Page 6 of Swim To Me

Feeling as if I’m moving through molasses, I manage to slide my right foot along the foam surface of my flip flop until the plastic strap settles in between my first and second toe. It aches to move my left foot, but at least the graze has changed to a dullput, put, put.

Grey takes his hand away from my side to sling my towel over his shoulder, before resuming his firm hold. “Do you think you can make it to the medical room? Or is it hurting too much to walk—”

“I can make it,” I breathe, using the solidness of Grey’s body just a touch behind me, and my own grit and determination, to push forward a step. Then another, and another.

He directs me past the communal showering area – just my luck it’s full of people. I duck my head so as to not make eye contact. But still, I feel the heat of their inquisitive stares following me as I limp along with the lifeguard holding onto me… there’s no way they don’t know Grey’s the lifeguard. The polished silver whistle hanging around his neck and the bright yellow shirt he’s wearing, with the bold wordsLIFEGUARDsplashed in block, white letters across the front, really don’t make it possible for him to blend in.

Instead of turning into the tunnel towards the changing rooms, Grey directs me down the corridor towards the, thankfully, empty front desk.

A chill, which I’m guessing to be the mixture of shock and lack of dry clothes covering my body, settles over me as Grey yanks open an unassuming wooden door and ushers me inside.

It feels extremely weird to be half dressed, with only a one piece keeping me covered, while standing in an unfamiliar medical room, the strong June sunlight from outside pouring in through the window. Weirder still, standing there, dripping all over the floor, while an attractive stranger quickly let’s go of me to unravel some hygienic blue paper towel and drapes it over the medical table.

Grey taps the seat with two fingers. “Come and take a seat, Delilah.”

“I’m f-fine, really.”

Grey doesn’t look so convinced. “Your teeth are chattering.”

“It’s the c-cold—”

“And the shock. Here.” Unsnapping the towel from his shoulder, lifeguard Grey holds it out for me to take. “Place it around your shoulders and sit down before you fall down, please.”

He’s polite in his request, but there’s something no-nonsense in his tone too.

The paper crinkles under me as I gingerly take a seat, instantly feeling the paper disintegrate into nothingness as it becomes wet.

Tightly gripping the edges of my towel with my fingertips once I manage to drape it behind myself like a cape, I bring the fluffy cotton up to my nose, sniffing the familiar fabric softener I use at home to feel even the tiniest hint of normality.

Especially seeing as how my current situation is anything but.

“Here you go, Delilah.”

Peering through spiky, sodden lashes, I find Grey towering above me, a miniature paper cup in his hand.

Swallowing roughly, I shakily take the cup from his hand, relishing in the split second of humane warmth as my fingers skim his.

“Sip slowly,” Grey recommends, pinching the tops of his red board shorts to gather the waterproof fabric and sit down in the chair opposite the medical bed, his eyes trained on me. “We don’t want you being sick again.”

Nodding, I place the edge of the cup to my lips, grimacing at the feel of the paper sticking to my extremely dry bottom lip. The water, at least, tastes heavenly – just the perfect amount of cold, and smooth as it travels down my throat – but I force myself to sip carefully, stopping after four sips to make sure the liquid won’t be coming back up.

“Okay?” Grey asks.

“Better,” I agree, catching the edges of my towel before it can slide from my shoulders.

Leaning forward, Grey rests his forearms on the tops of his thighs. “Are you in pain anywhere, Delilah?”

“Um… my—”

“Wait! I’m supposed to ask if you’re comfortable enough for me to perform this medical exam, or would you prefer somebody else, a woman or…”

“Um…” I find myself floundering. Again. Something I’m really not familiar with.

God, today is turning into a right clusterf—

“No, it’s fine,” I continue, untacking my tongue from the roof of my mouth. “You’re fine… W-what’s in this medical exam?”

“Nothing scary, I promise.” Lifeguard Grey breaks out in a toothy grin, twin dimples popping in his cheeks. “I just need to catalogue any potential injuries, patch them up if I can,” he looks pointedly at my thigh graze but doesn’t linger, “and check your nerves and pupil dilation in case of concussion. Did you hit your head?”

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