Out On a Limb(60)

While I’ve always felt most at peace inside a natural body of water, swimming anywhere can bring me relief.

But not today, it seems.

This is lap seventeen. I’ve yet to determine how many it’ll take to feel like myself again, but the number keeps increasing with every turn. I’ll be swimming until I forget the very loud memory of my conversation with Bo last night. The mortification of living down the hall from someone who knows you touched yourself thinking about them and has heard you doing it.

And, simultaneously, I’ll be here until I muster the considerable amount of self-control I need to hear that Bo enjoyed hearing me and still not make the reckless, short-sighted decision to sleep with him again.

I lift my left arm up and over my body, carving a stream into the water ahead of me at full speed, then switch to my right.

Left, right.

I haven’t had sex since Halloween. But… has he?

Left, right.

He’s not actually going to bring another girl home, right?

Left, right.

What if he calls my bluff?

Left, right.

When I reach the edge of the pool, I pull myself up and over and catch my breath as I tug off my goggles, bringing two palms to cover my eyes. Fuck. This is definitely not working.

All I can see is Bo’s face, his arm leisurely draped across the top of the archway, his frame towering over me. His lips repeating keeping myself away from your bedroom was nearly impossible over and over and over until I want to scream, so why did you?

I could ask Sarah to spend the night at hers… Give myself a day or two to cool off. But am I seriously going to have to do that every time I find Bo attractive? I’m an adult, for fuck’s sake. We’ve slept together. It’s not exactly surprising that those urges didn’t go away the moment the complications multiplied.

But something has to give.

And I’m increasingly aware that it might be my self-restraint.

“Win?” a deep, friendly voice calls out, echoing around the pool.

I twist to look behind me, looking up to the lifeguard tower to find a familiar face. “Cam?” I call up to him, smiling broadly.

I trained Cam three years ago at Westcliff Point, and he’s been back every summer since as a lifeguard. I’ve only ever bumped into my summer people outside of summer months a handful of times, and it always throws me off a bit. But Cam is a sweetheart. Though the timing of running into him could be better.

“I thought that was you,” he says, his dimples appearing as he flicks his copper hair away from his face.

“Hi!” I say, lifting my legs to rotate and stand. I look down at my swimsuit, wondering if he’ll be able to notice my little baby bump. It’s a toss-up, considering how tight the one-piece suit is, but even if he suspects, I doubt he’ll ask. “How’ve you been?” I ask.

“Good, good, keeping busy. Lifeguarding here and teaching private swim. How about you?”

“Pretty good,” I answer as he starts to descend the ladder. “At the café. Still.”

Cam stops a few feet shy of me, tugging on the lanyard around his neck. “It’s so funny I bumped into you… I was just thinking about you the other day.”

Okay… maybe I should tell him I’m knocked up.

“I just started teaching this kid, Henry. He has a hand just like yours. I was telling him all about my friend who’s the best swimmer I know, and he nearly lost his mind with excitement.”

I pout, and an adoring whine escapes from my chest. “Really?” I ask, elongating the word.

“Yeah. He’s so sweet. A really fun kid to teach. I was chatting with his parents after his first lesson, and they mentioned they’re trying to find a summer camp for him. I immediately thought of you and that idea you told Casey and me about at last year’s bonfire. Your camp?” He brushes his hair away from his face again and adjusts the whistle on his neck as his eyes glaze over in thought. “What did you call it? Camp…”

Camp Cando. A bit on the nose, sure, but it is for kids. “It was just an idea…” I shrug one shoulder while simultaneously wrapping my arm across my stomach, holding on to my elbow. “I don’t even remember. I think I’d just drunk too much.” Six beers. But I do remember. It felt incredible to talk about it again. That was the only time I’ve talked about my camp in the past few years, other than when I told Bo.

“That’s a shame. These parents would love something like that.”

I smile despite the ache in my chest nagging to be heard. “How’s he doing? With the swimming?”

“Fine. But, actually, while I have you here, can I pick your brain?”

I nod eagerly.

“He’s got most of the technique down, but he really overcompensates with his right hand—the bigger one—and it steers him a little off course. I’ve tried the usual stuff, but he seems to still get off balance. What would you suggest?”

“What position?”

“Nearly all of them, but it’s worse with breaststroke.”

“It’s hard to say without seeing him swim. When’s he here?”

“Tuesday evenings.”

“I’m off on Tuesday next week. I could come by if you’d like.”

“Seriously?” Cam asks, bending his knees, crouching down so our faces line up—his totally bursting with joy. I nod, caught off guard, as he picks me up and spins me around in the air. “That’d be amazing.” He drops me, one hand stuck on my shoulder, and steadies me as I regain my balance.