“You ready, kid?”
Nik shouldered his camera bag and shoved down the butterflies in his stomach. They’d been there since that morning, and no amount of coffee had drowned them. Instead, it just made him twitchy. He shoved his hands in his jeans’ pockets to clamp down the nerves, though it didn’t stop him from swiveling his chair and trying to tune out the bustle of surrounding reporters, the clacking of keys, beeps of the copier, phones ringing constantly. Interns darted around in a flurry of papers.
“As I’ll ever be,” he said. He wouldn’t admit (out loud anyway) that he was nervous, but he was sure Jennifer knew. In the whole week they’d known each other, Jennifer had already picked him dry of mundanities including where he was from (New York City), where he was going to college (Chicago), and if he was seeing anyone (no). Nik supposed that was normal for a journalist. They were supposed to ask questions.
Jennifer raised an eyebrow, her eyes skimming down his body. “You’re gonna get heatstroke, kid. It’s a hundred and ten degrees out there.”
Nik frowned at his feet, black converse and skinny jeans, a faded dark blue t-shirt underneath his black jacket. “It’s cold in here.”
“Because the AC is blasting seventy degrees,” she pointed out. “At least lose the jacket. I can’t be responsible for the intern dying.”
Reluctantly, Nik pulled off his jacket and slung it over his chair. He’d been given the tiniest cubicle in the whole building, but he supposed he should be grateful he got a desk at all, since he and Jennifer were only guests while they did their story.
He felt naked without his jacket, vulnerable, but the minute they stepped out the doors, he knew Jennifer had been right. Arizona was the worst place ever, he decided as they headed for the car. Why would anyone choose to live in this place? He couldn’t see any beauty in the weirdly cloudless sky, the strange spiky plants that lodged themselves in your skin if you got too close, everything a sickening shade of beige. It almost made him miss New York. Almost.
“How long are we here for?” Nik asked as they reached the car and he opened the door to a blast of hot air that would have withered a plant. He could see the heat radiating from inside.
Jennifer grinned at him over the hood. “Until the Olympics or until Pace gets himself knocked out of the running.”
“What are the odds of that?” Nik forced himself into the car, eternally grateful when Jennifer turned on the AC full blast. He still couldn’t believe he got to cover the 2024 Olympics. The last few weeks had been like living in a dream, but now it was real. He had to meet the swimmer and get to work.
“He’s ranked number one in the nation,” Jennifer replied, backing up and pulling out of the parking lot. “He’s almost guaranteed a spot on the Olympic swim team.”
“So we’ll be here a while then.” Nik looked out the window as downtown Phoenix rolled by, a sea of gray buildings and silver cars.
“Thought this was your dream job.”
“The weather leaves something to be desired.” To say the least. He hefted his camera bag into his lap and fingered the strap. It had taken him a lot of work to get here. He shouldn’t be complaining about the weather, but he was used to New York, to school in Chicago, where an all-black wardrobe didn’t garner him funny looks on the street. The looks reminded him of home; his brothers always had something to say about his clothes. Or his hair. Or school. Or the fact that he never played sports. Or that he left.
“You want to be a photojournalist, you gotta get used to uncomfortable situations,” Jennifer said, tugging on a kinky curl as she turned onto another street. She wasn’t what Nik had expected when he’d gotten the internship and they’d told him he’d be helping a journalist cover an Olympic journey story.
Jennifer was young, probably only mid-thirties, and she was cool. Her hair was dyed half blue, its natural dark brown on top, and she had a tattoo on her collarbone of a bird. The black ink was dark, even against her brown skin. Nik had been thinking about getting a tattoo. Maybe this summer, he’d actually do it.
She had a point about uncomfortable situations, though Nik was pretty sure he’d lived through plenty of those already.
“So what are we doing today?” he asked. If he was going to suffer through this heat, he wanted to learn as much as he could. He could have been back at the New York office, copy-editing pieces or memorizing coffee orders. This was the opportunity of a lifetime for Nik, and he wasn’t going to fuck it up.
“We’re just going to meet Pace,” she said, darting around a slow car. Nik grabbed the dashboard, heart jumping into his throat. He hadn’t spent much time in cars growing up — the subway was much safer in his opinion — and Phoenix traffic moved so fast. “Introduce ourselves, get some of the background so we can start. We’ll be shadowing him up to trials, then to Paris.”
Paris. There’d been a time when Nik hadn’t ever thought he’d get out of the Bronx, let alone to Paris.
“Have you been?” he asked, turning from the window.
“To Paris? Once, in college,” she said. “I just remember a lot of wine and waiting in line forever to go up the Eiffel Tower. Hot guys, though.”
Nik definitely wasn’t going to Paris to pick up guys. This internship was a huge break. When this was over, he’d have photographs published in a national magazine, in print and online, with his name on them. That alone was worth its weight in gold.
“We’re here,” Jennifer said a moment later as they turned onto another long street that led towards what looked like a college campus to Nik. The sign at the entrance read, “Ahwatukee Olympic Center” and underneath that, arrows: “Elite Gymnastic Center” and “Swim Center.”
“What is this place?” He craned his neck as they drove down the driveway, past meticulously landscaped desert — a vast garden of beige rocks filled with carefully placed desert plants along cement walkways.
“It’s an Olympic training center,” Jennifer replied, taking the turn towards the pool. “They do gymnastics, swimming. A lot of athletes come here.”
When Jennifer had said ‘pool,’ Nik had pictured an outdoor pool surrounded by beach chairs and people drinking drinks with little umbrellas, like they did at the apartment he was staying at. Walking into the Olympic-sized pool, his mouth fell open a bit. Chlorine and humidity hit him like a brick as they went inside, the air almost as hot as outside. The pool was massive, far bigger than the public pool he’d only ventured into a few times as a kid at home. Each lane was separated by floating buoys, with starting blocks lining one end of the pool.
Pulling himself together, he hurried after Jennifer, shouldering his bag and glancing around. The bleachers around the pool were empty, and only a few people were in the pool. A grey-haired man in a sweat suit blasted his whistle, a shrill sound that echoed off the walls.
“That must be him,” Jennifer said, nodding at the guy in the pool. He was moving fast enough that all Nik could really see was the blur of his backside. Jennifer already had her phone out, flipping to an app to record and transcribe.
The man in the sweat suit blew his whistle again as he caught sight of them. He reminded Nik of an army general, with his close-cut salt-and-pepper hair and broad shoulders.
“You’re the reporter?” he asked, voice gruff, shaking Jennifer’s hand firmly.
“I am,” she agreed. “Jennifer Morton. This is my photographer and assistant, Nik.”
The man merely nodded at him and turned to the pool. “Tiernan, get out of there! The press is here.” He glanced back at Jennifer, eyeing her carefully. “We don’t have tons of time to wax poetic about his abs, got it?”
“Yes, sir,” she replied with an easy smile that seemed to appease him. Nik wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anyone so serious in a sweat suit.
The man, the coach, Nik supposed, ambled away as Pace hauled himself out of the pool.
To say it wasn’t a movie moment would be a lie. Nik turned and watched the guy lift himself out of the pool, water cascading off his tanned back, over his tiny shorts and dripping onto the floor as he straightened up. His dark hair was plastered to his head but stuck up as he shook it once. He wiped water off his face, his sea green eyes landing on Nik. Nik could swear he smiled slightly, just for a second as their eyes met, but then the guy grabbed a towel and ran it over his chest as he stepped towards them.
Nik hadn’t seen many swimmers in his life, and it had definitely never been a thing. Until now, apparently. He couldn’t help watching the way water slid down Pace’s chest, down to the V cut at his hips and those tiny swim trunks. He could see pretty much everything and he wasn’t disappointed.
Pace didn’t seem self-conscious at all about the fact that he was wearing practically no clothing. Instead, he smiled at Jennifer and offered a hand.
“The reporter?”
“Jennifer Morton,” Jennifer supplied, completely professional whereas Nik wasn’t sure he’d be able to form a complete sentence if this guy spoke to him. “This is Nik Cali.”
Pace smiled at Nik and Nik struggled to describe it to himself — dreamy was the only thing that came to mind, as stupid as that was. It was a very good thing he wasn’t the journalist here.
“Tiernan Pace,” Pace introduced himself.
“Tiernan?” Nik repeated, the only thing he could think to say. It was probably better than saying, holy shit, you’re hot.
“Irish,” Tiernan explained. “My parents, well, they fucked in Ireland once and here I am. I guess they thought it would be sentimental.”
Nik didn’t know what to say. Luckily, Jennifer jumped in.
“It’s nice to meet you, Tiernan,” she said, giving Nik a gracious reprieve as he struggled to remember what he was doing here. Oh, right, photos. Fumbling with the strap on his camera bag, he got it open and pulled out his camera. “We’re really just here to introduce ourselves. We’ll be following you on your journey to trials and to the Olympics. The magazine wants weekly articles for our online section.”
“And what’s your job?” Tiernan asked Nik, gazing down at him. Tiernan was a good five inches taller than him, which wasn’t all that surprising since Nik barely cleared five-seven. He’d always been small — scrawny, his brothers used to say.
“I, I take photos,” Nik stuttered finally, feeling a flush creeping up the back of his neck. He was acting like a twelve-year old kid with his first crush. He was twenty years old for fuck’s sake. He had to get a grip.
“Make sure you get my good side.” Tiernan winked at him cheekily and the flush deepened. What the fuck was wrong with him?
Jennifer’s eyes were on Nik and she raised that eyebrow of hers again. “We’ll just let Nik do his thing,” she said, and for a moment, Nik was confused. Photos. She was talking about photos. He couldn’t remember the last time a guy had made him feel so stupid, blindsided almost. It was ridiculous. Just because he was good-looking. Okay, he was the hottest guy Nik had seen in a long time, at least in real life. The last guy he’d hooked up with had had huge ears that stuck out past his hair and made him look like an elephant.
He wasn’t here to ogle swimmers. He was here to work, he reminded himself as Jennifer talked to Tiernan. That meant taking photos.
Photography was something Nik was good at. Hell, it was the only thing he was good at. English? Terrible. Math? Even worse. But photography, that he could do.
It wasn’t great lighting in the pool. Everything had a blue hue to it, but Nik tried a few shots anyway. They’d have to get him outside if they wanted anything decent. Maybe they could set up a real shoot. He’d pitch it to Jennifer.
He caught Tiernan’s eyes on him a few times but tried to ignore it. It would be too much to hope he was more than just a flirt. Besides, Nik had way too much shit in his life right now to worry about a guy. It was the last thing he needed.
“I’ll give you a hint,” Tiernan said as Nik changed camera angles. “My good side is back there.” He pointed at his back and Nik’s mouth twitched.
“I’m not so sure about that,” he muttered, gazing up past Tiernan’s straight nose to the way his eyes crinkled as he smiled.
“Not sure if I should be insulted or flattered.”
“Let’s go with flattered,” Jennifer interjected. “You must have people throwing themselves at you all the time.”
Tiernan shrugged, watching Nik again. Something fluttered in Nik’s chest at his gaze but he looked away.
“I guess. I don’t really pay much attention.”
Jennifer laughed. “I bet you don’t. Well, it was nice meeting you. We’ll be seeing a lot of each other. I’m gonna go ahead and set up our first official interview.”
“You’ll be there?” Tiernan asked Nik and Nik ran a hand through his messy hair, making it even more of a mess than it usually was. The humidity in here wasn’t helping.
“Uh, yeah,” he agreed, putting his camera away and not meeting Tiernan’s gaze. “I’m the intern.”
“Okay,” Tiernan said and Nik only chanced a look at him when Jennifer was busy picking a time and a place to meet.
He didn’t know what was going on. No one as hot as Tiernan had ever hit on him. Most guys thought he was a little weird, with the all-black ensembles, shaggy hair that never seemed to do what he wanted, and bony stature — sharp angles everywhere. Tiernan looked smooth everywhere.
He managed to make it out of the pool without making a fool of himself, but he could tell by the look Jennifer gave him that he hadn’t been completely successful.
“That was interesting,” she said as they got in the boiling hot car.
“Yeah.”
She kept looking at him until he started to feel uncomfortable.
“What?”
“Nothing.” She started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. “Just I’ve never seen you blush.”
Nik stiffened, staring hard out the window. “I didn’t blush.”
“He smiled at you and you fell hard.” She sounded amused, shaking her head at the windshield, a smile on her lips. “Not that I blame you. He is definitely on par with celebrity hotness.”
Nik said nothing. Talking about guys wasn’t something he did, especially with people he’d only known a week.
As they drove, his phone vibrated in his pocket. Pulling it out, he frowned at the name: Rae. Ignoring the call, he shoved the phone away. He’d call her later. The phone vibrated with a text a second later. He didn’t read it.
“You think you can keep it in your pants and be professional?” Jennifer asked and Nik nodded quickly.
“Of course.” If there was one thing he was good at, it was repressing.
“Good ‘cause we’re going to be spending a lot of time with Tiernan in his Speedo and I want a good story out of this.”
“Me too,” Nik agreed, letting out a deep breath as he turned to the window and watched Saguaros whip past.