Jason walked ten rows up the bleachers, ten steps over, and sat. The school’s indoor pool was deserted, and he enjoyed the solitude as he withdrew his sketch pad from his bookbag. Rummaging in the bottom of his bag for a pencil, he heard the door to the boys’ locker room slam open. Deliberately ignoring the noise of the swim team, Jason flipped his book open to a fresh page and began to draw.

…

The humidity, the smell of chlorine, the echoing shouts and splash of water - - Trent was at home. He stretched slightly, shaking his muscles loose.

“Hey, Langley.” Butch Lavery elbowed him, nodding towards the bleachers. “Looks like the goth poster child is back.”

Trent had noticed Jason immediately. The guy was there every day. Trent didn’t know why; Jason was just there, drawing or writing or whatever it was he did, every time they came to practice. He did look pretty goth, too. He dressed in all black, with heavy black boots and silver jewelry. He didn’t have even a hint of a tan. His dyed black hair was close-cropped, with long, red-streaked bangs. Trent saw him around sometimes, but they’d never spoken to each other. Personally, Trent thought that Jason was kind of hot, but that wasn’t Butch’s business. Butch already thought that he had crappy taste in guys.

“Maybe he likes swimming,” Trent said. That didn’t seem likely, and Butch gave him a look. “Maybe this is just somewhere he can hang out without being bothered.”

“Maybe he’s a freak,” Butch suggested.

“Maybe you’re a freak,” Trent suggested. “He’s not bothering anybody, so shut up.”

Butch grinned. “Crush much?”

There was no way to respond to that without inviting more harassment, so Trent just pushed Butch into the pool.

…

Jason had been in the bleachers for every practice, all season. He hadn’t missed one, and he was never late. He only left after all of the guys had gone back into the locker room to change.

While they swam, he sketched. Usually he drew Trent Langley. Trent’s strong jaw and high cheekbones itched to be adored, but Jason couldn’t get over those incredible green eyes. They were a bright, clear green with long, lush, gold-tipped lashes. Jason hadn’t been given many chances to get all that physically close to Trent, but he’d managed to be just close enough just often enough to become mesmerized by those eyes.

Trent’s dark blond hair was shaved down to peach fuzz. He let it grow out between seasons, but while he was swimming he got rid of it. Jason respected the fact that Trent’s commitment to the sport was stronger than his vanity.

Jason didn’t stare at the swimmers. He kept his gaze on his sketchbook, for the most part, raising his eyes to look through the fall of his long, red-streaked bangs, keeping his head down so that he couldn’t be accused of watching. He didn’t watch the swim team as a whole; he watched Trent.

He watched Trent swim like a fish and kick everybody else’s ass.

Jason smiled as Trent, with his usual technique, touched the wall over a body length before everyone else.

…

Trent hauled himself out of the pool, vaguely listening to the coach’s post-practice instructions, keeping one eye on Jason. Ever since he’d noticed Jason hanging around the bleachers, he’d been more