Page 4 of Slippery When Wet

The familiar smell of chlorine hit my senses the moment I opened the door. A close friend from high school, Susie, worked at the front desk. The moment she saw me, she waved with the biggest smile on her face. She knew I was going to stop by.

Well, she knew I’d been parked in the lot the last couple of days trying to find the courage to step inside. I half-waved and walked past her. Surprisingly enough, every step closer to the indoor pool felt easier than the last. Maybe I’d worked myself up into a tangled ball after my accident when it came to water, and it really was time for me to move past it.

The indoor pool was huge. Like an empty warehouse that had been cut up into three pools. Two of the same size and one huge main pool where the bleachers were. But even though my heart didn’t feel like it was trying to jump out of my chest, I avoided gazing toward the water. I made my way to the bleacher seats and climbed up five rows, then took a seat.

The local high school swim team was practicing. Having been born and raised in Poppy Beach, learning to swim had been a necessity. My sister, Karol, and brother, Jason, had always loved it. They practically lived on the beach. But I hadn’t.

I never liked the ocean.

It had always felt too wild for me. Too scary and uncontrollable. It was fine to sit on the sand and listen to the waves, but to step into the water? Nope. That was not for me. My parents, thank goodness, never pushed me. Or maybe they should have? I frowned as I stared at the swimmers doing endless laps in the pool.

The pool, on the other hand, had never bothered me.

I’d even been on the swim team in high school. Maybe it was the stillness of the water. A controlled environment. You didn’t have the possibility or uncertainty of Mother Nature being able to kick your butt and drag you out to a dark abyss. Just thinking about it formed a knot in my throat.

Breathe, I reminded myself. Respira. I adjusted my glasses before I crossed my arms over my way-too-ample chest. I had always tried to live safely. Always colored inside the lines. My parents had always said I was a good girl. A really good girl. The problem with living my life so carefully was that I’d turned into a twenty-seven-year-old very boring, way-too-good girl. And I wasn’t exaggerating. I’d been the DD at my twenty-first birthday. I’d never got rip-roaring drunk, and I’d never been to a concert or had even stayed out after midnight. You knew it was bad when your grandma told you to go out and do something crazy.

And that had been before my accident.

After getting stuck in my car in a storm and almost drowning in a ravine, according to the police officer who helped pull me out, I’d been stuck. Afraid to do anything. Thankfully, my family was amazing. My sister and roommate, Karol, was the best. But I had to move forward. A month ago, I’d made the decision: I needed to make some changes. I just wasn’t sure where to start.

So, other than the fact I had called for a couple of estimates for a pool at the duplex Karol and I shared, I hadn’t done much. Until this week. I’d driven here after my normal hours working from home and sat in my car and stared at the building that had been like my home away from home when I was in high school.

My gaze drifted toward the water. It was clear and blue. But I wasn’t seeing anything in particular. My mind wandered, and thoughts ran wild with him.

My angel.

My hero.

The man I’d noticed around town for a while now. Tall, dark, and blue-eyed gorgeousness wrapped up in a seriously tall, muscular, masculine-to-the-extreme package. He was like something that had walked off a comic book movie or one of the telenovelas I watched with my Abuela when I visited her. But where the hero would usually be broody, Abel Peña wasn’t.

He was always smiling.

Laughing.

If I tried hard enough, I knew I could hear it in my head. Okay, so maybe, I’d been a little weirdly obsessed with the guy. Who was I kidding? I’d been crushing on him hard. I had no idea why! It wasn’t like I stood a chance. I wasn’t just a good girl; I was also a virgin.

A twenty-seven-year-old boring virgin afraid of her own shadow.

And that night?

When I’d been in my accident?

I’d imagined him.

I could have sworn he’d been there. He’d called me princess, and I’d called him daddy. Daddy. I wanted to laugh at myself. That right there confirmed he’d been a figment of my imagination. One who had cut me out of my car and carried my short size-sixteen body. I shook my head. It had been my crazy imagination driven by all the romance novels I read. I’d even dreamt that when I’d woken up alone in my hospital room, he’d been there before I slipped back to sleep from the pain meds the doctors put me on.

My memory of that night was still hazy. The storm had been crazy and unexpected. If I’d known the weather was supposed to take a turn, I would have missed going to the boutique I kept the books for.

Yup, even my job was safe. Safe but, for me, really enjoyable. I loved how no matter what, numbers always made sense. Even when they didn’t, it was like a mystery trying to figure out when they went awry.

I’d been driving back when I hydroplaned and spun out and straight into the ditch that was a ravine. I remembered my eyes burning with whatever powder the airbag had popped out when I tried to get out. But I couldn’t. My door had been jammed against something. My vision blurry, I’d realized my glasses had broken. When I’d tried to undo the seat belt, it wouldn’t give. I tried and tried, but it wouldn’t snap open. Everything had been dark while the rain hit my shattered windshield. And in that moment, I realized that my little sister wasn’t the only one who could have a penchant for the dramatic.

I was going to die a virgin stuck in a metal death trap.

Things got hazy after that.

Anxiety was a crazy bitch. Panic started to build when I felt the water start to seep into my car, and then I must have passed out. Either from my possible concussion or from fear. That’s when my memories get funky.

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