A Matter of Heart (13 page)

A
drenaline flares as I scan the water. It's Mike. He's halfway down the lane, clutching his elbow and shrieking like his arm's been ripped off. Before I can react, Alec has yanked off his tee and jumped in the pool.

“I hit the lane line,” Mike cries.

Alec nods, slicing through the space between them in long strides. “Hurts like a mother, doesn't it?” Then he picks up Mike, tosses him in the air like a toy shark, and catches him. Instead of another wail, Mike smiles.

“You good?” Alec asks.

“No.” But he's still smiling.

“Go on,” Alec says. “Finish up. Then maybe we'll play a game.”

Mike nods and starts again—but I can see he's careful to keep toward the middle of the lane.

Alec dives into lane 3 so the kids can keep swimming, and he comes up at the wall, shaking water out of his hair. My eyes are drawn to his chest and the width of his shoulders. His dark skin is so smooth. I squeeze my eyes shut.
Strike that
. Ugh. I've seen Alec's chest a million times. What am I doing
looking
at it?

As he pulls himself out, I do
not
notice the flex of his triceps. “Just so you know,” I snap, “I take teaching seriously. No games.”

“I take it seriously too,” he snaps back. “That's why you need games.”

“Kids are motivated by improvement.”

“And they improve more when they're having fun.”

“As if you know so much about teaching.”

He looks me in the eye and surprises me by saying, “Yeah, I do.” Not cocky, just confident. I'm still trying to process that when he turns back to the class.

We go from drills to swim sets and I have to admit, it's okay working with Alec. He's good with the kids. I still think he's too easy, but he really likes them, and it's obvious they want to swim hard for him. Plus, he's careful not to try and take over. Maybe that's why I play along when we end up with a spontaneous game of good-cop/bad-cop. Alec says the kids ought to get a break to play Sharks and Minnows—a game they all love. I check my watch and shake my head. “They've got to swim one more hundred and there just isn't time,” I say. Next thing I know, we've spread out into more lanes and the kids are ready for an all-out sprint. Not even Katie is whining.

“Remember,” I tell Miley, “long and lean.”

The first time I told her that, her face whitened as if I'd slapped her. But I didn't apologize. In the water, she was long
and lean. Now she just nods, flips her goggles down with determination, and sets her chin in that way that makes my heart squeeze.

“On your mark,” Alec says. “Get set!”

“And…hup!” I cry.

An instant later, the water is a hot tub of frothy bubbles. Heads are down, and arms and legs are churning. The kids are working hard. Miley is out front and moving smoothly through the water. Most of the parents are watching by now since class is nearly over. I'm glad. The kids look good.

Alec holds up a stopwatch and high-fives every kid as they come up gasping and grinning.

“You been holding out on me?” he asks Benji. “I've never seen you move so fast except when class is over.”

Then Alec jumps back in the pool and joins the kids for a game of Sharks and Minnows. He's the first shark, keeping his eyes closed and searching for a minnow. He catches Mike, and Mike takes his turn as the shark. I'm laughing with the parents as the kids dive and scramble for each other until everyone's had a chance as the shark.

Afterward, the kids knock my knuckles, tell me thanks as they grab their towels, and head into the lockers. For a second, I just stand there as a smile warms through me, inside and out. I started teaching for extra money, but it hits me now that I'd do it for free. For how good this feels. When I turn back to grab the kickboards, Alec already has them stacked and is taking them to the equipment hold.

Alec.

I see why he gets so many privates—kids must ask for him.
Hell, I would. Another blush sears my cheeks, because that doesn't sound right in my head either. I take a deep breath and when I hear my own sigh, I realize it's way too quiet in here. I can pick up the music from the aerobics class going on in the other pool. I look around, realizing that it's just him and me. I wish everyone hadn't left so quickly.

I wish he'd put his shirt back on.

“T
hanks,” I say, managing to keep my voice cool. There's a pool buoy floating in lane 6, and I make a big job of pulling it in, hoping he'll leave. Instead, he comes over, drops to the deck, and stretches for it.
Damn
. What is it about a guy's back that is so sexy?

“It was good for Benji,” Alec is saying, and I pull my thoughts out of the gutter, forcing a smile when he hands me the dripping buoy.

“Thanks.”

He stands there, resting his hands on his hip bones. “Miley's improved a lot in the past couple months.”

I want to ignore him, but his comment about Miley reminds me of what he said earlier. “What'd you mean?” I ask. “When you said she gave me an Abby look?”

His lips twitch in a smile. “You have this way of looking at Coach during practices. Right before he sends us off, you flip down your goggles like you're putting on a helmet and going off into battle.”

I swallow, a little embarrassed. Partly because he's right. And partly because it's obvious that he's been watching me.

“Miley's come a long way this year,” I say. “Her parents say she's more confident at school now, and they think it's the swimming. I guess I was the same way at her age.”

“Can't picture you in a Shamu swim cap.”

“Ha!” I make a face. “I mean how much I loved it.”

I think he's going to make another joke, but he doesn't. He looks off toward the locker room and his smile has widened into something kind of…well, irresistible. “Yeah,” he says. “I know what you mean. These kids, they're having a good time. It's nice to see.” His smile fades. “Sometimes I wish I could go back to this.”

I pull off my whistle and slide it into my shorts. “Back to what?”

He waves a hand at the pool. “Swimming wasn't always about winning. When I was a kid, I swam because it was fun and not because I was trying to get somewhere.”

I have to smile because that reminds me of Coach's favorite mantra. “You're not swimming to the wall,” I say in my deep Coach's voice. “You're swimming to your future.”

He slants me a look. “Yeah.” But he's not smiling along.

“Come on,” I say. “Racing is fun.”

“It used to be. Now it's only about the stopwatch.”

The men's locker-room door opens and a couple of guys shuffle
out in pool shoes. I smile politely, but I don't really see them. It occurs to me that Alec and I are…
talking
. And something about what he's saying, and how he's saying it, is getting to me. I hesitate. It's none of my business, but I can't help asking. “Because of the scholarship, you mean?”

His eyebrows draw together. “That interview was humiliating. Coach told me it would help. Local interest story and all that, but I'm pretty sure I sounded pathetic.”

“No one who knows you would think you're pathetic.”

His eyes flash to mine. I blush.

He smiles. “What would they think?” he asks in a low voice that I think is meant to be suggestive. And it is.

Heat climbs up the back of my neck. I've never seen Alec with a girlfriend, but I'm guessing he must have one. Or more.

“They'd think you work hard,” I say in a matter-of-fact voice. “And that Stanford is an impressive goal.” Then to shift the conversation back to safer ground, I add, “Congrats on your meet yesterday.”

The smile disappears. He grabs a wet towel off the deck. “You like to be congratulated on a second place?”

Crap
. I wasn't thinking about his 100 free, or I wouldn't have said that. But he's right. I wouldn't celebrate a second place. A lot of kids would, and they should. But when you need to be the best…I pick up the last of the pull buoys but all I'm seeing is his face when the scoreboard flashed his time. It could have been my face.

I follow him to the equipment closet. I edge my way around a basket of fins and dump the pull buoys in their spot while he dumps the towels in a bin. “Sorry. I didn't mean the hundred. I
was thinking of the relay. You guys are going to break the record at State.”

If anything, the scowl deepens. He stomps back toward the pool.

Following him out, I throw up my hands. “What did I say this time?”

“Relay doesn't mean anything.”

“Yeah, it does.”

“It's just a relay.” He picks up an empty water bottle, crushes it in his hand.

“That's not what Connor thinks.”

He turns to face me, his expression unreadable. “Oh, right. Connor.”

I plant my hands on my hips. “Is that what you're pissed about? That you have to swim with Connor?” My eyes widen with a thought. “Or is it that you need Connor to win?”

“Maybe Connor needs me to win.” He throws the bottle at the open trash can stationed at the end of lane 6. It bounces against the rubber side and falls in.

“He does need you to win,” I agree. “That's the whole concept behind a
team
. You need each other.”

“And what else does Connor need to win?”

“Would you give me a freaking break?” I snap. “Connor is not taking anything and neither am I.” I hold out an arm. “You want a blood sample?”

“Would you really give one?”

“Yeah, Alec, I've got nothing to hide.”

I'm surprised, but he looks almost embarrassed. “I shouldn't have said that about you. I never really thought you were cheating.
At least”—his eyes flash to mine—“I didn't want to. But if he's cheating and you don't say anything, then you're cheating too.”

“He's not taking anything.”

“You really believe that?”

“Yes,” I say.

“Then you're wrong.”

“No, you're wrong, Alec. Do you even hear yourself?” My hands fly up, shaking with the need to get through to him. “You just accused me of doping for no other reason than because I'm dating him.”

He shakes his head, but then he sighs as if he's suddenly tired. “I shouldn't have said that,” he tells the deck. “It pissed me off, though, thinking he would drag down someone like you.”

“Someone like me?”

He walks over to his T-shirt and swipes it off the ground. “You've got it, Abby. The whole package. You're talented, you work hard, and you have heart.”

I ignore the way his words make my stomach flutter. “But you still thought I was cheating,” I say. “Guess that explains why you've been staring at me for the past month.”

He pulls the shirt on, shrugging it over his wide shoulders. His hair is ruffled and sticking up over his ears. “I don't get how you could be with a cheat like Connor.”

“He isn't a cheat.” Alec is looking at me, but I wonder if he hears a thing I'm saying.

“Then what's he doing out in his car before the meet starts?”

I draw in a breath so deep the chlorine in the air stings my throat. “He's getting his mind focused.”

“He doesn't have to go to his car to do that.”

“He's not taking anything stronger than power gels. I've seen him.”
Except
, my inner voice adds,
you didn't actually see what he swallowed
.

I'm telling my inner voice to shut up when Alec says, “Then if he's not taking anything, how did he do it? How did he recover from pneumonia so quickly?”

“He's good,” I say. “Plain and simple.”

He steps closer. “But is he that good, Abby? Because he's also lazy, and you know it. He does only as much as he has to.”

And because Alec is right, I feel a surge of anger. Connor is lazy. But he can afford to be, I remind myself. When he has to, he can swim fast because he's naturally good. A need to defend my boyfriend grips me, and I shake my head, hard. “That doesn't mean he's cheating. Connor is right,” I add. “You're a bad loser and you'll do anything to get him out of the pool because it's the only way you can win.”

His dark complexion is suddenly bleached white, as if I slapped him. “Nice one,” he says, his voice like sandpaper. “But you're wrong about that. You're wrong about a lot of things.” He shoots me one last intense gaze. “For one thing, I've been staring at you for a lot longer than a month.”