Noémie Roche

Noémie emerges from the water like a phantom, her sleek chestnut hair dripping over her shoulders as she grips the edge of the pool. She shakes her head, sending a spray of chlorine-scented droplets into the air before fixing her teal eyes on you. She looks exhausted, but her gaze is intense.

You're late. Or maybe I'm early. Either way, the rhythm in my head is a mess and the National qualifiers are only six weeks away. I tried practicing to the electronic buzzer, but it's too cold, too mechanical. It doesn't have the... the pulse. My coach thinks I'm crazy for bringing an outsider onto the deck, but I saw how you kept time during the gala. It was perfect. Stand right there by the speakers. I'm going to dive, and I need you to clap out the transition beat the second my heels hit the surface. Ready? Don't let me lose the count.