Her eyelids flicker and slowly open, watching me with a slightly hazy gaze. “Hey,” she says, so low I can hardly hear it.
“You okay?”
She nods, and the tension in my shoulders loosens, but my concern leaks out, sounding like annoyance. “Jesus, Diana. You trying to kill yourself? How long were you in there? I’ve been swimming for—” I glance at the wall clock. “Twenty-five minutes. Why didn’t you come out?”
She casts me a glance through heavily lidded eyes, then screws them shut and lets out a low groan, and I knowexactlywhy she stayed in there. It’s the opposite of why I showed up at our usual meeting time. She was avoiding me, whereas I thought my prompt appearance at the pool would convey the impression that last night meant nothing to me; that the brush of her lips to mine was incidental. Unremarkable. Not an event to knock me off my usual routine.
My punctuality is bullshit; I could just as easily be the one passing out in the sauna because I’ve thought of nothing but the way she kissed me since the moment it happened. Her scent. The soft, yielding nature of her mouth. The taste of her tongue.
Those few precious moments before we broke apart replayed constantly in my mind all night long, and Melanie’s giggles and glancing touches did nothing to distract me.
My heart gives a heavy, dull thud. “Were you avoiding me?”
Her lips turn down as she nods, her eyes still screwed shut.
I drag a hand over my forehead and into my hair, dismayed that I’m the cause of her suffering. But somewhere beneath the dismay is a disturbing sense of relief that what happened last night drove her to this foolishness. If she had turned up to swim as usual, seemingly unmoved by what occurred, I would have been disappointed. More than disappointed. The thought makesme feel like a terrible man. A terrible father. A terrible human being. “It’s not worth nearly dying over.”
“I dunno about that,” she murmurs, grimacing as she speaks.
I chuckle, keeping things as light as possible as I get her a cup of water from the water fountain and bring it back, helping her to sit up and sip some. Sitting next to her this way, my wet thigh is pressed against her sweaty one. It’s far too much bare skin contact, but I’m too preoccupied with her well-being to give it more than a moment’s thought.
She lies back again.
“Rest,” I tell her. “Don’t move. I’ll stay right here until you feel like you can walk.”
She nods.
After an interminable silence, she says, “I found a flat.”
“A flat?”
“Yes, in Brixton. I’m moving out.” She opens her eyes and stares at me. “I know you didn’t want me to be here after Lizzie leaves. I’m going to sign the lease.”
“Right.” An oppressive sensation comes over me, and I scratch at the back of my neck, not looking at her, struggling to process the bizarre reaction I’m having to her words. “Yes. That’s… that makes sense. When did you decide?”
She winces. “This morning.”
I quirk my head to look at her. “This morning, before you came and hid in the sauna?”
A self-ridiculing smile curves her mouth, one hand covering her eyes. “Yup.”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. This situation is ridiculous. Neither of us can say the words out loud.You kissed me last night. We’re not a couple of high school kids who can’t handle this. At least I’m not. And yet I can’t bring myself to say it out loud either.
Fucking hell.
“You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want,” I say instead.
She’s quiet for a moment before her worried gaze drifts up and latches onto mine. “Your hand is still on my leg.”
Glancing down at her thigh, I find she’s right. My whole hand is resting halfway between her knee and crotch, separated by a scrap of wet flannel, which is now warm and not doing its job to cool her down at all.
I scrunch it up and lob it across the room, where it lands perfectly in the towel bin. Slam dunk.
“Are you good at everything?” Diana mutters.
Ignoring her, I ask, “Do you want me to help you upstairs? Or to the shower?”
“The shower?” she questions, the words explosive and imbued with surprise.