His deep blue eyes seem lighter today, with a note of gray in them as he looks at me. The coach continues to talk, but Alex doesn't even look in his direction nor listen to him. His gaze is stuck on mine. It seems like he doesn't even blink as Mr. Fitzpatrick speaks.
I swallow, noticing how my legs are shaking and my knees are weak because of that look.
Is he crazy? There's a whole swim team right here. What if they notice that something's going on between us?
Who am I fooling? No one would ever believe that a girl like me could've kissed a celebrity like Alex Meyers.
And the coach... He sees everything clearly when I make mistakes at the other corner of a two-hundred-foot swimming pool. Then why doesn't he say anything now, when Alex is so evidently staring at me instead of listening to him?
I do not look away, even though I really want to. I'm just trying to make him realize that he should do it first. But he doesn't get my hint and continues to stare down at me from his height. I'm not a short girl either, but standing next to Alex Meyers, I look like a dwarf.
"I guess that's all I wanted to say." Mr. Fitzpatrick's words interrupt my thoughts. I startle a little as if awakened from a dream. "See you next week, Alex," he continues, looking at Meyers, and that's when my neighbor is finally forced to look away from me. "In my office after practice. I mean, your office now."
Wait. What? He can't leave today. It's too soon...
"Can't you just stay at least till the end of the semester?" I mumble, realizing that it sounds more like a child whining. "Then I could..."
I could find another coach, I want to add but bite my tongue to stay silent.
"I have already decided everything, Gabi," Mr. Fitz says, and his voice sounds a little bit guilty. As if he'd also liked to stay, but...
"But maybe..." I whimper again but am unable to finish.
"To my office, Ms. Marcos," a low voice commands, interrupting me. He's not even trying to be friendly, not even in the coach's presence.
Who am I fooling? He probably wouldn't care even if the president was standing next to him.
I open my mouth to start arguing, but he cuts me off once again. "Now."
And without even waiting for me, he turns around and walks away. And I have nothing to do except silently follow, with the whole swim team looking at me jealously as if I’ve won some kind of a lottery.
They have no idea how wrong they are.
I stop in front of the door before entering the coach's—I mean Alex Meyers'—office. I need a second or two to pull myself together. Not because I was running or anything, more like I wasn't breathing at all. I was—still am—so shocked about what’s going on that I’ve simply forgotten to breathe.
I know there's nowhere to hide, and that's why I inhale deeply, encouraging myself to go inside.
I knock on the door, and I expect him to invite me, but instead of saying something, he opens it and practically drags me inside, grabbing my elbow gently but firmly.
I gasp in surprise, afraid that someone might see, but luckily there is no one there. Alex doesn't even look around. Of course, he doesn't care if someone sees us. He simply closes the door and locks it behind me.
"What do you think you're doing?" he barks in his harshest manner, pressing me hard to the wall and placing both of his hands by my sides so I won't be able to escape even if I tried to.
I swallow. What does he mean?
My poor heart keeps beating at a crazy speed, and now, after this man has leaned toward me, I feel like it's just going to jump out of my chest.
"Don't talk to me like that," I grumble in response, trying to sound as confident as possible, looking straight into his eyes.
It's the second time I’ve seen this man, but it feels like I'm already used to his barking at me. As if we're old enemies who fight whenver they have a chance.
It doesn't matter that my knees are even weaker than they were before, my legs are shaking, and I can barely stand, even though my back is pressed to the door.
"I am going to talk to you in any way I want, princess." He highlights the word 'princess' in such a rude manner as if it's some kind of crude language, something I should be ashamed of.
He leans even closer, and now his chest almost touches mine. His deep eyes are glistening with rage and... something else.
I smell the scent of his shaving gel mixed with his shampoo. It's peppermint together with a citrus scent coming from his silky hair.