Page 19 of Deep End

My glare doesn’t faze him. “Why do you keep massaging your shoulder?”

Do I?

“I thought your surgeries went well and you were healed.”

How does he—Pen must have told him. “It did. I am.”

We step out of Avery, and Lukas keeps his distance, just a bit more space than is customary, like he knows that I’m easily spooked. Maybe he doesn’t want me to feel threatened—out and about with aknown sexual deviantpast sundown. But I’m just as deviant, and the plaza teems with people strolling past us, headed for what are undoubtedly fun plans.

I watch them a little enviously, but putting on makeup to drag myself to a bar sounds more exhausting than a decathlon—a normal feeling, surely appropriate for a twenty-one-year-old.

Meanwhile, Lukas could be anywhere. The world is his oyster, and I stole his Friday night pearl.

“Labral tear, right?” he asks.

I nod. “It’s mostly rehabbed. I overdid it today, though.” It’s hard, getting used to a new body. New limits. New rules. “What about you? Any injuries?”

“My back, a while ago. Nothing big yet.”Yet. Like it’s just a matter of time. Water’s a cruel mistress, and all that. “Come closer,” he orders.

Lukas stopped a step behind me. I turn and frown up at him. “Why?”

“Because I just asked you to, Scarlett.”

It might seem a bit out of character, given my . . . proclivities, but I really don’t like people who order me around with no authority to do so. There’s something about Lukas’s serious, no-nonsense tone, though, that works on me like the opposite of a red flag. So I go for it and take a step closer. His scent envelops me, soap and chlorine and something warm.

What now?

His hands descend on me—one on my wrist, the other on my shoulder. They’re unyielding and other things I’mnotgoing to think about. He shuffles me with ease, turning me away from him, pinning my wrist against my lower back, gently but ruthlessly making sure that my spine stays straight, and . . .

God, the extension feels good on my muscles. Really,reallygood.

I close my eyes and let out a small moan. This might set a new gold standard for partner stretches—while Lukas’s former partner is out there,stretchingwith—

“Why are you so nervous, Scarlett?”

“Me? I’m not.” Lie.

“Is it because you feel uncomfortable around me—”

“No, I—”

“Or because you think I don’t know where Pen is?”

My stomach plummets. I try to look at him, but his hold stays strong.

“Calm down.” His voice is even-keeled. “You know you don’t have to feel guilty about any of this, right? It’s something you were dragged into. I’m just glad that cutting out your air supply last week didn’t kill any brain cells.”

A breathless laugh bursts out of me. He’s just so blunt. Direct. Difficult, to not be direct back.

“Do you know where she is?” I ask quietly. How did she meet the guy? We’re DI athletes. Perennially exhausted. Not stellar at socializingwith other students. Maybe she’s on dating apps? Maybe she’s hooking up with other swimmers?

“I didn’t ask,” Lukas says.

“Don’t you want to know?”

“No.”

“And are you . . . okay with that?”

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