Page 30 of Fa-La La-La Land
“Come on, it’s easier if you just get it over with.”
She clips up her hair, careful and graceful. “I don’t swim,” she says finally.
“What d’you mean, you don’t want to swim? That’s half the point of being out here.”
“I didn’t say I don’t want to. I said I don’t.”
My brain short-circuits. I sink, then wade closer until I can stand. “Didn’t you live by a lake before you moved to LA? You never swam in it?”
Stella steps onto the first stair, the water barely touching her ankles. “I wakeboarded on it. I didn’t go under if I could help it. It’s not that I can’t swim—I took swimming lessons once. I just…I don’t swim.”
“Shouldn’t you know how to swim to check off number nine on your list?”
Her cheeks go pink. “You said you didn’t remember what was on my list.”
I drop my gaze.
“Rhys?”
I glance up, my lips twitching. “Yeah, I lied.”
Her eyebrows shoot up.
“But only to make you feel better,” I add quickly, the grin giving me away.
Her eyes narrow, but the laugh sitting behind them tells me I’m safe. I dive under and swim to the steps. When I pop up, I shake my head hard enough to spray her with water.
“Rhys! What are you doing?” She throws up her arms to block the spray, then kicks water at me.
I duck under again, coming up just out of range. “You’ll have to come in if you really want to get me!”
Stella glares, then takes the last few steps into the pool, wincing as the water hits her belly.
“Told you to jump in,” I say, kneeling so the water reaches my shoulders. “You’d be done by now.” I blow bubbles on the surface to hide my grin—and the fact that the loose tendril of her hair has me itching to tuck it behind her ear.
“I don’t want to get my hair wet.”
“You can’t swim without getting your hair wet.”
“I’m not here to swim. I’m here to test out the pool—like you wanted.” She stops when the water hits her chest.
“Come on, La-La. It’s no fun if you don’t get wet.”
Her mouth puckers at the nickname, but there’s a smile hiding right behind it. I edge a little closer.
“It’s no fun washing chlorine out of my hair.”
“It’s a saltwater pool. No chlorine. Just rinse and you’re good.”
Before she can argue, I dive under again, swim a slow circle around her, and pop up behind her. “Come on, I’ll be the shark—you swim away.”
“Rhys, no games.”
I hum theJawstheme under my breath.
“Seriously, Rhys. No games. I don’t swim.” Her voice wobbles between laughter and something real.
“Come on, Stella. How are you fun everywhere except the pool?”
