Page 96 of The Bleak Beginning

This new pool complex is far nicer than the old one, based on exterior alone. The domed structure resembles a layer cake, with six sides and a smaller matching layer on top. Glass arched doors and windows adorn both tiers of the building.

The inside is as spectacular as the outside. It’s spacious, with an arched ceiling with large windows that bring in natural light. In the center, there was a pool with lanes created by ropes extending from one end to the other. I gaze up and notice a second-level mezzanine with built-in seating, most likely meant for spectators to view the activities below.

A whistle sounds, and my head snaps in the direction of the noise.

A stern voice reverberates through the room. “This is a closed practice.” The deep voice bounces off the walls as if looking for a way to escape.

“Chill, coach,” Sylvester says, eating up the small distance between us like it’s nothing and tugging himself up and out of the water.

Must be nice.

His blond hair sticks to his forehead as he shakes his head, droplets of water flying in every direction. I try not to stare at his toned physique, but it’s hard not to notice the way his muscles ripple with each movement.

I mean, I have eyes, for crying out loud, and they’re very nice looking muscles. I also blame my ogling on the confusing interaction I’d just had with Bishop outside the old natatorium.

Honestly, what was that even about?

“She’s with me,” Sylvester explains to the coach, throwing a casual arm around my shoulders. I stiffen at the contact, acutely aware of his damp skin against mine.

Why is a Legacy touching me? And more importantly is he being…nice?

His friend Bishop could learn a lesson or two from him in that department.

The coach’s stern expression softens slightly, but his eyes remain narrowed. “Fine. You get two minutes and then she has to leave.”

Sylvester nods, then turns to me with a grin.

“Sorry about Coach Zeller. He can be a bit intense during practice. He’s actually a big softie once you get to know him.” Sylvester winks, and I feel my cheeks flush despite myself.

This is not the Sylvester I’m used to seeing in the hallways of Altair, all swagger and arrogance. Here, dripping wet and smelling of chlorine, he seems almost…approachable.

I clear my throat, trying to regain my composure. “It’s fine. I shouldn’t have barged in on your practice anyway.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. So what brings you to my humble aquatic abode?” He gestures grandly around the pool complex, water still dripping from his arm.

This is so strange.

“Woah, do we have some fresh meat trying out for the team?” a guy with equally damp hair says, strolling over with a towel over his shoulder. “You’re clearly a ten, even in a one-piece, sweetheart,” he comments stopping beside us.

My mouth flattens to a line. Was that supposed to be a compliment?

“She doesn’t swim,” Sylvester jumps to answer for me, almost too quickly.

Okay, weird.

“So you’re not a swimmer. What do you like to do?” the new guy asks, his eyes roaming over me with unabashed interest.

I shift uncomfortably under his gaze, acutely aware of Sylvester’s arm still draped across my shoulders, and I swear I must be going crazy because I feel his arm tighten slightly at this guy’s appraisal of me. “I, uh…I’m more into plants. Botany.”

“Smart and beautiful,” the guy says with a wolfish grin. “A deadly combination.”

Okay, this time IknowI’m not going insane. Sylvester’s arm tightens around me. “Back off, Christopher,” he says, his tone light but with an undercurrent of…something else. “She’s not interested.”

What is going on right now? First Bishop and now Sylvester?

Christopher holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, no harm in asking, right?” He winks at me. “You said you’re into plants, right? I too, am a fan of a certain type of green—”

“Alex is not going to help you organize your pot collection,” Sylvester cuts in abruptly. Was he actually angry right now?

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