Chapter 6 Connor #3
I text Thalia to tell her Dane won his match.
Maybe it’s na?ve of me to think she’ll care, but I want to tell someone, and she’s one of the few people I can think of to tell.
In a way, Margot knows Dane, so I text her next.
She responds as enthusiastically as if Dane were her friend too.
I guess that says something about how often I talk about him.
“Yo, stalker!” I look up, and Dane is up on the bleacher platform, hugging the rail. “Wait up! We’re going out for pizza!”
I toss him a thumbs-up before packing up my camera and heading out to meet him by the locker room. Hopefully, he won’t tell me to fuck off this time.
A few hours of pizza and beer later, I’m sated enough from the day that when I get home, the first thing I do is shuck my pants off and crawl into bed to digest horizontally.
Scrolling through my notifications, I find friend requests from a few of Dane’s teammates and a slew of tagged photos from the pizzeria.
As uncomfortable as I typically am being on the other end of candid photography, seeing myself having fun with a group of guys again warms my homesick soul.
The good feelings make my head sleepy, and I put my phone down just in time to drift off.
“Connor… Connor…” A deep, hushed voice massages the inside of my skull. The voice of a man I swear I know. “Connor…” it says again.
“Mmm,” I moan as the sound resonates beneath my waistband. Pressing my hips into the Tempur-Pedic mattress, I force my eyelids open to the afternoon glow filling the bedroom.
The shape of a man defines itself with each of my lazy blinks until my mind is conscious enough to identify him as Dane.
“Hey, man,” he murmurs so close to my face I can smell the pizza on his breath. “Is it cool if I use your tweezers? I got a gnarly ingrown hair situation right up by my balls—”
“No!” Consciousness crashes into me, and I push myself up onto my ass.
“Oh,” he grimaces. “I, uh, already used ‘em. Thought you’d say yes.”
“Damn it, Dane!” I scramble out of bed to the tune of Dane’s hyena cackles, and when he bolts for the bathroom door, I stumble after him.
My socks slip on the marble tiles, and I catch myself on the vanity countertop. “Where are they?” I ask in a frenzy, searching around for my favorite tweezers. The pink ones with the soft grip and slanted pincers.
“I’m just messing with you,” the tricky fucker giggles before handing me back my tweezers.
I study the pincers, just in case. Still pristine.
“Put this on,” he says.
A hunk of nylon fabric hits my face, and I catch it one-handed before dropping my tweezers on the counter. Spread out, the fabric forms a pair of green swim trunks. Looking from them to Dane, I realize he’s dressed in the pink swim shorts he likes to wear in the backyard pool.
With a dreamy half-smile, he tips his chin and says, “C’mon. It’s time to learn how to swim.”
A coastal breeze ripples the surface of the backyard pool and keeps my skin from weeping under the late September sun.
Anxiety rears its head as I drop from the lowest step and let the crisp water submerge me up to my waist. I wade gingerly around the shallow end, acclimating to the temperature and the buoyancy.
Meanwhile, Dane whoops and hollers on the diving board before springing himself into a spinning cannonball that splashes me from the opposite end of the pool. He looks like a sea turtle swimming under the surface without a breather, closer and closer to me, until he’s grabbing my legs.
“Ah!” I stumble and catch myself on the lip of the pool.
Dane springs up, laughing and shaking the water from his hair.
“You’re supposed to teach me how to swim, not drown me!”
“It’s just a little shark bite.” His long fingers nip at my ticklish sides, making me laugh. “Are you scared?” He takes my arm and draws me in from the side.
“As long as my feet are on the floor, I’m good.”
With a fiendish grin on his smooth face, Dane says, “Oh, I’m gonna get your feet off the floor. But don’t worry. I’m lifeguard certified. Or, I was in high school, but you don’t really forget that stuff. If you ever need mouth-to-mouth, I’m amazing at it.”
I grimace to keep from smiling, but it’s not my fault Dane is so mischievously charming. I watch the water and grip Dane’s forearms as he inches me away from the wall. My awkward steps collide with Dane’s feet a few times, reminding me of the first time I slow-danced at my eighth-grade dance.
“Can you float?” Dane’s voice picks up my gaze, and I realize how close our bodies are. His nipple rings glint in the sun, just like the water pearls dotting his skin.
“I dunno. Is that a skill?”
“Sorta. There are two kinds of swimming. Swimming to swim and swimming to not drown. If you just wanna not drown, the most valuable things to know are how to float and how to tread water. So, we’ll start there, okay?”
Remembering how helpless I was tumbling around in the murky Pacific a few weeks ago, I don’t feel good about letting go of Dane. Whether or not his lifeguard certification has expired, he’s all the stability I have now.
“You’re okay,” he assures me as my grip softens. He slips around to my right side, one hand behind my back and one on my chest. “Lean back slowly, as if you’re laying your head on the water, and let the density float your hips up toward the surface.”
“That doesn’t sound like a good idea.”
Snickering, Dane reassures me he won’t let me go—that he’ll stay right at my side, promise.
I suck in a deep breath like it’ll be the last one I get, and I tip backwards. A trust fall if there ever was one, as panic swirls in my head and my arms reflexively flail out for him.
“It’s okay. It’s okay,” Dane chants.
Water fills my ears, but Dane’s mouth keeps moving. It’s okay. It’s okay. His left hand stays under my back while his other slips under my thigh.
It’s okay. It’s okay.
Not wanting to make any sudden moves, I keep my head where it is and my eyes on Dane. When he smiles big and proud, I know I’ve done it. I deflate my lungs with a gleeful chuckle, and it’s then that the water pulls me down.
Water fills my vision and seeps up my nose. I flail again, kicking my legs in search of the floor and hooking my arms around Dane’s body. Familiar hands capture my arms and tug me upward. My feet find the floor, and I hug Dane tight as I cough up water on his shoulder.
Dane lassos his arms around me and knocks air into my lungs with a few swats to my back. “Let it out, man. You did fucking awesome.”
As soon as my throat is clear, I laugh. “That was pathetic.”
“Nah, you’re a beast. You wanna go again?”
Who knew floating could be so hard? After a few tries, Dane acts like I’ve moved a mountain.
“Pretty soon, I’ll be able to take you surfing,” he says, but I’ll settle for being able to go into the ocean without a leash.
Progress does feel good, but I’m much happier laid out on the warm concrete, soaking in the sun with my legs dangling in the cool water.
Dane is still at my side, closed eyes turned toward the sky.
His chest rises and falls with slow, even breaths.
He lifts a hand to sweep the wet curls off his forehead, and my eyes find that faded scar.
“How did you get that?” I ask.
“Hm?”
Instead of saying the words, I reach across my body and touch the pad of my finger to that scar, tracing the divot.
“Mm.” Dane turns his head toward me before peeling his eyes open. “Car accident.”
I draw my hand back and lay it on my chest. “When was that?”
“When I was eleven. Hit my head on the steering wheel.”
Assuming he’s joking, I chuckle, but Dane looks sober as can be. “What were you doing behind the wheel at eleven?”
“Oh, ya know. Just fuckin’ around a little. Being all Fast and Furious in Artie’s driveway.”
Studying his calm expression, I ask, “Is that a true story?”
“It’s half of a true story.”
“What’s the other half?”
After a beat, he says, “I’ll tell you later. After you’ve proved yourself.” With a sneaky half-smile, Dane turns his head back toward the sky, lifts an arm, and lays his head on his hand.
I stare at his smooth chest, contemplating the mystery that is Dane Calvo.
“Hey,” he murmurs.
I flick my gaze back up and connect with Dane’s brown eyes again.
“You wanna go to a party tonight?”
“Uh, what kinda party?”
He smirks. “A fun party. Ya know, people hanging out, vibing, dancing, having a good time. Getting tipsy, getting high, and spilling way too much tea about each other.”
Not sure how interesting all that tea will be when I’ll barely know anyone there, but I haven’t been to a college party since last year, and I haven’t gotten tipsy in ages.
All I want to do after a couple of drinks is fuck, though, so maybe going out with Dane is asking for too much trouble. Still…I do like a good party.
“When Thalia gets home, I’ll ask if she’s down.”
“Dude.” His expression dulls. “Do not invite my sister. She’s not gonna wanna come anyway.”
“Probably not, but I still have to ask. She’s my girlfriend.”
He sighs, disappointment oozing from his squinted stare.
It makes me feel like I messed up—like I have a long way to go to prove myself.
I want to prove myself. I don’t want this friendship to be one-sided.
If Dane’s my best friend down here, I want to be his too.
At the very least, I want to show him I can be.
“Fine,” he says. “But when she says no, you’re still gonna come, right?”
Go to a party without Thalia? I’ve done it before where nothing bad happened.
Dane’s grin makes me realize I’m grinning, and that’s all the confirmation he needs.