Learning to Swim(21)

He then took Mora gently by the arm and led her toward the gate.

This was one of those moments in which bionic hearing would have been useful. As it was, with all my splashing and what have you, I couldn't hear a word. But from what I could see, Mora looked really upset. This was definitely not something I wanted to admit to myself at that moment, but I knew more than anyone how love lunacy could tear at the fabric of happiness. Here was some more evidence slapping me in the face.

After a brief discussion, Mora finally left and Keith dove into the water. It was one of those perfect dives, nice and sleek, with the legs together and toes pointed. He swam the length of the pool underwater and popped up beside me, his hair slicked back and his eyes wide.

I stood up and handed him my kickboard. He gave me a little smile. “Sorry about that,” he said, with a glance in Mora's direction.

“It's okay,” I said.

He looked at me really intensely, as if I had just spoken a different language and he was trying to interpret what I had said. Finally, he said, “Why don't you turn on your back and we'll practice floating again.”

I leaned backward until I felt his hands supporting me from underneath. He was staring down at me and his face looked incredible, even when it was inverted. Maybe it was the light (the sun was still rising in the sky), but there was some sort of sparkle in his eyes. Whatever the look was, I liked it, much more than I should have. Just like I liked the way his skin felt against mine and the way he said my name.

“So what happened to you last night, Steffie?” he asked.

I froze and my feet sank to the bottom like dead weight as I stood up again. “Well, something came up.”

He gave a curt nod, as if he thought I was blowing him off or something. “Let's try it again.”

For a moment, I thought he was talking about his party. As in, “Let's try it again. I'll invite you, and this time you show up.” But then I realized he just wanted me to float again, and my stomach began to cramp.

“This time I'm going to take my hands away,” Keith said. “Just relax and keep your arms spread out.”

The wind picked up and a chill raced over me. “I'll sink.”

“Not if you relax,” he said. I leaned backward until I felt his strong hands. “It's all mental, Stef,” he was saying. “You need to believe you can do it. You need to conquer your fear.”

I closed my eyes and kept repeating those words in my head.

He took away one hand and then the other. I felt a surge of pride as I realized I was on top of the water, floating all by myself. And then I thought, What if I drown?

And then I sank.

Keith scooped me back up and said, “You all right?”

I coughed up the water I had swallowed. Who (besides me) drowned in the shallow end? “I'm fine,” I said.

“You lost your concentration,” he said. “This time I'll hold you up until I think you're ready.”

I tried really hard to relax. I tried to pretend that the hottest guy in the world was not standing beside me, staring down at me with those gorgeous brown eyes while his hands practically caressed my bare skin. Instead I imagined myself at Alice's house, sitting on her slightly lopsided IKEA couch, covered up in the afghan she'd made herself, watching reality TV.

And after a while, I realized that Keith had removed his hands and I was not only breathing rhythmically, I was floating. I bobbed away, just lying there, looking up at the brightening sky.

“You did it,” he said excitedly.

I stood up and grinned. As he looked at me, I felt as though he could see right through me.

Keith looked at his waterproof sports watch and scowled. “Sorry, Stef. I have to go.”

I could feel my face tighten as I tried to hold my smile. But it didn't work. I knew I was frowning. I knew he was going to meet Mora.

“Can we meet again tomorrow?” he asked.

“I'd love to,” I said meekly. “But I can't. I told Alice I'd help her mow her lawn. Her back is out or something like that.”

“Really? Well, I'll come by after work and do it.” His eyes were glowing again.

“You don't h-have to do that,” I stammered. “I can handle it.”

Keith chuckled and lightly gripped my upper arm. “I know you can, Stef. Check out these muscles.”

Holy Cheesy Nacho Hamburger Helper. What was that?

“Actually, we have a big riding mower that we hardly ever use.” He grinned. “It'll be much easier this way. And besides, I want you to save your strength for me.”

With that, Keith hopped out of the pool. Streams of water dripped off his long legs and his swim trunks, which were hanging so low that I got a quick look at the upper part of his left butt cheek.

Minutes later, I dried off, tucked my suit into a Ziploc bag, and changed back into my uniform. I rode my bike home, humming so loudly I was practically singing. I just couldn't help myself.

“Back so soon?” my mother asked. For once, she was not sitting in front of the TV watching some washed-up B-list actress like Connie Selleca (aka Mrs. John Tesh) grapple with her daughter's cracked-out pimp. Instead she was doing something incredibly bizarre. She was sitting at the kitchen table painting a large oyster shell. Yep, my mother was entertaining herself with arts and crafts.