Chapter Two- Swapping Undies with Your Cousin

Ian went to the hotel's front desk, having missed Abby at the swimming pool. `She must have been sitting with the Americans…damn seating.' He thought as he approached the desk. "Erm, hi, may I have Abby Phelps's room number?"

The concierge looked on the computer screen for a moment "Sorry sir, there is no Abby Phelps registered here, but there is an Abby Stewart. Room 713, Mr. Thorpe."

"713. Got it. Thanks a lot." He left a few Euros for his service and went up to the seventh floor. He navigated the halls as he searched for that certain door.

Meanwhile, Abby sat in her hotel room with Michael sprawled on the floor with three plates of room service food in front of him, watching diving coverage on the television. "Hey, aren't you studying some Mediterranean language?"

"Not Greek." Abby retorted. "Fritalian."

"Can you understand Greek, though?" Michael asked in between bites of a humongous steak. "I mean, you know, Greece is like right next to Italy."

"I know. Thanks for the geography lesson." Abby laughed, though she was more concentrated on painting her toenails. "I can't understand Greek, and probably would cry if I had to learn. I tried learning the Cyrillic alphabet and ended up with a massive headache the size of the Olympic Village."

Michael shrugged and looked at his potatoes which he inspected gingerly before spearing them and eating them mercilessly. There was a knock at the door and, with a mouthful of potatoes he ran and opened the door.

"Hey Ab---Michael?" Ian nearly shouted. He didn't know whether to be afraid or to laugh because it was a rather unsightly side of Michael Phelps that he had never thought he would experience. "Er, is Abby here?"

"Yeah." He said before he swallowed. "She's inside, why?"

"Uh, well…" Ian stammered, he wasn't this intimidated of him at the pool. Abby popped up behind Michael.

"Mike, let him in. If Peirsol sees this, he'll be pissed. He's been trying to take me out since the U.S. Trials." Abby said, pulling the two much taller men in. Michael went back to his spot on the floor, now done with his steak and potatoes and indulging himself with a Greek BLT. "Michael didn't want to be in his room because reporters would be looking for him. Just make yourself at home, I'm just painting my nails."

"So, when did you meet Ian?" Michael asked resting between courses.

"Just today at breakfast." She replied, not looking up from her pedicure.

"Is it alright if she fraternizes with an enemy then?" Ian laughed.

"I'll just be worried if she comes to the pool painted in Australian colors." Michael grinned. "Fraternize away."

"Well in that case…Abby, care for a stroll out in the village?" Ian asked.

Abby tilted her head to look at her work so far. "Yeah, this paint job was crap anyway." Abandoning her nail polish she stood up and slipped on her flip-flops. "Michael, clean up after yourself pleeease. I'll be back laterish."

Michael nodded as he channel surfed through the hotel's cable TV.

"So, how does it feel not having to swim for your life?" Abby asked. "Just a spectator, then."

"Oh, I still swim, just in the afternoons, I need to taper." Ian replied. "Usually what I do after big meets is I'll sleep in and then do a lighter swim than usual before I can take a break, and then I'll start up again when I need to start training." He expected her to say something back to him, but she didn't. "You're quiet."

"Just listening to the Australian accent, that's all." Abby grinned. "I was actually thinking of studying abroad there, which is kind of useless seeing as it's not a French or Italian speaking country."

"You have to visit France?" Ian asked incredulously. "What are you doing for university?"

"I've embarked on the perilous journey of French and Italian Studies, and a Government double major. I want to be in the CIA." She said raising her eyebrows suggestively. "Clandestine operations. Major political powers, one-night stands…wait."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that last bit." Ian laughed. "That's really cool. Don't you have to learn other languages though?"

"Yeah, sadly. I'm taking night courses in Arabic and Chinese." Abby replied. "My life is so much more glamorous than yours." She said with sarcasm. She looked up at him. "So, I was perusing the Internet yesterday and read that you have your own line of underwear. Is it just men's underwear?"

Ian laughed. "Yeah it is. I just hope you didn't see any video images of the fashion show. That was highly embarrassing."

"Fashion show?" Abby said, eyes widening. She snickered evilly and replied. "Well then could I order boxers? I'd order boxer briefs, but those would have a god awful amount of extra fabric in front when it should be in back, for women anyway."

Ian grinned, "You are really really weird, but in a good way. I'll just give you some. What size and what colors?"

"Er...my waist is a 24. Probably a small. And I like the blue and white." She grinned. "You know, even if Michael had an underwear line, I wouldn't wear it because it would just be weird."

"Yeah, I suppose it would be weird to wear you cousin's underpants." Ian said, not thinking. After a short, awkward silence, Abby broke out into peals of laughter, shaking her head as they continued on their walk.