HOLLIS
The phone rings through my ear buds and I silently hope she picks up.
First ring.
Second ring.
Fuck, she’s not going to answer.
Third ring.
On the fourth, just when I think the voicemail is going to pick up, she answers.
“Hey, Hollis.”
Just hearing her voice soothes the rage blasting through me. She has that effect on me. Ever since we were little, she’s been my rock. Even when she lost everything, she’s held strong for me.
“Hey, Holly. Thanks for picking up.”
Her light laugh echoes through the phone. “Of course I would pick up. I always do, don’t I?”
She does, but there is always fear in the back of my head that she won’t, especially during this time of the year with trials right around the corner. The burning question that will forever hang over me rears its ugly head every time Olympic Trials loom closer.
Does she resent me?
“You do.” I have to talk to someone and talking to my parents isn’t an option since the sun beams out of their asses and nothing ever fazes them. Negativity doesn’t exist in their world. Pretty sure they’re the presidents of denial city, but hey, if it works for them I’m not going to shatter their little bubble.
Reese I can talk to but he doesn’t quite understand the diving world even though swimming and diving are so close.
And then there is Holly. She knows everything about the diving world. She knows what it takes to become an Olympian, hell, she was one . . . until the accident.
“What’s going on? From the sullen tone of your voice, I can tell something is bothering you.” She reads me so well. I want to believe it’s because she’s my twin.
Lying in the sun trying to soak in the heat rays, my eReader on my lap, my water bottle next to me, I should feel relaxed. Should. I run my hand over my face. “Fuck, Holl, I don’t know if I can continue with this training load. Coach Ted is making my life miserable.”
“Are you sure that’s what this is about? Coach Ted?”
“What else would it be about?”
“Well, I can’t imagine training being any different than your previous years leading up to the games, but I do know one thing that’s different.”
“The fact that I haven’t had sex in months?” I ask, trying to joke around because I see where she’s heading with this conversation. The twin connection and all.
“One, that’s disgusting, don’t talk about sex with me. Two, that’s pathetic, even I’ve been twiddled in the past few months.”
“Fuck, Holly. Don’t say that.” I cringe. She laughs some more, and the sound is so sweet. Reminds me of our childhood, before everything was complicated.
“Well, don’t bring it up. It’s your own damn fault. You should know better by now.”
“You’re right, I deserved it. But shit, you should know how sensitive I am.”
“Yeah, you little pussy.” There is light in her voice, causing me to smile.
“So tell me, Dr. Phil, what is it that you think I’ve suffering from?”
She doesn’t even skip a beat when she answers. “You miss Coach Wilson. This is your first trials without him by your side, cheering you on, coddling you.” Shit, I do love being coddled. Coach Ted doesn’t even know what the word means. “You miss him.”
“I do, but that’s not just it. Coach Ted is a fucking prick, Holly. I spent four hours on the mats yesterday practicing my take-offs. Four fucking hours. I wasn’t even flipping. I was just walking, jumping, or doing a handstand.” I could barely lift my arms to dry myself this morning. Asshole.
“Well, how are your take-offs?”
“Fucking fine. Nothing I need to be spending an infinite amount of hours on.”
“Infinite amount of hours? I thought it was just four?”
“Felt infinite,” I huff out.
“If you don’t like Coach Ted, then why have you stuck around with him? You could have been with Sherry.”
Yeah, fucking right. There was no way in hell I would be using Sherry. Not because she’s younger than Coach Ted, hot, and walks around in yoga pants like it’s her damn job, but because she coached Holly. There is too much emotion there, too much resentment. Sherry wouldn’t do me justice; I just fucking know it. I’ve only seen her a few times since the accident and I know she blames me, I know she sees me as the one who should have been injured, not Holly. I already live with enough guilt. I don’t need to look into her eyes every day and call her coach as she stares me down, wishing I was the one out of the game, not my sister.
No fucking thank you.
“Sherry and I don’t click.”
“Maybe because you stare at her ass every time you see her.”
True. That’s very fucking true. But for a good reason. She’s had four kids and despite the amount of times she’s popped a human out of her vaginal canal, she still has a fine ass worth staring at.
“That’s not it.” Not wanting this to be awkward, I continue. “I don’t know, Holly. I’ve just felt off this go around. It doesn’t feel right.”
She sighs into the phone. Am I frustrating her? Look at me being a fucking priss when she can’t even dive anymore. “You know what, never mind,” I say, trying to change the conversation. “I think I can figure it out. Uh, how’s everything over there?”
“Don’t,” she says sternly in the phone. Even though she’s five minutes older than me, she still treats me like her baby brother, lecturing me with her harsh tone. “Don’t change the topic. You always do this.”
“Always do what?” I feign innocence even though I know she’s about to catch me red-handed.
“You always want to talk to me about your diving but then after a few minutes you quickly change the subject, as if you don’t want to hurt my feelings for bringing it up.”
“That’s not the case,” I lie. “I just didn’t want to bore you with my petty problems.”
“And what, do I have bigger problems than you?”
The fact that you’re paralyzed from the waist down? Yeah, I’m positive she has bigger problems than me but I don’t say that. In fact, why do I think she merely resents me? The bitterness she deserves to feel goes beyond resentment.
“No, I just . . .” I take a gulp of my water that rests next to me and try to tamp down the anxiety rising in my chest. “Can we not fight right now? I didn’t call you so you can be mad at me, again.”
“Well, then stop treating me like a fucking invalid and talk to me, Hollis.”
Knowing she’s not going to back down, I concede. “Fine, I’m sorry. It’s just, I’ve been feeling off. My training leading up to the games is not my regular routine I had with Coach Wilson. The only reason I’ve stayed with Coach Ted is because I feel like he’s the last piece of Coach Wilson left on this earth. I’m sore as shit, sick of working on the mats, and the girl I want to get to know wants nothing to do with me.”
She’s silent for a second and then starts chuckling. She’s actually laughing at me, at my expense. If I wasn’t so happy to hear the sound of her happiness coming through the phone, I would be mad at her.
“What’s so fucking funny?”
“A girl is saying no to you? That explains the sex drought. Never thought I would see the day someone doesn’t fall for your idiotic charm.”
“It’s not that she’s not falling. I see the way she looks at me.”
“Oh, and how’s that?” Holly asks, challenging me.
“You know . . . with lust in her eyes.”
Another burst of laughter. “Oh Jesus. Hollis, you need to stop reading those novels of yours.”
“It’s true. She’s interested, I can tell. Shit, how could she not be interested?”
“So modest.”
“There is something holding her back. I just don’t know what it is.”
“Could it possibly be that she’s in fact not interested, and you can’t see that because your ego is clouding your vision?”
“No, that can’t be it,” I say matter-of-factly.
“You’re ridiculous. So, you’re feeling off because some girl doesn’t want to be in a relationship with you?” My sister knows me well. I’m not the kind of guy that goes around fucking women, never have been. I prefer to spoil someone, to cuddle them at night, to mold my soul with theirs. I like being in a relationship. I mean, why the fuck wouldn’t you want to be in one? There is something so fucking amazing about being able to connect with another human being not only on an intimate level, but on an emotional one as well.
“Maybe. I think it’s a combination of everything.” I run my hand over my face. “Fuck, it seems so stupid.”
“It is.” She laughs. “Do you want my advice?”
“If I say no, you’re still going to give it to me.”
She chuckles. “Only because you called me looking for it.” So true, I pretty much thrive off my sister’s advice. “Talk to Coach Ted, tell him how you’re feeling and how you like to be trained. You’re a two-time Olympian, two-gold-medal winner, Hollis, so you have worked out what makes you perform at your best. You have earned that right to ask your coach for what helps you perform at your best. If he is aware of what you want from him, I bet you anything he’ll change up tactics and start canoodling you like you enjoy.”
“I really enjoy being spooned by my coach. It makes me feel special.”
She sighs. “Now regarding the girl in your life, give it up. If she can’t see that you’re an amazing man then she’s not worth your time.”
“Aw, Holls—”
“Don’t. Accept that compliment and don’t make a big deal out of it.” Sometimes I wonder if she’s the guy and I’m the girl in our twin lives. Could quite possibly be the truth . . . “And as for Coach Wilson. There is not much you can do there besides think about him every day and make him proud. He worked hard to make you the man you are today, so honor him.”
And this is why I called my sister; she knows the right words to say. The words I need to hear.
“Thanks, Holls.” I’m silent for a second before saying, “Mom said you’ll be at trials.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
“And Rio, if I make it?”
I hold my breath waiting on her answer. She has to be there, she’s my fucking rock.
“Not if, but when you make it to Rio, I’ll be there as well. You know I’m your number-one fan, Hollis.”
I briefly shut my eyes from the sentiment in her voice. Despite everything that’s happened, she’s still there supporting me, loving me, sharing in my successes . . . the successes she was supposed to have.
I open my eyes and catch sight of a familiar figure.
“If that’s all you wanted to talk about, I have to go. I have physical therapy shortly.”
Watching the familiar figure walk around in the bathing suit cover-up, I straighten in my chair and say, “That’s it for me. Love you, Holly.”
“Love you, too, Hollis.”
She hangs up just as Melony, the fucking bronze beauty, sits down, one lounge chair separating us. She must not have noticed me because she doesn’t seem to be running away. Every other encounter we’ve had, she couldn’t wait to end our conversation. She’s definitely not good for any man’s ego.
In fascination, I watch as she pulls water, a magazine, and some dried fruit out of her bag and sets it next to her. Her sunglasses are round and touch the tops of her cheeks, giving her a sexy vibe that I’m totally digging. Beneath the black cover-up that’s practically see-through, I can see she’s wearing a neon-blue two-piece. The color bounces off her bronze skin.
Taking advantage of our proximity, knowing we could have a conversation and no one would be able to hear us, I say, “Hey neighbor.”
From my voice, she jumps in her seat and turns to face me, a shocked look on her face.
“When did you get here? Did you follow me?”
Why does she constantly think I’m following her around? Does she really assume I have nothing better to do with my life?
“On the contrary, fish nipple, I’ve been here for about an hour. So you’re the one who’s following me.”
Skipping over everything I’ve said, she fixates on one word. “Fish nipple?”
“Yeah, it’s a term of endearment.”
“How the hell is that a term of endearment?”
I think about it for a second. Fish nipple. Huh, it’s kind of not the best at all.
I shrug. “I read it in a book.”
“What book would that be?” She’s fucking talking to me. Even though I’m about to divulge a big secret of mine, I don’t care because she’s talking to me.
“A book called Anything But Minor by Kate Stewart. It’s about a minor league baseball player making his way to the big leagues.”
“Is this fiction?”
“Sure.” I swallow hard. “Also a sports romance.”
That catches her attention. She sits up and leans in my direction. If only her cover-up was a little lower, I would be able to see her cleavage. Fucking thing, there is no point for women to wear them. You either wear your suit or you don’t. Don’t fucking tease men with these stupid see-through short dresses. They’re asinine.
“You read romance?” The look on her face is full of disbelief.
“On occasion.” I pass it off as nothing.
“I don’t buy it. Let me see your eReader.”
“I don’t have it with me.” My mouth twists to the side as if I’m truly bummed I can’t share my eReader with her.
“Then what’s that on your lap?” She points to my black-case-covered eReader . . . right there on my lap. Shit. Good fucking work, Knightly.
“It’s where I keep my vitamins?” I say more as a question.
Like a flash of lightning, she reaches out and grabs my eReader off my lap, skimming the back of her hand across my thigh. Christ Almighty, the move sends a jolt to my dick.
Distracted by the fucking horny sensation running through me—yes, I’m a teenage boy—I don’t register Melony opening my eReader until she starts laughing. With the biggest smile on her face, she looks up at me and says, “All these covers have shirtless men on the front of them.”
“And your point?” I cross my arms over my chest, looking to defend myself.
“They have shirtless men . . .”
I roll my eyes. “Some of the best romance novels start with a shirtless man on the cover.”
“Aren’t these for women?”
I scoff at her. “Sexist. Last time I checked, there wasn’t a requirement for who is allowed to read romance and who isn’t.”
“I’m not a sexist. It’s just . . . I’ve never met a man who reads romance novels.”
“That’s because in general, men are stupid.”
“I can agree with you on that point.” She chuckles a little more. “But I would love to hear your explanation as to why.”
Loving that she’s actually conversing with me rather than shooting me down, I turn in my lounger so I’m facing her head-on, and I clasp my hands in front of me.
“Have you ever read a romance novel, boobarella?”
Her smile turns into a scowl from my nickname, making me chuckle. “Don’t call me that.”
“Answer the question, have you?”
“Not really. Does reading the first chapter of The Notebook count?”
The Notebook, God, what a classic. I’m pretty sure almost everyone has read that book. I’m one of those guys who likes to read the book before the movie comes out so I can bitch about the book being way better later on. The book is always better . . . always.
But that Noah Calhoun, now there is a true romantic. He’s got his shit under control and knows how to woo a woman. If only the male race would all strive to be like him, we might have less violence and more orgasms.
“The Notebook counts. I love that book, but you need to read more than the first chapter.”
“You’ve read it?”
I nod and give her my best shy smile. “You would be hard-pressed to find a mainstream romance book I haven’t read. I’m also very much into the indie scene.”
“I had no idea men read romance novels.”
I wink at her. “The smart ones do.”
“Okay,” she shifts in her lounger, looking like she’s about to challenge me, “tell me why you like reading romance novels.”
“Easy.” I lean forward and say, “It’s a brief glimpse into the woman’s psyche. For the most part, romance novels are written by women, which is a clutch for us men, because we’re able to take these fantasies of being fucked up against a wall, or fingered under the table at dinner, or eaten out on the counter of the kitchen and turn them into a reality.”
She slowly gulps. If I wasn’t paying attention, I wouldn’t have seen it, but it’s obvious with that little movement in her throat that my words affected her.
“I’m a pleaser, Melony. I’m a woo-er. I’m a romantic who knows how to fuck you senseless.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Her eyes search mine. Because I have a long list of things I want to do to you, you fucking gorgeous woman. Kiss you senseless at the end of each day; lather you up in the shower and worship every part of your body; finger your beautiful pussy to the point you scream my name; wake you up in the morning with my mouth between your thighs, or my lips wrapped around your tits. Yeah. I’ve thought about what I want to do to her, but if I keep thinking all these things I won’t be able to walk away from my lounge chair.
I stand up, gathering my items and then glance down at her. “Because, sooner or later, I will be fucking you up against a wall, fingering you under the dinner table, and eating that sweet pussy of yours on the kitchen counter. Mark my fucking words, Melony, I am going to woo you so hard, you won’t know what hit you.”
With a parting wink, I leave her with her mouth agape and a confused look on her face.
My job here is done.