He chuckles. “I think I can save you again if that happens.”
I take a deep breath and lower my arms, then sink my body into the cool water, letting it surround me before panicking and pushing myself back up again. I splutter uncontrollably, then gasp for breath. My hair is soaked and plastered to my face, and I shove it out of the way, only to find Weston laughing, the sound filling the little cove as he watches me cough from sucking in too much salty water.
“Relax,” he croons. “You’re thinking too much. Try it again.”
I try a few more times, taking in a large breath and holding it before dropping into the pool. The more times I do it, the more in control I feel, and I can sense the unease and fear subsiding.
“Alright, what’s next?”
He glides closer and extends his arms, resting them on the surface of the water.
“Hold your arms out like this. Do you feel the water, how it holds you up, pushes your body around?”
“Yes,” I say, mimicking his movement and resting my arms on the surface.
“It will do the same when you swim, so you need to practice letting it.”
“How do I do that?”
He steps closer, eyes not leaving my face. “You have to trust it,” he says, rising so he’s at full height and towering over me. “I’ll show you,” he says and reaches out toward me. “But you have to trust me, too.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Trust Weston.
That’s the real question.
Can I trust him?
He doesn’t give me a moment to overthink it, he just moves, bending forward and hooking his arms under my knees. My muscles tense as his other arm presses across my back, just below my shoulders, and then I’m off the ground.
I shriek and flail at the sudden loss of security, despite his arms holding me firmly. The water pushes me on all sides, and I feel like I’m going to drop beneath the surface.
“Relax,” he murmurs. “Just focus on the water, and keep your body as straight as possible.”
I follow his instructions, straightening my body and feeling the water underneath me, supporting me, and completely ignoring the fact that he’s holding me in this shirt that is probably plastered to my skin and leaving little to the imagination. I don’t think about it. Instead, I suck in slow, deep breaths and try to let go of my fear, feeling the water pushing me up like it had on my arms only moments ago.
Trust it. Trust it.
“Good. Keep going,” Weston says, but his voice sounds far away. My eyes fly open, only to realize he isn’t actually holding me anymore. He’s stepped away, his hands no longer on me, and I’m doing it on my own.
“Wait, wha—” My focus snaps and I sink like a rock. I find the floor and push to stand, coughing and spluttering water all over again.
“What thefuck?” I yell between coughs.
“You were fine, princess. But see what happened when you started thinking too much and stopped trusting? Try again, but do it yourself this time.”
I shoot him a glare, but follow his direction. Again and again, I try to float, falling into the water most of the time, but floating often, too. Once I feel comfortable enough on both my stomach and back, he shows me how to paddle myself around, using the water to stay above the surface.
I haven’t thought once about my fear of the water since my determination to master a new skill kicked in, but now that I’m moving around and not just floating, my water logged clothes keep pulling me down, slowing my movements and tangling up my limbs.
“Ugh!” I grunt in frustration and yank at the heavy fabric, trying to untwist myself and adjust my pants so I can move my legs.
I don’t care if it isn’t fitting for a princess. Rules don’t apply here.
I slog my way over to the boulder with our things and clamber up it, which is much more difficult than before, with my movements restricted by the wet cloth.
“Turn around,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him.
