“I like when you tell me what to do.” He smiles.
I bite the inside of my cheek, contemplating what I want to do. “I’m—okay, but just know you’ve been warned. Don’t get mad at me when I get mad at you.”
He chuckles again. “I could never get mad at you.”
When his knuckles descend to the curve of my neck, my body shudders and my eyes flutter. I’m almost tempted to pull him into my room, but it’s Thursday, and he has his lesson today, and he needs to rest because he has a game tomorrow.
“I hope you’re not trying to distract me because we’re still having your lesson.” I pull away. Grabbing his wrist, I tug him along with me.
We haven’t done anything since we kissed on the couch. He hasn’t made a move, so I wasn’t going to either.
“Darn, that didn’t work?” he sighs disappointedly.
“No, you’d have to do more than just touch my cheek.”
“Oh?” he hums but I hear the challenge in his tone.
I ignore it but the rest of my body doesn’t. “Thanks for this. If you let me borrow the stereo or CD player, I’ll listen to it tonight.”
“You can use them anytime you want.” He hooks his arm around my shoulder. With anyone else, walking side by side would’ve been awkward, but it feels nice being tucked under his arm.
The sun is setting just behind the horizon when we finish, painting the sky in pretty hues of pink, purple, and orange.
Daniel sets the foam board and goggles outside the pool, dragging his fingers like a comb through his wet locks. His hair remains slicked back, but droplets drip from the ends, skidding down his tanned skin in rivulets.
I grab my wet ponytail and wring the water from it. “You know, if you believed in yourself as much as you believe in that quirky stance of yours, you’d already know how to swim.”
“Quirky stance?” He arches a brow, lips tugging upward in a crooked grin.
“When you’re at-bat, you stand…” How do I say it? “Weird. Who does that?”
He chuckles and approaches me. I step back, adding more space between us, but my back hits the pool wall.
“What’s wrong with the way I stand?” Mirth glistens in his eyes.
“Aside from the fact that it looks a little uncomfortable and weird, nothing.” My eye catches a stray drop and I can’t help but track it. It slides past his collarbone, pec, and follows the ridges of his abs until it meets the water again.
“You should come to a game.” His gaze flicks to my chest, lingering there before it lifts.
“I’m good.” My nipples tighten.
“No, I’m serious. Come to a game.” His arms go on either side of me, hands braced on the edge of the pool, caging me in.
“I’m serious too. I’m good.” Not only do I not want to go because I know Bryson is there, but I’ll be alone. Both the girls are busy and they’re the only friends I have. I’ll look like a loser alone.
“Let’s make a deal.” His eyes drift to my chest again, and I’m certain he sees my pebbled nipples sticking out from the thin material of my bikini top.
My body flares with heat and goose bumps. “A deal?”
“Every time I improve, you come to a game. If I learn how to swim, you come to all, or at least the home games.” He keeps one hand still perched on the edge, the other dips into the water, until I feel it on my back. His fingers graze my skin only briefly before they’re tugging on the string holding my top together.
That stuns me because while we’ve been going at this for five weeks, he’s not made a lot of improvement. I know he’s scared and I’m not a specialist, so I don’t want to push too hard.
I don’t want to go but I do want him to learn how to swim. Hmm…this could be an incentive.
“Okay, deal but you have to make improvements or I don’t go,” I sternly say.
“And you have to wear my jersey.”
