Turning the jets on, I get comfortable on the bench. My neck rests back against the edge and my eyes drift closed. This is my favorite thing to do after practice. Reflect, relax, and regroup—the three Rs.
“It’s getting late, don’t you want to go get some food?”
My eyes open to see Trey standing above me.
“I’m not hungry.” For food.
“You just burned close to one thousand calories.” His lips are in a firm, straight line.
“Do you always eat after you burn calories?” I counter.
There’s a dark glow in his eyes. He doesn’t answer me. I watch as he grabs a plastic chair and drags it over to rest next to the edge of the hot tub. I sit up and get into a more comfortable position, looking for Coach Johnson—who is nowhere in sight. We’re alone.
“He went to the weight room.” I hate that he always seems to know what I’m thinking. He did this a couple times the night we met, the other day at the aquatic center and again now. “Do you always swim like that?” he asks, with a slight rasp of excitement.
I turn casually to face him, resting my arms flat over the edge. My chin nestles on top of my left wrist.
“You tell me, you’ve seen the tapes.”
He tilts his head to the side and gives me a look that says “Don’t be coy with me.”
I sigh. “I like to think I do, but no, not every practice. Tonight was just a good night.”
“And why is that?”
Because of you. It’s what I want to say, but don’t. “Lucky, I guess.” My thoughts drift back to just a few days ago when I first met Trey. Was that luck, too? Or a curse?
His hands clasp together in his lap. I watch his deep-in-thought face, looking for some clue as to what’s going on inside his head. He catches me staring and my cheeks burn a crimson red.
He leans forward, curiosity creeping into his face. “What made you get into swimming?”
I’m taken back by his question. I’ve never been asked that before. I get out of the tub, grabbing my towel, and ponder his question. Trey gets up and grabs another chair, pulling it next to his.
I take a seat. “There’s a quote by Adrian Michael—‘She is water, powerful enough to drown you. Soft enough to cleanse you. Deep enough to save you.’ It’s hard to find something that powerful that brings you joy and to find a balance for it in your life. Since I was a young child I loved being in the water, but it wasn’t until I was about ten that it evoked something inside of me. I didn’t want to just be in the water or compete because I was a good swimmer. I wanted to be one with something that pleased me, not because it made those around me happy.”
He sucks in a breath of air. His face filled with pure admiration. “That’s the best answer you could have given me.” I just gave him a piece of me no one else has.
He continues to watch me tenderly. As cliché as it may sound, I swear he melts my insides. I’ve never felt this kind of exhilarating high before. It’s different than being in the water. This is the high that flutters in the pit of your stomach when you’re discovering something new for the first time and don’t want to be without it. Trey can make me mad, yet I lust for him. He makes me laugh and yearn for his touch. He’s capable of bringing out my deepest thoughts and want to crumble in his arms.
It’s euphoric.
“What about you?”
“Me?” He points to himself with a light chuckle.
“Yes, you.” My voice is playful.
“My parents put me in swim classes when I was five. My sisters swam, and were actually very talented, so I thought I’d give it a shot. In high school, I found a coach that really believed in me. He pushed me to be my best. I never became worse under his belt, but I didn’t become better either. I appreciated the art of the sport thanks to him, but the summer before my senior year I joined a competitive swim team and that’s when I really fell in love with the sport. For the first time in my life I felt whole. That team pushed me to new heights. I didn’t know my full potential until that summer. Swimming became something I strived to be better at.”
“Why did you stop?” I get the urge to touch him so I reach for his hand, but quickly withdraw when the gesture registers with my brain.
He takes notice –looking over at me—amusement written all over his face. “What makes you think I stopped?”
“I just assumed because you coach that you don’t swim anymore,” I say. “Sorry.” My face falls slightly.
Trey’s eyes shift above my head then back to me. His finger gently pushing my chin upward to look him in the eye. It lingers for a few beats. I’m almost certain he’s about to kiss me, but then his hand falls back into his lap. “Don’t be sorry. I swim, just not on the same level I used to. I dislocated my shoulder a few times doing the backstroke, which resulted in two surgeries. In college I taught lessons, and after I graduated, I started coaching high school. Eventually I got an assistant coach position at a university back home and started to coach at this level. I did some one-on-one coaching as well. I met Coach Stephens at a conference a few years back. We stayed in touch, and when there was an opportunity for me to transfer here, I took it.”
I lick my lips. “I’m glad you did.”
Trey leans over his chair armrest. He’s so close I can feel his breath on the tip of my nose. “Me too, Emma. Me too.” His finger lightly brushes against my pinky.
My lips part ever so slightly. I swear his eyes undress me as he lingers over my face and body. I have to fight my own battle, restraining myself from leaning inward to brush his lips with mine.
He blinks a few times and then looks away. “Tell me, what do you want to do after you graduate?”
“Oh, the possibilities,” I joke.
He leans back, getting comfortable. “I’m serious. Have you thought about trying out for the Olympics?”
I laugh. “Of course. Who hasn’t? But I think my primetime is up. Besides, I should be focusing on how I’ll be paying for rent now that I’m jobless. I can’t afford to think about the Olympics.”
“Your time is not up. The oldest female Olympic swimmer was thirty-three. I’ve seen your tapes and, after watching you in person, you’re really something else, Emma. I haven’t seen anything quite like you. It’s time you realize how great you are.”
My cheeks burn. His eyes fill with lust.
I let out a heavy sigh. “My family wants me to get a business degree.” I’ve thought about the Olympics since I was a little girl. It’s been a dream of mine. Even with the support of my family, they still always try to steer me toward a more realistic future.
“But?”
“I want to swim. They say there’s no future in swimming. No career. I need to make something of myself, like Brooke. Having a degree in business will give me endless possibilities according to them.”
“Don’t ever compare yourself to your sister. Swimming defines you. If you want to make that your career, do it.” His eyes brighten.
I suck my bottom lip into my mouth. His eyes follow.
“I better get going,” he says, blinks a few times, then sharply stands.
I’m too stunned to say anything, or to try and stop him. Once the door clicks shut, I’m left with the low humming sound of the fan and an unexpected void.
***
Friday morning—after I’ve already had a two hour swim practice—I’m sipping coffee prior to heading out for class. I flip through one of Ali’s magazines. She’s already left for work, and Brooke’s making some weird breakfast omelet that’s supposed to be healthy for you, but it looks more like some rotten green sponge that fell out of a garbage truck.
“Are you sure you don’t want one?” she asks, arching a brow.
“Um, yeah. I’m positive.” I shudder.
She laughs. “Em, it looks worse than it tastes.”
There’s a green leaf sticking out the side. “I’ll stick with normal eggs, thanks.”
“These are normal,” she says. “I just added some kale and sp
inach.”
“I’ll stick with eggs that are only white and yellow in color, thanks.” I take a sip of my black coffee with a pinch of sugar in it. Not too sweet, but not too rich.
She shakes her head at me, moving about the kitchen. “Want to ride with me this morning?”
There are times its nice having a sister who works where I go to college, but then there are times it sucks. For instance, riding together is beneficial, but when she reports play-by-play updates to my parents about my whereabouts on campus, my latest grade, or who I’m involved with, that’s not beneficial.
“I only have one class this morning,” I mumble with my lips pressed against my mug. “Then I’m going job hunting.”
She saunters back over to me and places both hands on the counter. “You can take my car back. I’ll get a ride home.”
My eyes widen with interest and my heartbeat begins to pick up. “From who?”
“Oh,” she waves, turning back to the stove to flip her omelet. “There’s a big group of us going out for drinks and dinner.”
I flip to another page. “Who’s all going?” I try to pass my question off as normal conversation, but really I’m pressing to know if Trey’s going. I’ve overheard her talking to Ali about him a couple times this week.
“Just a bunch of people.”
Awesome. Can I get a more vague answer than that?
“I’ll just drive myself. I don’t know how long job hunting will take.”
“Suit yourself.” She grabs her plate with the green sponge and a glass of orange juice and heads into her bedroom to finish getting ready.
We have two practices Monday through Friday: one in the early hours of the morning and another after all classes in the evening. Today’s evening practice is at three o’clock being there are no afternoon classes, so it’s quite possible Trey is one of the “bunch of people” Brooke mentioned. After all, he did tell her he still wanted to hang out as friends.
I toss the magazine aside. Suddenly I’m annoyed.
***
Come ten o’clock in the morning I’m outside lecture hall B. Little purple and pink flowers line the pathway that leads to the double doors. The bright orange sun beats down from the clear sky above, no ounce of wind in the air. Students are dispersed throughout the courtyard either walking to their next class, sitting around palm trees in small study groups, reading on benches, or standing amongst one another chatting and laughing.
I still have twenty minutes before my economics class and contemplate getting a little ray of sunshine, or going inside to the library.
“Hey, Em!” Erin shouts from one of the picnic tables a few yards away. “Come join us.” She waves me over to the small group she’s sitting with.
“Hey there!” I give her the same cheerful tone.
Paul scoots over to make room for me. “Hey, Emma,” Paul sings boisterously.
“Hi, Paul.”
Paul and I met last year at a swim meet. He was there with a bunch of the student body and at one of the after-parties we got to talking. He was suddenly a fan. We’ve never dated or even hooked up, but not for a lack of his trying. He’s a sweet guy, but just not my type. He’d be better off with a woman who’s capable of making him a priority, like my sister. I grin at the thought and give an inner laugh. If only she were into younger men.
I settle in next to him, silently wishing it was Erin who scooted over.
He leans in. “Are you pumped for your race on Monday?”
I’m racing in the individual 100-meter freestyle and 4x100 medley relay. My eyes light up at just the thought of Monday’s race.
Just as I’m about to answer, I spot Trey being swarmed by a few eager twenty-somethings who are hoping to get more than just a light conversation with the swim coach. His sharp and assessing eyes are on Paul and me. What is he doing here?
Trey’s brows relax and his mouth breaks out into a grin when our eyes meet.
Seeing him relaxed, his hair styled perfectly and wearing comfortable jeans with a polo shirt, makes him delectable. I try to smile, but it doesn’t quite happen. His eyes gravitate over me, which makes it harder to move mine away. He’s enthralling.
“Earth to Emma?”
Turning to Paul, I see he’s waiting for a response.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Are you getting pumped for your race on Monday?”
I shake my head to break up the images and thoughts of Trey. “Sorry—I am! I think we’re all pumped. We’ve been practicing really hard.”
“Against Georgia, correct?”
“Uh-huh.” I can’t focus knowing Trey is just a few feet from me.
My eyes flick back to him. He’s still watching us. Or rather me. I give him a look that says, “What?” He licks his lips and then focuses his attention on the girl who’s been talking to him this entire time.
I roll my eyes. He’s taunting me. He knows what kind of effect he has over me, and he’s using it to his advantage.
Paul starts to ask another question when suddenly Trey interrupts him, startling me. “Excuse me, you two, but I’m going to have to borrow Ms. Peters for a minute.”
“Excuse me?” I say, aghast.
“Hi Coach,” Erin greets.
“Mornin’, Erin.” He gives her a small wave with a polite smile.
“Now,” he says back to me. His body tense.
“I’m hanging out with Erin before class,” I shoot back.
“It’s important,” he insists.
“Go on, Emma. I’ll meet you in class,” Erin urges.
“See, she’ll meet you inside.” Trey’s eyes are dancing with humor. He finds this funny!
He bends down to pick up my bookbag by my feet. Before he stands, his hand briefly touches my ankle, spreading goose bumps over my entire body. With the simplest of touches I swear I can feel the turbulence of emotion coiled inside his body.
When he stands up, he hands me the bag. When I go to take it from him, his grip tightens. I’m certain, to those watching, it looks like we’re having a tiny brawl, but to me, I can feel his inner struggle with my existence.
We keep our distance as we walk away from the table. Once we’re away from other students I stop and face him.
I toss my hands in the air. “What was that?”
He tucks his in his pant pockets. “I don’t like it.”
He doesn’t like it? “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” His vow is rough. His stance tall.
I turn in a small circle before stopping to rub my temples. What is he doing to me? We can’t keep doing this.
Sighing, I look up at his unreadable face. “You’re jealous of Paul?”
His jaw clenches when I say his name. “I already said that.”
“No. You said ‘I don’t like it.’”
He steps closer, but still keeps a small amount of distance between us. “Fine, I’m jealous of whoever that Paul guy is. Did you date him?”
I give him a look of disgust. “What? Paul, no! We’re just acquaintances.”
His body relaxes. “Good.”
Good? What does that even mean?
When I’m about to tell him whatever is happening between us needs to stop, Brooke walks by. Trey follows my gaze.
“You coming tonight, Coach Evans?” she asks with hope. Her pace slows, but she doesn’t stop.
He smiles. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”
“Great.” She giggles. My sister actually giggled like she was in high school.
My heavy sigh brings Trey’s attention back to me. My lips are in a firm line and my eyes draw inward as I watch my sister walk away.
Trey leans into my ear. God, he smells amazing. “Now who’s the jealous one?”
“What?” I lean back, stunned. “No, I’m not-”
“Right.” He draws out the word. His dimples out in full force.
“I’m not!” I hiss as he turns and walks away from me.
Shit. I’m totally jealous.
***
Diving downward through the air and into the water, I immerse myself in the cool, soft waves, becoming one with the depth of my sanctuary. With each breath I take, my body welcomes the inner power to kick my legs and pull my arms with each timely stroke. The lights underneath give off rays of light purples, whites, and blues, as I glide underneath the water. Time stands still as I silently move.
I don’t push myself. I swim with ease for the pure enjoyment and stress relief of it. I get lost in my thoughts as I do what I love, which is why I don’t hear when someone else enters the aquatic center. It’s not until I come up for air and slide my goggles up that I see Trey standing at the edge.
I rub the shock from my eyes. “What are you doing here, Trey?”
It’s after six in the morning, according to the clock hanging on the wall. I’ve been here alone since the aquatic center opened an hour ago.
“The pool is open, isn’t it?” He’s in swim trunks and holding a towel.
I nod, taking in his physique. It’s the second time I’ve had the pleasure of seeing him shirtless. His muscles are carved deep, shoulders broad, defined thighs that quicken my pulse at the thought of them holding my body tight between them. He’s beautifully proportioned.
“I suppose, yes.”
I push back and begin a light backstroke away from him.
The sound of splashing water erupts. I try to not pay him any attention, letting him swim freely, but out of the corner of my eye I see him coming up to my left, doing the same stroke. I push faster, but he meets my pace. It’s not long before we’re racing to the end and diving under to come back up and head to the other end of the pool. My breathing picks up, narrowing in on my surroundings, feeling the pool and letting the water ingest me.
Coming to the end, I touch the wall a nanosecond sooner. I turn to face him. His smile is wide. He looks so young and carefree.
“Damn, that felt good,” he pants, not hiding his wide grin.
“What? Losing?” My eyes playfully tease him.
“Nah,” he runs his hand over his face and up through his hair. “The rush.”