It was quieter today than I was used to, which made sense, given I usually came in here when I was dragged in during swimming blocks in gym class. While the acoustics were usually choked with screams and splashes and the squeak of shoes on nonslip rubber flooring, today it was eerily calm. Just the steady drone of … something—the HVAC, I guessed—and the rhythmic slap of water from a single swimmer.

Brougham didn’t notice me walk to the edge of the pool. His head was mostly submerged, and when he tilted it to the side to breathe, he faced the wall. His body moved down the length of the pool with impressive speed. I tried to walk along with him, but had to break into a jog to keep up. “Brougham,” I called, but he didn’t seem to hear me. Or, if he did, he ignored me. Which I wouldn’t put past him, to be perfectly honest. “Alexander.”

He hit the end of the pool, then flipped underwater. The change of direction made him tilt his head my way when he took a breath now. He stopped short after one stroke and shook his head like a dog that’d been dunked. “Is it quarter-to already?” he panted, treading water and pushing his wet hair back out of his face. He didn’t even bother greeting me, which didn’t do wonders for my patience.

“It’s four o’clock.” I gestured at the clock on the wall behind the starting blocks. His eyes followed where I pointed.

“Oh. So it is.” Without apologizing for keeping me waiting, or thanking me for giving up my afternoon, he paddled over to me and lifted himself out of the pool with his arms in one smooth motion, causing his lithe muscles to bulge. Show-off. If I tried that maneuver I’d end up flopping on my side like a beached whale.

I scuttled backward to get out of his way, and he nodded at me. Apparently, that was my greeting. He strode over to the benches where he’d stashed his crumpled uniform, backpack, and towel, pulling his skin-tight, above-the-knee swim shorts so they loosened their grip on his thighs. “I still need to shower real quick,” he said to me from an upside-down position as he haphazardly scrunched the towel around his hair. “I’ll meet you outside in ten?”

“Oh sure,” I said with as much sarcasm as I could inject into my voice.

If my sarcasm was noted, it wasn’t acknowledged.

I stomped back to my waiting spot in the hallway, pulled my half-ponytail out lest it contribute to a stress headache, and plonked myself down on the floor. Might as well start to make my way through this week’s questions, I figured.