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For a couple of seconds, we just stare at each other, and then he gets up roughly, holding me so I don’t fall on the floor, and puts me on my legs, which are weak and shaking from what has just happened.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." he mumbles. His eyes are round and distressed, as if he did something terrible.

"No, I am..." I start.

"You should go." He cuts me off, louder this time and more seriously, lowering his gaze as if he's ashamed of me.

"But..."

"Now," he barks at me again, exactly the way he did in the water.

My body shivers, but this time it isn’t from the A/C but because of those words.

"I won't say anything to the police," he continues, harsh and severe, still not looking at me.

I want to say something, to defend myself, to apologize, or at least to justify myself for the jump or promise not to do that anymore.

But I can't say anything. The words are stuck in my mouth while my heart is beating at its craziest speed.

I turn around and run away from that house, both terrified and still aroused, with no idea what to do now that I know what my body is capable of.

Chapter Five

Alex

I wake up in a cold sweat, screaming her name loudly and jumping on the bed. It took me a couple of seconds to realize that it was just a dream. More precisely, a nightmare about a person who is not alive anymore. A person whose death will forever be my fault.

I breathe heavily, my heart beating at a crazy speed. I get up rapidly, trying to banish those thoughts, even though I know for sure that she will never be forgotten entirely.

I haven't had dreams about her for over a year. Even though I think about her every day, I didn’t think I would have panic attacks anymore. Until that stupid little girl who decided she was immortal jumped from that slippery, sharp cliff. A cliff that now belongs to me, at least for the next year while I’m in California. And that means she won't be able to do that again, at least not in the near future. She knows now she can't mess with that. She's crazy but not suicidal.

Fuck, how could I have kissed her? Am I insane? She asked me not to call the police, and after that, I attacked her with my mouth; what a motherfucker I am, huh? And, moreover, is she even legal? If not, that means I'm the one she should be calling the police on. And instead of apologizing, I threw her out of my house. She looked so terrified after I yelled at her, just like a little puppy who has no idea why he's been punished after chewing on shoes.

I remember that look on her face so perfectly, as if she's still standing right in front of me. Those big brown eyes with unrealistically long lashes, so huge they seemed unreal...those dark rose lips, which became crimson after that passionate kiss we had...that toned body with round hips, long legs, and perfect small breasts in that tight bikini...

I shake my head to get rid of those thoughts, but it's all in vain. I'm already half-hard again. And she's not even here! How can that be?

For months after the accident, I thought I had become impotent. At first, I was too distracted by what happened to pay attention. I simply didn't want to have sex. And then, when I tried...

Doctors told me that there's nothing wrong with my reproductive system, at least physically. They suggested that I go to a psychiatrist, which I did. It didn't help, even after months of therapy. I mean, I started sleeping better, but my sex life was still nonexistent.

That's when I decided to change my life entirely and moved to California to start a new job as a swimming coach, a job I refused to take for so many years. It's not like I need to work; it's more about the need to help other people become better swimmers, just like my coach once helped me. Chase Fitzpatrick was my support during all these years, and now, after he had to retire during the school year because of family issues, the least I could do is agree to replace him at his job to help his students get ready for college.

Today is my first day in a new school. I am going to work with kids! Am I crazy? Well, they're not exactly children, to be honest. They are all seniors, so most of them are over eighteen already. The coach said he has true talents there; this school specializes in swimming. Most of the people who graduated from the "Elite Academy" go on to swim for Ivy League schools; four of them even went to the Olympics, and at least one won a gold medal. So it won't be that boring. Or that scary. How hard can it be to spend a couple of months with teenagers? I bet it'll be the easiest thing I've done in my life.

I look at myself in the mirror. My new short haircut is not worth the three hundred dollars I spent on it yesterday. My mom used to cut it so much better when I was a kid. But she's not here, even though she threatened to come if I feel bad again (that's why I can't tell her about my panic attack). I'll have to lie to her that everything's good, even though I hate lying.

I had to shave my beard; that was part of the deal (the deal I didn't want, actually). And now, half of my face is pale. Well, not precisely pale, but definitely whiter than it should be.

But who cares, right? It's not like I'm going to start a relationship with some hot teacher out there, even though the coach said that the gym teacher is a former gymnast (he probably thought it would be a reason for me to agree). I don't need a relationship, especially not with a person I work with. She might be Miss Universe, but I'm not interested.

Or at least I wasn't interested in women before that little girl sat on my lap to calm down my panic attack. Well, she's not exactly little, but definitely a lot younger than me, maybe even underage. The way she moaned, the way she kissed me, the way she pressed her body to mine—everything screamed how inexperienced she was. And at the same time, she was so passionate, so responsive...I've never met anyone like her.

My cock jumps in my pants, and I roll my eyes involuntarily as if it could see my facial expression. That's what you get when you spend too much time alone—you start talking to your dick.

Down, buddy, you won't see her again.

Or at least I hope so.


Tags: Kate J. Blake Romance