I'm out of arm's reach, but it doesn't diminish the adrenaline pumping through my system.
“What are you doing here?” he asks again, staring into the blue abyss.
“Nothing.”
He lifts his gaze to glance down at my body. “You’re wearing a swimsuit.”
I don’t look down at myself, having already forgotten I was wearing my red one-piece.
Despite obviously wearing a bathing suit and standing in front of a pool, admitting my intentions were to get in the water feels like inviting him to force me into it again.
But really,I’m in a bathing suit standing in front of a pool. It’s pretty fucking obvious what I’m doing here.
“Enjoying the view?” I answer.
“Is that a question?”
“Is it any of your business?” I parry.
“Rev,” he growls, his voice deepening with a clear warning.
My hackles rise further, and I glance toward the exit door. I have two options: tell him, or run.
“I’ll give you a five-second head start, but that’s all you get,” he says, angling his body toward me.
Fuck. I fucking suck at keeping my thoughts off my face.
I dart a glance toward the door a second time, then back to him, and, after another tense few beats, I deflate.
I definitely was lying to myself, thinking I had a chance of outrunning him—even with a five-second head start.
“Clearly, when one comes to the pool, it’s with the intention of swimming,” I snip, crossing my arms over my chest and taking a deliberate step to the side, farther away from him.
I may not have a chance of making it to the door before him, but that doesn’t mean I’m going into that pool without a fight.
He nods slowly, studying me closely. It only makes me tighten my arms closer to my chest, as if to conceal myself from his scrutiny. I don’t like the way he’s staring at me, as if he’s dissecting my brain and searching for the answers I refuse to give him.
He knows what my mom tried to do to me when I was four, and he knows why I’m terrified of the water. I’m sure he can come to his own conclusions.
He hums, turns to the side in my direction, then kicks off his shoes and socks.
My heart drops, and this time, I take several steps away from the edge before twisting so I'm facing him and the pool, panic and terror coalescing in my system.
“Whatever you’re planning, stop it,” I demand, my voice shaking. “I’m not getting in that water with you.”
He’s going to dangle me over the edge again and make me do something else to escape death.
He stares at me blankly, his hands pausing at the collar of his hoodie.
“I’m not going to drown you,” he says mildly.
As if it’s just another day of assuring me he won’t kill me.
“You do realize I have no reason to believe you, right?” I ask, giving him a ‘do I look stupid?’ look. “Did you forget about the crematorium already? Or your first ultimatum? You might as well be a shark inviting me for a casual swim in chummy water.”
He arches a brow. “I think we both know I couldn’t kill you, Rev.”
“You can drown someone without killing them,” I say, the words coming out smaller than I intended.
