My childhood best friend always thought I was stupid. He spent three years trying to teach me how to swim and failed. Yet, he managed to teach his cute little junior from school in just three days. In the pool, the girl wrapped herself around him like she had no bones. "My leg cramped, Gavin. I have to hold onto you. Mia won't be mad, will she?" I stared at them coldly for a moment. And then, I suddenly woke up. Later, when Gavin saw me at the natatorium, clinging like a koala to a coach with pale skin, broad shoulders, a snatched waist, and a six-pack, he ground his teeth so hard I thought they’d crack. "Mia! Get down from there right now!" I leaned into the massive, muscular chest of my protective new coach and feigned shyness. "You know what? You really do learn faster this way." 1 I stood by the poolside. Gavin was helping his junior, Lily, practice kicking. They were facing each other, holding hands. It didn't look like a swimming lesson. It looked like a scene from The Bachelor. "Mia, do you see this? She’s only been learning for three days and look at those splashes. I taught you for three years and you’re still doing the doggy paddle." Gavin had taught me for three years, true. But every session ended with him mocking my posture or starting a splash fight until we both gave up. He never treated me with the patience he was showing her. Suddenly, a squeal echoed from the water. Lily yelped and threw her arms around Gavin’s neck. "Gavin! My thigh hurts..." Without a word, Gavin scooped her up in a bridal carry. He shot a provocative look my way. He was betting on my jealousy. After fifteen years of friendship, he was used to me pining after him. He thought he had me figured out. The girl shrank into his arms, looking at me with wide, innocent doe eyes. "My leg cramped. I had to have him hold me. Mia isn't mad, is she?" Gavin raised an eyebrow at me, casual and arrogant. I stared at them. I felt something heavy in my chest sink to the bottom. And shatter. I turned around and walked away without looking back. 2 If this one can't teach me, I’ll find one who can. Stop looking for problems within yourself and start blaming others. That’s my new motto. If Gavin could teach Lily instantly, then clearly, I just needed the right motivation. I needed a hot coach who could princess-carry me in the water, encourage me, and keep me entertained. I marched straight to the aquatic center my uncle owned. I slammed my list of non-negotiables on his desk. "I want pale skin. Broad shoulders, narrow waist. Abs are mandatory. Pecs are mandatory. Biceps are mandatory. He has to be over six feet tall, single-digit body fat, long legs, good proportions. No uggos, no old guys. He needs a nice voice and gentle eyes." My uncle’s face twisted up like a pretzel. "Mia, honey, are you hiring a coach or looking for a boyfriend?" "I don't care! If you can't find a coach like that, I’ll never learn to swim!" "You child... who picks a swim coach based on their abs?" Just then, a splash echoed through the glass. A man stood up in the lap pool. Water droplets rolled down his porcelain skin, over broad shoulders, a tapered waist, and abs that looked carved from marble. His chest was distractingly defined. He swept his wet hair back with one hand, revealing a face so handsome it felt like an attack. I grabbed my uncle’s arm, shaking him. "Him! That one! I want him!" Uncle Ray slapped my hand away. "He doesn't take students. Stop drooling. That’s Chase. He’s a pro athlete. He just trains here during his off-season." I pouted, disappointed. The man tilted his head, towel-drying his hair. Water dripped from his sharp jawline. His gaze, half-amused, drifted over and collided with mine. "What's wrong with her?" he asked my uncle. "Oh, Mia is my niece. She hasn't learned to swim in three years and insists she needs a hot guy to teach her. It’s ridiculous. Blaming the coach's face for her lack of skills..." "Three years and still can't swim?" Chase raised an eyebrow. He looked at me, the amusement in his eyes deepening. "Uncle Ray, put her on my schedule. I'll teach her." 3 I didn't expect Chase to be so easygoing. He was a literal National Level swimmer, yet he was willing to teach a potato like me. "No competitions coming up. I’m bored," he said, leaning down toward me. His handsome face was suddenly inches from mine. I froze, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Is it true? Three years and you still can't swim?" His voice was deep, magnetic. I nodded awkwardly. Chase smirked. "Then it really must be the coach's fault." Professional athletes really are built different. Before we even got in the water, he had to go over the theory. Chase was shirtless, a towel draped casually over his shoulders. Because I was significantly shorter, he had to lean in constantly. The distance was... intimate. High nose bridge, thick lashes, a bobbing Adam’s apple dampened by humidity... I quickly looked down. Full chest, deep-cut abs, the V-line disappearing into his trunks... Jesus. This was too much for a teenage girl to handle. "Got it?" Chase waved a hand in front of my face. "If you don't understand any of the points I just made, just ask." Points? What points? I was too busy connecting the dots on his abs. "Um... your physique is too distracting. I think I got dizzy. Can you explain it again?" I thought he’d be like Gavin—impatient, calling me stupid or unfocused. Instead, he paused, then let out a low chuckle. His eyes curved into crescents, utterly bewitching. "Sorry. That was inconsiderate of me." He went into the locker room, threw on a T-shirt, came back out, and explained everything again, slowly and carefully. 4 Theory met practice. It was time to get wet. I’ve been terrified of water since I was a kid. The moment it goes past my chest, I panic. Chase seemed to sense it. He got in first and held out a hand. "Don't be scared. Come on. I’ll catch you." I plucked up the courage to step down, but my foot slipped on the tile. I pitched forward, losing my balance. The water rushed over my head. Panic set in. My hands flailed wildly, grabbing onto... well, something I probably shouldn't have grabbed. Chase stabilized me, holding me up by the arms. My face exploded with heat. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to! I slipped and panicked and—" His expression was calm, though the tips of his ears were a suspicious shade of pink. "When you're drowning, anything is a lifeline, right?" I was mortified. "You aren't mad?" He smiled faintly, his tone gentle. "Next time, I'll hold you tighter. I promise I won't let you slip." When I got out of the pool, my phone was vibrating off the bench. It was a wall of texts from Gavin. You jealous? If you don't reply, I know you're actually mad. Okay, fine. I dropped the junior off. Where are you? I'll come find you. Are you seriously mad? It’s such a small thing, don't be dramatic. I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt and let out a long breath. I locked the screen. Out of sight, out of mind. "Boyfriend?" Chase’s voice came from the water. He was leaning against the pool edge, arms resting on the deck, water glistening on his muscles. "No," I denied. "He's..." I used to think of Gavin as my boyfriend-in-waiting. We grew up together. He was good-looking, and girls always flocked to him, but he treated me differently. He teased me, sure, but he always coaxed me back. I thought he was just dense. But seeing how gentle he was with Lily proved he wasn't clueless. He just didn't want to be that way with me. I forced a bitter smile. "He’s my former swimming coach. The one who couldn't teach me in three years." Chase nodded thoughtfully. "His loss. No wonder he’s the 'former' coach."
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