Page 22 of Collide
“Don’t call me that.” His voice slices through the my thoughts. “Besides, there are enough shirtless pictures of you circulating Dalton’s gossip page. You’re not exactly a hidden gem.”
“Keeping up to date, eh?” He chuckles, gaze not moving a millimeter away from my face. “So what is this supposed to do?”
“It’s an alternative. Branching out into multiple sports is beneficial for student-athletes. It also eases the rigorous workout routine you put on your body.” If he won’t heed my word on rest, then I’ll give him minimal workouts to sate his hunger for working out seven days a week.
“The last time I swam in a pool, I was fifteen.”
“There’s no lifeguard. If you drown, I’m not saving you.”
He feigns offence. “I’m your research, you can’t let me die.”
“A few casualties along the way won’t hurt my application.”He throws me a dark look that pulls a smile from me. “Last one in the pool has to pay for the other’s dinner,” I say before taking off. Just as I’m about to hop off the edge and dive into the pool, Aiden’s arm hooks around my waist, and we spin into the water, his back hitting it first. I’m engulfed in chlorine-treated water and him. When we break through the surface I’m still trapped against his hard body.
“I don’t lose, Preston,” he whispers against the shell of my ear.
An involuntary shiver ghosts my skin before I disentangle myself from his arms and swim away. It’s a wonder how my skin still burns when I’m submerged in cold water. “I guess that UofT win is getting to your head.”
He swims around me. “And every win before that.”
Wiping that cocky grin off his face has become my sole purpose for the next thirty minutes. We start with slow laps until he speeds through every marker I set. I have an inkling he lied about not being a big swimmer.
When my phone rings by my towel, I pull out of the pool to reach it. If a lifeguard saw me, they’d chuck the thing in the water. Dalton has a strict no cell phones by the pool policy, after one rang during a competition and one of the swimmers actually stopped to check their notification. They hammered us with announcements about phone addictions and how our brains are rotting.
I quickly answer the phone. “Hello?”
“I hope you’re not avoiding me, Sunshine.”
His voice drops a lead weight in my stomach. “I’ve been busy, Dad.”
“Too busy for your family?”
My chest heaves as my grip on my phone tightens. “Guess I learned from the best.”
He’s silent for a minute, but he ignores the pointed jab. “I’m in Boston for a few months. I’d like to see you.”
A hot tide of resentment coasts up my spine. Aiden swims closer with questioning eyes. He must notice how rapidly I’m blinking. “Can’t. I’m not free.” I say hanging up just as Aiden approaches.
I drop my phone on the towel when he stops by my legs. I’d be stupid to think he doesn’t see that my eyes are red, and not from the chlorine. Before he can speak, I sink into the water and start swimming. The burning sensation in my lungs helps me subdue my thoughts. My dad was busy for twenty years, and now he’s trying to pry open the door I nailed shut long ago. It isn’t fair.
A large hand encircles my arm and stops my rapid movements. Aiden pulls me in so we’re only a few inches apart. Concern is etched on his features. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
“Summer.”
“I said it’s nothing,” I snap, yanking my arm away. When I reach the edge of the pool, he follows, stopping me from leaving with a grip on my ankle. Damn, he’s persistent.
Aiden pulls out of the water, wet droplets gliding off the smooth planes of his body like we’re shooting a Sports Illustrated ad. Meanwhile, my eyes are bloodshot and my hair messily sticks to my face.
From the windows that surround the pool, the orange rays warm our skin as we sit on the edge, legs dangling in the water, shoulder to shoulder. The smell of chlorine and my awkward outburst curl around us like twine. My breaths come out harsh as I focus on the water droplets falling from my nose to my wet thigh. Aiden sits in silence, but his presence is massive.
“Sorry.” It slips out so suddenly I almost try to catch it in my hands and shove it back down my throat. The vulnerability in the one word is so raw it terrifies me that he would want to dissect the meaning of it. I grip the edge of the pool on either side of me and stare at the water, unwilling to make eye contact. Then his large hand covers mine, forcing me to release the tight hold I have on the pool wall.
“Don’t apologize for your feelings. Especially not to me,” he says, meeting my eyes. The sunlight makes his green ones shine like emeralds and his wet hair glistens. He doesn’t say or ask me anything else. But he relieves the tightness in my chest with a gentle squeeze to my hand, and I let him.
“WOW.” DONNY DROPS my paper and leans back in his chair. It isn't a positive wow, that much is clear from his caustic tone. “Your methodology is bland.”
My shoulders slump. I emailed Langston my draft, and she made notes on every sentence. The feedback would be helpful if there were actual words and not a bunch of question marks. When I reluctantly texted Donny for help, he came by the student lounge.
