Distant Swimmer

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

“Sorry I’m late,” whispered Ryan, leaning over the table in the library. Aside from the buzzing lights and the light tapping of computer keys, the place was silent.

“It’s cool,” Marissa whispered back, sliding her books to one side. “I can’t figure this stuff out anyway. It’s driving me nuts!”

“Seeds—not nuts,” said Ryan. Marissa giggled and muffled her face with her hands, then slid her long, chestnut hair back behind her head.

“Effing seeds,” she said, pretending to thump her head against the table. “Remind me why we’re doing this again?”

Marissa and Ryan were both in Seed Biology 221, considered one of the toughest classes in the Agricultural Science program at Chippewa College. Rumor had it that most Ag Sci majors took the class twice—once to fail, and the second time to graduate. Two months into the class, both Ryan and Marissa were struggling with the intensity and bulk of the material.

“How was practice?” asked Marissa, looking for distraction. She wore a light green sweater over a white button-down blouse, with a single silver bracelet on her left arm. Ryan was amazed how she always looked so dressed up, even this late in the library.

“Pretty hard. Coach is working us hard—trying to prove something. Oh my God, do you have any food?” begged Ryan. “I’m starving.” Marissa rummaged through her backpack.

“Protein bar?” Marissa handed him a yoghurt-covered energy bar.

“Packed with all the vitamins and minerals for today’s on-the-go woman!” Ryan read the package in a sarcastic TV commercial voice.

“Eat it,” said Marissa. “It’s all I got.”

“Thanks,” said Ryan. He ripped open the package and took half the bar in a single bite.

“Slow down, Godzilla,” said Marissa. Ryan mumbled with a full mouth, pretending to growl. Marissa giggled again—Ryan could tell that her brain was finished for the day. No more concentration, no more studying—she just wanted to hang out, laughing and being stupid, like old times.

Ryan had known her since middle school. They were from the same county and had done 4-H together since they were both twelve, back when Ryan was showing prize roosters and Marissa had sheep. When they got to high school, Ryan finally told her he was gay, right after she tried kissing him in the empty cow stall of her family’s barn. She later confessed that she had cried that whole night, but the next day they went back to being best friends, texting back and forth all day long, checking in on one another constantly. When Marissa got her license, she took Ryan out to practice driving on the long country roads before his test, and come senior year, they went to prom together, showing up for the dance on a vintage tractor with Marissa wearing the cornflower corsage Ryan had made her

Now they were at the same college and in the same major, both of them stressed with the overwhelming workload. Marissa had dated a little during her freshman year, but Ryan had stayed single. Chippewa College was not a gay dating haven, or even a gay hookup heaven. Aside from Ryan, there was nothing gay about it at all. Whenever Ryan logged onto his gay dating app BroLuv, the nearest guys showed up 170 miles away—in Duluth. Meanwhile, every day after practice, he enjoyed the irony of getting naked and showering with a dozen of the sexiest men on campus, yet forever going to bed alone, comforted only by his own right hand.

“Let’s blow the library and go to Jimmy’s,” said Marissa.

“You know I can’t,” said Ryan. “I’m like, really broke right now.”

“Whatever,” Marissa rolled her eyes. “You’re a Pearson Scholar. You’re richer than all of us.”

“I’m still waiting for my next check,” said Ryan. He held up the empty wrapper of the protein bar. “This is dinner.”

“I can buy you cheese fries,” said Marissa, pulling on her fluffy lavender coat—Ryan loved that his friend loved pastels and looked so good in them. “Come on. Let’s get outta here,” Marissa commanded. “My brain is done for the night.”

The lines at Jimmy’s were crazy long, both inside and at the drive-thru, but Marissa knew the night manager and sneaked their order in by flirting just a little at the bar. She was a genius that way and had been using her charm to get her way since they were kids—alas, none of those tricks ever worked on Ryan, which is why she loved him so much.

“Cheese fries for you,” said Marissa, plopping down a plate of gooey, crispy fries, “And a raspberry shake for me.” She sucked on her straw. “God, that tastes like heaven.”

“We should be studying,” Ryan reminded her, dropping a handful of dripping French fries into his mouth. He licked the ketchup from his fingers. “Midterms are next week, Marissa.”

“La la la la lah! Not hearing you,” Marissa said, holding her hands over her ears. “So not interested. I know midterms are next week, and I already know I’m going to fail Biology of the Seed.” She sucked on her shake, then moved the long and glossy hair to the side of her face. Her brown hair had turned redder since college, and Ryan wondered if she was tinting it.

“You always say you’re going to fail,” said Ryan, “And yet you still ended up valedictorian of our class.”

“That was in the county high school with a graduating class of twenty-six. This is college, Ryan! I got a B last year, remember? It sucks.”

“I got a B last year, remember? It sucks!” Ryan mimicked his friend in a baby voice.

“I don’t sound like that,” said Marissa, pinching some of Ryan’s fries and gobbling them up.

“Study date, huh?” a man’s voice called out to the pair. Ryan spun around on the picnic table and saw the new swimmer, Blake Gossens, standing there in his grey hoodie and Green Bay cap. His tight jeans showed off a hefty crotch.

“Hey, Blake,” said Ryan. “The library wasn’t really happening for us.” Ryan felt guilty—as if he had to explain himself to Blake.

“No judgment,” said Blake, holding up his hands. He and Ryan both remained quiet for a moment, until Marissa nudged Ryan with her shoe.

“Oh. Blake, this is Marissa. Marissa—this is Blake—the new guy on the team, from Wisconsin, right?” asked Ryan. Blake nodded, smiling at Marissa and tipping his baseball cap.

“Go Packers,” said Marissa.

“That’s right,” said Blake, then asked, “You a football fan?”

“Not a bit,” said Marissa, refusing to give Blake an easy in. “My dad is, and my brothers are too, but there are so many other things I would rather do than watch a football game.”

“Like eat cheese fries?” asked Blake and Marissa laughed.

“Exactly. Way better than football—or Seed Biology,” said Marissa. Ryan was shocked how easily she gave way to Blake, chatting with this total stranger. Normally she got nervous around guys—especially hunky athletic guys.

“You guys in Ag Sci?” asked Blake.

“Yep,” said Ryan, adding sarcastically, “Best major at Chippewa!”

“So you gonna be farmers or something?” asked Blake.

“Already am,” said Ryan, a little defensive. “I grew up farming. That’s what we do up here. We farm.”

“It’s cool,” said Blake. “Farmers are cool.”

“Why, what’s your major?” asked Marissa.

“Accounting,” said Blake. “Super boring.”

“Not boring,” countered Marissa, “Employable—but you’ll lose that tan you got.”

“Sounds about right,” said Blake.

“Take a seat man—join us,” offered Ryan, realizing that he was now playing wingman to Marissa’s flirtations. It was not the first time, either.

“Nah man, I didn’t mean to interrupt. Just wanted to say hi.”

“You’re not interrupting, really,” said Marissa. “Honestly. I got sick of studying and we came over here. You want something? I know the manager—we can skip the line.”

“No thanks,” said Blake, pointing at Ryan. “I never eat junk food during season.”

“Woah! Burn!” said Marissa, pointing at Ryan, who had already emptied his plate of cheese fries.

“I was hungry—this is dinner,” Ryan said sheepishly.

“Did Ryan tell you were cross-training buds?” asked Blake, who had joined them after all, jackknifing his long legs under the picnic table and then leaning in toward Marissa.

“No, he did not!” said Marissa, smiling big. She was getting goofy now, and it made Ryan feel uncomfortable, but she kept up the sarcasm, adding, “Ryan has never had a cross-training buddy before. You know, normally he trains alone.” She made big suggestive eyes at Ryan.

“To be fair, neither have I,” said Blake. “Though we used to run pairs back in Madison.”

“You were at Madison?” asked Marissa. “What did you do to get sent way out here in the boonies?”

“Nothing,” said Blake. “Coach Ken wanted me on the team and offered me a deal I couldn’t refuse. So now I’m here.”

“So you’re getting paid. That’ll do it!” said Marissa. “That’s why we’re here!”

“Honestly, I miss Madison,” said Blake. “Chippewa is nice and stuff, but Lakeside is so friggin’ small.” Blake nodded his head toward the small crowd at Jimmy’s, which, aside from the Elk’s Club and poetry club, was probably the only thing going on in town that night.

“Oh, we know,” said Marissa, who shot a knowing glance to Ryan.

“So what’s your test on?” Blake tried changing the subject.

“Seed pathogens and epidemiology,” Marissa answered.

“Epididymis what?” asked Blake. Marissa laughed. She was full-on flirting now—Ryan had never seen her open up this much to a new guy so soon. She must really think he’s hot, he thought.

“Diseases that afflict seeds, corresponding pesticides and FDA approval, et cetera,” said Marissa, sounding smart.

“I guess you gotta know that stuff if you’re gonna be a farmer,” said Blake.

“Not really,” Ryan jumped in. “My dad could teach this class with his eyes closed, and he never even went to college.” Right after he said it, he regretted it—why tell the new guy something so personal? Marissa shot Ryan an uncomfortable look.

“Well, it sounds tough all the same,” said Blake. “So I better go. I got midterms too, and we gotta work out tomorrow, so…”

“Oh yeah,” said Ryan. “When do you wanna meet up?”

“I’ve got class until four o’clock tomorrow,” said Blake. “And then we’ve got practice from five to seven.” The two men traded schedules, only to find that there was no time when they were both free.

“That only leaves early morning,” said Blake.

“What, like before seven?” asked Ryan.

“Like five A.M.” Blake smiled and pulled out his phone, then held up the time to Ryan’s face. “As in, seven hours from now.”

“No way,” said Ryan. He was not a morning person. He hated morning people. He hated morning swim practice.

“It’s the only time, and I have to report back to coach that we have a work-out plan. Meet me at the bell tower at 5:15. And dress warm,” said Blake.

“Damn it,” said Ryan. “Seriously?” Blake smiled, and Marissa smiled back.

“Seriously,” said Blake. “And seriously, ditch the cheese fries man. That s**t ain’t gonna make you any faster in the pool.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling him all along,” said Marissa, sounding like the bossiest mom on the planet.

“You should listen to your girlfriend,” said Blake.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Ryan said defensively, but Marissa interrupted with a much louder voice.

“Just friends!” she said. “I’m quite single—and Ryan’s not into girls—so you know, we’re not dating,” she pointed to herself and Ryan. “Just friends!”

Blake seemed a bit shocked by the sudden revelation, while Ryan felt mortified, lowering his head and sighing heavily. Why had Marissa felt the need to tell Blake? It was no big secret on campus, but Ryan was not running around waving any rainbow flags either. Why did Marissa have to go blurt it out to the new guy on the swim team, less than an hour after Ryan had flashed him in the locker room?

“Oh my God, Marissa,” moaned Ryan. He got up and put on his jacket, lifting his backpack onto one shoulder. “Guess I’ll leave you two.”

“Oh come on, Ryan,” said Marissa, “It’s no biggy. Blake’s cool with gay guys, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Blake, “Back at Madison…”

“See?” said Marissa, interrupting again, afraid that maybe Blake might suddenly come declare himself gay as well. She wanted Blake all to herself—Ryan could see it. “We’re all cool. It’s cool,” begged Marissa. “Be cool, Ryan.”

Ryan stared disappointingly at Marissa, a little hurt that she was making a joke out of him right then, and there, in front of a teammate. It wasn’t like her at all—though it wasn’t the first time she had gotten territorial with a man.

“It’s cool,” Ryan tried to keep calm. “But I’m tired, I’m stuffed, and oh yeah, I’m gay, too—you know, just your friendly, garden-variety, gay farmer, so she’s all yours Blake! Take her away!” Ryan made a grand gesture with his hands, then spun around dramatically and kept walking, even when Blake called after him.

“Oh, he’s fine,” Marissa said to Blake. “It’s not a big deal. Bye, Ryan, see ya later!” Marissa called out and continued chatting with Blake at the picnic table.

Back at his dorm, Ryan kicked off his shoes and slipped off his jeans. His phone buzzed on the bed and he picked it up. Marissa was already sending him texts.

Marissa: You ok?

He ignored the text, and his phone buzzed again.

Marissa: I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were trying to keep it a secret. Thought we talked about this already.

Ryan: It’s fine. Whatever. I’m going to bed.

Ryan crawled into his single bed and cracked open his Biology textbook, but then his phone buzzed again.

Blake: Tomorrow. 5:15 a.m. Bell tower. See you then?

Ryan: OK. 5:15 Bell tower.

His phone said ten o’clock—Ryan closed his book and flipped off the lights, then swiped through his phone. BroLuv showed the usual faces and torsos, mostly older guys in Duluth, asking for c**k pics or a quick suck and tug. He ignored the repeated requests, but refreshed his screen once more. Just then, a new profile appeared—a blank square of bare torso, way up in the left hand corner: MadMan57, 200 yards away.

At that very moment, there was a gay guy on campus, cruising BroLuv. In a year and a half of college, Ryan had never seen anyone show up so close.

Ding! A red heart appeared on Ryan’s profile, followed by a text bubble: “You got a new bro!” Ryan tapped on the square, and a message appeared.

MadMan57: Yo. U @ Chippewa?

SwimFan6: Maybe. Where u at?

MadMan57: I’m right here, in Chippewa. Wanna meet?

Ryan hated the assumption that all gay man were willing to hook-up with any other gay guy, based solely on the fact that they were all gay.

SwimFan6: Maybe. Some time. Are you a student here?

MadMan57: Maybe. You say maybe a lot.

SwimFan6: Maybe I do. Are you here at Chippewa College?

MadMan57: Got any pics?

SwimFan6: For trade. U got any pics?

MadMan57 sent another torso shot—not great quality, but definitely sexy, and it looked real. Ryan sent back a picture of himself from freshman year, standing in the grass and dressed in T-shirt and shorts.

MadMan57: Ryan Zwick? I thought that was you!

SwimFan6: Wait, who is this? Facepic please?

But silence. A minute passed, then another. Ryan refreshed the screen: MadMan57 is offline.

Damn it, thought Ryan. Outed twice in one night, and who the hell was MadMan57? Why had he suddenly appeared after there never being another gay guy on campus? Ryan hated BroLuv for exactly this kind of behavior, and he hated being catfished.

SwimFan6: Show your face, dude.

Another minute passed.

SwimFan6: Where did you go?

Two more minutes.

SwimFan6: Fine. Goodbye.

Feeling angry and disappointed, Ryan turned off his phone and laid it on the desk next to his bed. Why did gay guys have to be so sneaky and deceiving? Three years on BroLuv, with countless hours wasted on chatting with total strangers, and he had only ever met up with two guys—both of them duds. Besides, Ryan was not into giving or getting random blowjobs from anonymous men. He was only twenty years old and fairly inexperienced, but he still wanted a boyfriend—something that lasted longer than a blowjob; someone that would still be around in the morning and the morning after, but that dream seemed almost impossible at Chippewa College.