“Why are we stopping at the YMCA?” Alex asks a bit nervously as we pull into the parking lot.
“We’re here for your next lesson,” I explain. “Swimming in public.”
He chuckles a little bit and then stops cold. “I don’t really think that’s a good idea.”
“Of course you don’t,” I say. “Because, so far, you’ve only been able to swim with me and in your backyard.”
He considers this and nods. “And I’m okay with that.”
“Well, I’m not. You need to get over all your fears. I can’t be your permanent life preserver, and if the only place you can swim is in your dad’s pool, then all of this will have been for nothing.”
We head to the entrance, and he stops cold. “But when we first agreed to all this, you promised that you’d keep it a secret. How are you going to do that if you’re giving me a lesson in front of everyone?”
“Easy,” I tell him. “I’m not going to give you any instruction. We’re just going to act like we’re here having fun.”
He frowns. “Not really my idea of a hot date.”
“Get over it.”
The pool deck is completely packed with kids, which is exactly what I wanted. It’s loud and noisy and seems totally uncontrolled. If he can swim here, he’ll do fine anywhere.
First we lay our towels down on a pair of lounge chairs. I take off my shorts and shirt to reveal a sporty new one-piece I bought at Hixon’s Surf Shop. (No way am I wearing a bikini at the Y. I just know too many people here.)
“Let me help you with that,” he says as I put on some sunscreen. I give him a sly smile, and he squirts some on my back. He rubs it in, and it’s almost more than I can take. The thing is, he’s completely not trying to be sexy about it. But it totally is.
“Enough stalling,” I say. “Let’s get in the water.”
We hold hands as we go over to the shallow end. To anybody watching, it just seems like we’re girlfriend and boyfriend. (Which we kind of are.) But this way I can help him feel safe without anyone knowing.
“This is okay,” he says as we slide into the waist-deep water.
I pull him close and whisper into his ear, “Now I want you to try the back float.”
He gives me a pained look.
“Trust me,” I say. “I won’t let anything bad happen.”
He takes a deep breath. “Okay.”
I’ve got my arms around him, but it still just looks like we’re a couple. He leans back, and I slowly lower him down until he’s floating.
“See, no one suspects a thing.”
Floating in a pool by yourself is one thing. Doing it surrounded by a dozen kids playing Marco Polo is something else. There’s a lot of splashing, yelling, and bumping. But, amazingly, he does fine through all of it.
After a couple of minutes, I tell him that he can stand up. “You’re doing super.”
When he gets up, he shoots an evil eye at this one kid who splashed him a bunch. But he’s obviously happy with his progress.
“Just one more thing,” I say.
I can tell by his look that he’s not looking forward to this. “What?”
“Five seconds … underwater.”
“You really hate me, don’t you?”
“Now, you know that’s not true,” I say with a wink. “Don’t worry—I’ll go under with you.”
He concentrates for a moment and nods. Then he takes one big breath and goes underwater. I go right with him and count off the time with my fingers. When I reach five, he still stays under. This makes me smile, and a stream of bubbles escapes from my mouth. I keep counting off on my fingers until I reach ten and we both go back to the surface.
“So? Did I pass?” he asks.
I nod. “Absolutely.”
“Good. Now I want you to do something for me.”
“Like what?” I ask suspiciously.
He motions over to where three lanes are marked off for lap swimming. “I want to see you swim.”
“What are you talking about? You see me swim all the time.”
“You’re not really swimming. You’re demonstrating strokes or showing me how to float. I want to see you swim fast.”
“No way.”
“Why not?”
“’Cause I’d feel stupid.”
“You’re talking to a guy who just got intimidated by a five-year-old playing Marco Polo.”
I really can’t believe this. But it’s also kind of sweet. “Okay, I’ll do it,” I say without a shred of conviction.
He takes a seat in the bleachers, and I dive into the last lane. I really can’t believe I’m doing this. I lean my head back in the water to slick my hair back.
He flashes a big cheesy grin and gives me a signal to get started. I have been swimming for as long as I can remember. But in all that time, I’ve never felt so self-conscious.
I do an easy lap down and back.
“Happy?” I ask, looking out from the water.
He comes over to be close (but not too close) and narrows his eyes. “I thought you said you were fast.”
He’s tapped into my competitive side. I realize he’s not going to stop until I show him what I can do.
“Okay, float boy,” I joke. “Sit down and watch.”
I swim another lap, but, unlike the first one, I put a little effort into it. I do another and another. Each lap is faster than the last. The more I swim, the less self-conscious I feel. Over the final twenty-five yards I do a full-out sprint that leaves me gasping for air. When I catch my breath, I look up and see him in the bleachers.
“Wow,” he says with a smile. “Watch out, USC.”
Suddenly, I feel self-conscious again, but in a good way. I climb out of the water and towel off.
“You weren’t lying,” he said. “You really are fast. That’s cool.”
While I’m basking in my moment, I decide to take a chance. “Speaking of cool,” I say, “how would you like to go to a cool party tonight?”
“Sounds interesting. What kind of party?”
“It’s a big Tragic Waters employee party, down on the beach.”
He nods. “That sounds great.”
“Why don’t you pick me up at Magic Waters after you get off work? Then we can go over there together.”
“This isn’t some elaborate plot to get me into Magic Waters, is it?”
“Absolutely not,” I assure him. “You can meet me in the parking lot. The very dry parking lot.”
He flashes that gorgeous smile, and I try to remind myself that he won’t be around for long. I try to tell myself not to fall in love. But it’s really way too late for that.