The girl I had been thinking about nonstop since the moment she ran away from my house. The girl who awakens new, animalistic instincts in me when I'm only thinking about her. The girl I hoped to never see again. That girl is going to be my new student. Great. Just my luck.
My eyes find hers again, even though I promised myself not to do that just a second ago. She rapidly turns away. I probably offended her by kissing her and then throwing her out of my house. I should apologize.
But for some unexplained reason, I'm afraid to get any closer to her.
She looks a little bit different today. Unfortunately, even younger than I remember. Maybe it's because of that school uniform. Maybe it's the way her hair is tied up in a high bun—the best way for a swim lesson.
Her dark brown hair was loose when she was in my house; it tickled my chest when she pressed her body to mine. She was wearing a tiny dark red bikini, which I could have easily ripped off her if I hadn't stopped myself.
Gosh, I can't believe I almost slept with a student. Hopefully, there will be other people in each lesson, or I don't know how I’m going to get through this torture.
After Coach Fitz finishes his speech, I introduce myself quickly and ask if they have any questions.
Of course, they do. Everyone does when they see me. People recognize me and start questioning what happened to me and why I left the sport at the height of my career. And I always say the same damn thing: it's personal, and I don't want to talk about it. But they keep asking.
A couple of guys ask me if I'm able to work with them after school. They say they want to get more work in before college. I guess they just want to show me how serious they are about this. I bet most of them will change their minds after they finish their first lesson with me.
She doesn't come closer to me. Instead, she goes to the coach and starts talking to him, gesticulating intensively, obviously unsatisfied about this new situation.
Of course, she doesn't want us to work together. Even though we're not going to be alone, we already have a history.
"I am so glad you're our new coach," some blonde murmurs, coming too close and looking straight into my eyes.
She's wearing a tight uniform top with a V-neck so deep it shouldn't be allowed in high school. Also, her skirt is a lot shorter than the other girls’. She obviously altered the uniform for it to look more open.
When I look at her, she places her lower lip between her teeth, smiling at me as if she's a little bit shy, even though we both know that she wouldn't wear a skirt like that if she was.
She is probably supposed to look erotic, at least for other guys, but I'm not one of them. I'll feel nothing even if she takes that uniform off. That's what it's been like after that accident: women don't arouse me anymore.
Except for that one time in my new house when a girl sat on my lap to calm me down because of a panic attack, and I started kissing her involuntarily, just because she was that attractive.
"I'm flattered," I say without even a hint of a smile on my face. Not even looking at her. This girl has to grasp that I'm not here to flirt with students.
All I really care about is my coach and the only girl who could wake me up from a long nightmare. That's why I move away from the curious crowd of teenagers and head to Fitz.
"Alex, here you are," the coach says when I come closer. The girl's face changes from scared to absolutely terrified. I grin involuntarily. She might not be the only person who isn't happy that I'm here, but she's definitely the only one who isn't hiding her true feelings.
When she looks up at me with those big eyes, my heart skips a beat, and I hold a breath.
What's going on with me? I feel something strange inside my body. As if I'm happy that she feels this way. And it scares the hell out of me at the same time.
"I'd like you to meet Gabrielle Marcos, the student I told you about," the coach continues as if nothing's going on. Of course, he does; he has no idea that we've already met. More than just met, actually.
When Fitz mentions that he already told me about her, her eyes become even bigger, if that's indeed possible. I remember him saying something about his most skilled student, but I would never have agreed to this job if I knew it was a girl. I don't need all this drama if she falls for me. There already was a girl who was willing to do anything to impress me, and now she's dead...
"Gabi swims for two to four hours a day, at least five times a week," Fitz continues, praising his ward as if she's a show dog. "And she swims six hours on weekends. Every single day. With no exceptions."
Gabrielle...Gabi...So that's what her name is. I wonder if her friends call her Gabi? If she has any. No one with a great social life would jump from that cliff. She was definitely screaming for attention, even if there was nobody around. Just like I did through all this time after that accident.
What a fool I am. I didn't want to be a coach, but I agreed because of my mother, who's so worried that she threatened to move out here with me. And I didn't want to work with women anymore but look what we’ve got here, I'm going to train a girl I'd be happy to never see again because of the effect she has on me.
"As I've already told you..." the coach continues, but I don't listen to him anymore. My eyes are stuck with hers in a slow, torturous dance. It feels like we're in a movie where time has stopped and we're forced to stay together until we figure out how to escape.
And after what happened, I'm not sure there's a way.
Chapter Eight
Gabi