“Even if he was perfect?”
“Oh Linden…” I sighed. “Perfect guys don’t exist. There’s perfect cocks and perfect asses, but there are no perfect men.”
I heard Linden sigh, and I knew he was shaking his head at me even though I couldn’t see it. “You should tell the other art students that next time you critique. I bet that would shut the professors up.”
“That,” I replied, grinning from ear to ear. “Is an excellent idea.”
Chapter 5
Teddy
“Pick up the pace, Voss,” Coach Mathers called, her voice finding my ears despite the rush of water around me as I swam. “And keep that turn tight!”
I pushed harder, trying to drive my body through the water with more force. Every muscle screamed as I fought against the resistance, desperate to find even a fraction of a second more speed. My lungs burned, begging for air, but I refused to break my rhythm. The lane markers blurred into streaks of blue and white as I powered forward.
When I finally touched the wall and surfaced, gasping for air, Coach Mathers was standing over me with her enchanted stopwatch and a disapproving frown.
“Two minutes and three seconds,” she announced, her webbed fingers tapping against the stopwatch. “That’s five seconds slower than at the meet, Voss.”
“What?” I sputtered, ripping my goggles off. “That can’t be right. I was pushing harder than ever!”
Coach Mathers shook her head, her expression a mixture of concern and frustration. “You’re overtraining. Your form is getting sloppy because your muscles are exhausted.”
“I’m fine,” I insisted, hauling myself out of the pool. Water cascaded off my body as I stood, trying not to show how my legs trembled with fatigue. “I just need to work harder.”
“No,” Coach said firmly, her amphibian eyes narrowing. “What you need is rest. You’ve been in this pool every morning and night this week. Your body can’t recover if you don’t give it time.”
I felt my face flush with embarrassment. So she knew about my late-night practice sessions. Of course she did. Nothing escaped Coach Mathers’ attention when it came to her pool.
“I need to get faster,” I muttered, reaching for my towel. “Second place isn’t good enough.”
“And swimming yourself into exhaustion won’t get you there.” She put a hand on my shoulder, her skin cool to the touch. “Take the week off. That’s an order, not a suggestion. And get some sleep while you’re at it. You look like a raccoon.”
“But Coach?—”
“No buts. I want you out of this pool for a full week.” She glanced at her clipboard again. “Besides, the maintenance staff needs to drain it and give it a good scrub down. It’ll be closed for a couple of days.”
Great. Now I couldn’t even sneak in after hours. I nodded reluctantly, knowing there was no point in arguing. Coach Mathers had been coaching swimming champions for longer than I’d been alive. If she said I needed rest, she was probably right.
But that didn’t mean I had to like it.
“Fine,” I conceded, wrapping the towel around my waist. “One week.”
“Good.” She seemed satisfied, at least momentarily. “Now hit the showers. The rest of the team still has another hour to go.”
I trudged toward the locker room, frustration building with each step.Five seconds slower. After all the extra work I’d beenputting in over the past two weeks, I was getting worse, not better. What would my father say when he inevitably found out? He had connections everywhere. Someone would eventually tell him of my continued failure.
The shower’s hot water did little to ease the tension in my shoulders or the knot of anxiety in my stomach. I leaned my forehead against the cool tile wall, letting the water pound against my back as I tried to quiet the critical voice in my head that sounded suspiciously like my father.
Not good enough. Never good enough. The Voss name demands excellence, Theodore.
I pushed the voice away, desperate for even a moment of relief. Everyone’s expectations were threatening to squash me flat, and I just needed a moment to breathe for once.
As the water cascaded over me, I let my mind drift to the mysterious redhead I’d seen in the pool two weeks ago. He’d quickly become a favorite topic of mine to daydream about. His naked form had been haunting my dreams ever since that night. I could still see the lean muscles, the confidence in his movements, and the way his cock had hung between his legs when he’d floated on his back, thick and heavy. I’d replayed our brief encounter countless times, always wondering what might have happened if I’d had the courage to stay.
“Come back when you’ve grown a backbone,” he’d said.
My own cock began to stir at the memory, hardening against my will. I glanced around the shower room. It was completely empty. Everyone else was still at practice. For once, I was truly alone.