“Oh, there you are.” Sydney sighed. “I’ve been looking for you. Hey, Ian.”

Ian smiled at her. “Hey. How’d the flogging go?”

Briefly, Sydney looked startled. “Oh. No, I didn’t flog him. I just…found him.”

Ian and Adelaide exchanged a quick glance, and both nodded. “So what now?” Adelaide asked, crossing her arms across her chest and glancing out into the Olympic Village.

“I’m starved,” Sydney remarked. “I didn’t eat breakfast, if you recall.”

“Neither did I,” Adelaide responded, her cheeks coloring slightly. Sydney didn’t seem to notice, as she was looking into the darkened hallway for any sign of Michael.

“We could go get some lunch,” Ian suggested. “I could use some food.”

“I’m always up for food,” Michael announced, approaching from behind and nearly scaring Adelaide witless. “Where are we eating?”

“Somewhere where there’s food,” Sydney replied, searching the area for a sign of a place that wouldn’t be too packed with rabid fans.

“That’s my kind of girl,” Michael said, laughing, as he slipped his arm across Sydney’s shoulders in a friendly type way. She was too hungry to notice because her stomach had just grumbled rather loudly.

“Better hurry,” Ian mused, chuckling. “I think if we go to that Italian place on the outskirts, we’d be safe.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, and followed Ian’s lead.

*

“Adelaide, I have to go to the bathroom.” The four of them had just sat down, at a secluded table in the back of a pretty empty restaurant. It was clear that the majority of the fans were at the events taking place at that moment.

Adelaide looked up from her menu. “And?”

Sydney made obvious motions with her head, trying to remain inconspicuous.

“Is something wrong with your neck?” Michael asked, looking slightly concerned. “Maybe you should have my trainer look at it.”

Sydney shook her head. “No, I just have to go to the ladie’s room.” She pulled Adelaide to her feet. “Don’t you?”

“Um…” Adelaide caught on due to the fact Sydney was both pinching her and giving her odd looks. “Yes. I do. Be right back.” She set her napkin down and followed her friend towards the back of the restaurant.

“Why do women always go to the toilets in packs?” Ian questioned, sipping his drink.

“It’s a mystery, man,” Michael replied forlornly. “I’ll never understand them.”

Ian and Michael shared a simultaneous shaking of their heads, and then they launched into a conversation about how mad their swimming skills have gotten since the games in Sydney.

Sydney whisked her friend into the ladie’s room and locked the door behind them. Breathing heavily and looking completely wild, she whispered, “Michael KISSED me.”

Adelaide’s eyes widened. “Just now? I didn‘t notice.” Sydney gave her a wry look. “Oh. Oh, my God. Really?”

Sydney then related the entire story to her friend, not leaving out any information besides the fact Michael now knew about Cherry Aarons. That fact was better left unsaid, as it was eternally embarrassing.

“Syd.”

Sydney stopped talking abruptly, in the middle of explaining what Michael’s speedos looked like. “Yeah?”

“Ian kissed me.”

“WHAT!?” Sydney burst out, and then lowered her voice to make sure they didn’t get the owner banging down the door.

“Well, I know. I thought it was a bit fast as well…but I mean, he is the Thorpedo. He’s an international celebrity who has a line of jewelry and underwear and now health foods, and he’s my age and he’s Australian and he must get propositioned more than a frickin’ boy band. He probably has more sex than the entire Olympic village! He’s probably the reason they needed more condoms in Sydney! And he has size seventeen feet, which suggests big socks, and big shoes, and longer time spent getting foot massages. Sydney, I really really like him and you know it’s not just because of what he does, it’s because of WHO he is, and I know I don’t know him very well but we had such a good time at that celebration thing it was like we’d known each other for years. And, oh my god, Syd, he’s so sweet. And nice. And funny!” She paused. “And hot,” she added as an afterthought.

Adelaide stopped her tirade, propping herself up against the sink as if her life depended on it.

Sydney exhaled slowly, staring at her friend in alarm. “Adelaide. Good God.”

“I know,” Adelaide muttered, pushing her hair off her face.

“He has size seventeen feet? I didn‘t know that.”

“Sydney,” Adelaide whined. “Stay on the task at hand!”

“Oh, right. Sorry, sorry. Um. Go you?”

Adelaide narrowed her eyes menacingly. “Not helping.”

“Dude,” Sydney stated eventually, sounding much more American than Australian, even though she was American and rarely sounded Australian, anyway. “It’s obvious he likes you. Just go with it and…you know…enjoy it.”

“You’re so helpful,” Adelaide said, monotone, running her hands under the cold water in the sink. “What are you going to do about Michael? I mean, we live in Australia. He doesn’t, in case you didn’t know.”

“I don’t know.” Sydney shrugged, washing off her hands quickly and then drying them. “I’m not thinking about it. Come on, we better go, we’ve been in here for, like, twenty minutes. They’ll think we’ve fallen in.”

The boys did not think they had fallen in, they simply assumed they were discussing them. Which they were.

Sydney picked her menu up and sighed happily. “Well. I wonder what I’ll have.” Adelaide kicked her under the table. “OW! Ad---adminestrone soup. Mmmmm.”

“It’s minestrone, actually,” Michael corrected her, leaning over to examine her menu; the close proximity between them made Sydney a little nervous, and when she was nervous, very bad things tended to happen.

“I think it’s administrative,” Ian commented airily, setting his menu down. “I’m loading up on carbs for the swim tonight.”

“Man, me too. I’m famished.” Michael set his own menu down. “I think I’ll have one of everything on the right side of the menu.”

“There’s veal there,” Sydney said, pointing and making a face.

“Oh.” Michael frowned. “Never mind, then. Make that the left of the menu.”

“The alcoholic beverages?” Adelaide questioned, looking confused. “You can read, can’t you?”

“Yes,” Michael looked affronted. “I’d just always wanted to say I’d have one of everything on the right side of the menu.”

Sydney giggled, and then covered up her mouth and coughed. “Ooooh I think I’ll have a salad and perhaps some chicken parm.”

They ordered shortly after and talk turned to the upcoming events.

“Pieter van den Hoogenband?” Sydney questioned, tapping her chin in thought. “From the Netherlands?”

“That’s him,” Ian nodded.

“He has the best name in the history of the world.”

Michael and Ian started laughing, but Adelaide, knowing this to be true, just sat there and smiled.

The second courses were set in front of them, and Adelaide, instead of digging in like the other three, posed a question. “What will happen? You know, after one of you wins and the other loses.”

Michael shrugged. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. I just want to swim against him.”

“Yes,” Ian put in helpfully. “You don’t know if you’re the best until you swim against the best.”

Michael tossed him a withering look over his pizza. “Thanks for that.”

“Anytime.” Ian turned to Adelaide, a sly grin on his lips. “You’ll be cheering for me, yeah?”

“Of course,” Adelaide answered, laughing a little. “Who else would I cheer for?”

“Me,” Michael said, an impish grin on his face.

“It’s okay,” Sydney assured him, patting his arm. “I’ll cheer for you. And I’ll cheer the loudest. Make no mistake about that.”

“I’m sure he won’t,” Adelaide remarked lightly. “They’ll be able to hear you all the way in his hometown.”

“I won’t be that loud,” Sydney argued sensibly. “It’ll distract him if it’s too loud.”

Ian smirked. “I think it’s safe to say you’ll be a distraction either way.” He nodded to Michael, who was staring at Sydney as if she were the best thing since speedos. (Or sliced bread…whichever you prefer.) “How’s your pizza, mate?”

Michael started, the pizza in his fingers dropping onto his plate; he blushed, and wiped his hands on his napkin. Sydney smiled fondly at him. “It’s, uh…it’s good. Thanks.”