The Deep Dive

Author's Note: All characters, events, and places described in this narrative are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

As always, I have tried to make this story as realistic as possible, but I have not been through the US college system or have a detailed understanding of the programs associated with college sports, so please excuse any inconsistencies with real-life practices.

All comments and feedback are welcomed.

HF

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The bedroom was small and felt cramped by the double bed that occupied most of the limited space. The room, part of a small apartment that was originally designed for one occupant, now held two, a lithe, redheaded young woman and a tall, lanky brown-haired young man. Both of them were asleep on the double bed, the tangled bed sheets a reminder of the events of the previous evening, the only sounds in the room were her steady breathing and his gentle snores. That silence would not last for much longer.

The phone that was lying on the bedside table next to the young woman started to gently buzz, a calming tone that gradually increased in volume, pulling her reluctantly from her blissful slumber. Her green eyes fluttered open as she groaned and silenced it with a sharp jab to the screen. Six a.m. Too early to be up on a Saturday, especially after the night they had before. Ryan had been... energetic. The young woman rolled onto her back, taking a deep breath. At least I had a bit of sleep-in today, she thought. Six a.m. might seem early to most people, but she was used to it. By this time during the week, she was already at the pool in the university sport's center.

The young woman glanced at the window, it was still cool and dark outside. The November sun wouldn't come up over Austin for about another hour. She sighed again, it was too early to be up on a Saturday, but competition days didn't care about Claire Donnelly's need for sleep. At least I don't have to travel for this competition, she thought, looking for a positive in the situation.

Today was the Texas College Network championships, an important stepping stone for those college divers hoping to compete in the Nationals next year. Claire had competed in those for the past three years whilst studying for her Bachelor of Kinesiology degree at UT Austin, being a finalist in all three years. Now she hoped to make it again for her last year at college.

The 22 year old had already achieved an impressive career as a competitive diver, having shown an affinity for the water since an early age -- her parents had dubbed her the "water baby" and had introduced her to the water before she could even walk. In high school back in Oregon, she'd been the state diving champion in her junior year and was just pipped out of first place in her senior year, coming second to one of her team-mates.

Hoping to realize a long-term career in sports, she enrolled in the kinesiology program at UT Austin, one of the best in the country. Her parents had supported her career choice and encouraged her to pursue her competitive career, but they had also been honest with her, telling her that not many people make it through to the upper-echelons of the sport. That's why they had agreed to fund her tuition at UT -- to give her something to fall back on if diving didn't work out for her. In exchange for tuition and living expenses, they had made her agree to work a part-time job. Teaching children to swim at a local community center wasn't big money for Claire, but she enjoyed being able to share the joy she experienced in the pool with others.

Between her classes, her work and her diving practice, there wasn't a great deal of time left for much else in her life, including her boyfriend it seemed. She glanced over at Ryan, who was still asleep, sprawled on his side of the bed. They had been going out together for two years, having been introduced by a mutual acquaintance at a party. He was a mechanical engineering student, not the life and soul of the party but someone she'd come to enjoy being with. When they found the time to be together.

She had finished a Sports Psychology paper last night while he was out with his buddies, a typical Friday night out for him and his friends. With another little sigh, she recalled how he'd arrived home just before ten, not drunk, but certainly happy. And amorous.

Claire had already changed into her pajamas and had gotten ready for bed when he'd come through the front door of the small apartment they shared in Riverside. She'd reluctantly agreed to his request to move from the sofa where she was watching the latest thriller series that she was hooked on and join him in the bedroom. Truth be told, she was feeling a little horny and a good fuck always helped her sleep better.

Unfortunately, it had only been... ok. Sure, she'd managed to come before Ryan had let out a loud groan and emptied himself into the condom, but it certainly wasn't the toe-curling experience she had been hoping for to help her sleep well before her competition. Despite feeling somewhat horny, she hadn't enjoyed the experience as much as she'd hoped. Ryan had approached the deed in his usual fashion -- lots of sucking on her breasts while he played with her pussy to warm her up, followed by a series of fast thrusts, in spite of her murmured requests to slow down and go deeper.

Thankfully, she'd managed to fall over the line before he'd come, her fingers helping her finish. It was enjoyable enough, but not what she had been hoping for. Thankfully, Ryan wasn't really into cuddling after sex and, after cleaning up, he'd fallen asleep on his side of the bed, leaving Claire to turn out the lights.

Slowly rising up and pushing the sheets back, Claire stretched her arms overhead, feeling the pleasant pull in her toned muscles, and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her bare feet touched the cool wood floor as she stood, careful not to wake him. She turned on the small light on her phone rather than the side lamp next to her.

She glanced over her shoulder at Ryan, still sprawled out in bed, one arm draped over his face. His steady breathing confirmed what she already knew -- he wasn't coming to her meet today. Again.

Claire looked down and stared at her red-painted toes. Why did she even bother asking anymore? She'd given him every chance to show he cared about her diving, and yet here she was, heading off to compete with barely "good luck" from him.

"Ryan," she called softly, hoping -- no, wishing -- he'd wake up and surprise her. Maybe offer to drive her or at least pretend to care.

"Mm?" he mumbled without opening his eyes.

"I'm going to get ready and head out soon."

"Cool," he mumbled, rolling over and burying his face in the pillow. "You'll do great, babe." His voice was muffled by the pillow, and Claire's stomach twisted at the lack of her boyfriend's enthusiasm.

"Right. Thanks," she said, her tone sharper than she intended.

Ryan didn't respond, and Claire bit her lip to keep from snapping. Why did he make her feel like she was asking for too much? This was a big competition -- her last chance to prove herself before the Nationals. There was no way she'd get there if she didn't perform well today and the pressure to perform, the anxiety over what this would mean for her career gnawed constantly at the back of her mind.

As she stood and adjusted her tank top, her gaze caught on the small wastebasket by the nightstand. In the dim light of her phone, she could see the used condom sitting in plain sight atop several crumpled tissues, the only items in the otherwise empty bin.

A pang of unease, regret and discomfort twisted in her stomach. Why can't it just be easier? she thought. She had tried hormonal birth control several times in the past, a different medication each time, but her body rejected it in ways she couldn't ignore. The last time she'd been on the pill, it had wreaked havoc on her system -- her energy levels plummeted, and she experienced constant nausea. Worse, the hormonal imbalance had caused noticeable bloating, which threw off her precision and balance during dives.

Her coach had even pulled her aside during training, concerned about her uncharacteristically sluggish performance. "Claire, is everything okay? You're off your game," he'd said, and she remembered the sting of embarrassment at his words. After just two months, she quit the pill, vowing never to jeopardize her body's finely tuned rhythm again, aware of how much it impacted her training.

She sighed as she turned and made her way towards the kitchen, the image of the wastebasket lingering in her mind. It's not like Ryan would remember to use them without me asking every time. And it's not like I have another option. At least I don't have to worry about my period, she thought. It had been nearly two weeks since her last period had started, so she knew she didn't have to worry about it for another fortnight and the idea of wearing a tampon while competing was never appealing, especially for an event as important as this one.

After she entered the apartment's small kitchen, Claire poured herself a tall glass of water, leaning against the counter as she sipped. The cool liquid soothed her dry throat, but her thoughts remained heavy, and she felt a touch of annoyance. I shouldn't be like this, not on a day as important as today. Focus, Claire. Focus.

Dammit, Ryan didn't even take the time to empty the trash, she thought as she glanced at the overflowing bin, irritation flickering inside her. It wasn't a big deal, something she'd dealt with hundreds of times before, but on a day like this, when every detail seemed magnified and more significant than it really was, it grated on her. Am I just upset that he's not coming, or is it more? It hadn't been a surprise to her. Ryan had told her that he needed to study for a test coming up the following week. Maybe he could have studied instead of going out with his engineering buddies last night...

Shaking her head, she pushed the thought aside and focused on her mental preparation for the competition. She needed to get her head into the game, not dwelling on what was happening in her personal life. As she sipped her glass of water, Claire began mentally rehearsing her dives that she would perform later on today.

"Forward 31/2 somersault tuck," she whispered under her breath, picturing the movements in her mind. She visualized every twist and turn, the feeling of slicing through the air, and the perfect entry into the water. I've got this, she thought confidently to herself.

Finishing her glass, she rinsed it out and placed it in the rack to dry before getting ready for her morning routine of stretching. Rolling out her yoga mat in the living room, Claire started her stretches. Her movements, born from many years of practice, were smooth and deliberate, targeting her shoulders, back, and hamstrings. She knew her body needed to feel limber and ready for the explosive power her dives required. She'd only just recovered three months earlier from a poorly executed dive, having not warmed herself up sufficiently before coming off the board.

As she stretched, Ryan stirred in the bedroom. She heard the soft thud of his phone dropping onto the nightstand before he shuffled into the room, still half-asleep.

"Morning," he mumbled, leaning on the doorframe, his brown hair tousled.

"Good morning," Claire replied, her tone neutral as she worked through a hamstring stretch. "Sorry, I was going to let you sleep. I didn't wake you, did I?"

He shook his head, yawning. "You're good. Big day today, huh?"

"Yeah." She kept her voice light, though her focus was already elsewhere. On the competition, not on the increasingly distant relationship with Ryan. "Wish you could come."

Ryan hesitated. "You know I've got that test to study for," he said, avoiding her gaze.

Claire nodded, suppressing a pang of disappointment at her boyfriend's lack of interest in her competition. It hadn't always been this way, she thought. Maybe they'd gotten into a rut, she thought. "Yeah, I know," she replied softly, returning her attention to her stretches. Yeah, the test... probably wants to play Xbox with his friends, she thought. Once her stretches were finished, Claire returned to the kitchen, where she prepared her usual pre-competition breakfast: a small bowl of oatmeal topped with fresh berries and a drizzle of honey, paired with a boiled egg for protein.

Ryan appeared from the living room to make a cup of coffee, leaning against the counter as she ate. The coffee machine hummed in the background as he stood next to her. "You've got this," he said, his voice warm but still distant.

"Thanks," she replied with a small smile. At least he's trying. I suppose it's something. He wasn't a bad person; in fact, he was better than most. It was just sometimes... he could be self-centered. She'd called him out of this several times in the past. They'd never truly landed on an answer -- the best that Claire had been able to figure out, by reading between the lines as he'd never admit it to her, was that he felt insecure about her success as a professional athlete.

At 6'1" and with a thin, lanky frame, Ryan wasn't the athletic type. Blessed with a prodigious intellect that manifested itself in his engineering degree, their friends had often remarked about how different they were -- but then again, opposites attract, she'd always rationalized. If only he understood, really understood, the depth of her commitment to her sport.

As she finished her breakfast, her thoughts drifted back to the trash bin. The sight of the used condom had stirred something she couldn't ignore. She hated the constant dance of planning that governed her life, the need to think three steps ahead when it came to her body and her choices for it. There was no spontaneity... no passion... to be honest, she told herself.

If only the pill hadn't ruined everything, she thought unhappily, recalling the months she'd spent trying to adjust to it. The nausea had been the worst, leaving her unable to train at her usual intensity. She remembered the frustration of feeling disconnected from her own body, like she was swimming against a current she couldn't control. Her performance, her focus, her attitude, all of it had suffered. Ryan hadn't seemed to notice too much though, enjoying the feeling of coming inside his pretty girlfriend instead of having to use a condom.

Shaking her head, she refocused on the day ahead. Time to get focused and ready for the competition.

Glancing at the clock, she knew she had to get ready to leave on time. She'd already booked a rideshare to get her to the competition center -- her hopes of Ryan driving her seemingly dashed. After using the toilet and brushing her teeth, Claire took a quick shower, letting the warm water soothe her muscles and calm her mind. She washed her hair with a gentle shampoo to remove the faint chlorine scent that still lingered from yesterday's training, carefully combing out the tangles before wrapping it in a towel.

She moisturized her skin, knowing how the chlorine from the pool dried it out. Her routine was meticulous: lightweight lotion for her arms and legs, moisturizing face cream on her pale face, and a quick tie of her red hair into a neat bun.

As she brushed her teeth in the bathroom, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror above the sink, her green eyes staring back at her. Standing at 5'7" and weighing a very trim 125 lbs, Claire knew she had a tight and toned body, something she'd worked hard on since childhood to build. And it had paid off with her performance in the pool.

Nonetheless, like many women her age, Claire still felt the pang of self-doubt about her appearance. With an oval shaped face that was graced with high cheekbones and a light dusting of freckles across the pale skin of her nose and cheeks, she realized she wasn't supermodel attractive, more of a small-town girl next door, which is what she was.

Her childhood had been adventurous, with plenty of opportunities to swim and play in the water. Whilst she had lived in the Portland suburbs, where her parents had owned a small manufacturing business, they had also owned a rural property that had a small creek, a tributary off the Willamette River, running through it and she'd enjoyed spending her teenage years there when they visited it whilst on holidays. It was there that she discovered her love for diving -- she could still hear her dad's laugh when she'd first jumped into the creek behind their house, fearless and grinning, as if nothing could hold her back.

Growing up, Claire hadn't exactly been a tomboy, but she certainly wasn't into the glam fashion that seemed to fill her social media feeds. With her pale skin, fiery red hair and sparkling green eyes, she certainly stood out in the crowd, but this only made her even more self-conscious at times.

With the rise of curvy, buxom, and busty influencers that filled social media, Claire had often felt critical of her athletic and slender body, the product of endless hours of practice running, swimming, or diving. In the mirror, she could see her lean, but muscular arms, well-defined shoulders, a slightly tapered waist, and the pair of small, but perky, 32B breasts that topped her torso.

Further down, her stomach was flat and toned, with slight, but visible, muscle lines defining her core. Out of her sight in the mirror she had a smooth, pale pubic mound with just a small, well-kept strip of red hair leading to her vulva that she kept neat and tidy to help when she was wearing her swimsuits. Further down, her thighs were thick and strong, built up over years of training to give her explosive power during the launch when she was diving. Likewise, her calves, leading down to her small feet, were firm and shapely.

After finishing in the bathroom, Claire returned to the bedroom to get dressed. As she pulled on her tracksuit over her sleek black practice swimsuit, she glanced at herself in the mirror. Her green eyes looked focused, determined. You've got this, Claire, she told herself, a mantra she'd repeated countless times before competitions.

With Ryan lying on the sofa, his laptop open at his lecture notes, Claire opened up her competition bag on the floor of the bedroom that she had prepared the night before and peered inside, ticking off each item in her head: Her competition swimsuit along with a couple of spares. A towel and shammy. Her practice goggles. A water bottle. Headphones for pre-competition focus. Snacks for energy between events.

Ryan appeared in the doorway as she finished. "You look ready to crush it," he said, offering a small smile.

"Thanks." She zipped her bag, slinging it over her shoulder as she slipped her feet into her favorite pair of Crocs. I need to get going so I can get there in time to warm up, she thought to herself.

He stepped closer, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "Good luck. You're gonna kill it."

"Thanks, Ryan." Her voice was light, but a flicker of doubt lingered. "I'll see you when I get back," she said as she made her way to the front door. As she closed the door behind her and made her way down to the street to wait for her rideshare, she took a deep breath, the crisp morning air filling her lungs. Austin was just starting to come to life around here. She liked it here, most of the time, she'd been happy with the course, even with her relationship with Ryan -- most of the time.

If only he understood what she went through, the commitment she put into her sport, her training, her career, she thought as she replayed the morning's interaction. It wasn't just about today. It was about how absent Ryan had been lately. How little he seemed to care about the things that mattered to her.