I don't know what to say because I thought she was better at this whole college thing than I was. She looked like she was breezing through it. Like this was exactly where she belonged; where she wanted to be. Every single day she woke up annoyingly happy to go to swim practice before dawn. Emily teased me about how weird it was that I was able to drink coffee before running in the morning because she could barely eat out of sheer excitement. I watched her practice from my spot above the natatorium. Guarding Emily from above, in my own little bubble. I saw how she gave it her all, cutting through the water like she was born to do that and nothing else. Then I took my shower and sat around her practices, when all the girls would come in. They would practice and leave, in a hurry to further ice out Emily, not understanding that it was pointless for them to cut their showers short. She always stayed an extra hour while they ran back to bed because as athletes they had certain privileges regarding their schedules. They could have the mornings off and the majority chose to sleep. Emily stayed behind to keep perfecting her strokes, tightening her turns and running through drills so that she would be better than she had been the day before. Not to compete against her friends, but to compete against herself. And because of this, she was also one of the only girls who took full advantage of the physical therapists and personal trainers paid to be there for them on and off season. The other girls didn't see all the hard work she puts into swimming. They only see the end results: Emily constantly beating them and getting preferential treatment by the coaching and support staff. It's no wonder they hated her.

Not just that but most seniors are burnt out from swimming at such a competitive level for so long without being scouted to something more permanent. For having to choose between sponsorships and swimming for their university. They knew that they had peaked or that they had too many injuries or not enough drive to keep sacrificing things for this sport. Simply put, Emily still enjoyed swimming and they didn't. The probably did at the start but now their worries became more tangible than just being the best in the pool. They were worried about leaving college. Most were fifth year seniors; they wanted an extra year or two to enjoy the benefits of being an athlete just a bit longer. They had waltzed through life on their athletic merits alone and they realized that outside of this campus, they wouldn't be able to do that anymore. On top of that, their whole identities were built around this one thing. Those girls were probably swimming before they could actually walk and then, one by one, they realized that all the hours, all the people they didn't talk to, the parties they missed out on… they would be gone in addition to swimming. Once they left university that was it for them and their sport. They could swim in clubs but that would be at their own expense, they would have to get jobs to fund the coaches, pool time and all the other things required to compete. It must be tough. Add Emily to the equation and I bet it's brutal. No wonder they were constantly rejecting her. She reminded them of everything they weren't. Of all the things they were about to lose and couldn't have back because all their lives revolved around being the best and suddenly it wouldn't matter outside of here if they could swim laps around the pool faster than everyone else. They would have to prove their worth outside the sport because not all of them were leaders, physical therapists or coaches in the making. They had lived for the sport but they were also slowly realizing that they should have wanted other things outside of it because graduation was coming and they were going to need to have some kind of plan for a world outside of countless hours training and swimming.

Emily wasn't as worried about leaving college as they were, even though, ironically enough, she was one of the few that spent most of her time inside the pool. She loves swimming but that's not all there is to her. She's desperate to try something outside of the pool too. Her TAs and professors know her by name, not because they look at the seating chart before they call on her to participate in class. They see that she's a hard worker and shower her with praise for being so determined to not just be another jock that expects a grade to be handed to them because they're essential to the team and sports in a university like this are far more important than the education the athletes receive. Her professors like knowing a girl that loves her sport and even though she doesn't have the perfect GPA, she still shows up to class on time and keeps up with the material without having to resort to buying her essays online. Her classmates tease her for being a teacher's pet but Emily just laughs and tells them that she doesn't mind because one of her best friends has parents who are teachers, so that's a compliment. This is why I'm absolutely blown away by her admission. Emily makes everything look so effortless that I'm stunned. From the outside she's having the perfect college experience. She's constantly saying hi to people, she's doing well in all her classes, she's a great swimmer and people constantly praise her so I don't understand how they can make her feel so bad while she's still trying very hard to move forward.

I feel like the world's shittiest agent because I can't believe that I didn't notice how miserable she was. I simply took everything at face value. She seemed happy so I thought that she was actually happy. I had no reason to question it. But looking back at things with this knowledge fresh in my mind, I want to just punch myself in the face for being so blind to it. I was too enthralled by her to realize that there was more to her whole college experience than she let on. Here I thought she was just sad about her ex not letting her move on or me being too overprotective or so many other things like missing her parents because they seemed to be very close. I stared at Emily and my heart broke for her because now it all made sense. Why she preferred being holed up in the dorms or taking late night walks to think, when nobody would be around. Why she liked watching black and white horror movies with me, skyping with her parents and high school friends or studying by the window in my room instead of being an out of control college student. It was her last year here and most girls her age would try faking being sick so they could shake their agent and get into some real trouble. When a 21 year old met certain restrictions for their own safety, instead of shrugging it off and adjusting almost painlessly to the change in their lives, they would be fighting it. Any other girl would be drinking, partying and ditching classes. She was a senior with few responsibilities because she was a top performing athlete that had her teachers and the coaches wrapped around her fingers. Instead she went to every class, never missed a practice and stayed locked up inside her dorm. I should have found it weird that Emily seemed almost relieved to avoid crowds, to take side doors so we wouldn't have to bump into people. But I didn't question it. I thought she was shy. That she took swimming and her grades seriously because without those two elements she would lose her sports scholarship. But she wasn't the only girl on the team with a scholarship, there were others that were on academic probation and the coaches still found a way to keep them on the team. I shook my head at myself because of course Emily would do this. She would feel out of place with everyone around her and still try to get some sense of normalcy. Of course she would look at the positive things this whole experience had to offer, inadvertently shielding me and her parents from all the ugly details regarding her teammates constantly icing her out. And now I finally understood how far they had gone to make sure there was no room for her anywhere on campus, not even in the pool.

She was crying and I just wish I had the magic words to make this all go away. To have the pain of being singled out as the girl they would all hate because of things that were beyond her control, like their petty insecurities. But I don't. I don't know how to comfort her because my first instinct is to hold her in my arms and just kiss her until she can forget everything but that won't solve a thing. My second instinct is to run away from this. From her. Because I have no clue what the fuck I'm doing and I know that I will somehow fuck it up. I look at her, put the drinks down and just sort of grab her because I can't hug her with the center console between us. She jumps at my touch and I start rubbing circles with my hand that's on her back and she relaxes again. My other hand squeezes her knee and she smiles weakly as she looks over to me. I want myself to stop feeling this anxious but I can't. I'm just worried that I'll screw this all up and make her feel worse. "People suck." I blurt out and she nods at me while studying me. I'm too nervous to meet her eyes so I keep talking as a way to distract her from that. "I mean. I think your mom and your other friends that keep telling you that these girls are jealous are right." I hear her scoff at this and I continue trying to explain myself. "I mean. Of course you know that and it hasn't made this any easier but it's true Em. I… I think that your real friends would be happy that you're kicking that much ass in the swimming pool and you know, like in class or whatever. Even if it meant that you were better than them because it's not about them and their ego. It's about you. Being happy for you and celebrating how awesome you are. Because that's what friends do. They don't compete against you but cheer you on. Friends are happy when the people they care about, the people they love, are happy as well and they only push you to be a better person if they see that what you're doing is making you miserable. Not try to perpetuate that misery by shutting you out. If they do this, they're not really your friends… I mean… I think it's selfish to want you to stop being good at what you love just because it makes them feel bad for not being as good at it. That's just them being insecure about themselves and trying to bring you down instead of trying to become better. It shows that they can't beat you in the pool so they try to beat you in all other aspects of your life so it can affect your performance. You know? Like I doubt that the friends that told you that these girls were jealous tell you to suck at swimming so that they can feel good about whatever it is that they're doing. Right? Or that your parents call you and tell you to fail your classes so that they don't feel insecure about their own accomplishments." I bite the inside of my cheek as I wait for her to say something. Instead she stays quiet and looks out the front window, her eyebrows scrunching together.

I don't know how long we sit there, with me rubbing her back and Emily thinking everything over. I feel more nervous about touching her when I don't even know if I'm making her uncomfortable or if she even notices it at all. I finally stop and am about to pull my hand away when she turns over to look at me again. "Do you think I'm just being stupid over all this?" Her voice is so small and uncertain that my hand instantly stays rooted to where it is; wanting in some small way to reassure her that it's not. "No. I mean. If it feels like they're shutting you out, then they probably are. I don't understand why you're working so hard to be their friend when they're being assholes though." Emily shrugs as she looks away again. "I don't know… I guess… I guess I just know how amazing they are. They're not bad people. At all… they're all great to hang out with and we do have fun." I grit my teeth, trying to keep my voice calm. "When they let you hang out with them that is." Her shoulders drop. "Yeah." She says, sounding defeated about this. "But I don't know. I mean what if they're right and I have changed? What if I am different and-" I scoff. "And what, stuck up and snobby? Come on Emily, you're none of those things if you're feeling bad about them possibly feeling bad instead of feeling angry at them for being dicks. If I were you I'd just punch them all in the face and tell them to go fuck themselves." Emily turns around and laughs. "Like you did with Agent Scott?" She asks me, suddenly serious and I nearly choke while breathing. I study her carefully and the way her eyes are looking at me, daring me to lie to her. I blush, embarrassed that she heard us. Ashamed that she wasn't asleep that day because I thought she was. I thought Bagel and I were the only ones awake in the car when he apologized for something that was mostly my fault. I shouldn't have lost my cool and blown up on him… but I had… I sigh. "Yeah. Just like that." She tilts her head and I blush under her scrutiny. I look down at the top of my coffee because I don't want her to see too much. "Why did you guys fight?" I bite my lip and look up at her. "You were there." She shakes her head. "I know, but all I got from that conversation is that he thought he deserved to be punched and that he was sorry for implying something… is that why you punched him? For something he said?"

I lick my lips and take my hand back, the shame of being unable to control myself rising in me again. "Yeah… he… I…" I take a deep breath and look out the front window, but it's no use, I can still feel the way she looks at me. I don't want to tell her that it was mostly because he was meant to protect her from people like me. People that could hurt her… and he hadn't… I was pissed that he couldn't do his fucking job and I had to do it for him… after it was too late. "A lot of older agents get a little… jealous… when it comes to me being so high up when it takes them years to climb the ranks… they think it's just due to me being a third generation agent. That my dad or grandpa pulled some strings to get me to where I am. Forgetting that I'm where I'm supposed to be because of my own merits. So they occasionally give me shit about it…" I shrug at this, because I really don't want to go into detail. It still hurts… a part of me thinks it will always hurt, having to prove to everyone over and over again that you're actually good at your job. That you even got a fucking medal from the president to prove that being bear bait wasn't for nothing. I rub my forehead and Emily breaks the silence. "So is this an agent thing? Punching you way out of problems or…?" I laugh. "Naa. I always hung out with guys, so you know, if you have a problem with them, you say it, punch each other in the face and that clears the air. You're cool. He's cool. You can go back to being bffs and braiding each other's hair or whatever." Emily laughs at this. "Remind me never to piss you off then. I doubt I could punch you hard enough to get you to forgive me." I laugh and look over at her. I don't know when she stopped crying but seeing her happy and laughing over this… it makes me feel a whole lot better.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

When we finally park close to the dorms I yawn and pull my cellphone out, texting Coach Fulton to let her know that we got back safely. She answers right away. I open my door as quietly as I can and unload our bags from the trunk, trying to close it as gently as I can. I look up and Emily is still in the same position she was before I got out. I go up to her door and open it as slowly as I can, catching her body with my hands so it doesn't jerk too much. She shifts and goes back to sleep. She's probably as exhausted as I am. I shake her shoulder as gently as I can while saying her name. She opens her eyes and looks confused. "Are we home yet?" She asks me sleepily. I smile at her and brush her hair back, placing it behind her ear, before answering. "Yeah. I have our stuff right here." She nods and yawns as she unbuckles her seatbelt. Her eyes still look a bit unfocused. She gets out of the car and I grab our bags. She stretches and then reaches out for her stuff. "Come on Em." I try protesting as we play tug of war with her bag. "Fine." She sighs, defeated. I smile and as I'm putting the strap over my shoulder she quickly grabs my bag, snatching it from my loosened grasp. I'm about to argue with her but she shakes her head. "You can't always carry everything." Before I can say anything she turns around and walks towards the dorms.

We walk towards the side entrance in silence. I'm thinking about all the things she told me, how she was able to confide in me but not her parents or her friends from back home and I feel myself blush. I bite my lip to keep myself from smiling and wonder how I can help her feel less alone here. She deserves to fit in because sure, the agents were dicks sometimes but they were also my brothers. We all kind of grew up together. Even if they still sometimes resented me over the fact that I was young and so far ahead in my career and implied that it had everything to do with my grandpa and my dad and nothing to do with me… they never gave me too hard a time. This is why, although I can relate to the jealousy that her teammates feel for her… I can't relate to the fact that they're constantly trying to make her feel bad about her own accomplishments because none of the agents have tried to do that with me… especially after I tried to save one of their own with complete disregard for my own life. Maybe they felt sorry for me for being a dumbass and going headfirst into a bear fight… or maybe they don't. I don't know. I'm too tired to think about this shit. Once we go inside I leave her bag outside her door because I don't want to invade her privacy and head to my room. Emily is standing in front of my bed, texting someone and I smile because I like the idea of Emily being comfortable in here. I don't know why. She puts her phone in her pocket and looks over at me, smiling like today wasn't a shitty day for her. I smile back and look down at my feet. I don't want her to see me blush. She walks over and stops in front of me. I look up and she smiles at me. "Thanks for everything Paige… I… it really helped to have someone to talk to." I shake my head and tell her that it was nothing. She frowns at this and I'm confused. "Don't do that… don't sell yourself short like that. It wasn't nothing. Not to me anyway." She kisses my cheek and wishes me a goodnight as she closes the door behind her. I can feel myself stop breathing and I don't know if I'll ever remember how to start again.

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay, I wanted to publish this chapter a whole lot sooner but I ended up deleting and re-writing it three times. Three times! But it is slightly longer, so yay?

Also, cici, thank you for your always wonderful reviews regarding how you perceive the characters and their internal struggles, because that is what I want. For people to see that struggle between what you want and what you think will make you feel good and what you actually have, it's a parallel that you very well pointed out. For Paige it's the romance/work part and for Emily it's her indentity/acceptance but they're both going through their own thing.