Page 73 of Don't Date Your Nemesis
“My body has never done what I wanted.”
His lips quirked. “Then trust me to tell it what to do.”
The double meaning wasn’t lost on either of us.
I fumbled, hands gripping his shoulders. “I’m scared.”
“I know.” His hands remained firm on my waist. “But you don’t have to be scared anymore. I’m here and I’ve got you.”
“Liam, I am—”
“Trust me.”
“I…” I swallowed.
“You said it on the podcast. Say it to me now,” he said, his hands tightening around me.
“I trust you.”
“Good girl.” His eyes softened. “I trust you, too.”
Heat flooded through me that had nothing to do with the water temperature.
“Lie back,” he instructed. “I’ll support you.”
“I don’t think—”
“Hey,” he said, his voice softening and becoming gentle. “I’ve got you. I won’t let go.”
I leaned back slowly, every instinct screaming to stay upright and to keep control. But his hand was solid under my back, supporting me so I let myself fall.
The water closed around me, and it was cool against my ears, my hair floating like seaweed. I could hear my heartbeat, amplified and strange. I felt the gentle current from the pool’s filtration system brushing my skin.
Above me, the ceiling arched high. Skylights let in an afternoon sun that dappled across the water’s surface, making everything shimmer gold.
“See?” Liam’s voice was muffled but clear. “You’re doing it.”
“Only because you’re holding me.”
“So? Still counts.”
His hand stayed steady, and I could feel his fingers spread across my spine, warm through the thin fabric of my swimsuit.
We practiced for an hour and, surprisingly, without trying to drown each other.
We did kicking exercises, breathing techniques, and he taught me how to tread water without panicking. With each drill, I relaxed more and more.
Liam moved through the pool with effortless grace, demonstrating strokes, adjusting my form with gentle touches that lingered just long enough to make my breath hitch.
He could have made a great merman, I thought. I need to read merman books so I can imagine—
Stop that train of thought.
“Your hips need to rotate more,” he said at one point, his hands on my waist, guiding the movement. “Like this.”
I bit my lip. “Okay.”
“You’re tensing up again.”
