“Can’t you just stop being so fucking annoying?”
He turns back to me.“Fucking annoying?”he repeats.
“Yeah.”I look away.“Seriously fucking annoying.”
“It breaks my heart that you’re not pleased to see me.”
“Like anyone would be,” I mutter, which sounds more unkind than I meant to.Apparently, I’m not the only one to think so.Colin’s eyes rest on me as I glance at him.He doesn’t look hurt, but then he doesn’t look unhurt either.I wish I could take back the words.
“No, you’re right.”I hear the bitterness in his voice.“I can’t think of anyone either.”
“Hey, sorry,” I say.“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Yeah, you did, Olive.C’mon, admit it.”
I gulp as the look in his deep brown eyes bores into me.
“But you have to live with that,” he remarks, more casual again now.I don’t like how easily he can hide that my words upset him.I don’t have any chance to think about that now, though, because Fantino suddenly slips off his shoes.
“What are you doing?”
He kicks them aside and looks down at me.“What does it look like?”he inquires, reaching for the hem of his hoodie.He pulls it over his head in one fluid movement, and his T-shirt rides up slightly with it.I hate men.I hate them for divesting themselves of their clothes without a bloody care in the world and flaunting their flat bellies.I hate Colin Fantino and his gray joggers sitting low on his hips.And then he takes them off too.Oh, God.
If I look away, he’ll think I’m prudish, but it feels wrong to stare.Not that it isn’t a pleasant sight.Colin Fantino is tall and athletic, long legs, defined shoulders.Shit, he’s seriously hot, and he knows it.
My eyes fall on the insulin pump just above the waistline of his black boxers, on his right hip.
“Is that thing waterproof?”
A lock of dark hair falls over his forehead as he looks up.“Let’s find out.”
It’s not a bad dive for a beginner, as he hits the water a few seconds later.He’s got good body tension and a kind of elegance I’d never have suspected in him.You couldn’t see it under his baggy jeans and sloppy hoodies.
I don’t budge an inch as he pops up again in front of me, stroking his wet hair out of his face.
“Oh, no,” he says, not taking his eyes off me.“It wasn’t waterproof, Olive.This is an emergency.”
“Ha-ha,” I say.
“Come on,” he says, swimming over to join me at the edge.“Stop being so fucking boring.”
“Then you stop being so fucking annoying.”
He grabs my ankle, and I flinch.“Colin,” I say threateningly.
“Uh-oh, first-name time—she’s deadly serious.”
“Stop it,” I say, keeping my voice cool even as I feel my heart start to quicken.
“What if I don’t?”
“You don’t want to find out.”
Some kind of challenge flickers in his eyes.
And then he pulls me over to the edge of the pool.Hard, fast, so that my fingers slide over the smooth tiles.He gets hold of my hips, and a second later, I hit the water in front of him.
I’d forgotten how cold the main pool is.But not how good it feels to float weightlessly under the water for a second or two.I hold my breath, and because Fantino’s a bastard, I count seconds under the water.My eyes sting slightly as I open them, but now I can make out the shape of his body.I give him ten seconds tops before he panics.
