Page 35 of What Are The Odds?
“Clearer,” I told her.
She stopped two feet from me, treading water slowly like she could do it all day. I, on the other hand, was already feeling the effects of constantly moving my legs and arms back and forth. We were in Grace’s sanctuary. Not mine.
“Why did you get into swimming?”
“We grew up by the beach, so my parents were all about water safety,” Grace said. "After my swim instructor mentioned I was advancing earlier than other kids my age, my parents upped the practices. I haven’t stopped since.”
“Do you think you’ll ever stop?”
Grace danced her head. “I like it, but I don’t love it anymore,” she admitted. “If I wanted to take the next step, like train for the Olympics or something, I’d have to up the ante and allow it to become my whole life. I’ve never wanted that.”
“No?”
“Nah.” She smiled. “It’s fun. It’s my hobby. But it’s not my life.”
“Huh,” I mused. “What do you think you’ll do after?”
“Not get up at five-am five days a week for a start,” she laughed.
She floated onto her back, causing her perky tits to peak above the water. She was wearing a bra that matched the lace underwear I’d glimpsed this morning. It was very distracting.
“What would you do if you didn’t have hockey?”
“I hope I never find out,” I said honestly. “It’s my world. I love it.”
“Lucky you’re good at it.”
“How do you know I’m good?”
“Come on, Holloway. Now’s not the time for modesty.”
We swam for a while, her easily escaping me each time. I didn’t like that she had the upper hand in here. Her silky skin slid across mine as she literally swum circles around me. My hangover was definitely cured, though it had been replaced by something else. I wanted her so badly. And it wasn’t my egotistical self wanting to win some stupid bet. Or wanting to get my fix with a meaningless one-night stand. It was something more. And that thought was fucking terrifying. When she gracefully pushed out of the pool, I allowed myself a moment to stare. Usually she was in too many layers to know what was underneath. Right now, in nothing but lacy black lingerie, I could see it clearly. Her long legs were tanned and toned, the ultimate combination, and her flat stomach moulded around muscles, accentuating her full breasts. Grace Hughes was fucking gorgeous. She left me bobbling in the pool to grab some towels. Luckily. I was as hard as they came. After recalling the vision of the snapped tibia, I pulled myself together enough to get out. Grace didn't bother hiding her body as she towel-dried her hair on her way back. She wasn’t shying away from me anymore. She threw a spare towel to me.
“You good now, Holloway?”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “I’m good.”
NoI told myself.You’re fucked.
18. We’re friends
Grace.
I’d just flopped onto my bed when my phone vibrated. I’d left it on my desk, charging. Groaning, I rolled off my bed.
Ryker: Keen for dinner before tonight’s game?
I reverted to the group text and messaged Stella and Ava. I wasn’t sure where they were. Our dorm was empty when Levi dropped me off.
Me: Where are you?
Ava: Almost back. Need breakfast?
Me: I’m good. Levi bought me something.
We’d gone through Starbucks where he loaded up on coffee and greasy bacon and egg bagels for the guys. He’d ignored my continual refusal and bought me a muffin and hot chocolate. I’d finished both before we got back to my dorm.
Stella: At least he buys breakfast the next day.
