STROKED LONG (13 page)

Ruby: Okay, see you tomorrow.”

I don’t really want to end our conversation, but I don’t know what else to say. I would love to play the “What’s Your Favorite” game, but I don’t think we are at that level yet. Plus, he might have an early practice tomorrow. I don’t want to keep him up.

Bodi: Have a good night, Ruby. Sleep well.

And sigh. Those two last words I can hear in his husky voice and like a pathetic lonely lady, I use it as a lullaby to put me to sleep.

Until tomorrow.

BODI

“Thanks, Coach. I feel really good.”

“You’re the best I’ve seen you in a while, Bodi. You’re loose, not so tense, making your strokes more fluid through the water. Can I chalk it up to the girl who was watching practice the other day with Lauren?”

“And here I thought these end-of-the-week phone calls were supposed to focus on the pros and cons of the week.”

“If there is an outside source making my practices with you easier, then I believe it’s something we should talk about.”

He’s prying, and it makes me uncomfortable, but I would never disrespect him by changing the subject. He’s been a father figure in my life since I lost my parents. He’s a role model, someone I’ve come to count on, so the least I can do is answer his question.

“Soo . . .” he urges.

“Her name is Ruby and she’s just a friend. We are working on a project together for the foundation Eva and I are starting. She’s been very helpful and insightful. She’s come up with some amazing ideas.”

“And . . .”

Yeah, I didn’t think he would let me get out of the Ruby conversation that easily.

“And she’s different.”

Fuck, how do I talk about Ruby without exposing all my cards to my coach? Firstly, I don’t have a firm grasp on my feelings for the vibrant and eccentric, blonde-haired, beautiful woman. And secondly, there is no way she will want to stick around once she opens my box of crazy, so is it worth going down that road with her? We might be better off as only acquaintances.

“Different how?”

I run my hand through my hair as I lean back on my couch. The smell of lemon Pine-Sol drifts into my nose, a scent I’ve come to know with aching familiarity. Gleaming hardwood floors, pristine tabletop surfaces, and crystal-clear windows surround me. There is not one speck of dirt in my condo, just the way I like it. I’m in control, I’m secure, I’m comfortable . . . except for this conversation.

“She doesn’t necessarily run away when I have a panic episode.”

“Has she seen one?”

I think back to each of my encounters with her. She’s seen some of them—Target and at her apartment—and I think I’ve hidden some, like when I met her at the club and she had glitter stuck to her face. Being social, meeting people, having to put on a “normal” face sends panic through my brain. I don’t want to slip up; I don’t want to show my true colors. Being on guard around the clock is never easy. It’s actually pretty fucking tiring.

“She’s witnessed two almost panic attacks but I’ve been able to control them.” I pause and think why I was able to control the panic from taking over my being. “Somehow, she’s known what to do or not to do, and the panic hasn’t overwhelmed me.”

Coach is silent for a second; it’s obvious he’s mulling this over.

“Say something,” I cut in, hating the silence.

“Are you interested in her romantically?”

And there it is, the question Eva keeps asking me.

Am I? Obviously there is an attraction I can’t seem to put behind me now I’ve let myself accept my feelings for her, but I believe I would be a toxic addition to her easy-going, happy little world.

“No,” I answer.

“Are not interested because you don’t think she’s beautiful, inside and out, or because you’re too scared to let yourself be happy?”

Why does this feel like a session with Dr. Auburn?

“With all due respect, Coach, what does this have to do with swimming?”

Without skipping a beat, he responds, “What do I always tell you about your mental game?”

“That swimming can be eighty percent mental.”

“Exactly.” He sighs. I can imagine him squeezing the bridge of his nose. “Ruby is a new addition to your daily life, and I can already see the positive way it is affecting your swimming. I need you to acknowledge this, to realize she’s had a positive impact on your sport, despite not seeing it right away.”

“I see what you’re talking about, but you need to know it’s not going to be an everlasting thing. She’s just working with me on the foundation for now.”

“And what will be your mental state when she’s no longer working with you?”

Fucking good question.

Last night when she texted me, a little piece of me—a piece I’ve never felt before—got excited from the prospect of talking to her sooner than expected. Presented with a rare opportunity, I concentrated on being a lighter version of myself, the same man who joked with her at her apartment. Unfortunately, our text messaging wasn’t very long. Was it me who made it awkward first? I’m damn good at doing that.

Not sure what to say, I answer honestly. “I don’t know, Coach. All I know is I enjoy her company when she’s around.”

“Fair enough.” Being the man he is, he asks, “This isn’t going to affect your swimming in a negative way, is it?”

A laugh escapes me as I relax. Inquisition over. “No. Have I ever let anything bother my swimming?”

Coach and I both know I haven’t. I’ve maintained a steady mental game my entire life. Even when my parents died I showed no difference in my swimming. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or if it’s some kind of early warning sign of a sociopath. When I’m in the pool, I zone out. It’s my one and only place where I can feel complete calm.

“You haven’t, so don’t let this be the first.” His voice is light and teasing.

“Nothing you have to worry about.”

There is a knock on my door, and just like that, I can feel my entire body stiffen, knowing Ruby is on the other side.

“Hey, I’ve got to go.”

“Okay, you’ve got tomorrow off; use it wisely.”

“Thanks, Coach.”

Quickly I hang up. Standing, nerves shaking my bones, I feel the normal anxiety associated with holding a conversation.

There is no need to do another sweep around the condo; I cleaned it three times before coach called making sure it was spotless. Everything is locked up for the night, I only have to worry about the door, and my nightly call to Eva has already been conducted. I called early, shocking the shit out of her and me. The only reason I broke my rule was because I didn’t want to have to talk to Eva when Ruby was here. Eva did promise to send another pic of her alarm at eighty thirty though to keep me at ease.

Pizza is in the oven, table is set, water is chilled, and I even bought a six-pack of root beer, hoping she likes it. It’s the one and only soda I will indulge in every once in a while, and to top it off, I bought the ingredients to make a chocolate mousse out of coconut milk, topped with fresh raspberries. Those are chilling in the fridge as well.

I have all my bases covered. Would my mom be proud?

Crossing the apartment, I stick one hand in my jean pocket and open the door. Standing on the other side is Ruby with a bright smile on her face and a drenched yellow raincoat covering her head and body. The shoes she’s wearing are soaked and there is water all over her exposed legs.

“Apparently the clouds decided to lose their bladders on my walk here. How are you?” Shaking off her coat, she holds it in one hand, stands on her tippy toes and wraps her free arm around me, embracing me in a small hug. Then without another word, she lets herself in.

Fuck, my heart is hammering in my chest. The inability to move from her embrace is overwhelming, and I find myself staring into the hallway, trying to hold on to the warm feeling of Ruby wrapped around me.

“Where can I hang my jacket? I don’t want to get water all over your place. It smells delicious in here. You really can cook. I can’t wait to have this pizza you spoke of.”

Pulling my head out of my ass and back into the conversation, I shut the door, carefully stare at the lock as I maneuver it shut, and take a visual picture of me performing the act so I don’t panic later on.

You locked the door, Bodi.

It’s locked, you’re safe.

Be present with Ruby, don’t retreat to a darker place.

“Why did you walk here?”

Fluffing her blonde hair with one hand, she smirks at me. Fuck, she’s so damn beautiful. “I didn’t walk from my apartment, just from the bus stop. My car is in the shop right now getting some part replaced. Who really knows what’s going on in that clunk of junk?”

“You should have called me. I would have picked you up.”

She waves me off. “Oh please, I would never bother you like that. The bus was fine, I only had two people offer me heroin and three men stick their hand up my skirt.”

I don’t realize I’m grinding my teeth until she starts laughing and pats my cheek. “Ease up, I’m only kidding. But seriously, the bus was fun. There are so many different people out there.” Looking down, she frowns and then gives me a sheepish grin. “I’m getting water all over the place. I’m so sorry. It’s so clean and here I am, dirtying it up.”

I couldn’t care less about the water dripping on the floor. Wearing only a red dress and yellow cardigan, I’m concerned if she is warm enough.

“Are you cold? You’re drenched.”

“I’ll dry. No biggie.”

I shake my head. “You’re going to catch cold.” Not giving her a chance to answer, I leave her in the entryway and go back to my bedroom where I pull out a pair of USA Swimming sweatpants and a Team USA T-shirt.

Just as I walk into the entryway again, a large bolt of lightning lights up the sky followed by a giant boom of thunder, making Ruby startle and cower.

“Here you go,” I say, making her scream and hold her heart.

“Holy penis on a pineapple,” she exclaims. “You scared the crap out of me.”

“Me or the thunder?”

“Both of you. You tag teamed the shit out of me, causing me to wet myself even more.”

Scanning the ground, I look for evidence only for her to swat me playfully at my chest. “I didn’t really pee. Honestly, I’m not some eighty-year-old woman with a vagina the size of Kentucky who can’t hold her bladder.”

“Okay,” I respond awkwardly. Real fucking smooth, Bodi. “Get changed, pizza will be ready soon.”

“Get changed?” She quirks an eyebrow at me. “You expect me to change into your clothes? How do I know you washed these?” She sniffs them and it almost seems like her eyes melt. “Besides the mountainy fresh smell coming off them, how do I really know these are clean? You might have sprayed some Febreze on them.”

“Look around, Ruby. Do you really think I wouldn’t have clean clothes? Now get changed; I won’t have you sitting wet all night.”

“Valid point.” She nods, not saying another word and going to the half bath that’s just off the entryway.
Could she really think I don’t wash my clothes? Was she teasing me again? Shit, I wish I understood more.

“Hang your coat in there to drip dry,” I call out, heading to the kitchen. Checking the oven, the pizza is a golden brown, just the way I like it, so I don oven mitts, lay out the ceramic trivet my mom used when making pizza, and remove dinner from the oven.

Steaming sauce bubbles up over the vegetables and cheese as heat radiates from the pie. It’s perfect.
Just like mom used to make
.

“I have to admit, that smells delicious,” Ruby says, interrupting my silent thoughts. When I turn to thank her, I’m caught off guard by the gorgeous woman drowning in my clothes. The shirt she’s wearing is entirely too large, the sleeves pass her elbows, and the sweats I gave her are rolled numerous times at the waist and the ankles.

A foreign chuckle rips through me and I cover my mouth, not wanting to insult her.

Looking down at her clothes, she curtseys, pulling the shirt out like a dress and says, “What? Do these clothes you lent me not fit? How strange, I would have thought a man of your six-foot-two stature would have clothes that would easily fit me.”

“Sorry, my intention is not to be mean, but those clothes don’t fit.”

“But I make them work, right?” she encourages me.

“Yes,” I smile, “you make it work.”

“Eep! A compliment, giggle, and smile from Bodi Banks. The world is flipping on its axis.”

Scrunching my brow together I respond, “I did not giggle. Men don’t giggle.”

“Pretty sure I heard a giggle.” She places her finger on her chin and looks to the ceiling in contemplation. “Or would you refer to that as a chortle?”

“Definitely not a chortle.” I laugh again, getting used to the sound coming from me.

“One day I will get a chortle out of you.” Leaning over my frame, on her toes, she eyes the pizza, her hand pressing against my back. I hide the quick intake of breath that shoots through me from the touch of her palm. “Wow that’s a lot of vegetables.”

“Is that okay? It’s how my mom used to make it.” I say the words before I can stop them from coming out. Fuck, I don’t want to talk about my mom with Ruby, not tonight, not fucking ever.

The usual Prying-Ruby retreats to my side and wafts the smell up to her face, ignoring my statement completely. She then turns to me and says, “Looks perfect. Can I get us drinks or anything?”

And that right there, that’s why she’s digging her little heart-shaped face under my skin. She can read me like a book, even when I’m uncomfortable and want to sidestep something that comes out of my mouth.

“I can grab them. You go sit down. We can work and eat if that’s okay with you.”

“Fine with me.” She smiles and goes to the dining room, giving me some time to collect my thoughts.

Nervous and anxious, I run my hand over my face, hoping to gain a little courage to get through this night.

She doesn’t want to know the true you. She would be disgusted. Keep it together, Banks.

With an exhale, I cut up the pizza and bring it out on the trivet followed by two root beers. I set the brown bottle in front of her, which makes that bright smile shine back up at me.