She watched him, her breath steady and her body unmoving as he jumped around and stretched at the blocks. Her hands were in her lap but in spite of herself she wanted to reach out and touch the television screen. Just to be closer to him. Even if it was through an electronic device that was nowhere near him.

It had been three weeks since she'd seen him in person. Three weeks since she'd held him close and breathed in his scent. Chlorine mixed with aftershave. Every time she was near a pool, the overwhelming memories of him caused her to drop to the floor and want to cry out.

She avoided pools like the plague, but some days she just wanted to go to the Y and sit there. And just breathe.

Sometimes, it was the closest she could get to him.

...and you're on fire when he's near you...

"God, I missed you."

The words caused her heart to pick up speed considerably. Her stomach flipped over and over again until she clutched it and started doing deep breathing exercises to calm herself down.

"Are you okay?" He asked, bending slightly to look her in the eye.

She nodded silently and without thinking about it, flung her arms around his neck and just stood there, clutching him like he was the only thing holding her there, keeping her from flying out into orbit.

After a second, he wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close, resting his chin on the top of her head.

"Michael," she said to his t-shirt, taking a deep breath and then exhaling all her inhibitions. Everything told her to keep it inside. Her mind told her to shut up and not tell him how she felt, but her heart was a different story. And it seemed to want to do the talking.

"Yeah?"

She bit her bottom lip and was silent for a moment. "You did great out there."

...you're on fire when he speaks...

It was the classic boy next-door story. They'd grown up across the street from one another, and were inseparable until his career started to take off and he was no longer a constant at her kitchen table, doing homework or eating cookies and fighting with her about what the best cartoon was.

She always missed him, even when she could see him across the street from her window.

At only sixteen, she knew she would never feel the things for another boy that she felt for Michael Phelps. Unfortunately, after all those years, they were best friends and she couldn't bridge the gap between them. The one that connected them as a brother and sister forcing them to be nothing but that.

So, she watched him at meets on television. She watched him win gold. From afar, looking through a TV screen, she watched him grow up.

And he only knew her through letters and phone calls; things that became less frequent as life took over.

...give me one more chance to see...give me everything you are...give me one more chance to be near you...

Through some miracle, he'd invited her to Greece for the Olympics. She'd never been, hadn't been allowed to go to Sydney due to her 'studies,' as her parents said. She'd hated them for that because they didn't seem to realize the severity of the situation. She had to see him. Even if he was with someone else, or didn't see her that way, he had to know.

She couldn't keep him in the dark any longer.

"MICHAEL!" She hollered the second she saw him; she dropped her luggage in the middle of the pavement and ran to him.

He smiled broadly when he saw her, and picked her up and swung her around, obviously as happy to see her as she was to see him.

Without meaning to, she dropped a kiss on his lips. She'd meant to hold herself back, or at the very least, restrict herself to the cheek, but he'd turned his head at the very last second and caught them both by surprise.

He set her down mid-kiss and she pulled away, blushing furiously.

"Sorry," she muttered, tucking hair behind her ear.

"It's okay," he replied softly, and was then swept away in a huge group of people, leaving her standing there wondering; a million what if's flew through her tired brain and let her get no rest.

...you are the only chance i'll take...

He was out of breath as they interviewed him. She slipped off the couch and sat cross-legged in front of the television. She was dying to speak to him, but every time she called he was too busy to talk and she never had time to say what she really wanted to say.

In a perfect world, she would be able to jump on an airplane and fly several thousand miles just to tell him how she felt.

But, really, who said she couldn't? There was nothing holding her back; she didn't have classes for a week, and she could easily get some time off from work (or quit). There was nothing stopping her.

Except for that stupid voice in her mind telling her he didn’t love her. Not like she wanted him to.

...i'm standing on the edge of me...i'm standing on the edge of everything i've never been before...

Michael pulled himself out of the pool, water dripping off him as he padded through a bunch of people in order to reach his bag and towel; he wiped off his face so he could see, and then blinked several times at the sight in front of him.

"Am I dreaming?" He blinked again. "Tara?"

She smiled at him, a nervous smile but a smile nonetheless. "Hey," she said softly, glancing behind him at a few other swimmers getting ready to call it a day.

Michael cocked his head to the side. "What are you doing here?" He asked, laughing just slightly as if it was a silly question.

"I’m here to see you," Tara replied, swallowing hard. Pride was a hard thing to swallow.

He grinned down at her. "Awesome. I’m just about to go back to the hotel---"

"Can we talk?" She interrupted, wringing her hands in front of her and wishing she had some other nervous tick to take part in because this one was so obvious. "I just…I need to talk to you."

His expression changed from amusement to concern. "Yeah, are you okay? Is everything all right back home?"

Tara waved a hand in what she hoped was a nonchalant way. "Oh, everything’s fine. I just have some stuff to tell you. Something kind of important."

Michael nodded and the smile came back on his face. "It must be really important if you flew all this way. Especially when you hate flying."

"It is," Tara affirmed, taking a step closer to him so no one else would overhear their conversation. He smelled like chlorine and aftershave and she wanted to throw her arms around him, but she had to say what she’d come to say first.

When she didn’t say anything further, Michael leaned toward her. "Do you want me to guess what it is you have to say, or…"

Tara laughed uneasily. "It’s kind of hard to say so I guess…I’ll just blurt it out?"

"Sounds good," Michael replied, running the towel through his hair.

"I’m in love with you."

Two things happened in the following moments. One was that the towel dropped down onto the ground because Michael had gone numb from shock, and the other was that Tara flung her arms around him because it seemed she couldn’t wait any longer to be closer to him.

Michael laughed into her hair. "God, I’ve missed you."

She smiled against his bare chest, which was still wet from the pool. "You always say that."

"I always mean it."

...and i'm on fire when you're near me...i'm on fire when you speak...