My fingers can’t focus on the task while my brain is still spinning knowing Miguel is half naked just a few feet away.
I dig around, sticking my head into the top of the tote at one point, before giving a frustrated huff and dumping the contents onto the beach.
The goggles appear wrapped around my wallet. I untangle them and brush everything else off before returning the contents to my bag.
Miguel watches as he slides his arms into his wetsuit and zips it up snugly over his round shoulders before pulling his hair back away from his face and securing it with an elastic. He steps closer and I find my head slowly tilting back as he gets into my space.
His fingers graze the fabric covering my stomach leaving a trail of brush fire in its wake.
"This is too loose." He says roughly.
"Huh?" I whimper.
"Your wetsuit isn't tight enough."
"Oh," I take a step back, breaking the spell, reminding myself I'm here to train. I need hisfreehelp because I need to get better so I can swim in something other than a hand-me-down, ill-fitting wetsuit. "It'll be fine. Let's go."
I turn towards the water, no longer fearful of the cold, as embarrassment surges. I walk in until the water hits my knees and then I dive forward.
"Fuck." I gasp when I resurface. It's freezing.
"C'mon let's get this over with." Miguel says from my left. "We're going to sprint out, turn back and recover, sprint out again, and turn for home. Just two outs and back today. Ready?"
"Yep."
"I'll stay on your left." He smirks like we have an inside joke, I suppose we do, before he dives forward and starts propelling himself forward with easy but strong freestyle strokes. I slide my goggles down and follow.
The pace he sets for the sprint out is tough but not impossible. I stay in his blind spot the whole time and don't lose any ground on him.
The further out we get, the colder the water gets. I thought I'd warm up with the exertion but instead I'm willing my teeth not to chatter as we turn and head back to the shore.
Miguel corkscrews and back strokes ahead of me. I can tell he's trying to watch my form during this recovery portion. I want to impress him, I want him to think I’m doing well.
Even if my nerve endings are starting to sting.
Mind over matter right?
If I tell myself I'm not cold then I won't be.
You're not cold.
Each stroke warms you up.
That sounds dirty.
"Good job, Laney." Miguel says when my head turns to the side to breathe. His praise only fuels the lusty thoughts I've been battling since meeting him. "Our pace is good." I hear on my next breath. Then, "we're almost halfway there."
I keep my head down and swim as I see him roll back to his stomach and move through the water ahead of me. We reach the sandbar and he turns.
My teeth are chattering now, I can't stop them. Tears prick inside my goggles as I envision going out and back again.
I can’t.
"Miguel," I whisper through my frozen jaw as I sit on the sandbar and let the water flow around my shoulders. He doesn't stop. He doesn't hear me.
Fuck. I'm in trouble. I pull my hand out of the water and it's tinted blue.
I inhale as best I can and try again through trembling lips. "Miguel."
