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I ignore him, getting out of the pool, trying to control my breathing.
"What is wrong with you?" I ask, raising my voice and coming closer.
He keeps silent, looking straight into my eyes without even blinking, his arms crossed.
"Why are you acting like that?" I continue coming closer.
"Like what?" he immediately asks in response.
"Like a jerk," I retort and bite my tongue right away.
I would never let myself talk to one of my teachers like that. And I shouldn't have come so close to him because now I see those lightning bolts of fury in his eyes.
He continues looking at me without saying a word. I swallow in fear but do not look away, trying to look brave.
His eyes, which seemed like an intense blue the last time I saw him, are now deep gray. They are looking at me from above without even blinking. I guess they are chameleons, just like the character of their owner, who is so tall that I have to tilt my head back, even though I'm not short.
"Do you think this is a game, princess?" He finally breaks the silence, calling me that name again. And the way he emphasizes it makes me want to punch him. "Do you think we're doing this just for fun? Do you..."
"Stop calling me that," I interrupt him in irritation, crossing my arms on my chest as well. I must look so stupid in this swimming cap—that makes my head look like an egg—and wearing this sports suit that makes my chest almost completely flat.
But I don’t care how he sees me, do I? What bothers me more is that he is acting like an asshole.
"I'm calling you a princess because you are one." He takes a step closer, and now he's only a couple feet away from me. "You live in a Malibu mansion, your parents paid for your expensive education and those lessons with Fitz. You don’t know what hard work is."
"I do know what hard work is!" I raise my voice, unable to stay silent. "I practice two to four hours a day and six on weekends! I..."
"And still, you do not know how to jump correctly," he interrupts, raising his voice as well, and I startle slightly from surprise. "And you do not want to listen to me when I correct you."
"Because Mr. Fitzpatrick said nothing about my jump," I justify myself.
"He was a silver medalist while I'm a two-time gold medalist," he explains at ease, not bragging at all, but I still find it offensive to Mr. Fitz.
"Why should I care about that?" I scoff in irritation. "Mr. Fitzpatrick is a good person, while you act like..." I bite my lip before saying something I’ll regret.
"Like what? Like a jerk?" he continues with a smirk.
I stay silent. I shouldn't be calling him names even if we've met before. He's still my coach.
"I'm acting like that because I don't want to waste my time. I would have never agreed to Fitz's conditions if I knew you were like this."
My cheeks are burning out of anger and shame. Is he telling me that I'm not worthy of him?
"Like what? Like a person you wanted to fuck but can't?" I explode, unable to stand this conversation anymore. He was the one who started kissing me first, and now he's punishing me for it.
For a moment, I can see that he lost his confidence, but he recovers quickly.
"I never said I wanted to," he hisses through clenched teeth, his jaw tense. He’s back to his usual 'asshole mode' again. "I threw you out, remember? Because you're not my type. I had a threesome right after you left my house."
Tears treacherously come to my eyes, and I do my best not to let them fall. When he sees that, his face immediately becomes softer, but it's too late.
"Gabrielle," he says, barely audible, trying to take me by the hand.
"We're done." I pull back abruptly, holding in my emotions. "Forever."
And before he can say anything, I run into the women's changing room, where he won't dare follow.
Chapter Twelve
