NOT ONLY HAD Preston’s father agreed with his mother, but he’d even given Nathan access to the family jet for the duration. So Preston was committed to achieving his goal. What the fuck was wrong with that?
Sure, he’d overtrained in the past. He’d been an overeager idiot. Lesson learned. Which was why he couldn’t understand why everyone seemed against him spending most of his time in the pool. He just needed to burn off the excess energy caused by having to wait for the results. That was all.
He knew what he was doing. The last thing he needed was an injury that might sideline him, or worse, render him unable to compete. But how could he say no to his father without seeming like a spoiled child whose toy had been taken away?
“Fuck this,” he grumbled from across the aisle as the plane taxied down the runway in preparation for takeoff.
Nathan’s fingers flew across the screen of his tablet. “You can do better than that.”
“Fuck this shitty trip and you along with it,” Preston revised, annoyed by the casual tone used to placate him.
“I get it.”
“Admit it.” Preston twisted around so he faced his kidnapper. “You’re gloating on the inside.”
Nathan let out an over-the-top sigh, which annoyed Preston even more. His friend was enjoying this a little too much. Acting casual on purpose. The traitor. Nathan knew how important this time was, and yet he was doing everything in his power to sabotage things. Preston should be home. He should be getting ready for the results—whenever the hell that would be.
Although … His performance had been so inconsistent. Crap one heat, then record-shattering the next. If he were Coach Bennett, he wouldn’t accept him onto the team.
The thought almost crippled him.
“You know there are pools at the hotels.” Nathan kept right on texting or e-mailing or whatever the hell it was he was doing as he spoke. “You can still swim your laps while we tour. No one said you had to stop training. This trip is just to keep you from obsessing over the results.”
Too late.
Lips in a tight line, Preston slumped back into his seat as the pilot announced through the intercom system that they were about to take off, that they were expecting a smooth flight, and how many hours they would be in the air.
“Paris?” he asked, fishing out his phone. “Doesn’t a European adventure typically start in London?”
“Yeah.”
He saw Nathan shrug from his periphery as the plane picked up speed and the front end began tilting upward. With a smooth push and change in pressure, they were airborne. The lights of the airport and the city steadily grew smaller until they were pinpricks of illumination on the ground.
“Caleb and I already went to London,” Nathan continued, most of his attention still on the screen. “I was thinking that maybe starting in Paris was the next best thing. Would you rather start in England? I can ask the pilot to change course.”
Preston harrumphed as he waited for the pilot to inform them that it was all right to start using the onboard Wi-Fi. He hadn’t checked his e-mail since they’d boarded. Maybe there was still time to turn this plane around.
“I’m here in protest,” he said. “I don’t give a flying shit where we go.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re determined not to enjoy yourself. I get it.”
* * *
Somewhere above the Atlantic, Nathan put down his tablet and looked out the window into the inky expanse outside. The red light at the tip of the plane’s wing blinked rhythmically—slow, almost hypnotic. He’d had enough of e-mails from Eleanor for one day. Little did he know when he blurted out this scheme and became the luncheon’s planner that she would immediately begin bombarding him with questions and suggestions.
He reminded himself that this was what he had wanted since he had figured out there were actual people who made it their business to plan parties. He knew what he was up against with Mrs. Grant. In fact, he’d spent years preparing for this moment. But it didn’t mean he should be at her beck and call 24/7. The most important thing at the moment was his promise to get her son’s mind off those damnable results.
It seemed Preston was already spiraling. The swimmer hadn’t stopped looking at his phone since the pilot switched on the onboard Wi-Fi. Nathan glanced across the aisle.
From the way Preston’s thumb kept tapping a specific area of the screen, he was pressing refresh over and over again. Nathan wanted to say something, but why bother? It would only annoy Preston more than he already was. Plus, there was nothing he could do while they were in the air. Might as well let him refresh to his heart’s content.
When he and Caleb had started planning their trip, they’d focused on pubs and museums and many out-of-the-way sights that would enhance their experience of Europe. During that stage, Nathan had come across a local tourist attraction in Paris involving love locks. At the time he hadn’t paid much attention to it, because why would he and Caleb want to go to a bridge for lovers?
But his mother’s quip about Europe being romantic kept replaying in his mind as a slow blush crept to his cheeks. He rested his chin on the palm of his hand and returned to gazing out the window.
The scenario had become crystal clear to him as he purchased the lock from the hardware store. He would bring Preston to the bridge. There he would show him the lock with their initials on it and attach it to the railing. Then he would give Preston the key and tell him how he felt. That if Preston felt the same, he should throw the key away. It would be perfect. Assuming Preston threw the key.
After answering yet another e-mail, Nathan decided maybe it didn’t matter if the person he cared for the most in the entire world didn’t feel the same way. He just couldn’t stand Preston not knowing. Would it change their friendship forever? Maybe. But Nathan wouldn’t allow them to go their separate ways without saying anything. He would definitely regret losing that chance.
The worst-case scenario? Preston would reject him. Sure, he would be heartbroken and possibly lose his best friend forever, but it would also allow him to move on. At least, that was what he’d told himself when the idea for this trip had come to mind. Hopefully he wasn’t just deluding himself, because maybe he wouldn’t be able to handle the loss of Preston any better than Tash had handled the loss of Jackson.
Thinking of what had happened to his sister when that jerk left chilled his blood. Tash had practically burned DoCo down in her grief. But if Nathan didn’t make his move, he might end up losing Preston anyway.
The best-case scenario seemed so far out there that it lived in another universe. Preston feeling the same way? Actually returning his feelings? Even the slightest hint of it tightened his chest to the point of pain. Not once had Nathan suspected anything. Although, in truth, besides being obsessed with the yummy front man of Maroon 5—because why not? Adam Levine was sexy as hell—Nathan hadn’t really found himself attracted to anyone else. He’d dated, sure. But nothing stuck. And over the years he hadn’t really seen Preston consider the idea of dating anyone. Well, he could easily attribute that to swimming. The guy did devote his entire being to the sport.
Either way, they both needed time away. Time to decompress. Time to enjoy themselves before they returned to reality. Preston would definitely get into the Bennett Club and eventually swim his way to Olympic gold. Nathan was sure of it to the marrow of his bones. While he would return to Dodge Cove and build his party-planning empire.
* * *
A couple of hours after landing, the bellman inserted the keycard into the slot of the two-bedroom suite Nathan had booked. The man opened the door and pushed the cart with their luggage inside.
His eyes on his phone, Preston followed, mind still on the acceptance e-mail. Or lack thereof.
“You really should be careful,” Nathan said.
Preston felt a tug on his shirt from behind. Stopping in his tracks, he lifted his head and realized he had been about to collide with a potted ficus in the open living area that separated the bedrooms. Nathan rolled his eyes as he walked past, thanked the bellman in French, and handed him several Euros. Then he placed his phone and tablet on the desk by the balcony doors.
Preston sidestepped the plant and dropped onto the couch like a sack of potatoes. “How hard is it to send one e-mail?”
Hands on his hips, Nathan huffed, “It’s only been a few days since tryouts ended. And quite frankly, I’m tired of this.”
“Tired of what?” Preston asked absentmindedly, his attention back on the screen.
The phone was snatched out of his grasp.
“Hey!” He turned toward Nathan in surprise and made a grab for the device.
When Nathan didn’t make a move to return it, Preston blinked, unsure of what to do next. There was a purpose to this, and an explanation was forthcoming. Over the years he’d gotten good at waiting.
It didn’t take long for Nathan to say, “I will return this to you if you tell me you haven’t been checking for an e-mail from Coach Bennett since we left DoCo.”
“Give it back.”
“Then consider this phone confiscated.”
Preston closed his hand around Nathan’s wrist and pulled him down onto the couch. He shifted so he was on top. Nathan wiggled and squirmed, keeping the phone out of reach. Using his knees on either side of Nathan’s hips, Preston pinned him in place. A sharp gasp caught his attention. He looked down to make sure he wasn’t hurting Nathan, only to see the other boy staring up in amazement at him. Like he’d done something completely shocking.
Uncertainty washed over Preston. What had he done?
Meanwhile, the pause between them stretched on.
This was fucking stupid.
No longer willing to go along with whatever game Nathan was playing, Preston pushed off the couch and glared.
“Give me back the fucking phone!” He reached out, palm up.
Nathan sat up. “I know you’re pissed, but hear me out.”
“Just shut up and give me the goddamn phone.”
“No.”
In seconds it seemed all the blood rose to his head. In two steps he grabbed Nathan’s phone off the desk.
“What are you doing?” Nathan got to his feet.
“You want my phone?” Preston tilted his head, still glaring. “Then I’m keeping yours.”
“You can’t—”
“Hypocrite,” Preston cut him off.
“What did you say?”
“You heard me.”
“Seriously, Pres, will it hurt you to be away from your phone for the rest of the trip?”
“Don’t act like I’m the only one glued to my phone.”
“I’m just trying to help get your mind off the results. It’s clear you’re already obsessing over them.”
“I call bullshit.”
“Oh yeah?” Nathan waved the phone in the air. “You’ve been pressing the refresh button since we left Dodge Cove.”
A stillness came over Preston. “And who’s been answering e-mails from my mother at the same time?”
“You know I’ve wanted this since we were kids. Your mother’s recommendation would mean a step in the right direction for the business I want to build.” Heat finally colored Nathan’s tone. “Can’t you see how much I’m sacrificing just to be on this trip with you while planning the luncheon remotely?”
“Sacrificing?” Preston threw his hands up. “What a load of crap! I never volunteered for this trip, but I’m here. Don’t put this on me.”
Before Nathan could open his mouth to rebut, Preston charged him. Surprised, he put his hands up as if expecting a blow. Preston took advantage of the opening and grabbed his phone out of Nathan’s hand and shoved the other phone into Nathan’s chest. Scrabbling, Nathan barely caught the device before it fell to the ground.
Preston headed for the door, no longer interested in continuing the fight. “I’ll be in the pool.”
“Pres…”
His hand paused at the knob. Without looking back, he said, “If you try taking my phone again, I’m going home.”
The threat in his quiet words hung between them before he left the room.