Page 13 of Swim To Me

I count the missing beats of my breath –three, four, five –beforebreaking the glacier like surface with an audible, but controlled, inhale, which ricochets off the walls of the otherwise private swimming pool hidden away in the basement of my apartment building.

Dipping my head back down, I vehemently try to ignore the wet feel of my hair plastering itself to my forehead – forgetting my swim cap back at home this morning hadn’t been my brightest moment.

Positioning myself for the front crawl, my thumb slips beneath the watery surface first as I keep my hand at a tight forty-five-degree angle. As the rest of my arm makes contact, I rotate my shoulder to pull my hand behind me in line with my hip, cupping the water in my palm and then bending my elbow towards the ceiling as I switch arms.

I continue to count my breaths silently, as I swim forward, breaking the water again by turning my head to the side tobreathe. I take a large bite out of the imaginary apple tucked between my neck and the ball of my shoulder to sputter the excess water from my mouth, exhaling sharply through the plastic nose plug digging into my cartilage, and dipping my head back under the water.

Thrice more, always controlled, one side of my head emerges from the water, as I take in a breath for the count of three, before alternating the movement of my head. Left ear and eye in the water, sip air from the corner of my mouth, back down again, count, right ear and eye in the water, sip air from the corner of my mouth, back down again, count…

Peering through my goggles under through the watery depths, I take stock of the distance between myself and the edge of the pool. A little longer yet.

Everything inside my head – every little thought, every little worry and doubt – disappears as I fall into a familiar rhythm. The focus on elongating my body, becoming horizontal in the water, keeping my hips and shoulders perfectly in line, taking over until my mind is perfectly blank. It’s a skill I’d first picked up once competitive swimming became more than just a hobby.

Toes pointed, I feel the beginnings of a sweet burn run up and down my calf muscle. I relish in the throb, bubbles frothing up to the surface as a sigh escapes my lips, a move I know would dock points in a competitive setting, not that that matters now.

The biggest issue now is the movement brings with it a mouthful of water.

I splutter louder than I would like, mentally shaking myself.

Concentrate.

Straightening both my arms, one down by my side, glued to my hip, I stretch the other out in front of me, pulling the flat of my hand through the molecules of water, twisting my arm as I feel a gush of water pass by my bare torso and hip.

Good.

The shallow end of the pool draws closer now, a tiled blue dot on the wall, cemented just beneath the level of the water, showcasing my starting and ending spot.

Just another minute.

Another breath.

Another push forward.

Another second.

My head breaks the surface as I curl my fingers around the lip of the pool. Ripping the nose peg from my skin, I suck in a deep inhale, filling my burning lungs up to their brim as I glance up at the large clock to work out my time.

The numbers on the wall blur together as water marks pour down my goggles, but I can just make out the minute increments. Not too bad. Not my best record, but not my worst either.

Removing my goggles, suctioning gently from the thin skin around my eyes, I pull myself up onto the ledge, cords in my forearms straining as I balance the weight of my body on my palms. Water sluices down my length at a rapid rate, covering the floor beneath my feet as I stand, heading towards the showers.

Chlorinated water swirls down the drain at my feet as I get sprayed down, smiling tight lipped at another gentleman using the showers beside the pool, before I slip away, grabbing a complimentary towel from the stack beside the sauna and ducking inside.

Deliciously heated steam kisses my cheeks, frothing up in an invisible cloud around me. I throw another jugful of water onto the woodfired stove, tucking the towel around my waist before I sit down, scrubbing at the mixture of sweat and water coating my skin.

Now, without the dull thrum of the water, my brain switches back on.

I’m not due at work at the leisure centre until two this afternoon. But it’s a Wednesday, so I’ll be jammed packed with swimming lessons and—

Delilah Clark flashes across the back of my closed eyelids.

It’sWednesday. Her swim lesson day.

I feel my lips uptick at the corners at the thought of her… and then wince at the mental image of myself scrawling my mobile number across the bottom of the paper.

I don’t know what I’d been thinking other than… than I’d had the ridiculous urge to offer her a helping hand.

That and obviously I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to give someone as drop dead gorgeous as her my number. Heart shaped face, huge brown doe-like eyes, a tiny button nose and full lips – not that I looked fortoolong – curves with a nipped in waist, and a biteable arse. I’d have been stupid to not to take the chance –anychance – to see her again.

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