Page 3 of Teach Me To Sin

“How long have you been swimming?”

He stares at the underside of the umbrella for a while, then turns his face away so his nose is tucked against his bicep and his attention is fixed on the sparkling water. “I’ve fucked around in pools since I was a kid, but it’s not a thing. I don’tswim.” He snuggles deeper into the chair, then yawns expansively and closes his eyes.

“Bullshit.” I spent my entire career trying to achieve that clean, sharp beauty. The thought of so much talent wasted on someone who doesn’t care sickens me, but I know he’s lying. “No one could swim like that unless they put in years of practice.”

“Okay.” Without opening his eyes, he tightens his abs and lifts his hips, then scoots them over and settles down more comfortably. His free hand splays against his chest, his thumb wiping at a damp spot on his skin. I can’t tell if he’s winding me up, or if he’s just like this all the time.

I have zero chances left, but I go for one more because I’m not good at knowing when I’ve lost. “Sorry, I should have introduced myself. What’s your name?”

When his mocking eyes blink open again, I offer my hand with a sense of victory. He just stares at my palm, biting a dry spot on his full lower lip. When a shrillpingbreaks the quiet, he fishes out a phone from somewhere underneath his ass and holds it up to squint at the screen. After a long pause, he sighs, stretches luxuriously, and sits up. All his movements are bold and careless, like the air around his body belongs only to him.

“This was fun.” His smirk holds a hint of warmth as he angles his head toward the folks across the pool. “Have a nice time doing puzzles and birdwatching with the over-seventies the rest of the weekend.”

“Wait.” When we both stand up, I see that I have about three inches and several pounds of bulk over him. “I’m doing this all wrong; I just want to help you get connected to any resources you need. No one’s talent should go to waste.”

He pauses mid-step, sliding on his glasses and running a hand through his damp hair. “Is Alek Simmons the person to be talking about that?”

I shouldn’t be surprised. Anyone in the Pacific Northwest swim world would recognize me on sight, either from my charity work or my messy career. But I spend every day trying to forget my last name. It’s not even next to Victor’s on the nonprofit I’ve poured my soul into. And whenever I hear it, it feels like a quick blow to the part of your chest that shuts off your lungs and leaves you choked and empty for a terrifying second. The boy takes two steps before I find my voice again. “That’s exactly why I care.”

His shoulders relax as he blows out a huff of air through pursed lips. “You really do care a lot, don’t you?” He flashes a devastating smile over his shoulder, like a weapon of mass destruction. “That sucks for you.” On his way into the lodge, he snags a t-shirt from the deck and pulls it on, wet spots darkening the white fabric.

I stare after him, feeling like I just went on one of those children’s rides where the car has a steering wheel, but in the end you realize it was on a track and you weren’t driving at all. I’m back where I started, disoriented, a little aroused, and wondering how I had an entire conversation without getting a single piece of information.

Technically, we’re going the same way, so I follow him into the air conditioned building and turn toward reception in time to see him shove out the front door. He folds his hands on the back of his neck and looks around, like he’s not sure where he is, then saunters off across the gravel lot.

Since I’m in for a penny, in for a pound at this point, I wait until he’s far enough away not to notice me exiting the building after him. The sharp rocks threaten to tear my sandals to pieces, so I pause and shade my eyes, watching him start down the road toward town. I remember driving up the narrow, winding bit of asphalt with no shoulder that would take at least fifteen minutes to walk.

I’ll never know how far I would have blindly followed him, because when I reach the tall pines at the edge of the lot, a car pulls up to me and rolls down its window. “Babe.” Maya wrinkles her delicate nose, looking me up and down. “Where the hell are you going?”

“Um.” When I peer down the road, I can’t see him anymore. My mind clears a little, leaving me warm and nauseous, with an ache where I head-butted the umbrella. I’m not entirely sure that man ever existed. “I was just taking a walk.”

“Down there? Are you insane?”

“I thought you were at the glassblowing demonstration.” I limp over and prop my elbows on the edge of the car window, but we don’t even bother to kiss. Even though I’ve never had a high libido, my body at the very least used to try. Fake it ‘til I make it. Now it feels like we’ve both given up.

“They canceled it. What should we do now?”

I stare at her unhelpfully, because I have no idea.

Benji

Alek Simmons stalksme to the top of the road, stopping sometimes to create distance, like he thinks he’s auditioning for a James Bond movie. I’m curious if I can get him to trail me the whole way into town, all panting and serious as he tries to keep up. Unfortunately, a bohemian-looking woman in a Prius ruins everything by calling him back to the lodge. I’ll never know if I would have lost him in the tourist crowds or stopped and talked to him again in spite of myself.

I forgot my earbuds in my backpack, so it’s just me, my shadow, and the chatter of birds during the long, hot walk down the mountain. Weeds sting my bare legs every time I have to step out of the way of cars, and I can feel the back of my neck starting to burn. My refreshing morning swim becomes a distant memory as my sweaty clothes cling to my skin and climb up my ass crack. I’d happily walk naked, but I don’t have the energy to deal with getting arrested today.

Crunching along the gravel shoulder, I swat bees out of my face and think about how much that man’s life sucks. Alek didn’t even look surprised that I knew his name, just resigned, like a beaten fighter waiting for the knockout punch. Forced to swim by his famous coach dad, then pushed to start doping when he wasn’t good enough. After all that,surprise, his old man and a bunch of billionaire perverts are raping underage kids, including his teammate Victor, and everyone on the planet wants to ask Alek if he knew all along. If he saw it happen. If hejoined in. To make things worse, some of the perverts escaped prison time, and even years later the guy can’t step out of his lane without risking a tidal wave of negative attention and the possibility of reprisal. All he can do is keep his head down, operate his nonprofit under Victor’s name, and stick to teaching kids how to paddle.

I’m dripping and stinky when I make it to town, my hair a flat, matted tangle. The whole place is one long main street of overpriced shops, with hotels and resorts scattered across the surrounding hillsides. Since it’s summer, crowds of screaming children and tired parents pack the sidewalks. Why anyone enjoys coming here is beyond me.

I didn’t want to barge into the resort carrying a bunch of shit that screamsI’m totally not a guest here, so when I get to the candy store with a saltwater taffy puller in the window, I duck around the corner into the blessed shade of the alleyway. Hiding behind a stack of pallets, I fish my black backpack out from the gap between two garbage bins and strip out of my tee and swim trunks. A cool breeze teases my shoulders and the backs of my thighs as I unfold some briefs and hop into them. Adjusting my cock makes me think of Alek again, the hungry way his eyes devoured every inch of me against his will. He’s more of a disaster than I expected.

Balancing on one leg and then the other, I slip into some designer jeans, a gray linen button-down, and a pair of leather boat shoes.Who’s James Bond now?I’m still trying to catch my breath as I straighten up and study my reddish-brown hair in the back window of the shop. It’s plastered to my scalp with sweat, fried from chlorine and sun. All I can do is grab a tube of gel from my bag and rake a shit ton through the tangled strands. I’ll have to live with looking like Sonic the Hedgehog until I find a shower.

My phone starts to chirp over and over, just like I knew it would, text after text from the same number. I push my sunglasses on and sling my pack over my shoulder before I check them.

Are you done swimming?

Hurry up and get back here.

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