Page 20 of The Absence of You
I stare at her. She’s not serious? “Now, please. Before the rest of the class comes out. I need to put you in the correct group.”
I swallow hard.
“The beginner group will be fine.” I can save her the trouble of the assessment. Coach Swanson doesn’t look up and continues to study her clipboard.
“There is no beginner group. I’ll judge which is your strongest stroke, and that’s the group you’ll be in. You’ll work on improving technique and speed. The top three in each group will compete with the school team.” While we’d been standing here talking, the rest of the class had filtered in and a few of them were actively listening to our conversation, if this weren’t embarrassing enough.
“Which stroke do you favour?” she asks me impatiently.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I haven’t really done much swimming.”
“How much is not much?”
“Well, none.” Her head snaps up, and she squints at me, looking confused.
“None?” she repeats.
You’d think I was speaking another language the way she’s looking at me. She’s a goddamn PE teacher, she must be used to students that actually need teaching, but judging by her expression, it’s clear all she’s ever known are the privileged kids of Heathley Academy. Kids who were likely enrolled in baby duckling swim classes before they were even conceived.
I hear sniggering behind me, and she regains her composure and barks at them to quiet down.
“Enough! Everyone get into your usual groups and do five laps to warm up.” There’s a collective groan in response, but they form a queue to dive in. She looks around the room before focusing on something behind me.
“You will help Miss Winters... learn... to... swim…” Coach Swanson grinds out the words, as if it pains her to witness such incompetence. “Schedule lessons twice a week, either before or after school, until she is up to a good enough standard to join the class. You’re only a couple of credits short of your senior coaching certificate, so it’s ideal.” Whichever poor student has been lumbered with me, stays silent behind me.
She turns her attention back to me. “For now, Miss Winters, you can sit and observe the rest of the lesson and see firsthand what we expect from Heathley Academy athletes.”
“Yes, Coach Swanson.”
She stomps away, shouting instructions at the rest of the class as she goes. I’m mortified. I can’t believe she’d make a student teach me. From where I’m standing I can see Charlotte and Meghan in the pool, so at least she didn’t ask them. Small mercies. Before I can turn around and offer an apology to the unlucky person who has got the job, someone barges past me, knocking against my shoulder as they go. All I see is the familiar back of Grayson as he dives into the pool. I curse under my breath. Of course it’s him. Could have been anyone else in the college, but the coach asked him. Judging by the way he blanked me, I’m assuming he's as happy about it as I am.
I settle down on the benches and watch the rest of the lesson. Coach wasn’t exaggerating when she called these kids athletes. Every single one of them is a confident swimmer. Butterfly, crawl, backstroke; the class made them all look easy.
But my eyes are always drawn back to one person in particular. I watch Grayson swim lap after lap in the vast pool.
He looks like a god, his muscles straining as his arms stretch out and around, barely disturbing the water as he goes. Graceful, like a perfectly oiled machine, his focus never wavers. It’s obvious why Coach picked him to teach me. Even as a complete amateur, I can tell his technique is far superior to any of the other students. He's mesmerising to watch.
I lose track of time, and before I know it, it’s the end of the lesson. Grayson stops, gripping the side of the pool. His biceps bulge and his abs are taut with tension as he hoists himself out. It’s then I realise he’s not wearing loose swim shorts like the other guys but instead he’s wearing a pair of tight black Lycra shorts that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. I force myself to look away before he catches me ogling. I feel my cheeks heat.
The spectator bench is close enough to the pool that when he stalks past me to the changing room, the spray of water from his hair hits me. As he passes me I sneak another look. His strong shoulders and muscled back are still showing the remains of a summer tan. His waist narrows and my eyes drift down to the snug fit of his shorts which showcase his firm arse. I’m frozen in my seat, my mouth drying out as I watch him walk away. Even if he agrees to teach me, there is no way I’ll be able to learn anything useful if he’s going to be dressed like that. I’m truly fucked.
The next time I see Grayson is at our English Lit class later in the afternoon, as we both arrive at the same time. I want to ask him about arranging a swimming lesson. Not because I want to get started, but because I want an excuse to talk to him. But he looks straight through me and doesn’t say a word, so I say nothing. It looks like we’re the last to arrive but thankfully Callie has saved me a seat. Grayson takes the only other available chair. It’s in the back corner of the room, so I can’t look at him without turning around. It doesn’t make me any less aware of him being right there though.
“Are you okay?” Callie nudges me. “Earth to Dahlia? Everything okay?”
“No. Sorry, I mean yes. Well, yes, but not really.” I’m making no sense and it’s clear Callie is struggling to follow my ramblings.
“Start at the beginning.”
“I can’t swim. I know, it’s embarrassing at my age. Coach Swanson is making Grayson teach me. Oh and Grayson hates me. So you know, all of that.” I rush out. “It’s a pretty first world problem as problems go, I’m well aware.” I’ve not filled Callie in with the latest from my encounters with Grayson, but she knows there’s a history. Professor Campbell walks into the room before I can say anything else about it, but Callie tears a page out of her notebook and scrawls on it before sliding it towards me.
I’ll teach you xx
She just shrugs like it’s no big deal. I love this girl. She has been nothing but a good friend to me since I started here a few weeks ago. I know her offer is genuine. Not sure how we’ll square it with Coach Swanson though. Maybe we don’t tell her. As long as the end result is that I can swim, she might never need to find out who taught me. I’m sure Grayson will keep quiet if it means he doesn’t have to spend the time with me.
Chapter Eighteen
DAHLIA
