Page 100 of Swim To Me

“What does it say?”

I read the letter out of my sister, needing a quick drink of water after I’ve finished because of how dry my mouth is.

“Say something,” I plead after she’s silent for too many heartbeats, simply staring at me through the pixilated screen.

“I–so, that boy is head over heels in love with you.”

My breath catches in my throat. “You think?”

“I know.” She grins, tucking a glossy strand of hair behind her ear. “I mean, he all but said it at the door. He told you he was falling for you, had already fallen but wanted those words to be special. You heard him, you know deep down he’s in lovewith you, Delilah, his letter only confirms it. And why wouldn’t he be? You’re amazing, your beautiful inside and out, you’re easy to love.”

“Ugh, don’t.” I waft my hand in front of my face, feeling my cheeks flush and my eyes burn with more tears. “I’m an emotional wreck.”

“So, have you spoken to him? Or are you sitting there, talking yourself out of it and I need to come back there and kick your—”

“I rang him.”

Aurelia smiles so wide, infectious joy written all over her features. “What did he say? What did you say?”

“We’re going to meet on Wednesday in the leisure centre café.”

“Do you know what you’re going to say to him?”

I glance down and shrug. “Not really. I mean, kind of, but I want to hear what he has to say too. I’m fucking terrified of taking the leap, letting him know how much he means to me, but I don’t… I don’t want to sit here thinking about the what ifs or missing my chance at happiness just because I’m worried about failing. Failing in our relationship. Failing to be enough. Failing to let myself be loved. I want it so badly; I wanthimso badly and I think… I think I owe it to myself to take the leap and try. Failure or no failure.”

“I’m so fucking proud of you, Delilah.” Another round of tears pours down my cheeks.

“I’m proud of me too,” I say, feeling that truth settle in my bones, in my heart.

My stomach is a riot of butterflies for the entirety of Wednesday.

I can hardly concentrate on the manuscript sitting in front of me, I haven’t managed to get my email inbox down to zero, and I practically high tail it out of our weekly board meeting when the clock signals the end of the working day.

The tube is cramped with passengers, as always, although this time the metallic scent of rain clings to skin, mixed with the plastic smell of raincoats and umbrellas being used to ward off the sudden downpour hailing down outside. September is well underway, erasing every inch of the hot summer sun which had been sitting in the sky only a few days ago.

Shaking off the raindrops I’ve collected on my walk, I step through the automatic doors of the leisure centre, smiling at the woman behind the desk.

Chlorine permeates the air already, laying thick and heavy, interspersed with the warm heat I’ve come to associate with the activity centre; something muggy and cloying, but addictive all the same.

I take a seat in the otherwise deserted café, intently listening to the continuous sound of the pulsing juicer machine and the raucous sound of laughter coming from down the hallway leading to the changing rooms.

Using the app, I politely purchase a pot of tea for two, milk and sugar included, and then peer around while I wait for my hot drink or Grey to arrive, whichever decides to come first.

A woman walks down the stairs, coming from the upstairs gym, her hairline drenched in sweat. Her gym bag bangs off the backs of her tight legging clad thighs as she descends, turning the tight corner to enter the café section. Catching my gaze, she returns the smile I give her, reeling off a berry smoothie order to the barista behind the counter.

Turning my head, I peer out of the window that looks out onto the pool. It’s busy today, most of the lanes filled with swimmers moving at different paces. The children’s pool is empty except for a stray float bobbing in the centre of the water, but I can spot the beginnings of the class lining up along the wall brimming with nervous excitement. One small boy, bright orange armbands adorning his arms, matching goggles plastered to his forehead, waves joyously at a tall lifeguard.

The lifeguard he’s waving at pads over just to see him, obscuring my vision, but I can see him bending down to the child’s level, hands gesturing to something which makes the boy erupt into a wild smile.

Only when he stands up straight, tilts his neck to peer up at the clock on the wall and turns around to glance at the café, do I realise it’s Grey.

He stares right at me, raising a hand to wave at me silently.

I wave back, feeling my heart pick up speed at the simple sight of him. Grey’s lips uptick on one side, and I watch while he utters something to the other lifeguard on duty and then begins to close the gap between the two of us.

“Hi,” he breathes, all chlorine and fresh mint, when he sits down opposite me, his long legs accidentally knocking into my knees beneath the small table.

“Hi, yourself.”

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