Page 4 of Selling Out
I kick my feet until she’s within reach, then grab her around the waist and shift my direction to take us to the top, trying not to think how long she’s been sitting under there.
Suddenly, she pushes off me, fighting as I kick us toward the surface. It’s a miracle! She’s alive, and I hold her tightly as I work harder to get to air. We were taught about this in lifeguarding—sometimes people being saved from drowning will struggle and fight in an effort to get to the top.
She’s strong, but I’m stronger, and we break the surface. I gulp in air and grab the side of the pool, pulling her toward it.
“Getoff,” she says breathlessly.
“It’s okay,” I reassure her as I pull her to the side. “I’ve got you.”
A sudden kick to my gut knocks out the little air left in my lungs, and I release her as I grab for my stomach.
“Get away from me,” she says, putting more distance between us and looking at me like I’m a crazy person.
“I just saved your life!” I say, trying to catch my breath.
“You assaulted me,” she says with a quick glance at her watch. She presses a button on the side with an annoyed expression, breathing hard.
“Assaulted you? You were drowning. I thought you were dead.” I can’t believe this woman right now. I save her life, and she accuses me of assault?
“Well, I wasn’t. Obviously.”
“What the hell were you doing, then?”
She shows me her watch face. It says 2:32. “Trying to beat my best time—which Iwouldhave if you hadn’t decided to play superhero.”
I scoff, unable to help an incredulous laugh because of the sheer inconceivability of this situation.
She pushes up on the side and climbs out.
“You know,” I say, getting out after her, “a simplethank youwould do.”
She stops, towel in hand, and turns to me. Her gaze flicks to my body, then back up to my face. Recognition dawns, and her mouth pulls into a knowing smile.
“Ah. Okay. I get it now.” She tosses her towel on the bench and clasps her hands together, feigning desperation. “Thank you! Thank you, Austin Sheppard. My hero! God’s gift to womankind! Thank you for saving my life!” She drops her hands, deadpanning. “Was that better?”
My mouth twitches, but I control it. I wrinkle my nose and grimace. “Meh. It could use a little work.”
She scoffs, but there’s a hint of a smile there. She wasn’t expecting that response, and that sends a little surge of victory through me.
“Sorry,” she says. “I’m new to this whole damsel-in-distress gig. Should I have let you pull me out and give me CPR?”
I raise my brows. If what she wants is a cocky blowhard, I’ve got a lot of practice with that. “Is that whatyouwanted? We can still give it a go.”
She turns away and grabs her towel again. “Is this how you pick up women?Savingthem”—she does air quotes—“when they’re perfectly fine? Seems a little desperate. Aren’t there enough screaming fans to satisfy you?”
My laugh is genuine as I grab my towel and face her. “Oh, there are plenty of those, but I prefer a challenge, you know? You sure you don’t need a little mouth-to-mouth?” I can’t believe I’m saying this stuff, but it’s what she expects of me, and I’ve gotten really good at living up to my image.
“Tempting,” she says, wrapping a towel under her arms and across her chest. “Really tempting. If you could wait until I’ve beaten my record before coming to rescue me next time, that would be ideal.”
I remember the time on her watch—2:32. “You were trying to break your record for holding your breath?” I wrap my towel around my waist and roll the top over to keep it in place.
“Tryingbeing the operative word.”
“You can really hold your breath for two and a half minutes?”
“Two minutes and forty-eight seconds,” she responds, drying her legs with her towel. “You know, I could call the cops on you. The pool closes at eight. How did you even get in?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
