there; Tim had told him he planned to sneak into the race. Isaac found Tim and they made eye contact. Isaac smiled, waved to the crowd, and then ran back to grab his stuff from the pool.

  “He looked at us,” Ginny said, sounding breathless.

  “He looked at Tim,” said Jason.

  Ginny turned to Tim. “So it’s, like, a real thing. You’re dating Isaac Flood.”

  “Shh. But yes. Kind of. I guess. I don’t know. It could be one of those temporary event-specific romances that burns hard and fast. I’ll go back to Colorado after the Games and my old life will be waiting for me without Isaac.”

  “No, I don’t think that’s how it’s going to go,” said Ginny.

  “No?”

  “Nope. It’s too good. You’ll show up for the next Olympics married and have to do those fluffy news pieces about your epic romance and it will be super adorable.”

  “Doubtful,” said Tim, though he smiled and wished that would turn out to be the case. “In order for that to happen, I’d have to marry Isaac, who I’ve only known for, like, nine days, and I’d have to make the Olympic team four years from now, which who even knows if I’ll be able to do.” He spoke softly. The crowd around them jumped and cheered, so he didn’t think they’d be overheard, but he was hyperconscious of the fact that the wrong person would report what he said to the media.

  “How old are you, Timmy?” asked Ginny.

  “Twenty-four.”

  “Well, I’m twenty-eight, and as the older and wiser of us, I can say that you, my dear, will most definitely be able to make the next Olympic team, barring injury. Knock on wood.” She looked around as if she were trying to find wood to knock on, but there were only the plastic benches of the stands, so she knocked on Jason’s head.

  “Ow,” said Jason.

  “Well, from your lips to God’s ears,” said Tim. “I mean, you realize he’s going to have to do a ton of press now, so I may not even get to see him much.”

  “Like you haven’t been spending every night together,” said Jason.

  Ginny grinned triumphantly.

  Heat flooded Tim’s face. “Fine. Whatever, guys. Plan our wedding. But, again, Tom Daley didn’t make the finals.”

  “Nah.” Ginny grinned and threw an arm around Tim. “It’s too perfect. It will work out.”

  Chapter 21

  Day 11

  Transcript: Men’s Three-Meter Springboard Final

  HOLLAND: Who are your favorites going into this final?

  BELL: Well, the Chinese divers, of course. Wao Yan has looked fantastic through all of the preliminary rounds. Near perfect. His countryman He Qian less so. He had a rough semifinal and barely made this final, but it doesn’t matter. All of the previous scores are thrown out. If he dives cleanly today, he has an excellent shot at a medal. Other favorites are Kevin O’Roarke from Australia, who is tremendously strong. He’s the reigning Olympic champion in this event. And we’ve got divers from Italy, Portugal, Canada, and Russia who are in this mix.

  HOLLAND: And we can’t forget the Americans.

  BELL: No, we definitely should not count them out. Lance Steele is the current American champion, and he looked good through the prelims, qualifying in fifth. But, of course, there’s Timothy Swan.

  HOLLAND: It’s rare for divers to do both the springboard and platform events these days, right?

  BELL: It’s true, divers today tend to specialize. Jumping off the platform is a different skill than jumping off the springboard. And now that synchronized diving is in the mix, doing three events is too much for a lot of athletes. But Timmy Swan is not just any athlete. He’s stronger off the platform, but he’s a solid springboard diver too, and he qualified for both at the Olympic Trials, so he’s doing both here. But three events can be pretty hard on the body. I half expected Swan to scratch this event, but no, here he is.

  HOLLAND: What do you think his chances are?

  BELL: I like him better for a medal in platform diving, but if he keeps his dives clean, he’s got some of the hardest difficulty-level dives we’ll see today, so he can get big scores. If he keeps it clean.

  HOLLAND: Looks like we’ve got some familiar faces in the audience too. There are a few members of USA Swimming sitting in the stands. There are a pile of medals between them. Luke Rogers, Katie Santiago, and Isaac Flood practically need a wheelbarrow for all the hardware they will be bringing home.

  BELL: Nice to see them coming out to support their Team USA colleagues.

  HOLLAND: And there’s Greg Louganis. He’s become something of a mentor to the US divers. Tim Swan in particular has called Louganis his hero.

  BELL: That might be part of why he’s doing platform and springboard here. Louganis did both in his day.

  HOLLAND: Swan will get a few days’ rest between events, at least.

  BELL: That is true, and he’s not even the only diver entered in both. Roberto Jimenez of Mexico is also doing both and is a diver not to be overlooked. Mexico has a long tradition of sending excellent divers to the Olympics, and Roberto is pretty great. The difficulty level of his dives is not as high as the Chinese divers’ or even Timothy Swan’s, but if he dives well, he’s in contention.

  HOLLAND: Guess we’ll have to wait and see.

  TIM KNEW Isaac sat in the audience. As in the swimming finals, USA Diving had a section reserved for noncompeting divers, friends, and family, so Isaac, Luke, and Katie had snuck in. Or, more likely, no one would tell a man with seven Olympic medals no.

  So Isaac was there, but Tim wasn’t looking at him, because he needed to focus on his dives.

  The first dive was easy. It was a low difficulty-level dive meant to show off his form and precision, so he did an easy one-and-a-half pike and landed it vertically. He scored nines, probably only because he didn’t have the same superpower the Chinese divers had that allowed them to enter the water without creating a splash.

  The finals required him to complete six dives, so he had five more chances to fuck this all up. He knew from a hundred competitions that sometimes it only took one dive to take an athlete out of the running. He’d been a little shaky during the semis the previous day, entering the water less than vertical a few times. He’d spent the morning reviewing video with Donnie, trying to work out how to correct his mistakes. He felt better now, more stable and less nervous.

  He wasn’t as strong a springboard diver as he was a platform diver, though. He liked the platform better, liked having more space to fly and complete somersaults. Springboard had so many variables: you had to compress the springboard enough for it to give you the push into the air you needed to get up high enough to complete whatever the trick was—a somersault, a twist, a pike. Then you only had three meters to get that trick done and get vertical again. Tim found competing springboard stressful, and had almost stopped entirely, but Donnie still thought he had a chance to medal, so here he was.

  The second dive had a higher degree of difficulty. As he dried off with his lucky shammy, he mentally practiced it. He tossed the shammy over the side of the springboard and saw it land near the base of the stairs. Then left leg up, right, hop, and he threw himself forward into a two-and-a-half tuck, which he straightened out quickly. He felt his feet slap the water in a way that indicated he hadn’t been perfectly vertical, but he’d been close.

  Most of the judges rated that an 8.5. Enough to keep him in second place.

  Tim didn’t want to obsess over scores. A lot of the other divers spent the times between dives under the showers or in the hot tubs, staying warm and loose. And even more of them had waterproof headphones on—like Jason usually did—ignoring the noise in the stadium and the glowing allure of the scoreboard. But Tim always had to know what he was up against. One of the Chinese divers had missed his second dive, apparently, because his scores were shockingly low. The other was diving flawlessly, and if he kept it up, he’d be unbeatable.

 
Tim’s third dive was solid but not perfect, pushing him into third place behind the top-ranking Chinese diver and Perez from Mexico, whom Isaac thought was a beautiful springboard diver.

  He returned to the waiting area and ducked under a hot shower spray. Then, curiosity getting the better of him, he peeked toward the stands, hoping to get a glimpse of Isaac. He knew approximately where the friends and family section was, and… there he was, talking with Luke and Katie. They seemed to be having an involved conversation, although a lighthearted one, because when Isaac said something, Luke threw his head back and laughed, and Isaac had that sheepish smile on his face he got when he didn’t want it to seem like he was laughing at his own joke.

  So Tim decided to look for his parents, who were predictably in the front row.

  Then his gaze slid around to see who else was in the stands, and….

  Pat.

  Jesus Christ. Tim ducked behind a pillar, not wanting to be seen. Pat was here. He sat by himself in the section adjacent to where Isaac sat, and he seemed intent on reading his program. But it was definitely him. Tim had been with the man for long enough that he could pick him out of a crowd.

  What the fuck was his ex doing here?

  Tim couldn’t worry about it now. He tried to pretend he hadn’t seen Pat in the stands and instead returned to the shower, letting the hot water pour over him. He had to get his head back in the right space. The people in the stands didn’t matter. All that mattered was Tim’s feet on the springboard, his form in the air, and entering the water cleanly. Diving. He was here for diving.

  For the fourth dive, Tim planned a back inward three-and-a-half tuck, the dive he struggled with the most on the springboard. He liked doing this dive off the platform better, since he had more room and didn’t have to rotate as fast. He positioned himself at the end of the springboard and started flexing his feet to get the board to bounce. He focused on just this, on the bounce of the board beneath him, on what he had to do once he was in the air, on how he’d get himself into the water. Then he launched himself backward, got his legs up immediately into the tuck, spotted the water, rotated, spotted the water again, rotated, spotted the water again, and kicked out his legs to go vertical.

  He could tell by the sting of water on the back of his legs that he was short of vertical. Fuck.

  When he got out of the water, the scores were sevens. Not a disaster, but he fell out of medal position now.

  “It’s fine,” said Donnie, standing in the coaches’ area when Tim walked over that way. “You didn’t quite kick hard enough and never got completely vertical, but the dive looked really good in the air. Maybe the best I’ve seen you do that.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Your scores aren’t low enough to take you out of contention. If you do the last two perfectly, which is within your ability to do, you might walk away with a medal.”

  Tim took a deep breath. “Okay. I’m gonna go dunk in the hot tub.” And hopefully shake that off. And forget Pat was here.

  Why was Pat here? Tim had been very clear when they broke up that he never wanted to see Pat again. But there was no reason for Pat to be here… except to see Tim. Did he want something? Did he want to get back together? Because that was not happening. Shit. Tim could not think about this right now.

  “Stay warm. Remember for the twist to tighten here.” Donnie patted his stomach. “Keep it really straight. These judges have been sticklers for form. They found some deductions for Wao’s dive, which looked damn near perfect from here. I couldn’t see room for deductions, but his feet must have been half an inch apart or something.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  The dive tower stood between the hot tubs and the stands, so Tim couldn’t see the audience as he sat in the tub, trying to stay warm. He couldn’t stand seeing any of the people in the audience. Even the thought of Isaac watching him made his heart pound.

  “That’s a bad break,” said Perez in heavily accented English as he slid into the tub.

  “My last dive?” Isaac asked.

  “Yeah. I watched. Sorry.”

  “No, it’s okay. You’ve looked really good all day.”

  “Thanks. It’s just… how the wind blows.”

  “Yeah.” Tom Daley didn’t make the finals. “I don’t think we can catch Wao, but we might be fighting it out for the silver the next two dives.”

  Perez smiled. “Yeah? I won silver at Worlds but never an Olympic medal. Four years ago….” He shook his head.

  “Yeah, I remember,” said Tim. Perez had basically belly flopped during a semifinal dive, which had taken him out of the running.

  Perez nodded. “My wife is in the audience. I don’t want to disappoint her. She’s so patient.”

  “That’s good. It’s nice that she’s here. You’ll do well. Two more dives to go.”

  Before his fifth dive, Tim hung back for a second, toweling off but looking for Isaac in the stands. Isaac faced Tim, probably looked right at him, though it was hard to tell from this distance. Luke and Katie sat next to Isaac, talking excitedly. Tim glanced at his parents but made a point of not looking for Pat. Tim nodded to himself, tossed the shammy, and got ready to do the twist dive. He followed Donnie’s advice in the air, tightening his muscles to keep perfectly straight as he turned, placing his arms in the proper position until it was time to put them down, entering the water with very little splash. The water seemed to hug him that time, a good sign he’d done it well.

  He stayed under water for a moment longer than he probably should have, to collect himself and because he wasn’t quite ready to face the score yet.

  But… nines. A couple of 9.5s. Tim was back in second place.

  Pat had rarely come to see Tim dive when they’d been together, which had the effect of making Tim feel kind of alone at meets, despite having this high-profile relationship. Sure, his parents came to all his big meets, but it wasn’t quite the same. Now Tim was secretly dating Isaac, who was right out there in the stands, supporting Tim, cheering for him. Tim knew in his gut that Isaac wouldn’t think less of Tim if he didn’t medal and that Isaac would be excited and proud if he did. It was a nice feeling, reassuring, like a warm hug even if Isaac was fifty feet away. Isaac would probably be proud as long as Tim put his all into the competition, no matter the outcome.

  It made Tim realize how lonely he’d been when he and Pat had been together.

  So why was Pat here now? Would Tim have to talk to him? Really, what Pat did with his time was none of Tim’s business anymore. Tim could still refuse to talk to him, the same way he’d turned down that tabloid reporter who’d shown up at training. There was no reason Tim and Pat needed to have anything to do with each other.

  He shook that off and stood under a shower for a few minutes, closing his eyes and mentally rehearsing his last dive. One more to go. That was all he needed.

  The final dive was the showstopper. Tim jumped off the springboard and into a pike, which he rotated once before straightening out and twisting until vertical and entering the water. It had the highest degree of difficulty of his dives, and if he pulled it off, it was worth a lot of points.

  The stakes were low, he told himself as he climbed the ladder to the springboard. His parents loved him no matter what, which he knew because he’d pushed them pretty hard the past couple of years through all the drama with Pat. Isaac was watching, but his affection was not contingent on Tim performing this dive flawlessly. Pat was here somewhere, for some reason, but fuck him. Sure, a medal was on the line, but Tim didn’t care about this one as much as he did the platform final, which was still several days away. The springboard was a lark, something Donnie had wanted him to do, because no one had medaled in the springboard and the platform in the same Olympics in several decades.

  The media called Tim the best diver since Greg Louganis, a compliment Tim treasured, but he knew it was his sexuality as much as his skill that invited comparisons. Greg sat in the coaches’ area now—Tim still thought it surreal that
he got to talk to his idol before Olympic competition—and had told Tim earlier that day that he had the potential to do something no one had done in a long time. But Tim didn’t want to let that weigh on him. He was a skilled diver. He was a world and Olympic champion diver. The gold he wanted was the platform gold, though, so if he won a medal on springboard, it was gravy.

  He caught sight of Isaac in the audience, and imagined they made eye contact. If Isaac felt half as much for Tim now as Tim had felt for Isaac during his last race, Tim and Isaac would be fine. Winning a medal would be amazing, but it wasn’t everything.

  Tim took a deep breath, reminded himself he could do this—but if he didn’t it wasn’t a big deal—and he launched off the end of the springboard.

  He felt good as he entered the water.

  Diving had so many variables. You had to get a good hurdle and take off from the end of the board; then you had to not just complete the elements of the dive, but you had to do so with perfect form; then you had to get vertical again so that you went into the water straight, and you had to place your hands in exactly the right position to push the water aside so that you entered with very little splash. You had to keep pulling once you were in the water to keep your legs vertical until you completed that dive. If any one of those things went wrong, you’d be penalized. If conditions were less than ideal, it could affect those things too. Keeping your muscles warm between dives was crucial, or you’d seize up. Nerves could make muscles tense, which could cause problems when completing somersaults. Wind tended to throw off divers, who had to move their bodies to compensate, but in the indoor Aquatics Center, there was no wind, at least. Divers had to get themselves as dry as possible before diving too—hence the shammies—because dry bodies turned in the air faster.

  Tim had done everything right. He’d gotten a good push off the springboard, he kept every part of his body in the correct position as he rotated through the air, he held his muscles tight, he straightened out and got his body vertical when he needed it to be, and he pushed into the water with very little splash. He’d done everything he could do and he felt good about it.