AT HOME Isaac had a personal chef who prepared most of his meals. He’d been on a heavy diet of leafy greens, whole grains, and lean protein since he’d started training again. He’d resisted the diet change at first and found it hard to follow—too many rules, too few cupcakes—but he’d adjusted. And he couldn’t deny that the changes had made him feel like he was back in fighting form.
But the Olympic Village was sponsored by a fast-food chain, and they had outposts peppered throughout the area. Isaac hadn’t eaten a hamburger or anything fried in eight months, and he wasn’t about to start during competition. Especially not first thing in the morning.
“My kingdom for a green smoothie,” Isaac muttered to himself.
He had to ask three people for directions, but eventually he found himself in a cafeteria that at least had a station where he could get some eggs. He texted his chef to see what would be the best thing to eat, given the options, but then remembered the time difference. Tony would most certainly still be asleep. Still, within a few minutes, Tony texted back a potential menu.
Tony was worth every penny of his hefty salary. Isaac filled a plate.
Isaac found Luke seated at the end of a table, clearly flirting with Katie Santiago from their swim club, who was a bit too young for him. Isaac considered butting in and joining them, but then he saw Tim Swan sitting at a table by himself.
Little Timmy Swan. That’s what they’d called him four years ago. Isaac vaguely remembered that Team USA had been very excited about this diving phenom. Tim wasn’t that little, it turned out. He was shorter than Isaac, sure, but most people were. Tim was maybe five nine or five ten, and all lean muscle. While he wasn’t as bulky as most of the swimmers, Tim was svelte like a diver. Undeniably strong but… beautiful too.
Isaac’s libido had stood up and taken notice the moment Isaac had put his hands on Tim the night before in the locker room. He’d only done it to keep the kid from injuring himself, but then, pow. Tim had tan skin, hair so dark it was nearly black, and dark eyes that belied a certain amount of intelligence and thoughtfulness. And he was gorgeous—one of the most beautiful people Isaac had ever encountered in person. The lines of his body were masculine but finely drawn.
That all pulled Isaac right in.
Plus, he’d recognized in Tim a kindred spirit, someone who’d been in the spotlight and despised the glare.
So Isaac walked over to Tim’s table and slid his tray onto it. “This seat taken?”
Tim looked up, seeming startled. “Oh! No, please sit.”
Tim’s gaze remained on Isaac as Isaac sat in an appallingly uncomfortable plastic chair. He adjusted his seat, trying in vain to make his butt conform to the seat, and felt Tim’s gaze on him the whole time.
“I thought the swimmers had their own little breakfast club,” Tim said.
“Eh. I mean, Luke is the team captain, and he’s been saying that for team unity or whatever the fuck, we should eat all our meals together. But he’s clearly trying to get into Katie’s bikini bottoms right now, so I figured I shouldn’t interrupt him.”
Tim tilted his head. “Team unity? It’s not like you’re a soccer team.”
“I know. But Luke gave a whole speech last night about how we’re better together than apart.” Isaac shrugged. He thought a lot of the rah-rah team stuff was bullshit, but he played along because he didn’t want to ruffle feathers. This included making a spectacularly stupid video in which he lip-synched to a pop song about partying from a couple of years ago, which all of the swimmers participated in. According to Isaac’s mother, the TV station airing the Olympics in the States had already shown the video about seventeen times.
Isaac had come here to win. He’d have fun after his races were over.
“It’s not that I’m not patriotic,” Isaac said. “And I like my teammates. Even the cheerier ones. Hell, Luke is one of my best friends. We train together at home. So I’m not saying I’m a lone wolf. I’m just trying to stay focused, that’s all. And some of the nonsense is distracting.”
“I understand. The diving team is a lot smaller than the swim team, but we had to do all these photo shoots and stuff before we flew out here. Honestly? I hate photo shoots.”
Isaac laughed. “Yeah? But you’re so photogenic.”
Tim rolled his eyes.
Isaac hadn’t been joking, though. He’d seen the photos Tim had done with his actor ex when one of the girls Adam coached brought the magazine to practice. Tim had looked hot as fuck. Hotter than the actor. He’d been all tan skin and abs for days.
Isaac took a bite of his eggs and mentally chastised himself for getting turned on by his new friend. Such things would only be a distraction. He needed to focus.
“That’s a lot of food you’ve got there,” said Tim.
“I eat six thousand calories a day.”
“Jesus.”
“I burn it all off in the pool. I ate a lot more when I was younger, but it tends to stick around more now.”
“Where? Do you have a single ounce of body fat?” Tim made a show of looking around.
Isaac grinned.
Tim rolled his eyes again.
ISAAC FLOOD had an unselfconscious air about him that Tim couldn’t help but admire. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t know how hot he was, but that he did and didn’t think it mattered.
As they walked out of the cafeteria together, Isaac lifted the edge of his shirt and used it to wipe sweat off his forehead. “Dear God, it’s hot.”
“Only in the sun. It’s breezy in the shade.”
“Uh-huh.”
Being this close to Isaac’s body was a little intoxicating. Isaac’s skin looked smooth and soft—not a hair anywhere—and his sinewy frame was clearly strong. His body was a little freakish, granted—built like an inverted triangle with a ridiculously exaggerated wingspan—but Tim thought it perfectly made. Tim was strong and worked hard to keep lean enough to be able to throw his body around in the air, but he didn’t have a swimmer’s body. Tim wondered if Isaac had been born with that physique and realized he was well-suited to swimming, or if he’d carved his body to be a machine in the water. Some of both, probably.
“Aren’t you from one of the Southern states?” Tim asked. “It gets pretty hot there.”
“North Carolina. Yeah. Well, I’m from Florida originally. It gets really fucking hot there. I’d move north if I could. Minnesota. Somewhere it snows a lot in the winter.”
Tim laughed. “Summer Olympian loves the winter.”
“Don’t knock it. I hate being hot.”
The unintentional double entendre made Tim laugh, but he didn’t want to call attention to the fact that he thought Isaac was hot. In trying to hold back the laugh, he snorted. Then he gave up and laughed easily.
Isaac laughed too. “I just heard what I said.”
“It’s such a burden, being attractive.”
Isaac giggled—actually giggled!—and then said, “Yeah, well. I haven’t seen a lot of action since I got sober.”
The laughter died then. Tim had never been much of a drinker, but he could imagine craving the kind of oblivion that would come with consuming too much. He’d almost canceled the trip to Madrid on several occasions, not wanting to face the media, not wanting to be “that gay diver,” not wanting to think about Pat or any of the mess that had been their breakup. If there was some elixir, some pill he could swallow to make it all go away… well, he wouldn’t because he loved diving too much, but he could certainly see the temptation.
“How long have you been sober?” Tim asked quietly. Because of course everyone knew about Isaac Flood and his DUI and his comeback.
“Eighteen months, six days.”
“That’s good.”
Isaac grimaced.
“What?” asked Tim.
“Usually when I say that, people are skeptical.”
“Really? They don’t believe you’re sober?”
“I fell off the wagon once after rehab. Honestly, just that one time. At New Year’s I was feeling sorry for myself, and I let a friend talk me into a party at a bar. The mere presence of alcohol proved to be too much of a temptation. It was awful. It was a mistake. But now it’s like everyone is waiting for me to do it again.”
“Do you still want to drink?”
Isaac did not look amused by this question. “I’m an alcoholic. I want to drink all the time. But I want to swim more.”
A woman with long, wavy hair suddenly jogged over. “Isaac!” Then she deepened her voice and said, “Here. Comes. The Flood!”
“Hi, Melissa.”
“Buenos días. Who’s your friend? Oh, wait, you’re Tim Swan, aren’t you?”
Dammit. “Yeah. That’s me.”
“Melissa Murphy, at your service. Once and future Olympic gold medalist.” She threw her hand at Tim.
Tim shook it. “Swimmer?”
“Did you not see all puff pieces they did about me at the last Olympics?”
Oh, this girl annoyed him now. He’d been enjoying talking to Isaac, even if the topics were heavy. Then this Melissa barged in, intruding on what had been a nice postbreakfast walk. “Sorry,” he said. “Too busy winning diving medals.”
She huffed. “Of course. Well, look out for me Monday. That’s my first race.”
“Okay,” Tim said, not wanting to argue about it.
“Melissa is kind of the swim team’s one-woman pep rally. She was the mastermind behind that karaoke video we all did.”
Tim had seen it. He nodded.
“You know a thing or two about viral videos too, huh?” Melissa said. “I mean, ours didn’t get as many hits as yours, but it was still pretty good.”
“What video did you do?” Isaac asked.
“I assume she means the one I made when I came out.” And if there was a single thing in his life that Tim had the most mixed feelings about, that was it. It was important to come out publicly, but he hadn’t anticipated how much attention he would attract.
How much attention Pat brought to them.
It had been Pat’s idea to do that video, and Tim had been so deliriously in love, he’d gone along with it. But now everyone knew his business. Tim would bet no one in the media even knew if Melissa was dating anyone. But everyone knew that Tim was gay and that he’d recently ended an engagement.
Well, except Isaac, who didn’t seem to know about any of it.
Isaac was squinting when Tim brought his attention back to the conversation. “Yeah, I guess I remember that. The coming-out-video thing.”
“It sucks about your breakup with Patterson,” said Melissa. “Was it, like, a fame thing?”
Tim’s pulse kicked up and his stomach flopped. “A what?”
“Melissa…,” Isaac said, a warning in his voice.
Which she apparently didn’t hear. “It’s, like, how Hollywood marriages never last? One partner gets more famous than the other, and then there’s all this jealousy and drama and blah-blah.”
“I’m not an actor.” Tim looked at Isaac for help, but Isaac seemed engrossed by something on the ground.
“No, but you’re a household name.”
“No, that wasn’t—fame had nothing to do with the breakup.” At least, not in the way Melissa implied. Pat hadn’t resented or been jealous of Tim’s fame; he’d thought Tim was his ticket to more fame. Pat wanted the pair of them to make headlines in the tabloids, which Tim had no interest in. Pat could keep his fame. Tim just wanted to dive.
Melissa held up her hands. “All right.”
“This ex-fiancé of yours is an actor,” said Isaac, his tone flat.
“Um, hello? What rock do you live under, Flood?” asked Melissa.
Isaac shrugged. “I mean, I knew that. He’s on some TV show I don’t watch.”
“Not anymore,” said Tim.
“Oh, yeah, I heard it got canceled,” said Melissa.
Tim was losing patience. Not only had Melissa interrupted Tim’s nice conversation with Isaac—a guy he admired, who was, incidentally, smoking hot—but she was dredging up things Tim would rather not think about. He had no interest in reliving the last few months. He wanted to put it all behind him and focus on the Games. “I have practice scheduled soon. I better go.”
Isaac looked up, concern on his face. “You want to, I don’t know, get a meal or something later?”
Tim glanced at Melissa but focused his attention on Isaac. “You have your phone on you?”
Isaac nodded and pulled it out of his pocket. He handed it over, and Tim programmed his phone number into it.
“Text me later.”
“I will.”
Melissa raised her eyebrows, probably assuming that since Tim was so publicly gay, he was hitting on Isaac, even though he wasn’t. Isaac was a good-looking man—no, he was ridiculously hot, in point of fact—but Tim needed a friend more than he needed a boyfriend. Especially a friend who understood how oppressive the spotlight could be.
“Have a good practice today, guys,” Tim said. Then he left.