Meet.
Ian likes to think that he is ready. Ian doesn’t know that he is an idiot for thinking that.
--
The young man is standing in the middle of the Dutch swimmers, holding court with his bright smile and infectious laugh. Ian wants to go over and introduce himself, but he doesn’t know how to without sounding like a complete and utter idiot, or coming off as a pompous kid. If only the other swimmers would move away, or the young man came towards him…
And then, it happens. The young man excuses himself with a slight nod of the head and ducks away. He starts off, heading right in Ian’s direction. Ian tenses.
--
A gentle brush of the hand across his arm has the young man turning around with a curious look. But he is smiling, so Ian feels comforted.
“Yes?”
Ian coughs a bit. Now what does he do? Does he introduce himself? Ask for the young man’s name? Talk about the weather? It is rather nice outside…
“Well…you’re with the Dutch, right?”
Go Team Me, Ian’s brain hisses sarcastically. As if the orange and blue tracksuit doesn’t give it away. Or the fact that the young man was standing next to Inge de Bruin.
“Yes,” the young man nods, his eyes shining with amusement. At least he isn’t laughing openly.
“Uh…” A distraction, now. A safe topic to talk about, while Ian gathers his remaining shreds of dignity and flees. ““Do you know Pieter van den Hoogenband?”
The young man’s smile widens. “That’s me.”