Page 31 of Fa-La La-La Land
She glares. “How are you grumpy everywhere except the pool?”
“Because I’m weightless in water.” I close my eyes and lie back. The weight I’ve been carrying melts away as I float.
Stella says something, but the water muffles her words.
“I can’t hear you,” I call.
“You’re not weightless! You could sink any second!” she yells.
A splash hits my face, forcing me upright. She’s smirking—until her eyes drift to my chest. Droplets slide down, and she tracks each one. I tighten my shoulders, giving her a better view. May as well put the weight training to use.
“Bodies are built to float,” I tell her when her gaze finally meets mine again.
“Speak for yourself.” She takes a step back.
“You don’t know how to float?”
“I know how to sink.” She crosses her arms, then uncrosses them when she catches where my eyes go.
I look back up, guilty. “Stella, for real, how’re you gonna swim in every ocean if you can’t even float?”
“Not every ocean. Definitely not the freezing ones. And I meantwading,notswimming.” She swipes at the water, but I catch her hand before she can splash me.
“Says swimming on your list.” I keep hold of her hand and tug her a little closer.
“Can we stop talking about my list, please?” she says, a bit breathless.
“Only if you let me teach you to swim. We’ll start with floating. I’ll even promise not to mention the list again.” My thumb slides over her knuckles. She exhales, shaky.
Our eyes lock, and for a second, the pool feels way too small.
“Fine. Help me float.” She pulls her hand from mine but doesn’t move away.
“You’ll have to get your hair wet,” I say, brushing the loose strand down her back.
She shoots me a glare over her shoulder. “I’m aware, Rhys. Worth it if it shuts you up about the list.”
I laugh quietly, stepping behind her. “All right, then. Just lean back and let your feet come up.”
Stella bends her knees and tips her head back. The second her head hits the water, she panics, shoots upright, and makes for the steps. “See? Told you! I sink!”
“You’re doing it wrong. Come back.” Laughing, I catch her hand and pull her close. The water sways around us. Her fingers brush my stomach, and something electric hits my chest.
“Do you trust me?” I ask, hand settling behind her back.
She takes a deep breath and leans back. I guide her with both hands.
“Keep going. I’ve got you. Straighten your legs.”
Slowly, she does.
“Tip your chin up.”
She closes her eyes, and I lift until she’s floating.
“Now, breathe. In and out. Slow. Move your arms a little—tiny kicks if you feel yourself sinking. Relax. I’m not letting you go.”
Her breathing evens out, though her exhales still shake. So, I do what I always do when I’m nervous. I hum.
