“Relax, Stopwatch. It’s a pool, not the Olympics. Wait… did you say great body?”
She slides her goggles down. “I give you four laps before you beg me to stop.”
“Two laps with me, and you’ll be using my abs as a flotation device.”
“Try not to drown. The paperwork would be annoying.”
And she’s off.
I swim after her.
Lap one: Textbook. Smooth stroke. Strong kick. I’ve got this.Obviously.
Lap two: She pulls ahead. Ever so slightly. Barely. I choose to ignore this.
Lap three: Pace quickening(hers, not mine). My arms tap out. No warning, no safe word, just straight-up abandonment.
Lap four: My lungs are drafting their last will and testament.
Who is this woman? A mermaid? She’s not even winded!
If she swims like this, she’d wreck me in bed. My dick would be gasping for air, and she’d only be getting started.
Lap five: Hail Mary time.
I grab my calf mid-stroke.
“OH GOD—”
I start flailing.
“MY LEG! IVY!”
I clutch it dramatically.
“MY BEAUTIFUL ATHLETIC LEG—”
She stops. Treads water. Stares at me as though I’m losing my mind(which, fair).
“CRAMP!” I gasp, going bigger. “Tell Blaze I went out like a legend.”
I suck in a loud breath. Then… sink.
I commit to the bit. Body limp. Bubbles drifting from my nose. I’d say I’m ashamed, but that’d be a lie.
The water closes over me, pool lights glowing pale blue, beautifully framing my fake death. Everything goes thick andquiet down here, the world narrowing to only my heartbeat and the faint gold shimmer of the sunrise.
Visually speaking, not a bad way to go.
Ivy’s silhouette breaks the surface above me, treading in place with a cold stare.
Not concern—evaluation.
Like she’s reviewing a contract, red pen hovering, deciding if letting me die is worth the paperwork.
And honestly, after I took credit for her hard work on our Books for Every Block campaign?
Yeah, I wouldn’t save me either.
