Array
(
[text] =>

"You're going to what?" I asked.

"Don't make me say it twice," Blake grumbled, folding his arms over his chest.

I narrowed my eyes at him, wondering what he was playing at. There had to be some reason why Blake would show up at my aunt's house and offer to teach me how to swim, and it sure as hell wasn't that Blake was just being nice.

Why would he be nice to me? 

"Why are you doing this?" I demanded.

"Because," Blake replied, like that cleared anything up.

"Because what?"

"Look," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, "I'm a lifeguard, Waverly. It's my job to make sure people don't drown. And you," he pointed a finger at my forehead, "are dangerous."

"How am I dangerous?"

"You can't swim. And if you drown during my shift, I'm going to lose my job."

"Well, we wouldn't want you to lose your job, would we?"

"Exactly."

I rolled my eyes at him, muttering some rather obscene words under my breath.

Just then, Rachel came back into the living room, whistling and balancing my bowl of spaghetti in the palm of her hand. She set my seconds down on the coffee table and continued whistling until she saw me holding the front door open. Then her eyes fell on Blake Hamilton, who stood on the front porch with a red Styrofoam board tucked under his arm and his hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts,and she beamed.

"Blake!"

"Hi, Ms. Lyons," Blake said with a polite grin.

"What brings you here?" she asked.

"I was just—"

"He wants to teach me how to swim," I interrupted through gritted teeth.

"How nice of you, Blake!" Rachel exclaimed, obviously not picking up on the fact that I didn't want to get anywhere near water with Blake. In fact, I didn't want to get anywhere near anything with Blake. Rachel suddenly remembered something and leaned forward on the couch. "Oh,Waverly! Did you pick up a bathing suit today?"

"No," I replied. Then I smiled. "I didn't! So I don't have a bathing suit. Sorry, Blake. Can't go swimming."

"That's okay," Rachel offered. "I have a few old suits that are probably your size!"

My jaw dropped as I watched my aunt jump up from the couch and jog upstairs. I made a mental note to never, ever trust Rachel to pick up subtle hints.

"There," Blake told me, looking far too pleased. "Problem solved."

I could've punched the smirk right off of his face.

Instead I settled on sticking my tongue out at him, an admittedly immature move, before I hurried after Rachel. I found her in her bedroom halfway down the hall. She stood at her dresser, where one of the drawers was pulled wide open. Rachel ruffled through the drawer for a minute, throwing random articles of clothes onto the bedroom floor, before she grinned in triumph and lifted out a small, neon pink bikini. She tossed it at me, and I caught the polyester bathing suit and held it out in front of me to examine. 

It was something only Barbie would wear.

You know, if it was her only option.

And she was drunk.

"Try it on," Rachel told me.

Grumbling in protest, I slipped into Rachel's bathroom and tore off my clothes. Then I pulled on the bikini and looked at myself in the mirror over the sink. Neon pink was a terrible color on me; it emphasized the fact that I had the complexion of a glass of whole milk.

"Does it fit?" Rachel asked through the bathroom door.

"Yeah!" Under my breath, I added, "Unfortunately."

"Let me see!"

I pushed open the bathroom door and stepped out, trying not to groan.

"Oh, Waverly! You look so cute!"

Rachel clasped her hands together and beamed at me. I ducked back into the bathroom with a huff and pulled on my shorts and T-shirt over the bathing suit, hiding it from the world. Rachel practically dragged me back downstairs, where Blake was sitting on the couch and frowning in concentration at the television. I let out a snort of laughter as I remembered that Rachel and I had left The Bachelor playing.

"You like this show?" I asked.

Blake sprang up from the couch, grabbing the red Styrofoam board by his side and tucking it under his arm again.

"No. It's stupid. Totally not my—are you ready yet, or what?"

Someone's trying to change the subject.

"She's all ready!" Rachel answered for me. "Have her back by eight o'clock!"

I scoffed in protest. "What? That's—"

"Will do, Ms. Lyons!" Blake said, grabbing me by my wrist and dragging me out onto the front porch before I could tell Rachel that I didn't want to spend three whole hours with Blake Hamilton. Why couldn't everyone just accept the fact that I couldn't swim and leave it at that? Let me be a weird, miserable, living loser.

I trailed behind Blake as he hopped down the stairs of the front porch, then started down the street. As he walked, I glared at his back. His stupid, really muscular back. Why do boys have such wide shoulders? And what was that red Styrofoam board Blake was still carrying?

"Hey, what is that?" I asked.

Blake turned to frown at me over his shoulder.

"What's what?"

"That thing." I pointed to the board tucked under his arm.

"It's a kickboard. I use it to teach little kids how to swim. It's probably too small for you, but I didn't have any bigger ones since I don't normally teach anyone over the age of seven."

I couldn't come up with a comeback.

It was only then that I realized Blake had slowed down enough so that we were walking side by side, our arms swinging in time with each other's. Which was totally weird. I frowned at the sidewalk for a moment, trying to figure out why Blake Hamilton would want to be anywhere near me. Hadn't he been glaring at me ever since we met?

Boys are so weird.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

I'd just noticed that Blake wasn't leading me towards the beach. In fact, we were pretty much walking in the opposite direction of the ocean.

"To the pool."

I looked up at him. Either we'd never been so close before, or I'd just never noticed the light dusting of freckles across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. They were, unfortunately, very cute.

"Why the pool?" I asked.

"Because it's shallow, there aren't any riptides, and no one else will show up."

My stomach twisted.

Of course Blake wouldn't want to take me to the beach. Everyone in Holden hung out at the beach, which meant everyone would see him hanging out with me.

He was taking me to the pool because he didn't want to be seen with me.

"What?" Blake asked, noticing my distress. "Do you want Lena, Jesse, Ethan and Alissa to see you learning to swim?"

Oh.

Blake wasn't worried about being seen with me. He was just helping me keep my embarrassing secret, well, a secret. The knots in my stomach quickly transformed into butterflies.

He led me to a small white building that sat on a giant property encircled by a tall white fence. Written on the face of the building in turquoise cursive were the words Holden Public Pool. There were plenty of parking spots around the building, but not a single one of them was occupied.

"Is it closed?" I asked.

"No, it's pretty much always this empty."

When we approached the building, Blake jogged ahead of me and reached into the pocket of his shorts. He pulled out a ring of keys and shuffled through them until he found the one he was looking for. I half expected him to hold the door open for me and say something gentlemanly, like after you or ladies first, but he just walked into the building. I had to hurry to catch the door before it swung shut in my face.

It was dark inside the pool house.

"Are you sure we're allowed to be here?" I whispered, watching Blake as he strode through the main lobby, which was bright turquoise from ceiling to floor. He stopped at the back of the building, where there were two sets of glass doors that led out to a patio that was completely unprotected from the bright Florida sunshine.

"Relax," he told me, "I'm allowed to be here whenever I have lessons to teach."

The patio had four areas. On the first, which was like a porch and was closest to the pool house, there were a few chairs and tables set up for people to have lunch and lounge. Off to the left, there was a hot tub. To the right, there was a small, shallow pool I assumed was the kiddie pool. And in the center of the patio, there was a large, rather intimidating Olympic-sized pool. The kind of pool that got nine feet deep on one end.

The kind I could drown in.

I took a shaky step towards the big pool.

"Whoa there," Blake said, grabbing me by the back of my shirt and steering me towards the kiddie pool. "Let's start with something more your speed."

"Wait!" I protested, fighting back against Blake's hand. "You've got to be kidding me! That's only like three feet deep!"

"Exactly. So there's no danger of you drowning."

I blew a raspberry at him over my shoulder.

"Would you quit being so immature and just get in the water?" Blake asked, rolling his eyes and tossing the red Styrofoam board out into the water.

Get in the water.

That meant I would have to take off my shorts and T-shirt. Which meant two things. One, I would immediately burn up under the scalding Florida sun. And two, Blake would see me in nothing but a neon pink bikini.

"Um," I said, trying to stall.

"Um what? Just get in the water."

I couldn't help but watch as Blake Hamilton reached for the hem of his shirt and tore it off over his head, messing up his already disheveled brown hair and revealing his tan upper body. His shoulders were so sun-kissed that they were covered in freckles, just like his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Up until that point, I'd scoffed at the phrase the body of a Greek god. Now it was all I could think of to describe the boy in front of me. My eyes trailed down his flat stomach. I groaned internally, knowing that my stomach was probably bloated form the bowl of spaghetti I had just wolfed down and I would look hideous in comparison to Blake.

Wait. 

"I just ate!" I cried as if I had just uncovered the historical find of the century.

"What?" Blake asked, tossing his shirt to the ground.

"I can't get in the water, because I just ate. You aren't supposed to go in the water until a half an hour after—"

"The water is three feet deep. That rule only applies when you're getting in water you can actually drown in."

"I'd rather not take any chances."

Blake caught my arm before I could turn and run.

I looked down at his big, tan hand. My eyes trailed up his arm to his bicep, and then to his freckle coated shoulder. I blinked furiously, trying to clear my mind of the seven hundred or so dirty thoughts that had just run through my mind.

What was I, some hormonal teenage girl?

Okay, yeah, I was a hormonal teenage girl. 

"Waverly," Blake said, "Just get in the water."

I groaned and reached for the hem of my shirt.

Luckily, Blake was enough of a decent person to turn away as I took off my shirt and shorts. I set my clothes onto the patio, then kicked off my flip-flops and jumped into the small pool before Blake could turn and see me. Which was good, because he might have been blinded by the reflection of the sunlight off of my pale, paper-white skin.

By the time Blake had turned back around, I had sunk down into the water so that it was up to my shoulders. He jumped into the water beside me, sending a wave of chlorinated pool water splashing up over my face.

"Hey!" I cried.

Blake laughed. "Sorry, Alaska."

He didn't sound sorry at all.

"Let's just get this over with," I grumbled, rubbing water from my eyes. "How do I swim?"

Blake looked like he might laugh.

"What?" I hissed.

"Your, um, hair."

I was cursed with the untamable Lyons family hair, which apparently didn't get along with water. Of course. I sighed and stood up, then flipped my head over and gathered my hair into a bun on the top of my head. I half expected Blake to be staring at my body in horror, but when I looked again, his eyes were fixed on my face. He was still smiling. Not because he was laughing, or anything. He was just—I don't know—smiling.

"Can we get started, or what?" I asked, sinking back down into the water, my cheeks on fire.

Blake nodded.

"Lean back," he ordered, stepping closer to me.

"Pardon?"

Blake smiled wider.

"If you want to learn how to swim, you need to first know how not to drown," he said, crouching down in the water beside me so our eyes were almost level.

I took a deep breath.

Then, as slowly as I could, I leaned back in the water and prayed that Rachel's bikini would stay on me. I closed my eyes as the water rushed up over my ears, and I waited for the water to go rushing over my face. But it didn't. Blake's hand was solid against my back, holding me up enough so that my head wouldn't sink under the waterline. It was a utilitarian touch, but it was enough to make my heart flutter. I felt Blake's knee nudge the back of my legs, and I knew what had to happen next. 

I lifted up my feet.

But I didn't sink.

I was floating!

Okay, Blake was holding me up, but still.

"I'm letting go now." Blake's voice was muffled by the water, but I nodded to let him know that I had heard him.

The second Blake's hand was gone, I sunk like a rock.

I brought my feet down again and stood back up, coughing up water.

"You have to try to stay up," Blake told me.

"How?" I cried in frustration.

"Come on," he said, still crouching in the water. "Try again."

I groaned and leaned back in the water again, somehow comforted by the return of Blake's hand against my back. I closed my eyes and kicked up my feet again, enjoying the way the cold pool water and warm sunshine felt against my body. Now I could see why people actually liked swimming. I didn't even care if the glare off my pale stomach was blinding Blake; the water felt like heaven.

"You're doing it," Blake said from above me. He sounded proud, but it was probably just some weird distortion of his voice through the water.

"Doing what?" I frowned, opening my eyes just enough to look up at Blake, the sun on his back and both of his hands raised up by his head as he smiled down at me.

"You're floating."

[text_hash] => ebcc6653
)