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I figured we’d talk this morning at the pool, but when I got here, he wasn’t waiting for me like he usually is. Which is ... fine. I never expected him to show up all these mornings to swim with me—he just did.
There could be a multitude of reasons why he’s not here right now, none of which have anything to do with him avoiding me after we kissed. Which is where my mind wants to go.
Maybe he wasn’t able to leave the hospital until late last night and he’s currently sleeping in. Maybe he stayed up too late reading the sequel to the pirate book and he’s too tired to swim. Maybe he’s fallen into a ditch. Not sure why my mother’s reasoning for stalking us as children made it into my list of excuses, but now that I’m older, I see the logic behind it. It’s totally plausible.
“Hey,” I hear someone say as I surface from my last lap. I look up to see Graham standing at the edge of the pool. He’s got a green pair of swim trunks on, his goggles propped up on his forehead.
My heart picks up speed. He’s here. He came. What does that mean?
“Oh, hey,” I say. It comes out bright and squeaky, and I suddenly wish I were cooler than I am. But I’ve never been cool, and I’m clearly not starting right now.
“Sorry I’m late,” he says before jumping in the water.
I want to ask him what happened. Was it as simple as sleeping in? Or was it more than that?
“It’s fine,” I say when he resurfaces. “I don’t expect you to be here every morning.”
I’m feeding him a line. Now he should clap back with, But you do expect me to be here, Price? Or something snarky like that, like how our banter usually goes. Then I’d say, Someone’s got to make sure you don’t go all doughy.
But none of that happens. The easiness I’ve always felt around Graham is missing right now. Instead, it feels like stilted, jerky movements, especially from the rigid-looking man next to me, droplets of water hanging from that trimmed facial hair of his. The light in his eyes I’d noticed had seemed to brighten this past month looks dim and dull this morning.
He doesn’t even look at me when he asks, “You ready?”
“Yeah,” I say, and something like disappointment swirls around in my belly as we take off, swimming down our separate lanes.
I may not have a ton of this kind of experience with the opposite sex, but I’m good at reading a room, and this room says ... awkward. It’s not hard to read; it’s practically on a marquee board in flashing lights.
So are we pretending like it didn’t happen? Because I don’t know if I can do that. I don’t think I want to do that. I could be getting ahead of myself. But I’d think if that kiss were the start of something, then Graham would have looked happier to see me. Instead, he seems like he’s here out of duty.
My mind is a whirl as we swim laps, only stopping to catch our breath before going again. Every time we surface, the silence hangs between us. Gone is the playful banter, that fun, easygoing feeling. It’s replaced by an ache in my heart and in the pit of my stomach.
This goes on for a while, each trip back and forth. Each time he doesn’t look at me but keeps his eyes on anything else, my stomach twists even more.
After probably twenty minutes of this, we resurface at our beginning spot, both out of breath, bobbing up and down in the water from the waves created by the momentum of our bodies.
“I’m exhausted,” Graham says, holding on to the side of the pool after pulling up his goggles and swiping a hand down his face.
“Me too,” I say, my words coming out breathy. I push my own goggles up.
“I think I might call it,” he says. “I’ve got a lot to do today.”
He’s still not looking at me. He’s looking anywhere else.
“Graham,” I say, gingerly placing a hand on his chest. “Are we ... okay?”
He looks down at my hand touching him and then back up, his eyes catching mine for the briefest of seconds before he looks away again. “We’re good.”
“Okay, but ... last night,” I start.
He lets out a breath, his eyes looking strained. “Lucy ... last night shouldn’t have happened.”
My heart grabs on to my stomach as they make a downward plummet. I pull my hand away from Graham’s chest like it’s been scorched. His words aren’t a surprise, really. Not after the way he’s interacted with me since he arrived this morning. But they shock me anyway.
“Why?” I ask.
“Because,” he says, his eyes searching around the pool as if he’s looking for answers there.
“Because why?”
