“Is that Peirsol? Look out! DUCK!”

“No, it’s just a guy in a bathing cap.”

“Yes. Peirsol.”

“He's a fan. Why would Aaron be sitting in the stands? The guy has a sign that says, "I LOVE YOU MICHAEL!" I don’t think Aaron would have that.”

“He might, if he were trying to be funny.”

Barb laughed, shaking her head as she examined her poster to make sure it was spelled properly and there weren’t any glitter smudges on it. The sign was quite glittery and rather bright in color; it read “I LOVE YOU, MICHAEL (But not you, Aaron).”

The two girls, Gail and Barb, had a thing about Aaron Peirsol. And that ‘thing’ is not a “they’re in love with him” thing. It’s more a “they think he’s hot but their hearts belong to Michael Phelps and therefore they cannot like Aaron Peirsol so they pretend they hate him” thing.

It was very confusing, even to the girls; but most of all, it was confusing to their family members. Of course, their family members were used to the girls acting odd. So this was nothing new.

Gail tapped Barb on the shoulder, and she looked up from her masterpiece. “Is THAT Peirsol?”

Barb followed Gail’s eyes and squinted into the distance. “Um. No.”

“Who is it?” Gail questioned, shading her eyes with her hand.

“It’s Pieter van den Hoogenband. Do you need glasses, maybe?”

Gail looked offended. “No. I have 20/20 vision, thank you very much.” She squinted against the bright lights above them. “That’s van den Hoogenband? I better get my sign ready.” She pulled a sign from the bag under her feet; it was just as glittery as Barb’s (as they seemed to be obsessed with glitter) but it said: PIETER VAN DEN HOOGENBAND, I LOVE YOUR NAME!

Granted, the girls lost their creativeness whilst doing these signs, but they can’t be blamed. For they had just seen a relatively interesting picture on the internet of one Aaron Peirsol…and it had rendered them pretty much insane.

Damn that Aaron Peirsol.

“I think that’s the Thorpedo,” Gail said excitedly, craning her neck to get a better look past the tall man in front of her.

Barb looked up expectantly. “He DOES have an Australian swim cap on.”

“It’s quite hard to see from up here. But it’s yellow. And he’s wearing the full body suit, which Thorpie favors.”

“Mmmm. Maybe we should move closer?”

Gail looked down below them at the rows and rows of stands. “Yes, that sounds like a good idea. I think there might be some seats near the middle, there.”

Barb nodded and led the way to the only empty seats in the place; they went past young people, and old people, and Russians talking excitedly in Russian. Gail nearly fell over at one point and landed in the lap of some young man from the United States, but she hurriedly jumped up and continued on, not even looking at him.

Barb, however, did get a look at him. And when she saw who Gail had landed on, she tripped and fell face-first into the lap of a guy with a Great Britain flag waving vigorously in the air.

“GAIL!” Barb hissed, as she was helped to her feet by the kindly gentleman who she had landed on.

Gail rushed up, looking between Barb and the British guy. “Hello. Yeah?”

The guy nodded at the both of them and Barb dragged her friend out onto the stairs. “Did you SEE who you fell on top of?”

“No, but he groped me, so I thought it best not to look. Why? It wasn’t someone cool like Elijah Wood or something, was it? Wait. I don’t think Elijah would grope me. He seems too gentlemanly.”

“Shut up a minute!” Barb whispered, looking close to a nervous breakdown. “You landed on Aaron Peirsol!”

Gail’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped open. “NOOOOO!”

“YES!”

Gail felt quite faint, but luckily Barb was used to this and she just quickly threw some of her water bottle into Gail’s face. “But I hate Aaron Peirsol!” Gail spluttered, wiping water off her face.

“I…what?”

“I hate him,” Gail repeated evenly.

“Oh. Yes. That’s right. So do I.”

Gail blinked, waiting a beat before saying anything else. “Did he look hot?”

“Quite,” Barb replied, her voice strained. “Not that I noticed.”

“Of course not,” Gail replied quickly. “I wouldn’t have, either.”

“No,” Barb agreed, nodding. “Did he really grope you?”

“Well, yes, but had I known it was Aaron I would have slapped him. It was only a small grope, anyway, and maybe he thought he was helping by making sure I didn’t fall over into the seats below him.”

“Maybe,” Barb replied dubiously. “Come on, let’s go sit down before we fall on any more hot guys….I mean….guys. In general.”

“Yes,” Gail stated, following Barb down the stairs to the vacant seats. “Whoa, I think we’re in Canada.”

“It’s Greece, actually. Athens, remember?”

Gail gave her a look. “Yes, thanks. I meant we just entered Canada. Look at all the maple leaves and red. It’s a sea of red.”

“And we’ll be sitting in the middle of it,” Barb said, squeezing into a middle row past some guy talking in fast French.

“Yes, and we’ll be cheering for other countries. We better get ready with our riot gear.” Gail passed by the guy talking in fast French. “He’s talking about his dog getting groomed,” Gail whispered, giggling. “Imagine! At the Olympics, talking about your dog‘s grooming.”

“Ridiculous,” Barb said, dropping down into the empty seat with a sigh of relief. “Made it.”

“Without falling again. WOOOT.”

Barb laughed. “Do you think Michael can see our sign from here?”

“No, but I bet Aaron can,” Gail said, pointing back to where they’d come from.

“If he’s looking. Not that I care if he is or not.”

“I obviously don’t care either.” A pause. “He was quite sweet grabbing me so I wouldn’t fall.”

“I don’t care if he’s sweet or not.”

“No. Me either.”

“I can’t believe he’s not swimming right now, though,” Barb said, inconspicuously glancing back at where Aaron sat talking animatedly with some of the USA women’s swim team.

“When IS he swimming? Not that I care.”

“No, of course not. We can check the schedule later.”

“Great idea,” Gail said, checking her watch to see when the swim would begin.

Barb cleared her throat. “So. Maybe you should go over to Aaron and flirt with him.”

Gail gasped rather loudly. “WHY!?”

“Because then once he’s interested you could be like ‘I don’t like you, Aaron. Goodbye.’”

“What would that accomplish, I wonder.”

“It would show him that he’s not God’s gift to women.”

Gail raised an eyebrow. “But what if he is.”

It was Barb’s turn to gasp. “Surely, you jest!”

*

“I think to achieve the proper level of hate, we should stop calling him Aaron. If we call him Peirsol it suggests we dislike him. You know, like Potter/Malfoy.”

“Harry/Draco,” Barb replied, looking nostalgic. “I need to read some fan fiction.”

“We don’t have a computer,” Gail replied, heading over towards the stand selling drinks nearby. “OH NO!”

Barb looked around frantically. “What?”

“DUCK!!!!!!!!”

“Last time you told me that, you were talking about a guy who didn’t even LOOK like Aaron.”

“Peirsol,” Gail corrected offhandedly, pulling Barb down to a crouch behind the stand.

“Right.”

“He’s getting a drink.”

“Really. Well, that’s weird. Why would he want something to drink when it’s about 800 degrees out?”

Gail shot her a look. “You don’t want to see him, do you?”

“Not particularly, but I don’t think he’d recognize us.”

“You’re probably right.”

“Psssst. What are you doing?” Said a male voice from behind them. The two girls jumped up, screamed, and turned to see the owner of the voice.

The result of this was Gail falling over and nearly toppling into Aaron as he was chugging down a bottle of water (which ended up more on her than in his mouth) and Barb being tripped by Gail’s fall, and falling face-first on top of Michael Phelps, who fell backwards and landed with a groan against the hard concrete road.

Gail was coughing and trying to get the water out of her eyes so she could see what the hell had happened. Meanwhile, on the ground behind the stand, Barb was laying on top of Michael, her eyes shut tight. Michael was trying to get his bearings back, but it seemed he didn’t mind having a random girl landing on top of him in the middle of the Olympic Village.

“Are you alright?” That voice came from very far away, and when Gail blinked the final bits of water from her eyes, she realized that she hadn’t exactly landed on the hard ground, but on a soft cushiony sort of thing. The moment this realization hit, she jumped up, stumbled a bit and was caught by a set of very tan hands.

“I’m okay,” she said, nodding, even though she was sure she looked like a sodden rat. (Or a sodden something, anyway.)

Aaron Peirsol was on the ground; his hair was drenched but the rest of him was dry (due to the fact the water had landed on Gail instead, and then she in turn had landed on him.)

“Oh, God,” she moaned. “I’m so sorry.”

“He’s alright,” the tan handed man said, laughing. “He’s used to being wet.”

Gail turned around very slowly so as not to frighten him away. “Thorpie,” she whispered, her voice sounding meek and small.

“Hmmm?” He asked, leaning closer to her.

She gasped, suddenly aware that his hands were on her arms and he was leaning very close to her. Unnervingly close, in fact.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” He asked, looking worried. “Shall I find you a nurse?”

“Oh, no, no, I’m fine,” she assured him quickly, not wanting him to leave her just yet. “Thanks for…uh…saving me?”

“Sure,” he replied, grinning and releasing her arms once he was sure she was stable. (Emotionally and physically, probably.)

Aaron had popped up beside them. “Hey, you keep falling on me,” he laughed.

Gail blushed. “Um, yeah. Sorry about that. I’m not really sorry…but…” her voice trailed off when she realized he’d have no idea what she was talking about.

“You’re really wet,” Aaron observed; Gail’s eyes widened and she uttered a very audible ‘meep’. “I’m sorry I soaked you,” Aaron went on. “I’ve got a ton of shirts in my hotel room, if you want one. I’d be happy to get you dried off.”

Gail glanced at Ian Thorpe, who was in front of her, and Aaron, who was to her left. She then felt pretty sure that she was going to a.) throw up or b.) faint.

Or c.) squeal uncontrollably.

On the ground, there was a bit less talking going on, and a lot more staring and blinking and smiling.

After several moments, Barb found her voice. “I should probably…get off you.”

Michael grinned. “Probably.”

She nodded and stood up, extending her hand to help him; he jumped up beside her, looking a bit awkward.

“Are you okay? I didn’t mean to frighten you and your friend so badly that you fell over.”

Barb laughed nervously. “I’m fine, thanks. It’s okay.”

“What were you doing?” Michael asked, gesturing to the scene of the crime.

“Hiding from Aaron.” Barb replied quickly. “I mean Peirsol.”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? Why is that?”

“He groped Gail. My friend. The one over there.” Barb pointed vaguely behind her, and Michael looked quickly and nodded.

“Do you want me to beat him up for you?”

“Yes, that would be fantastic.”

Michael gave her an odd smile. “I was kidding.”

“Oh! Of course. Me too.” She cleared her throat. “Um. You swam really well. Earlier.”

“Thanks,” he grinned.

Their conversation was pierced by a shrill scream coming from behind them. And then there were footsteps coming towards them at a rapid speed. It was almost like they were caught up in a marathon.

“What the hell?” Barb managed to choke out as she was being pushed ahead by Michael.

“A girl just spotted Aaron and Ian and she freaked out and started running toward us,” Gail explained, from Barb’s right.

Barb jumped slightly. “I thought it was YOU who screamed.”

“Why would I scream?”

“Because you were talking to Aaron…I mean, Thorpie.”

Aaron laughed, Ian grinned and Michael remained silent, checking behind their group every so often to make sure they were far behind.

“Your shirt is soaked,” Barb said, looking at Gail.

“I know,” Gail made a face. “I was hot, but I didn’t want to get drenched. I was thinking about swimming in a pool instead of in a water bottle.”

“TURN LEFT!” Aaron instructed suddenly, and the five of them turned simultaneously. “We can get…Gail, is it? We can get her a new shirt in my room.”

Gail and Barb squeaked simultaneously but the squeaking was drowned out by the sound of rabid fangirls screaming behind them.

*

The five of them spilled into Aaron’s hotel room, which was amazingly spacious and about six times larger than the girls’ room across the Village. Michael immediately plopped down onto the bed, breathing heavily.

“I thought you were in good shape,” Ian joked, pushing Michael’s feet over so he could sit on the edge of the bed.

Michael gave him a withering look. “Swimming-wise, yes.”

Barb and Gail stood awkwardly near the closed door watching as Aaron dug through his suitcase and Ian and Michael turned on the television to see if the story of the rabid fangirls was on the news yet.

“If you’ll excuse us,” Barb said suddenly, tugging on Gail’s arm. “We’ll be right back.”

The two of them ended up in the bathroom, which was probably the size of a small home in India. The boys, apparently used to this odd girl behavior, thought nothing of them being in the bathroom together.

“Whoa, this is a HUGE bathroom. It’s way bigger than ours. Look at the tub! He could swim laps in that!”

Barb was leaning against the sink, watching as Gail stared around the room in awe. “He’s quite tall, though,” Gail continued thoughtfully. “He probably couldn’t swim laps, after all.”

Barb looked pointedly at Gail. “You don’t like him, do you?”

“Who?” Gail questioned, sitting down on the edge of the tub. “Aaron?”

“Peirsol.”

“Oh, Peirsol. No. I don’t like him.” Gail paused momentarily. “Thorpie’s hot in person.”

Barb nodded enthusiastically. “Did you see that I fell on TOP of Michael Phelps?”

“OHMYGOD!” Gail squealed. “I did! He was so cute!”

“I know,” Barb agreed, smiling broadly. “So hot.”

“Mmmmmmm. Even clothed.”

Barb laughed. “Yeah.” There was a knock on the door. “Yeah?”

“Does Gail want a shirt to change into or are you busy?” It was Aaron.

Barb was about to shout, “Go away, Peirsol!” but Gail opened the door and, smiling, took the shirt from Aaron before closing it again.

She had taken off her wet one and replaced it with a baggy Aaron Peirsol shirt before Barb had time to protest that there were Aaron germs all over it.

Barb clucked her tongue disapprovingly while Gail looked at her reflection in the mirror, trying to dry her hair by wringing it out over the sink.

“This shirt is not a team USA shirt,” Gail mused after a moment or so. “I thought that’s what he meant to give me.”

Barb glanced at the writing on the shirt in the mirror; as it was backwards, she turned Gail to face her so she wouldn’t have to decipher backwards code.

“It says Sex God,” Barb said, monotone.

Gail began giggling so hysterically that she was gasping for breath and the boys barged in to make sure they weren’t drowning in the pool…I mean tub.

*

When Gail and Barb emerged from the bathroom, the boys were all talking animatedly about swimming.

“So,” Aaron smiled at them; Gail winced slightly and Barb cringed in horror. This wasn’t because he was ugly or anything…more the exact opposite. “Do you two wanna get some food? We were just talking about eating.”

Michael and Ian looked at them expectantly.

“Where did you find that shirt, Peirsol?” Ian asked, laughing.

“It was custom-made,” Aaron explained matter-of-factly. Gail looked down at it, and then back up at him, looking shocked.

“Aren’t you worried about the mob that followed us?” Barb questioned, looking at Michael.

He shrugged. “We get that a lot. They’ll lose interest pretty soon.” Michael stood up, walking towards Barb. “I should probably go do a cool-down swim. Do you wanna come?”

Barb nodded silently, apparently unable to form a sentence. Or any word at all.

Gail watched them go, horror-struck. She tried to say something to stop Barb from leaving, but found she couldn’t get her voice to work either.

“So, food?” Aaron asked, clapping his hands together.

Gail stared at him.

Ian looked between the two, clearly amused. “I think she needs some sleep or something. She seems….” He struggled to find the right word. “…to be in shock.”

“I do that to lots of girls,” Aaron replied cheekily, smirking.

“That’s obvious by the shirt,” Ian stated evenly. “Which looks better on her than it does on you, I’m sure.”

Aaron shrugged. “That’s probably true.”

Gail continued to stare silently.

Ian took a step toward her, putting his hand on her shoulder. “I can take you to your hotel room so you can sleep if you want. We’ll get you hydrated on the way. I think I have some Gatorade in my bag.” He held his bag up, and she nodded mutely at him.

After a moment, she was able to speak. “That would be good, thanks.”

“I thought we were getting food?”

Ian was in the doorway, holding it open for Gail. “Um, no. Maybe some other time. Thanks for the shirt.”

The door closed with a click behind them; Ian was laughing as they made their way down the hall, Gail trotting along beside him.

It seemed, by the sight at the elevators, that Barb and Michael had not made it as far as the pool.

|