Harder (3 page)

I’m sure Ally can handle it. I should get changed. So why am I stuffing the training plans in my pocket and following behind them instead?

She stops by the pool, hands on her hips, and turns to Sam. “Not that desperate.”

“What about me, Ally?” Sam’s buddy Matt pushes Sam out of the way. “Desperate enough for me?”

She rolls her eyes and looks down at the clipboard she’s brought with her out of the break room after changing. She looks past the boys harassing her and starts marking attendance.

I’m staring at them open mouthed, but she must be used to this. After all, she works in her swimsuit with teenage boys all day. But my fingers are still itching to knock their heads together.

Control, Ryan. We’re all about control.

Then Sam leans in, his hand reaching around Ally’s waist as she sways away from him, a disgusted look on her face.

Control, what control? I grab him by the back of the neck and throw him towards the pool, where he lands facedown with a huge splash. Several guards gasp around me, and Sam thrashes to a standing position and glares up.

“What the hell?”

“No fraternization,” I mumble.

Ally turns to me, mouth open in shock, like she’s at war with herself about whether to be angry or pleased.

She decides on angry. “I could have handled that.”

“Ryan just threw Sam in the pool!” Matt shouts from behind us. He sidles up to me and ribs me with his elbow. “Nice catch man, she yours now?”

I want to say yes. But she isn’t. “She isn’t property,” I say quietly. Matt’s face falls, but Ally looks at me for a moment as if caught off guard.

She shakes it off and turns to Matt and Sam. “Another five hundred each for harassment. Now. And if I catch you doing that to any of the girl guards, you’ll be out of here.” She pushes Matt in, and waits for them to start swimming before turning to me.

“What the hell were you doing?”

“Protecting you,” I mumble. Isn’t that obvious?

“Well don’t,” she says, looking flustered. “I was handling it myself.”

“What if I wanted to handle it?” I ask, coming close to her, pulling on her clipboard to pull her closer to me. “Why can’t I handle it if I want to?”

She blushes and pulls hair back off her forehead. “So now you can talk.” She gives up on the clipboard and flips around, giving me her back. “Totally silent when you want me to look like a liar to Knight, but now you can talk.”

I don’t get why she’s so hung up on this talking thing. I wish I could kiss her again. I feel like I could explain more to her that way anyway. But I don’t want her telling Knight again. Moreover, if she had to tell Knight, maybe she didn’t really like me doing it, in which case, I don’t want to do it again.

Why don’t people realize words make things more complicated, not less complicated? You can lie with them, tell half truths, or whole truths. The only thing that distinguishes between those is body language. Body language doesn’t lie.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“For?” she says sharply, still not facing me.

“Winning?”

She sighs, so I try again.

“Not speaking up with Knight?”

Another sigh, this one angrier.

“Protecting you?”

She turns to me, eyes blazing, and grabs the clipboard back out of my startled hands. She jabs me in the chest with it. “Look, I don’t need your apologies, or your pity, or your protection. I’m your competition. So just stay out of my way, okay?”

“Okay,” I lie. I’m not going to stay out of her way. I like her. I even like the way she hits me with stuff that doesn’t actually hurt. It’s cute.

I rub my chest where she’s jabbed it multiple times and try not to grin because it’ll just make her angry. She blows her hair out of her face with an exasperated puff, and looks down at the clipboard, marking a few more names. Then she hands it to me.

“You do the rest. I’m going to get back in my suit for drills. You can be the one on deck.”

“But—” I want to be where she is. In the water, out of it, anywhere.

Oh no, I’m like a stalker.

She shakes her head. “No, Mister. You don’t get it. You’re my competition. You’re on my bad list. I’m going to take you down. Not during training. Not when we’re working with the guards. But other than that, you watch your back.” She sticks out her tongue. “Asshole.”

It’s like she’s five and I’m the seven year old neighbor boy next door that she keeps pushing in the mud.

I can’t tell if she likes me and she’s just immature about it, or if she really thinks we are enemies. She storms off and I can see she’s gesturing with her hands and talking to herself angrily as she passes guards on her way to the guard room.

I follow her at a safe distance. I’m already in my suit, but I’m going to get an extra towel and run drills with her. They don’t need me on deck. She’s already changed and leaving by the time I reach the guard room. She watches me go to my locker and pull out a towel, rather than deck clothes, and she scowls. I smile pleasantly at her and head out to the deck.

“Just stay out of my way. Asshole,” she mutters as she pushes me aside and hurries past me.

Oh dear.

At lunch, I wait by the guard room until she comes out. She’s pulling a sleeveless, ragged hoodie on and doesn’t see me at first when she walks by. I walk beside her, waiting for her to look over and notice I’m here.

When she does, she jumps.

“Freak, whatchu sneaking up on people for?” She gives me a push and walks ahead without looking back.

“Ally…”

She turns, still moving backwards, hands in her hoodie pockets, and glares at me as she kicks backward to open the door behind her, then swings through it. I rush to keep up.

She’s like a hurricane, constantly moving and changing and it’s all I can do to keep up.

She stops in front of an old Chrysler LeBaron. It’s got a metallic blue custom paint job, a black top, and spinning rims. It leaves me speechless for a moment.

“Jealous?” She runs a hand over the top. “She’s my baby. Put in a new tranny myself. All mine.”

I guess her car is her soft spot.

“Anyway, why are you following me?”

“Lunch?”

“With you?” She grins, then full on laughs. “Not on your life,” she says, slapping her knee.

“I want to see how your car runs.”

She stops and turns back to me, eyes narrowing. I’ve got her. “Like butter.” She runs her hand along the top. “She’s jumpy as hell and accelerates like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Really? But it’s, well, old.”

Her silver eyes flash in anger, unbelievably attractive to me in her transparency. I get lost in words, but I understand what she’s saying now perfectly.

She walks to the passenger side and opens the door, then makes a sweeping motion for me to get in. Like a butler. I sit, amused, but when I reach for the door to close it she shakes her head. She closes it slowly, lifting it gently and setting it against the frame till it clicks closed with a light clanking sound.

Then she walks back to her side and slides in. She buckles up and waits for me to do the same.

“What’s wrong with the door?”

She pulls sunglasses from the glove compartment and slides them on. “It’s broken.”

“Why?”

“You into cars? It brings out the chatterbox.”

I shrug. “I’m interested in you.”

She sighs and pulls out of the parking lot. “You’re barking up the wrong effing tree. I’m not into that.”

“Into what?”

She palms the wheel around a corner and turns the radio on. “Bose speakers, nice huh?”

“Sure,” I reply.

She pulls into a parking lot in front of a cheap Chinese dive. “You’ll like this place. It’s cheap.” She hops out and gets my door. I hate it, but I don’t want to break it further either.

She shuts the door again, with equal care.

“Why don’t you get it fixed?” I ask.

She shrugs and jams her hands in her pockets again as she walks forward. “Haven’t had time. Happened right before I moved. Spent everything getting away. I’ll have to save a bit more. That’s why you have to watch your ass, I’m gunning for that promotion and you’d better stay out of the way.”

“Getting away?”

She freezes, tenses up, then relaxes and walks forward into the restaurant. “Don’t want to talk about it.”

“But.”

“Shut up.” She walks to the counter and orders. I do the same, and try to pay for both of us, but she waves me off and leads us to a table.

The car door is stuck in my mind. She treasures that car. It’s special to her. Why leave something so valuable broken?

She sits down with her lunch and pulls out a fork. I grab chopsticks and break them apart. I say a quick prayer over the food, a habit, and start to eat.

I look up when I realize she isn’t eating. She’s staring at my chopsticks, and after a moment, she goes to get a pair of her own. She breaks them apart and they splinter unevenly. She tries awkwardly to mimic the way I’m using them, but after dropping the same piece of chicken three times, gives up and throws them on the floor.

I put a piece of chicken in my mouth to hide my grin. Food is the best excuse not to talk.

“How are you so good with those things?” She grabs her fork and starts eating. More delicately than I would have guessed.

“Just good with my hands,” I say.

“Oh yeah. Like sign language. How did you end up a TA anyway? Does it pay well? Kind of a fancy pants job.”

I grin and swallow. “The teacher is my dad.”

“Nepotism!” She shakes her head. “Should have known. Wait, so your dad’s Deaf?”

I nod. “My mom too.”

“Ohhh everything makes so much sense now. You’re a CODA. Child of Deaf Adult. That’s why you don’t talk a lot.”

I shrug. “It’s my second language. I was raised with sign.” Somehow admitting that makes words come more freely. Like something loosens up inside me and allows the words out.

I’m expecting her to ask questions, to want to meet my parents, but she surprises me as usual.

“So you could tutor me, huh?” She winks at me and continues to eat. “Damn, this is sooo good.” She sighs after she finishes and looks at the plate with a sad face.

I push my plate aside. “I’m done.”

“You’re not gonna eat that?”

I shake my head. “Go ahead.”

She grins and takes it, eating again with that delicate but voracious way she has.

“I could, though,” I say.

“Could what?”

“Tutor you.”

She stops mid bite and drops her fork. “Really? ‘Cuz I’m sucking it up in school. Especially Sign Language. I keep voicing when I shouldn’t. I can’t seem to shut up.” She glares. “Wait a minute, is this a trick? Trying to distract me, so you can move in on my job?”

“We have the same job.”

“You know what I mean. Knight’s watching us.”

“You can have the promotion.”

“Ha! Reverse psychology. I know what you smarty-pants do to manipulate people. Not falling for it. Watching my back.”

“We could trade.”

“Trade what?”

“You could tutor me.”

“In what?” She finishes the meal and sits back. “You’re just as good of a lifeguard as me. I guess I could help you be more of a badass, but I don’t know what else.”

“With people.”

“With what?”

“I want to talk to people.”

“You what? Just talk to them then.” She dismisses the idea with a wave of her hand.

I sigh and clasp my fingers together. I shouldn’t have said anything.

“Oh, you mean like girls?” She sets down her fork and her eyes light up. Want me to help you get girls? No problem there. I’m great at picking them up, and I’m not even into them. I don’t suppose you’re into lesbians though… Still, I bet I could help you with normal ones.”

I put my hands over my face. This is going all wrong. I don’t even have the social skills to tell her I need better social skills.

She pulls my hands away. Her hands are firm, and rougher than I would have guessed. “Hey, no need to be embarrassed. I think you could do well with the ladies. I mean—”

I look up with interest.

“I just, if I weren’t your competition, you know, I wouldn’t find you ugly.” She starts to blush. “I mean, don’t make nothin’ of it, but yeah, you aren’t bad looking. Besides that nasty hair.”

“My hair?” I reach up to touch it. I don’t want to lose it. It’s soft. It’s the perfect wall to hide behind. I can touch it when I’m feeling unsettled. It sets me apart as unique.

“Oh, don’t look so depressed. It’s nice hair, I was just being a douche.”

I sit up, relieved. I check my phone and stand. “We should get back.” I just want her to forget I ever asked her to help.

“Hey, wait.” She takes my elbow. Her touch is electric, and I pause. “Let’s do it. I’ll help you date, and you help me with schoolwork. It’s perfect.”

I nod. “Perfect.”

She opens the door for me and I head out behind her into the sunlight. Perfect?

Chapter 3

I wait by Big Blue for Ryan to join me. We agreed on our first session tonight. He already helped me after class today, and now I’m gonna fulfill my end of the bargain.

I don’t know what’s wrong with the female population though. Dude is one of the best looking dudes I’ve ever laid eyes on. Perfect hair, perfect skin, perfect features, freakin’ green eyes. Great body. Knows how to use his hands.

I tried to be mad at the dude. I tried to compete with him. But it was over from the second he showed interest in Big Blue.

He comes out in casual clothes. Fitted polo over designer jeans. Dude knows how to dress. His shoes probably cost more than five pairs of mine. If he has money why is he working here?

Never thought I would think a guy with a ponytail is hot.

He comes over to my door and goes for the handle, then seems to realize how dumb of a move that is, and starts to blush, standing slowly. I laugh and run around the car to open his door. He’s so easily embarrassed. I’ll need to shake him of that.

“We’re going to the mall,” I tell him as I start the car.

He doesn’t say anything. I’m getting used to that. I look over when we hit a red light and see him studying me. A shock goes through me, leaving me oddly warm. His stare is intense and soft at the same time. Gentle, almost. But since when have I been attracted to gentle? He looks away.