“Lean back,” he says. She sighs, giving him a pointed stare. “Lean back, baby. It’s fine. I’ve got you.”
This seems to work because she exhales, leaning back into his arms and a ripple of satisfaction trickles through his system. Sliding his arms under her thighs, he lifts her legs, guiding her body into place.
“Lani, relax. Tip your head, arch your back—perfect. Spread your arms a little more. Yeah, that’s it,” he says, keeping one hand steady under her back. “Just like that.”
The water flows across her body, down her breast, over her exposed stomach, between her thighs and he has never been more jealous of an inanimate object. He’s also incredibly glad the pool is dead today.
He stares down at her, smiling. “See, you’re doing it.”
“Barely,” she says sourly. “You’re holding onto me. It’s cheating.”
“Helping,” he says, spinning her gently through the water. After several minutes of him guiding her, she starts to relax and they fall into silence, the slight ripple of the water the only sound.
“Roman,” she says, closing her eyes as she floats with him.
“Hmm.”
“I’ve been thinking about going to therapy,” she says, exhaling. “The campus offers some services. Some extra sessions for free since I’m on payroll, and I don’t know. I might do it.”
“I think that’s a great idea.”
Her eyes open slowly as he continues to turn her.
“Okay,” she says. “You can let go now.”
“You sure? I’m perfectly content holding on.”
Forever, if that’s okay with you.
She nods her head slightly, and he gently slides his hand from under her and she immediately starts to sink. He grabs herimmediately, and she stands on both feet, sputtering. He laughs, wiping the water from her face.
“Don’t laugh at me,” she says with a scowl.
“I’m not,” he says, trying to keep his mouth straight. “I’m not.”
“I can see your lip curling,” she says, pointing at him.
He turns his back to her, diving under the water and swimming a lap before coming back to stand in front of her. He wipes his hand down his face and pushes his hair back.
“Ready to try again?”
After several seconds of silence, she asks, “Why are you doing this?”.
“What?” he says, chuckling.
“Why are you wasting your time like this?” she asks, folding her arms across her chest.
His eyes narrow at her question. He isn’t sure if she’s talking about swimming or about her.
“Nothing with you is a waste of time,” he says evenly, his hand cupping her ankle.
She purses her lips, looking down at her feet underwater. She looks back up at him, unblinking.
“I’ll never be good at this,” she murmurs.
And if this were a few months ago, her statement would have felt like a hot poker to the chest, but he’s figured it out. He’s figured her out. He sighs, wanting to tread carefully, but also wanting to push back—to push against her, into her.
“You’ll be great at this.”
