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He’s all lean muscle, and a shadow of stubble lines his jawline like he hasn’t shaved yet this irls swoon over his floral tattoos inked down his arood areen eyes

His jeans are ripped today at the knees, and I recognize the Carraways band T-shirt as one of their first ns

He’s twenty-two

My best friend

Former best friend

He hands me the can of soda “Charlie really didn’t put you up to this visit?”

I pop the tab and hear the familiar fizzy sound “He really didn’t,” I say “I’ to tell you”

I want his friendship back—and I figure, if I want it to be what it was, then I need to confide in hi want that

His brows rise “Before you start, I have so to tell you too” He motions to his bed “Take a seat”

“This is a sitting kind of conversation?” I plop on hisin his rooht it would, but his declaration seizesto tellhappened to him

Soain

“It’s an overdue kind of conversation,” he says “I just didn’t want to have it until I saw you again” He winces “And I probably should’ve been the one to come to you, but ballet and…” He stares down at the can of soda in his hand “That’s a shit excuse It’s all pretty shit, really” His eyes flit tococaine before shows, I always thought about you”

Myabout cocaine My hand is cold from the condensation of the can

He continues, “I kept i what you’d do Not what you’d say tothat wouldn’t disqualify you from competition, and it’d take away all your pain, make you a better swimmer—I wondered what you’d do”

“It’d be an easy out,” I say “I wouldn’t have done it We always said ouldn’t”

“Not even if you didn’t retire?” he asksfor the next ten years, Sul I for that dream at thirty, and your body isn’t the same as it was What then?”

I’d take it