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I'm eighteen, a junior who just earned the anchor spot on the varsity 200 medley relay. Liam is eighteen, a senior, the relay captain, and the reason I can't think straight at practice. The sport keeps putting us in situations that would be intimate if we weren't teammates, and completely normal if I could stop noticing how Liam smells after a set of 200 IMs. I can't. This is the story of the season leading up to conference, told ten years later when I can verbalize exactly what I was feeling, but still can't say it without flinching.