STROKED LONG (8 page)

“I don’t know. I was trying something new, and I lost my shit. It was too much.” I rub my eye with the palm of my hand and lean back on my couch. “Shit, Eva. It was fucking curtains, and I couldn’t pull it together. I lost it in front of Ruby.”

“Is that what you’re really worried about? Losing it in front of Ruby?”

Yes. Desperately worried.

“No. It’s just . . .” I pause, trying to figure things out in my head. “Will my life ever be normal?”

She sighs, not out of frustration though. “I love you, Bodi, and I believe it can be normal for you, but you have to step outside your comfort zone to get there.”

“Much help that did for me today,” I scoff.

“Don’t let today deter you from trying new things. Today was a minor blip in the radar. I mean . . . what were you doing getting curtains? If you’re going to step out of your comfort zone, try doing something you’re somewhat familiar with.”

“What do you mean?”

“Instead of going to Target to get something you’ve never even considered before, something that would change the ambiance of your sanctuary, why don’t you try changing up what time you swim with your coach, or not washing your hair three times in the shower, or swimming in a different pool? Those are all things you are familiar with, but you can change without throwing yourself into the unknown. Make sense?”

Just the thought of changing any of those things makes my entire body itch.

“I don’t like the idea of changing any of those.”

“That’s what stepping out of your comfort zone is, Bodi. You’re not going to do things you like, you have to do things you normally wouldn’t do, things you don’t like to do, to experience more. If you really want to move on, you have to put yourself out there.”

“I’m not strong enough,” I answer honestly.

“This coming from the man who’s medaled in every Olympic race you’ve swum in. You’re strong, Bodi, you just don’t know it.”

“That’s easy for you to say; you’re not fucked up like me.”

“Bodi,” she replies, her voice heavy. “I was in the room next to you that night. I held you in the tub of our shower, shaking from pure fear. I’m fucked up, but I’ve chosen to live, not crawl in a hole.”

“Yeah, but you weren’t the one who left the door unlocked.” A knot in my throat forms, tightening with every word I speak. Tears prick my eyes as memories flood my mind of that devastating and life-changing night. I can still see the blood. Hear Eva’s screams. Because of me.

I hate remembering her face when we buried our parents, when we said out last goodbyes.

“He would have found a way in the house no matter what. He was a psycho with a vendetta, Bodi.”

“Yeah, but I made it easier for him.”

“Don’t,” Eva says firmly. “Don’t fucking start with the pity party. We’ve moved past this with Dr. Auburn. We’ve made progress from the past and we’ve moved forward. Do not start blaming yourself again. Do you understand me?”

That night will forever be branded in my brain as my fault. No matter how many times I talk about it with Dr. Auburn. I might act like it wasn’t my fault to move forward in therapy, but deep down, I harbor the feeling of failing my family, of taking responsibility for everything that happened that night.

Without
my
mistake, there’s a huge chance my parents could still be alive today. No doubt in my mind.

RUBY

“Gah, this thing is so tight. Why do they make them so tight? I don’t understand. I don’t have any room in here.” Struggle is my middle name right about now.

“Because it’s a bathing suit and most people like to make sure they stay on when they’re swimming around,” Lauren calls out from her stall. “And you are the only person who insists upon getting dressed in the bathroom stall.”

“Sorry that I don’t like to have people watch me shimmy into my bathing suit. I kind of like to keep my private parts to myself.”

“How hard is it to put a two piece on? You would think my one piece would be more difficult.” Her stall door unlocks, and her feet rest at the front of my stall. “Come on, Ruby.”

“You’re so im . . . patient,” I grunt. “Screw you, bottoms.”

“Why are you having such a hard time? Isn’t it just a pair of undies and bra you have to put on?”

“It’s more than that,” I answer, a loud snap sounding in my stall. “Jeeze,” I huff, resting my hand against the wall, boobs still out and about. “I’ve worked up a sweat already.”

“I’ve got to see this bathing suit.”

“It’s adorable.”

“Adorable isn’t really what is conducive to swim lessons.”

It is when you’re taking them from Hotty McHotty Pants with the destructive blue eyes and sixteen-pack of abs. Yes, sixteen. Each individual ab has its own set of abs. He’s devastating with his shirt off.

After speaking with Eva, since Bodi wasn’t taking my calls, I will blame his ignoring tendencies on the Target incident, I realize I know nothing about swimming and to make an impact on the foundation, I need to get to know the sport a little more. Therefore, I signed up for one of Bodi’s classes . . . swimming with a bunch of kids. Even though I will be floating around with a bunch of booger-eating earthlings, I felt it important to buy a new bathing suit.

Am I trying to impress Bodi? Uh, yeah.

That’s why I’m putting on my vintage-inspired, high-waist two-piece I purchased off ModCloth two days ago. That speedy shipping just about broke the bank, but it was an important investment. Too bad I didn’t try the sucker on until just now, something I probably should have done before I showed up at the pool.

Please look cute, please look cute.

The model in the photo couldn’t have been more adorable in the navy blue polka-dot bathing suit with matching sweetheart top and red pipe stitching. It’s so nautical and adorbs. Ahoy mateys!

The soft fabric gathers at the back of my neck where I tie it off with a secure double knot. Just because I want to do my boobs some justice, I lift them up individually and situate them to look more perky. Smoothing my hands down my bodice, I appreciate the high waist of the bottoms that shape my curves into a Jessica Rabbit-type figure.

I guess it’s a good thing the bottoms are tight.

Feeling pleased, I make my debut and do a little spin for Lauren who stands to the side, hip jutted out and slow clapping for me, complete sarcasm rolling off her.

“You done? I want to catch the end of Bodi’s practice. Come on.”

Bodi’s practicing? Well, why didn’t she say so beforehand? That lights a fire under my ass.

“Well then, let’s get going,” I say a little too energetically.

The pool is closed off for Bodi; he likes to practice without people coming up to him, but Lauren is on the VIP list—she has access to the pool—and directs us through the secret hallways to the pool deck where Bodi’s coach’s voice booms through the four walls, counting off seconds. Stepping through the door, my eyes immediately fixate on Bodi’s arms propelling him through the water.

“Three, two, one.”

On one, Bodi’s feet hit the end of the pool to form a perfect flip turn, sending him back down the length of the pool.

“Earth to Ruby,” Lauren calls out from a bench on the side of the pool. “Come sit down.”

Yikes, I was totally staring. Acting casual, I traipse to the seat next to Lauren, acting as nonchalant as possible.

“Five, four, three, two, one,” his coach yells, a stop watch in his hand and a whistle around his neck.

Once again, Bodi hits the wall and turns back around. I’m mesmerized.

His broad shoulders span across the lane, his powerful arms all muscular and perfect move him forward, and his back flexes with every flutter kick. As if my body is connected to a furnace, everything heats up from my fingertips to my cheeks.

“He’s so fast,” I whisper.

“It’s all he’s known,” Lauren says back. “It’s all he ever does.” There is a hint of sadness to her voice, like she wishes Bodi had a life outside the pool. From the few interactions I’ve shared with Bodi, I can tell he doesn’t do much beside swim. And it all comes back to the one question that’s burning inside me. Why?

“Kick it up, Bodi,” his coach says. “Three, two, one.” Water splashes and Bodi executes another flip turn.

“What are they doing right now? Why is his coach counting?”

“I think he’s doing some sort of endurance thing. Sprinting in the pool. I’ve seen him do this before. Bodi has to hit the wall before his coach finishes his count.”

“At that pace? I would drown.”

“Tell me about it. I barely swim as it is, so be grateful I’m here with you.”

“I appreciate it. I think swimming by myself would have been embarrassing.”

“Yes. Yes, it would have been.” Lauren pats my leg and then cups her mouth to project her voice. “You got this, Bodi.”

His coach looks up and winks at Lauren, appreciating her cheer.

“You can cheer him on?” I ask. “I would think his coach wouldn’t want any distractions.”

“Not Coach Ed. He’s always welcomed Eva and me to his practices. His parents used to go to almost all his practices so to keep things familiar, we try to come as much as possible, shout some encouragement here and there to show our support. He doesn’t show it, but we know he appreciates it.”

Why does that hurt my heart so much?
There is something about Bodi that runs deep in my bones, that causes me to feel the pain he’s feeling, or the panic, or his awkwardness. It’s as if our bodies are spiritually connected, or at least mine is to his.

In Target, when he started to panic, I felt every overwhelming ache he experienced—as if experiencing it for myself—and I tried to dispel them with a calm voice and a teasing tone. It seemed to work, especially when I was cleaning up his cut. He didn’t take much time to ditch me once everything was taken care of with his boo-boo—he hated me calling it that.

“He’s still bleeding from what happened to him years ago,” Lauren adds, sensing my silence. “The only thing driving him forward is his swimming, but that’s going to end soon. He probably has one more go around left in him after this year’s games. But what happens after that? What happens when his routine is flipped upside down? Eva has many sleepless nights about it.”

“Does he . . .?” I pause. Should I pry? There is so much I want to know about him, maybe I can gather a general idea of the man I’m dealing with. Lord knows he won’t tell me. “Does he have some kind of obsessive behavior?”

Lauren nods but doesn’t elaborate. My cue to shut up. I think that’s all she’s going to say on the subject, which I respect. Looks like I will have to wait to hear it from the horse’s mouth.
So, that would be never, given how much he likes to talk.

“One more. Go, Bodi. Push it.”

“Come on, Bodi,” Lauren cheers and claps.

It warms my heart to see Lauren so eager and happy to cheer Bodi on, as if they are brother and sister from blood. Their tight-knit family is endearing. I’m actually kind of jealous. I want to be part of their intimate little circle.
I want to be one of the elite who is allowed to cheer Bodi on. I want to be
in.

“Three, two, one. Done.”

Water splashes around the pool and onto the deck as Bodi’s body pops up from his horizontal position, and he lifts himself out of the water to sit on the edge of the pool, a full-on smile gracing his face as he looks up at his coach.

Kick me in the nipple!
That
smile is vagina-clenching good.

Why is that smile reserved for his coach? What I wouldn’t give to have that smile directed at me, caused by me, brought on by something small I did. It would be the greatest reward.

From the light crinkle in the corner of his eyes, to the smile lines next to his lips, it’s intoxicating.

“God . . .” I sigh.

“Hey, stick your tongue back in your mouth. You’re embarrassing to look at right now.”

“What? Oh.” I sit up and shut my mouth, blushing from being caught gawking. “I’m just impressed with his pace. What a rigorous workout.”

“You’re such a bad liar.” Lauren chuckles. “I’m not stupid. Bodi’s hot, but you could at least show a little class when you’re staring at him.”

Is that even possible? To be a classy gawker around a hot man? Please show me one woman who doesn’t get all gooey around a man in a Speedo with unbelievably defined abs, pecs, shoulders, and arms. Not to mention his boyish charm, often hidden behind his dismissive façade. It’s a combination that is bound to explode any ovaries in sight.

“I just don’t understand how he can act so casual when he’s not wearing anything.” Standing in front of his coach, Bodi is talking about his workout and pointing to something on his coach’s clipboard. Everything about his body is tight, defined, brawny. Well everything is beside the miniscule scrap of spandex wrapped around his crotch.

“He’s been wearing practically nothing all his life. He’s pretty used to it.”

“Does he have to wear the smallest one ever? I mean, I think I can see his butt crack.”

“And you’re complaining because . . .?” Lauren asks.

I hold my hands up in defense. “I’m not complaining, just pointing it out.”

“Thanks, coach,” Bodi’s voice booms off the walls.

Turning, he spots Lauren as he wraps a towel around his neck. Coming toward us, with purpose in every single step, he stutters slightly when he recognizes me next to her. The hitch in his step makes my stomach flip with nerves. I might have forgotten to tell him I was coming to swim camp today. But then again, even if I told him, he probably wouldn’t have listened because he refuses to answer my phone calls.

“Looking good today, Bodi,” Lauren says as Bodi steps up to us.

Power flows off him. Internally, I know he’s struggling, and he’s putting on a brave façade, trying to mask the struggles he faces on a day-to-day basis but outwardly, he looks strong, confident, put together.

He must be so tired. Tired of hiding who he truly is.

“Thanks.” Nodding his head in greeting, he says, “Hey Ruby.”

Oh God, the way my name rolls off his lips makes my toes tingle.

“Hi Bodi,” I reply nervously. I hate that I’m practically trembling in front of him right now. “Good workout today, not that I really know anything about swimming workouts, but it looked hard. Was it hard? Of course it was hard, you looked like a dolphin in there. I would look like a fin-less seal trying to figure out how to roll out of the pool. Not much of a swimmer, but that’s why I’m coming to camp. To get my swim on.” Silence. “Do you like my bathing suit?” I hold my hands out but quickly put them down when I realize my hips are thrusting in his direction. Not the best model pose. “You don’t have to answer. It’s new. I mean, no, it’s not.” I quickly backpedal, not wanting Bodi to know I got this bathing suit just for today. “It’s old. So old I had to blow mothballs off it today. Not that I smell like mothballs. I bet that’s what you were thinking, weren’t you?” I point my finger at him, hand on my hip.