“Ten seconds…something like that.”
“How do you feel about showers?”
“That doesn’t bother me because I can breathe, but when I’m underwater, I just…” He stops moving and swallows hard. “I don’t like it.”
“How do you feel about Marco Polo?”
That causes his lips to curl into a small smile. “We’re playing a game?”
“Don’t tell me you’re too good for Marco Polo?” I feel good knowing I made him smile.
“No, of course not. I’m just competitive as fuck so…” He drifts off before his smile falls again. “You’re not going to have me close my eyes and then push me deeper in the pool because?—”
“Did someone do that to you?” I cut him off, and my blood boils when he nods.
“It happened years ago, but they didn’t know. I was too…embarrassed to say anything.”
My heart aches for him, but I wonder if I’m getting too in over my head. He needs professional help.What if I fuck this up? What if I—he must have heard my thoughts because he speaks up.
“I did try the whole therapy thing, but it didn’t work out. So don’t feel discouraged if things don’t pan out. Like I said, I don’t get in the water much, so you won’t ever have to worry about me drowning or something,” he quietly says.
“My expectations are hellishly low. So…” Was that too dry?Dammit, Josephine, get your shit?—
He chuckles, face brightening and the tension in his body rolling off. “Are you doing that reverse psychology thing on me?”
As discreetly as I can, I begin to turn and he follows. I’m not sure if he realizes he’s doing it, but he follows my lead.
“Uh…if that’s what you want to call my horrible lack of sense of humor, sure.”
That made no sense and I was definitely not trying to be funny, but Daniel laughs. He tips his head back, eyes closed for a mere second before they’re on me again. But all my brain seems to register is how deep and hearty his laugh sounds. I’m momentarily distracted by the glint of his gold chain from the sun.
I want to ask the story behind the safety pin, but I withhold.
“Noah has an excellent dry sense of humor, and I happen to excel in reading it.” He grins, still following my lead as we go in a slow circle.
“Noah? Noah Sosa?”
“The one and only.”
“Tell me about Noah.”
“Why? Are you interested?” He lifts a brow, lips pulling into a teasing smile, but his eyes don’t match it.
He’s attractive. Olive-toned skin, a face structure that seems like it was carved by the gods, tall along with all the other guys on the team, but he carries himself differently. I don’t know why but he does.
But am I attracted to him? No. The only guy who seems to have my head and heart in disarray happens to be the guy right in front of me.
“No, I’m not interested in him or anyone.” Because I’m a hot-ass mess and while I don’t outwardly show it, inwardly I’m crumbling into nothing. Guys don’t like messy girls or girls who…are like me.
All to show, nothing to give.
Bryson said that a few times while drunk and sober. I was stupid for staying, but sometimes you get a taste of something you’ve never had and every time it’s fed to you, it makes you want it a little more. It’s not the real thing, but it’s enough to get you hooked.
I was hooked on what I couldn’t have and he gave me enough; it made me stay. It made me stupid. It made me hate myself.
All to show, nothing to give.
A moment of silence stretches between us. It unnerves me because he’s thinking something, I just don’t know what.
