Starting Over

Before Kurt Dennings saw the figure a few feet down the hall, he felt the eyes trace over him with deliberate purpose, until he could no longer ignore the feeling of being watched, measured. Glancing to the side, he acknowledged his teammate with a small nod before returning his focus to the window in the wall before him and the men swimming in the pool in the next room. Long, lithe bodies glided through the water in the Olympic size pool, the only sounds in the room the rhythmic splashing of arms and legs moving in sync.

Kurt took a deep breath and sighed. If everything ended today, this is what he would miss most. The soothing sounds of swimmers gliding through the water. The way lights from beneath the pool's surface painted the room in soft hues of teal. The feeling that if he swam hard enough or dove deep enough, he could soothe the empty, gnawing ache that yawned beneath the surface, allowing him to feel whole for moments at a time.

There were probably any number of good reasons James Theard was watching him. The most likely that he was working up the nerve to tell Kurt he could be sitting out the first match. Practice had been over for fifteen minutes and most of his teammates had hit the showers and cleared out. Kurt had stayed behind to watch the other three men on the 400 meter freestyle relay team swim laps when James had disappeared into the locker room. Their coach had emerged a few minutes later, his trademark bright smile absent as he nodded at Kurt on the way to his office.

After tryouts, Coach Davis had said he would need to work on his weak spots. He hadn't mentioned anything in the weeks since, except to give Kurt a few pointers about his hand positions. That didn't mean the captain of the team would let things slide. The first match was still weeks away and Kurt knew what that meant: James would go after another record to join the distinctions he'd earned his first two years at NYU and their coach would evaluate whether Kurt was ready to join the ranks of the NCAA athletes on the team or be reduced to handing out towels between dives. He hadn't been strong in practice lately. Had, in fact, thrown a few other people off their times with his clumsy turns. So, if this was the last time he'd attend practice as a full member of the team, he understood.

But understanding didn't make it easier. Kurt felt his stomach tighten as James approached. He leaned against the wall next to Kurt and crossed his arms over his chest.

“You got a little time?”

Kurt turned to him. James's hair had almost dried since practice had ended. The short, thick strands stood around his head in clumps. Dark lashes fanned around his blue-green eyes, making it appear as if he were wearing eyeliner. His mouth was set in a flat line, the full bottom lip pressed hard as he waited for Kurt's answer.

“Yeah. I don't have anymore classes today.”

“Good,” James responded. “There's a few things we need to go over.”

Kurt nodded before dropping his head. “James, you really don't have to do this. If Coach doesn't want me on the team anymore, I can—”

“Why wouldn't he want you on the team?” James asked, interrupting. His voice was sharp and his dark brows drew together, forcing a deep crease between his eyes.

God, he's really going to draw this out, isn't he? Kurt shrugged, his eyes dropping from the gaze that probed his. “I'm not pulling my weight. I'm holding you all back.” There was defeat in that whisper, but Kurt couldn't help feeling the swim and dive team would be better off without him. It wouldn't be the first time someone felt he was expendable. The way things had been going lately, he was sure every person he met would feel that way about him eventually.

“I don't know where you'd get that idea, but you're not holding us all back. It's nothing that dramatic, you just need to refine your technique,” James said.

Kurt shrugged. “My dad's part of the reason I'm on the team. He and Coach Davis have been friends for a while.” And without Colonel Dennings around to wield his considerable influence, Kurt was struggling just to keep pace with everyone else. The dead weight would have to be cut before he took the team down with him.

“That's ridiculous. Besides that you helped your team reach the state championships three years running, Coach Davis wouldn't have taken you if he didn't see potential. You're not just some pity case he took on as a favor to a friend. He wouldn't let the team down that way.”

The words were harsh, but James's tone left no room for argument. Still, there was always the chance he didn't know the whole story. Captain or not, he was just another student. Kurt shook his head. “I'm not the strongest backstroke swimmer. He said he'd help me build up that part, as long as I stayed strong in breast stroke and freestyle relay. I figured he didn't make exceptions like that for anyone else.”

There was a long pause before James said quietly, “He did for me. My weakness was the breast stroke, actually. He worked with me my freshman year until I was on par with the rest of the team.” Kurt also heard what James wasn't saying. He'd improved so much, he'd set a school record the previous season, knocking down a time that had been set thirty years previous. Kurt doubted time would show the same results in his case.

“That's why I needed to see you,” James continued. “Coach Davis wants me to work with you one-on-one until we get you where you need to be for the first match. You could be one of the strongest all-around swimmers we have. We're counting on you to place in the first meet.” James glanced through the window to the pool that lay beyond. “Pool's empty. We can start now.”

Without waiting for a response from Kurt, he pushed through the door that led into the next room and hopped into the shallow end of the pool. Kurt followed slowly, relief easing some of the tension in his shoulders and back. After slipping into the water, he turned to face James, clutching the edge of the pool as he kicked to warm up his muscles.

James was shorter than Kurt by several inches, but years more swimming experience and time in the gym had given him a slightly more muscular physique, enabling him to push himself through the water in an effortless way Kurt envied. As Kurt reacclimated to the water, James took the opportunity to float on his back and paddle a few yards away. He motioned for Kurt to join him.

“I've been watching you for a little while now and I think I know what the problem is,” James said.

Kurt frowned. I'm hopeless?

James crossed his arms over his chest and eyed Kurt as if he could read his mind. The reflection of the light from the water gave his aquamarine eyes a soft blue glow, but his stern expression hinted he would have little tolerance for Kurt's self-defeating attitude. Kurt smiled, hoping to soften the glare.

“You're tensing up just before you go into turns, which slows you down too much. Also, you're holding your hands at the wrong angle, when you should be arching your wrists like this,” James said, using his hands to demonstrate. “Actually, the next part would be better with a demonstration. Float on your back.”

“Are you serious?” Kurt asked.

“If you'd like to stay on the team, it would be in your best interest to take this seriously,” James responded.

Kurt sighed, then closed his eyes before falling back to float in the pool. He started when one of James's hands moved to cover his stomach and opened his eyes.

“Your energy should be focused here,” James said. He moved his hand down, until it grazed the top of Kurt's black swim trunks. “The only part of your body that should tense before you turn is the muscles here, when you take a breath.”

He held Kurt on the surface of the water, one hand at the small of his back, the other flat on his stomach as he described the best way to move his arms through the water. For his part, Kurt barely heard anything James said because his focus was centered on the other man's hands touching him. It was impersonal, downright clinical if Kurt was to be honest, but there was something to the way James held him that felt strangely intimate, as if every light touch on his body sent a small message to Kurt's mind that whispered all manner of confidences, none of which came close to the professional distance the team captain was displaying as he spoke.

In short, Kurt was beginning to lose his mind. Pushing James's hands away, he stood and took a few shaky steps back.