Chapter Three

Turns out arrogant swim gods have secrets too.

I knelt there on the concrete staring at him, trying to find the right words to say. What does one really say in a situation like this?

“I don’t need that pitying look on your face, Izel.” He shot me a withering look, then inhaled deeply. “I have a heart condition. Wolf Parkinson White Syndrome and I found out about it two months ago.” When I didn’t reply, he continued. It’s this electrical thing that flares up under extreme physical stress.”

“Look, you need to tell someone. Have you told your dad? How long do you think you can hide this?”

 He laughed, but it wasn't a real laugh, "Swimming is the only thing I've ever been good at, Izel. Without it I'm just... a guy." His eyes suddenly watered and he turned away from me. My heart sank for him.

I didn't say anything for a second. Because okay, fine, annoyingly, I got it. I got it more than I wanted to. For me, painting is the only place I've ever felt like myself, the one thing that's just mine, and if someone told me tomorrow I could never pick up a brush again, I don’t know what I'd do.”

"I won't tell anyone," I said finally and he sighed with relief. “You're still the most insufferable person I've ever met. But I know what it's like to have the one thing you love hanging by a thread. So your secret's safe. Just—" I stood up, brushing off my knees, "—don't almost die in a pool again. My mom would never forgive me."

Jace smiled at me for the first in ever, but it went away as quickly as it came.

My mother and I moved into the Carter’s mansion at the end of the week. Yes, we had a truce now, and Jace gave me his room because it was bigger, and also because I may or may not have manipulated him into doing so. The first few days were WAR though, don't get it twisted. The truce did not extend to normal human coexistence.

Jace made sure I paid for the room swap though. He used up the hot water every morning and in turn, I accidentally used his good towel to wipe up a paint spill. Two can play his wicked game. He left his swim bag dripping chlorine water all over the kitchen floor and when I yelled at him about it he just shrugged and said skill issue.

Our parents thought this was the funniest thing they had ever witnessed in their lives. My mom would just sit at the breakfast table sipping her coffee, watching us argue about whose turn it was to load the dishwasher, absolutely delighted, like she was watching a sitcom, while Richard just laughed into his newspaper and said things like reminds me of us, which, sir, please, do NOT.

And then Tuesday happened.

I was at my locker between classes, minding my business, thinking about literally nothing except whether I had enough blue paint left for my final project, when Noah Bennett appeared next to me.

"Hey, Izel."

I nearly dropped my sketchbook. "Oh — hey, Noah." I replied suddenly weak in the knees.

"So I was thinking," he said, and my heart did this ridiculous stupid flip, "there's this movie coming out Friday, and I wanted to know if you'd want to check it out with me?"

I said yes so fast I probably should've been embarrassed about it but I wasn't. I floated through the rest of that entire day and didn't hear a word my professor said in Color Theory class. I doodled little stars in the margins of my notes as I kept replaying his voice in my head. I’d gone through three years of waiting and it finally, FINALLY happened.

Across campus, apparently, someone had also noticed. Jace ran up to meet me, flinging his face towel over his shoulder. He was sweaty and his hair was wet which made me think he was just fresh from swim practice.

“Why are you skipping and smiling to yourself like that?” He asked in an annoying faux voice.

 I stopped walking and turned to him, my hair whipping over my eyes. “None of your business. Now go away.”

“It’s my business if you’re smiling like an idiot on campus. You know people can see you right?” He kept taunting me.

“No…they can only see me because of you. Don’t you have some unsuspecting girl to ambush?”

He shook his head and whistled. “Noah really has you whipped.” He wagged his tongue at me, still in between laughs.

In turn, I gave him the middle finger and stomped away. I was too happy to let Jace get to me.

That evening before going home, I decided to walk to the little coffee shop off campus, the one with the good oat milk lattes, still riding the high of movie-night-with-Noah, and bouncing down the sidewalk with no cares in the world, when I saw Noah. I stopped dead in my tracks as my mouth fell open.

Because standing a few feet ahead of me, right outside the coffee shop, was Noah Bennet.

He was kissing someone and it wasn't me.