Chapter 7 Laney
Chapter seven
Laney
Each Stroke Warms You Up
Walking down stairs is still brutal as my quads and hamstrings recover but walking, and pedaling, is easy enough. Yesterday, I was still in pain but it was an emotional breakdown that did the most damage.
I was standing in the kitchen, making a packet of oatmeal for dinner, when suddenly I couldn’t stop crying.
The oatmeal had made me think of the breakfast Miguel ordered to his hotel room.
Which made me think about how delicious it was to sleep in his bed.
Which made me hate myself a little bit. Which made me think of how being so discouraged over how my shoes failed me meant I missed the “Laney Matteson you are a TitaniumPerson!” announcement.
Dee came back from the store and found me slumped against the kitchen table with congealed oatmeal in front of me.
I asked her to find my results on the website and take a screenshot of the finisher designation.
I managed to set it as my phone’s wallpaper, and even though I can’t see all the details clearly through the spiderweb cracks, I know it’s there.
After she reheated the oatmeal for me, and made herself a sandwich, she took me to buy new sneakers. I bought a more expensive pair than I would have before I had free training lined up.
And with the bright blue box tucked under my arm, Dee made us stop to pick up popcorn and red licorice for a teen-drama-marketed-to-adults marathon. Nothing says this is a celebration of me and my endurance sport accomplishment like five hours of one ridiculous plot twist after another.
Today I woke up feeling more refreshed. And, unbelievably, I feel ready to train again. I want to get into the water and push myself. Indianapolis is four weeks away and I don’t have any time to lose.
Lake Michigan looks fucking freezing though. Somehow my body knows without testing the water. Sure, the indoor pools run by the park district are far from heated but the idea of jumping into the open water at Montrose Beach today isn’t much more appealing.
Miguel texted me last night with instructions to meet him here at 8 a.m. To prove I'm not as chaotic as he thinks I am, I got here thirty minutes early. There might have been some nervous energy hustling me out the door, too.
I zip the top of the new-to-me wet suit up higher. The Chicago Tri group always has posts for people looking to unload gear they don’t need anymore. It’s a treasure trove of deals. This suit is a little big, and I had to hand sew a little hole in the back closed, but beggars can't be choosers.
My toes are cold already in the sand. It's early June and we've had an especially cool spring even with the longer hours of sunlight.
The plan is to do a 1500m swim, I think it'll be two outs and back. I’m sure Miguel will wear his fancy fitness watch so we can track our distance. I'd have to guess how far I’ve gone based on stroke count and that's highly unreliable in the open water.
"Hey Laney!" I hear and I turn over my shoulder to see Miguel walking towards me across the sand.
It feels like the wind got knocked out of me after falling out of a tree.
I somehow forgot how hot he was in the last 48 hours.
I mean, I didn't, but I'm reminded now all the same.
Black pepper hair with hints of salt falls freely around his face. A cleanly shaved, olive toned, square jaw broadcasts a mesmerizing smile.
It’s impossible to smell the cinnamon on his breath from here but tell that to my senses because my chest burns like I’m shooting back a shot of Fire Ball.
His body almost stalks towards me. He's pure muscle and confidence. My knees wobble a little bit the closer he gets.
I wasn't kidding when I said he was too attractive to train me. But maybe I'll be extra attentive to his instructions as they caress my ears.
"Hi Coach." I give him a wave.
"Cute." He scolds and little zings of pleasure race through my body. I like being the brat to his zaddy. "Well, there's no point delaying this. It's best to dive right in."
"So you just start?"
"Are you warmed up?"
"Yeah, I biked here." Half an hour ago.
"Me too, so yeah, let's do it."
His wetsuit hangs half open at his waist. He lifts his shirt off his body by the back of the collar and I choke on the air I hastily tried to inhale. His body is exactly as I remember it from the hotel room. Cut and defined and punctuated by ink along his ribs where his heart lies underneath.
Each muscle in my core tenses as my gaze trails from his adams apple down his pecs to his, fuck me, eight pack.
Jesus, I'm going to drown from horniness.
“What’s it say?” I ask, pointing to the lines of his tattoo on his chest.
Miguel takes a step closer and holds still as my fingertips brush the inscription.
“Mejor solo que mal acompanado.” Hey-zeus, Miguel speaking Spanish turns my bones to gelatin and I almost flop like a fish on the beach. “Means, better alone than in bad company.”
“Oh.” Is the only sound I can get out of my lust-addled brain.
He smirks as he folds his shirt and sets it on his towel. He kneels down to untie his shoes and the way he looks up at me from one bent knee makes mine quiver.
“Missing something?” He asks.
“Huh?”
“Goggles, Laney, you’re going to want goggles.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” I mutter.
My fingers can’t focus on the task while my brain is still spinning knowing Miguel is half naked just a few feet away.
I dig around, sticking my head into the top of the tote at one point, before giving a frustrated huff and dumping the contents onto the beach.
The goggles appear wrapped around my wallet. I untangle them and brush everything else off before returning the contents to my bag.
Miguel watches as he slides his arms into his wetsuit and zips it up snugly over his round shoulders before pulling his hair back away from his face and securing it with an elastic. He steps closer and I find my head slowly tilting back as he gets into my space.
His fingers graze the fabric covering my stomach leaving a trail of brush fire in its wake.
"This is too loose." He says roughly.
"Huh?" I whimper.
"Your wetsuit isn't tight enough."
"Oh," I take a step back, breaking the spell, reminding myself I'm here to train. I need his free help because I need to get better so I can swim in something other than a hand-me-down, ill-fitting wetsuit. "It'll be fine. Let's go."
I turn towards the water, no longer fearful of the cold, as embarrassment surges. I walk in until the water hits my knees and then I dive forward.
"Fuck." I gasp when I resurface. It's freezing.
"C'mon let's get this over with." Miguel says from my left. "We're going to sprint out, turn back and recover, sprint out again, and turn for home. Just two outs and back today. Ready?"
"Yep."
"I'll stay on your left." He smirks like we have an inside joke, I suppose we do, before he dives forward and starts propelling himself forward with easy but strong freestyle strokes. I slide my goggles down and follow.
The pace he sets for the sprint out is tough but not impossible. I stay in his blind spot the whole time and don't lose any ground on him.
The further out we get, the colder the water gets. I thought I'd warm up with the exertion but instead I'm willing my teeth not to chatter as we turn and head back to the shore.
Miguel corkscrews and back strokes ahead of me. I can tell he's trying to watch my form during this recovery portion. I want to impress him, I want him to think I’m doing well.
Even if my nerve endings are starting to sting.
Mind over matter right?
If I tell myself I'm not cold then I won't be.
You're not cold.
Each stroke warms you up.
That sounds dirty.
"Good job, Laney." Miguel says when my head turns to the side to breathe. His praise only fuels the lusty thoughts I've been battling since meeting him. "Our pace is good." I hear on my next breath. Then, "we're almost halfway there."
I keep my head down and swim as I see him roll back to his stomach and move through the water ahead of me. We reach the sandbar and he turns.
My teeth are chattering now, I can't stop them. Tears prick inside my goggles as I envision going out and back again.
I can’t.
"Miguel," I whisper through my frozen jaw as I sit on the sandbar and let the water flow around my shoulders. He doesn't stop. He doesn't hear me.
Fuck. I'm in trouble. I pull my hand out of the water and it's tinted blue.
I inhale as best I can and try again through trembling lips. "Miguel."
He stops and lifts his head. It takes just a beat before he stands, rips his goggles from his head and sprints to me.
"Laney, Jesus. Why didn't you say something?"
I can't respond because I think I'm freezing to death.
Miguel scoops me up and carries me to the beach. The air is warmer than the water but my wetsuit feels like an icicle. I am able to lift an arm around his neck but my fingers can't connect to hold on.
"Hang on just another minute and you'll be dry and we'll warm you up okay?
" Miguel says against my temple. I feel a faint press of his lips; hot against my skin.
Each puff of his breath sends cold water droplets cascading down their chosen path.
"You're okay, baby," he whispers as a shiver racks me and the endearment sends a wave of heat down my spine.
My eyes close and all I want to do is feel his warmth against me as he calls me baby again and again.
He sets me down in the sand and starts to unzip my wetsuit. I shakily reach up and place my hand over his to stop him. My breath is shallow as I push through the pins and needles in my ribcage and I can’t get enough air to tell him why he needs to stop.
"No, Laney, we need to get this off, get your skin back to an ambient temperature. I'm going to take off your wetsuit and dry you off."
"I...I'm...not." I stutter through chattering teeth.
"Shhh," he soothes as he unzips the front of the suit.
I keep my eyes focused on his as the zipper opens to reveal I'm not wearing anything under it.
"Christ." He curses as he looks around. His eyes return to mine and they’re a mix of concern and something dangerous.
He exhales, "I still have to take it off, you'll freeze in it. Hold on."
Miguel stands quickly and runs over to where his t-shirt lays in the sand next to my bag. He picks it up with the towel I brought and comes back to me.
He pulls the neoprene off my shoulders and down my arms. Goosebumps erupt at the change of temperature.
Miguel towels my skin dry, keeping his chest close to mine to try and protect my modesty but he's dripping from his wetsuit and I gasp when a few droplets hit my collarbone.
He wraps the towel around my shoulders before leaning back and peeling his suit off all the way. Some heat returns to my core seeing his body in just a set of short trunks. My lion friend stares back at me, almost smirking knowing the predicament I’m in.
Before I can plead my case with his thigh tattoo, Miguel pulls me to my feet and shimmies my wetsuit off until I'm left in nothing.
Then he sits on the sand and pulls me onto his lap. The towel stays around my shoulders as his hands travel in small circles over my skin to warm me up. He holds me closer, and I twist so we're chest to chest and my breasts seek the warmth of his body.
His hands continue their task up and down my arms, back, shoulders. Shivers spread from the sensation of his hand traveling down my hip to my thigh and my body quakes.
"It's okay, Laney, I got you." Miguel says and he presses me closer into his heat.
My eyes flutter closed and my mind blanks as he quietly soothes and caresses me.
Dizziness swirls with the sounds of the beach and the city behind it, the feel of his body against mine, the consistent rise and fall of his chest as he breathes.
My head falls to his shoulder and he holds me against him tighter.
When the dizziness turns to a thrumming in my head, I force my eyes open.
"How are you feeling?" He asks and I inhale deeply.
"Better."
"Think you can stand?"
I nod.
Slowly Miguel lifts us from the sand, keeping the towel wrapped around my shoulders.
"Did you bring a change of clothes?"
"No." I say, my voice hoarse.
"Okay, I'll give you mine." He says before walking me over to his bag. He pulls back the towel and holds it up around me and I slip his t-shirt over my head. Then he takes out a pair of shorts and I hold his shoulders as I step into them.
"Do you have someone who can help you at home?"
"Yeah, my roommate, Dee. She’s at work but I’ll call her." I say again, my voice sounding a little stronger but not much.
"Okay, in the meantime I’m coming home with you." He pulls out his phone and I see him pull up his rideshare app before handing it to me to put in my address.
"What about our bikes?" My teeth chatter as I ask the question. I just got mine and I can't imagine leaving it at the beach. I can't afford to replace it.
"I'm going to get you home, so you can take a tepid bath, and then I'll come back for them in my truck and drop yours off."
"Okay."
Miguel keeps his hands at my waist as I stumble across the beach to the parking lot where we’ll get picked up.
“I have work to do today.” I tell him as we climb into the backseat.
“Can you call off?” He asks.
“Not really, it’s dog walking.”
“I’ll do it for you.”
“No, you can’t do that.”
“Then I’m going with you. Laney, I’m worried you’re hypothermic or in shock right now, I have to make sure you’re okay before I let you out of my sight.”
The worst timed shiver racks my body and all Miguel does is lift an arm for me to snuggle into him as we get into the car and cross the city blocks in morning rush hour traffic to my apartment.