Fourth. Fourth fucking place.
Tiernan’s stomach felt hollow, like there were no nerves left to coil up, to leave him feeling anything but empty.
Two-tenths of a second and he would have placed. He would have been an Olympic medalist. Instead, he watched as everyone else swarmed around the winners, cameras swooping over him like he wasn’t even there, like he didn’t even matter.
“Protocol,” he heard in his ear, a low mutter, and Coach’s hand pressed the small of his back, urging him forward, toward where Dylan preened like a peacock.
Tiernan edged past the other swimmers and offered his hand to Dylan, a brief smile, enough for the cameras to catch it.
“Congratulations,” he said, forcing the words past his lips. For once, Dylan was too happy to even offer a biting retort, and Tiernan slipped away.
It wasn’t anger he felt as he met Coach, only disappointment. Dylan had been faster. They all had. It was no one’s fault but his own.
Coach seemed to see the thoughts rolling through his head as he handed Tiernan a towel.
“Fourth place is not the end of the world. It means you’re the fourth best butterfly swimmer in the world.”
Tiernan wasn’t sure that was supposed to be reassuring. He could imagine his parents, sitting at home in their freezing cold house (they always kept the AC on, like they wanted to live in Antarctica), watching him lose, saying, “I knew it.”
“But guess what? You’re the top backstroke swimmer in the world, and you’ve got a hell of a shot in freestyle too. This was one defeat but you’re not going to give in to it.”
Logically, Tiernan knew he was right. It was just one event. It wasn’t the end of the world. He had two more events to go, two more he had much better odds in. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling of inadequacy that stole over him as Coach shooed him off to the locker rooms. He should have been better.
Distractions, he told himself as he grabbed his bag out of the locker and pulled out the USA jacket. He’d let too many distractions get to him. It was exactly what had happened last time, except backwards. He’d been so focused this time, so determined not to get distracted from competition that he hadn’t seen Nik coming. He hadn’t seen how much he would care when Nik wasn’t there anymore.
Straightening up, he shut his locker with a snap. That was over. He couldn’t waste time thinking about Nik anymore, not when Nik wouldn’t even talk to him. He had to accept the fact that he’d messed up and there was nothing more he could do to fix it. If he could get past that, just forget about Nik, he would only have swimming to focus on.
Coach would have deemed it a good idea, but Tiernan just couldn’t shake the feeling of disappointment as he left the lockers and headed back to his dorm. He just hoped Josh wouldn’t be there and he’d have a minute to decompress. Backstroke finals were in a couple days, and he needed to be ready for the million press interviews that came with it.
Tiernan thought he was pretty used to the press process by now. They mostly asked the same questions over and over again. He just had to remember to smile and be charming for each one. He was always a little relieved to see Jennifer in the press room, almost as if she was a friend.
He hadn’t asked about Nik since that first day, and he tried to put it out of his mind as he sat down with her at a table. The other reporters grumbled about waiting, but Jennifer ignored them and pulled out her phone to record.
“I hate to say it,” she said as they sat there, and Tiernan felt his chest contract slightly in anticipation. “But you didn’t place in the butterfly.”
Two days, and Tiernan still frowned whenever anyone brought it up. All the reporters had already asked. All except Jennifer.
“I didn’t,” he agreed, hoping they wouldn’t have to go over the why and how he planned to turn this loss around.
“Can I just say, off the record, that it really sucked. I know how hard you worked.”
“Thanks.” No other reporter had said that. They were all focused on getting their stories.
She smiled and straightened up. “We won’t talk about it again. So tell me about the backstroke. It’s your best event.”
He relaxed slightly and smiled. “Yeah, I think I’ll do much better today. Training has been intense since we got here. Everyone is really talented.”
Compliment the other swimmers, his coach said. You don’t want to come off as a pompous jerk.
Tiernan would have done it anyway, except maybe about Dylan. Most of the other swimmers were great guys who just wanted the same things he did. Even Josh, with his unbridled enthusiasm, had a place in Tiernan’s heart. He wondered how much more fun they would have if there wasn’t so much pressure.
“Did your family end up coming?”
“My sister came by for the semi-finals. It was really great of her actually.”
“So she’s over the Bridezilla phase?”
Tiernan laughed. “Don’t use that word. I got in trouble last time.”
Behind Jennifer, a young reporter sniffed impatiently, tapping her nails against her phone case. A bored-looking guy with a camera lingered beside her. Tiernan wasn’t sure what was so important, but Jennifer ignored the girl.
“Okay, no references to Japanese monsters. Did the wedding go alright then?”
Tiernan paused. Alright wasn’t the word he would use. “It was beautiful,” he said instead. “Very purple, very white. Very hot.”
Jennifer smiled and scribbled something down. “You should be used to that, training in Phoenix. How’s it been being in France? Quite a change.”
“It’s nice. I haven’t really gotten out much, but it’s nice stepping outside and not roasting alive.” Unfortunately, his training schedule didn’t leave much time for sight-seeing. He’d thought about sticking around after the Olympics ended, but those plans were still up in the air. He didn’t really have time to think about it.
“Excuse me.” The girl behind Jennifer interrupted with a small cough and a pointed look at Jennifer. “We had an interview scheduled five minutes ago.”
Jennifer smiled back at her, overly polite, and Tiernan didn’t try to hide his amusement. Jennifer didn’t seem the type to be talked down to by an overly-made-up twenty-something.
“My apologies,” she said graciously, rising from the chair. “Tiernan, good luck today. I’m rooting for you.”
Jennifer stepped past the girl with a pointed look and the girl shook her hair back. She didn’t dwell, though, immediately taking Jennifer’s vacated seat while the camera guy set up the shot. Her lipstick was too dark for her skin tone, and she held out a delicate hand to him.
“Tiernan, my name is Carissa Jenkins with Twenty-One magazine.”
Tiernan had heard of it — some post-teen magazine that focused on make-up tips and produced their own web series news clips to try to seem relevant. He merely smiled at her. This wasn’t the first online news clip he’d done. It just meant being more charming than usual.
“Nice to meet you,” he said, shaking her hand and watching her primp for a second before turning to the camera and sweeping her long, blond hair back.
“Hello, and welcome to the 2024 Olympics in Paris, France!” she greeted the camera, almost obnoxiously perky. “I’m here with Tiernan Pace, one of the United States’ best swimmers, and I’m going to get all the dirt on what makes him tick.”
Tiernan barely remembered to put on his press face as she turned to him. Her brown eyes were big, like she could trick him into revealing personal secrets with just a look.
“Tiernan, you’re the favorite to win the backstroke this afternoon. How do you deal with the pressure that goes with such a competitive sport?”
This was easy, Tiernan thought. He’d answered this question a million times. “It’s all about management,” he said simply. “Time management, pressure management, relationship management.” He winked at her, but she didn’t blush, not like they usually did. Instead, she tilted her head to the side, her smile sweet and deceptive.
“How do you manage those relationships? Friends, family… boyfriends?”
“Part of it is that they have to understand that you’re an athlete first. A lot of my time is taken up with training. It’s not something I can control, so it’s important for them to manage expectations as well.”
“Is that hard on potential boyfriends?” she asked, not looking as sweet as she watched him, and he paused.
“I guess. To be honest, it hasn’t really been a problem yet.” He smiled winningly, and she echoed it, though just for a second.
“What about Nik?”
Tiernan blinked, caught off-guard for the first time. “What?”
“Nik Cali,” she repeated as though she almost had him. “You were in a photo with him on Instagram.”
Tiernan didn’t even know Nik had an Instagram. He had never bothered to cyber stalk him — he’d never thought about it.
“Uh, I don’t,” he said, but she whipped out her phone, the picture already pulled up. It was the one he and Nik had taken at the lake that day, kissing on the shore. For a moment, he stared at the screen, his heart swelling, then confusion took over. Nik had posted this? How had she found this? Nik hadn’t even tagged him.
“Nik’s a photographer for Hot Shot Sports magazine,” Carissa went on, less like an interview and more like an interrogation. Tiernan heard the camera zooming in on his face, and he tried to school it into something less like confusion and more like he knew exactly what was going on. “The magazine that’s had an exclusive with you all summer.”
“Intern,” Tiernan said before he could stop himself. “He’s an intern.” He didn’t know why that mattered, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say. What was she getting at? What did it mean that Nik had posted that photo? There was no caption, no tags. Had he expected it to be found?
“Is he your boyfriend?”
Even Tiernan was surprised at the bluntness of this girl who was probably an intern herself.
“Uh, well,” he said, trying to buy time, to figure out what to say. The real answer was no, but Nik wouldn’t have posted that if something wasn’t going on. Nik had been so worried when they took it, that Tiernan might post it somewhere. “It’s kind of complicated.”
“Aren’t all relationships?” she said, her tone reassuring, but Tiernan was far from reassured. She turned to the camera without letting him try again. “There you have it, everyone. An exclusive reveal from Twenty-One news source. Tune in next time for more exclusive content and personal in-depth news.”
The red light went off on the camera and Carissa hopped off the chair.
“Get that edited ASAP. I want it on the website before anyone else finds out.”
“Wait,” Tiernan said as she stepped away. “What the hell was that?”
She tilted her head again and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “It’s my job to tell our readers the truth.”
Tiernan couldn’t even reply, left floored as she swept away. What the fuck had just happened? Had he just confirmed to the world that he and Nik were “complicated”? The press were ravenous dogs.
He didn’t call Coach for damage control, though. Instead, he whipped out his phone and immediately looked up Nik’s Instagram.
There it was, filled with artistic-looking photos of Arizona sunsets, a lizard on a rock, New York City at night, a blurry dark picture of something tagged as #endofchapterone. And the photo. It was one of the few selfies on his account, though Tiernan didn’t go back years to check. It was the only recent one. There it was, so innocent, untagged.
What did Nik mean by posting it? There were no other photos of Tiernan, though Tiernan was remembering some of the photos Nik had taken that day, photos far more incriminating than a kiss.
It had to mean something, but it couldn’t… Tiernan shook his head, scrolling through the photos now. It couldn’t mean that Nik had forgiven him, that maybe there still was a chance. It would be too much to hope for, and Tiernan couldn’t afford anything other than concrete fact right now. Competition was the only thing to focus on.
Still, his chest ballooned with hope as he put his phone away. He couldn’t help it.
He had to get to lunch, though, before Coach got upset about shirking the schedule again, and Tiernan tried to push aside the millions of questions running through his brain. As he left the press room, he passed the gymnast from the Center, Auden, he thought. Auden seemed to recognize him as well and smiled in greeting. Tiernan didn’t miss the silver medal around his neck, and returned the greeting in kind.
At least someone was doing well.
The Olympic complex was so big, it took Tiernan a few minutes to reach the cafeteria, and even longer to navigate the line to the front. Most tables were filled with a random assortment of country-colors, but he caught sight of Josh sitting with a few other guys from the USA team and he headed over.
Josh appeared engrossed in his phone and his eyes widened as Tiernan sat down.
“What?” Tiernan asked after a minute as Josh just stared at him.
“Dude, it’s all over the internet.”
“What is?”
Josh shoved his phone at Tiernan and Tiernan’s heart sunk as he saw article after article.
Secret boyfriend? Olympic swimmer admits to affair — Tiernan Pace’s adorable boyfriend on Instagram! — Who is Nik Cali? All the details here!
“Fuck,” he breathed and let Josh take the phone back.
“It’s everywhere,” he said, scrolling through more. “They pulled a ton of photos from your Insta. Mostly shirtless.”
“Of course,” Tiernan muttered. Nik would hate this kind of attention.
“‘Olympic swimmer, Tiernan Pace, has always been a player,’” Josh read, and Tiernan wanted to disappear right then. “‘The story of his defeat at Olympic trials four years ago is well-known, as are the steps he took to numb the pain — ’”
“Jesus Christ,” Tiernan said, shoving a hand through his hair. This was exactly why he hadn’t posted the photo in the first place. It would be different, if he had Nik here, if Nik could back him up, but he didn’t. He didn’t know where Nik was, if this was what he wanted, if he’d done it to get back at him? Nik wouldn’t, he assured himself. He wouldn’t be that spiteful.
“Man,” Josh said, shaking his head. “They act like you’re the biggest fuckboy ever.”
Tiernan had been, back then. He wasn’t anymore, and even if he was, it wasn’t the press’ problem.
“‘There’s been no comment from Nik Cali about the photo,’” he read finally. He put down the phone. “Must suck.”
Tiernan sighed. “It’s the press. You get more well-known, they’ll go after you too.”
Josh didn’t look excited at the prospect, but he lowered his voice. “So is he really the boyfriend?”
“Was,” Tiernan replied, pushing at his food. He needed to carbo-load for the competition, but he’d been put off his appetite.
“But he posted that this morning,” Josh pointed out.
Tiernan didn’t know. He didn’t know what was going through Nik’s head. He knew what he hoped, but he couldn’t be sure.
“I can’t think about him right now,” he said instead, glad when Josh put his phone away. “I’ve got finals in a couple hours.”
“You’re better than me,” Josh said, digging into his plate. “If it was me, I’d be freaking out.”
Tiernan didn’t say it, but he was. He was freaking out, but he couldn’t let himself get distracted, not again. He was going to win this match and afterward, afterward, he’d allow himself to hope, but not right now.
Tiernan took a deep breath, tuning out the rumble of the crowd, the bustle of movement on the sidelines. Even his coach said nothing as Tiernan walked out to the block. Tiernan waved at the camera and climbed on the block, adjusting his suit, rubbing down his arms and carefully setting his goggles on. Down the row, all the guys adjusted swim caps or goggles until the whistle blew and they jumped in the water.
Positioning himself, Tiernan focused himself on the feeling of the water encompassing his body, the warm embrace that he’d always counted on growing up. This was a safe place where he knew he could succeed.
“On your mark,” came the official’s voice. Tiernan pushed himself up, hands on the bars of the block, feet pressed flat to the side of the pool. “Get set. Go!”
The crowd exploded, but Tiernan heard only the rush of water as he propelled backwards, a quick dolphin kick until he broke the surface of the water.
He was in fourth place again going in. He just had to keep it and move up a few places. He wasn’t thinking about placement as he swam, though, making the turn fast, arms hitting the water and propelling him forward. He was lost in the count, the way his body cut through the water.
His focus wasn’t on the crowd or the other swimmers. He was alone, just him and the water.
The second turn came quickly, and now was the time people fell behind. Now was the time where the lanes looked like flocks of geese with one leader at the head of the pack. It had to be Tiernan. He felt a burst of excitement, of adrenaline, as he hit the wall for the last turn and pushed with everything he had.
The seconds flew by, as if they weren’t really there, and Tiernan’s hand hit the edge of the pool as he let his body drop. Panting for breath, he tore off his goggles, finding the screen.
First.
Stamped across his lane was the number. For a second, he couldn’t believe it, staring at the screen, struggling to get his breath back. It couldn’t be right.
“Congrats,” his lane-mate said, a Brit whose name Tiernan couldn’t remember.
“Thanks,” he got out finally, out of breath, in disbelief, but happiness filled him as he floated there trying to catch his breath, still staring at the screen. It wasn’t a mistake. He’d just won gold.
And in that instant, it didn’t fucking matter that he’d placed fourth in butterfly. Screw butterfly. This was his event. This was what Tiernan was good at. From now on, he’d always be an Olympic gold medalist, no matter what else happened.
He pulled himself from the pool finally, the screams of the crowd coming back and he smiled at a poster someone held up that said, “Don’t ‘Pace’ Yourself! Go For Gold!”
He waved at the person holding it and she about fainted. Coach met him back in the locker rooms, giving him that rare smile as Tiernan grinned at him.
“You just won a gold medal,” he said simply, as though it was as common as finding a penny on the ground. “What are you going to do next?”
Tiernan grabbed a towel and smiled. “Swim the freestyle.”
“That’s right,” Coach said, but Tiernan couldn’t deny that the swell of happiness in his chest didn’t also have something to do with the thought that Nik hadn’t given up on him, and that was why he’d really done so well. He didn’t need his parents. He just needed Nik.