Ollie didn't see Allen for the rest of the week on the bus. It knocked him sideways. He moped around the house, little motivation to do anything other than stretch and eat as best he could for the meet that weekend.
"Where'd all the eggs go?" Mom complained.
"I ate them!" He proclaimed. I mean really, he thought, shouldn't she know by now to get more when he was in performance mode?
Arriving in Seattle for regionals felt far more familiar than it had last year. He was starting to rebuild his confidence after Allen had disappeared from the bus ride. Now, he was in his element. With the familiar signs for the Seattle-Tacoma ARRIVALS, along with the coziness of the Hilton, Ollie was on his game.
He didn't even spend 5 minutes in the hotel. With a burst of excited energy hitting him, he went right back out his hotel door and glided down the hallway to the pool.
He had a text from coach, "don't forget to stretch your calves. And EAT." Coach had included a $50 gift card to Olive Garden. A little inside joke - Coach has mistakenly called it "OLLIE garden," once before. It made him laugh out loud to remember.
When Ollie got to the pool he immediately undressed to his speedo, which he had prepared under his clothes at the hotel.
He felt comfortable in the black speedo, and looking down at his body, he felt a little more confident. He could see that he'd gained a lot of muscle weight since last year, and with that boost he lifted his chin to assess the pool lane, took a nice deep breath, and messily dove in.
It felt good to move.
After 15 minutes, he knew it was best to get out. He shouldn't overdo anything before tomorrow, so he made his way to the hot tub.
But he paused at it's perimeter. A good looking couple, a man and woman a couple years older than him were already in there.
Should I join them? He thought.
"Hey how's it going?" The woman said with a lazy contentedness.
"Hi, I'm good. How bout you?" He replied, feeling enough confirmation that they wouldn't be upset with him joining.
"You're a great swimmer man," the guy offered. "Couldn't help but notice."
Ollie blushed. "Aw, thank you. I'm actually here for the weekend, for a gymnastics meet."
"Cool!" The woman said, "Did you come with family?"
"No, they're a little too busy."
The guy took a look at his watch, sitting behind him on the deck. "How old are you?"
"Just turned 18."
The woman chuckled, and said deviously, "barely legal."
If Ollie wasn't red before, he was now. He ran his hand through his wet hair and went quiet.
"Woah, chill," the man said, play wrestling with the woman. Grabbing her shoulders with a big reach around, he kind of smothered her a bit.
Ollie figured it was just how this chick rolled. She was probably college age, and had a carefree look. And now that he was looking right at the two of them, he could acknowledge to himself that they both had fantastic buddies.
A notification popped up on the guy's watch and it prompted some conversation between the two of them that Ollie couldn't quite decipher - maybe a change in their plans for the day.
"We're here with a group of friends for the week," he confirmed. "Gonna check out Parlor Park, would you like come?"
"I... I'd like to. Maybe let me check in with my coach," Ollie said.
"Yeah, just let us know," the young woman said. "I'm Trisha."
"I'm Ollie."
"Cyrus," the last of them said, with melting indifference.
"But I call him Ceecee," Trisha said, and Cyrus' went agog, jaw dropped, with an only half-serious look of embarrassment. Trisha playfully shut his mouth, and though she nudged his face away, she actually inched closer to him.
"Get his number babe," Trish implored.
Ollie and Cyrus worked out the digits, and they said their goodbyes. When Ollie went to dry off and redress, he was a little stunned to see four texts.
One from Mom, one from coach, one from Cyrus, and one from a mystery number.
It read, "Hey Ollie is this the right number? It's Allen."
