Page 24 of When Our Stars Aligned

“He mentioned it when you first moved in. It was before we met. Well, before I knew who you were. I should’ve put two and two together with you being the new girl and all.”

“It’s a big building. I could’ve been anyone.” She takes a large spoonful of whipped cream and lets out a moan. “This is delicious! I’m going to yell at Gabby and Michelle for not telling me about this place.” She does a little wiggle as she takes another spoonful. I’m grateful she looks towards the ocean because I take that moment to adjust myself. Shit, this girl has me all mixed up.

“So, when did you start swimming?” I ask, trying to think of a topic to distract me from her eating whipped cream. Except nowI’m thinking of her in a bathing suit with those long, lean legs of hers on display. Dammit. This cannot be happening.

“Hmm…” She taps her spoon to those perfectly pink lips of hers. “I think from about six months old? My parents had an inground pool and they didn’t like the look of those security gates for kids, so they got me lessons.”

“Wow!”

“Yeah, it was like the only good thing they did for me.” Her eyes dart away from mine. “I didn’t swim competitively until I got into middle school.”

“Your middle school had a swim team?”

“Oh, no, my school didn’t have a swim team. I swam for my county’s recreational team. The school district I grew up in wasn’t big on sports. I grew up in Norfolk. The majority of students were military kids, so they were always coming and going throughout the year. Kinda hard to maintain a team like that. What about you?”

“I started swimming around ten when an indoor pool was built in our town. I know it sounds cocky, but I was a natural. I fell in love with the sport and then joined my high school team.”

Of course, my love for the water made me a perfect candidate for the Navy. When I enlisted, my recruiter told me I qualified for the construction battalion (better known as Seabees) or a rescue diver. While becoming a rescue diver sounded exciting, in the end, I chose to become a Seabee. If I couldn’t become an architect, at least I could learn how to fix or create new structures.

“I swam on the rec team for about four years. I stopped the summer of junior year,” she answers.

“Why did you stop?”

“The competition, the cattiness of some of the team members, and the coach was awful. It took a lot of enjoyment out of it for me.”

I nod in understanding. Swimming is mainly an individual sport. Many times you end up competing against your own teammates.

“It all worked out for me in the end. I became a lifeguard and loved it.”

“The beach?”

“Oh, no.” She shakes her head with a look of disgust. “I only guarded pools. I may have grown up right near the ocean, but I don’t swim in it.”

“Wait, what?” I sputter. “What do you have against the ocean? We’re literally standing next to it right now. Are you afraid of sharks or something?”

“No! I love this.” She waves her hand out towards the water. “I mean, honestly, I could never live anywhere that’s landlocked. Like if a university in the middle of nowhere contacted me, I would have turned down the position without a second thought. Being near the ocean makes me feel like I can breathe. I might not come out to see it every day, but I know it’s there and that brings me comfort.”

“But…” I smile. The more we talk, the more animated Aly becomes and it’s very amusing.

“Fish poop in the ocean.”

18

Aly

“You don’t swim in the ocean because fish poop in it?” Jax howls with laughter. I think this is the first time I’ve heard him laugh. I have a feeling he doesn’t do it often.

“It’s notjustthe fish poop,” I explain. “Think about it—there are boats that leak fuel, garbage people throw into it, shipwrecks, dead animals, and who knows what else. Yet people just run on in thinking nothing of it.”

I think my aversion towards swimming in the ocean started when I went on a field trip in elementary school. We learned how fish unknowingly consume microplastics and other debris. It was supposed to be a lesson on how pollution affects wildlife, but, as usual, my brain took it a step further.

“I’ve never heard of that before.” His voice is light and filled with amusement—a stark contrast to how Trent belittled me for my overthinking.

“I’m serious!” I point out towards the ocean. “You know damn well there are dead bodies out there, but people still go in it anyway. And don’t get me started on eating seafood. People who eat shellfish? They’re bottom feeders… BOTTOM FEEDERS! I say I’m allergic to seafood to get out of eating it, but honestly, I’m not.”

“What goes on in that head of yours?”

“You have no idea,” I say softly. “So, why did you pull me out of The Local anyway?” I ask, wanting to move the focus away from my crazy ideas.

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