Chapter Eleven
We were talking about shopping in town—not doing it ourselves, but whether or not Cabourg had anything to offer that Paris didn't—when I mentioned that I’d purchased a bathing suit. “I’ve never seen anything like it in Paris shops, though maybe I’ve been in the wrong shops.”
“Wait.” Benoit put a hand on my arm. We were at breakfast in the hotel. “You bought a bathing suit? Then we should all take the afternoon off for a swim.”
“I can’t swim,” Apolline said with a shrug, having the sense to decline immediately. “I like the beach. And I love that the water is different every time I look at it, but I am not going in.”
When Benoit looked at me, I said lamely, “I should finish some work.”
“You are ahead of deadline. You can take a few hours off for a quick swim. You’ll want to try out your bathing suit, won’t you?”
He was right. Our trip was nearly half over already. “I will.”
“And you can’t go alone. It’s safer to swim with someone.”
He wasn’t wrong, though somehow I suspected swimming with him would be dangerous for me as well.
When I didn’t protest, he said, “Wonderful. Let’s go after lunch.”
“I’ll look for you when I’m out on my walk,” Apolline said.
Our conversation moved on; then we wrapped up breakfast and got to work.
I spent the rest of the morning thinking about getting out of swimming in the ocean with Benoit.
I let my mind wander through every possible excuse—physical ailment, late-running interview, revision emergency, feigned exhaustion, food poisoning again, complete disappearance.
But no matter how much I thought about not going, I could not convince myself not to show up.
I was the one who’d brought up the bathing suit, after all.
A woman who didn’t want to swim didn’t bring up her new bathing suit.
It was as if I’d gone completely off the rails of good sense.
I cannot deny the pleasure of walking down to the beach with my terry cloth robe wrapped modestly around me and nothing underneath but my bathing suit.
The anticipation of being so scantily clad in Benoit’s vicinity gripped me.
He was waiting for me by the promenade stairs, as we’d planned.
And he was wearing his own quite revealing swimming costume.
He smiled as soon as he saw me, and even before I’d reached him, his eyes were visibly darkened with what had to be desire.
He probably looked at all women like this, maybe a hundred women a day, but he was so good at it that I felt beautiful.
And I loved my new bathing suit even more than I had when I bought it.
“I was sure you wouldn’t come out, darling.”
“I almost didn’t!”
“I know.” He had shapely arms that suggested athleticism and calves that quite honestly took my breath away.
Were all men’s legs like that? They couldn’t be.
And I couldn’t take my eyes off them. They were an absolute marvel.
When I finally did, making my slow way up to his face, his delight was apparent.
“You like my bathing suit.”
I laughed. “I do like it.”
All around us, people in similar dress were lying on towels and splashing in the water. Not everyone was dressed for swimming, but most were. And there were little tents where people could change their clothes.
He looked down the front of me, all covered in white cloth. “I look forward to seeing yours. There are chairs where you can leave your things. Shall we?”
I followed him to the line of chairs our hotel set up every day for guests.
They were nearly full, but we found two empty seats at the far end of the row.
I slipped out of my shoes, which were filled with sand.
Then the only thing between me and water was removing my robe.
Which I did quickly and without attention to sex appeal.
I untied the belt and slid it off my shoulders, and then I hung it on the back of the chair.
He watched me; I could feel his gaze on my skin.
He wasn’t shy about appreciating what he saw, which was flattering now instead of frustrating.
It’s not every day a girl wears so little in public; it was nice to know I looked good.
I waggled my eyebrows playfully and then made my way to the shoreline and let the water run over my bare feet.
It was cold and almost fizzy. The chill cooled my whole body and made my skin prickle with goosebumps.
“Let’s go out further,” Benoit said, smiling and shivering.
The water was cloudy and gray, blurring my feet more the deeper I went.
When we were up to our knees, he took two fast, leaping steps and dove into an oncoming wave.
He was nothing but a blur of bubbles and stirred up water for a second, then he emerged with a burst of breath, still smiling.
His hair was plastered to his head, and water ran down his face in rivulets that sparkled in the sun.
Meanwhile, I was standing there lamely, too chicken to follow him.
“It’s not so cold once you get used to it.”
“Isn’t that what they all say?”
He laughed. “Come on. Do you want me to pull you in?”
“Just give me a second.” The water was up to my mid-thigh now, higher—and more intimately chilling—when the waves passed.
A couple ran by, splashing and chasing each other in that sickening, playful way that couples do.
They laughed and swam away together. For the briefest second, I was jealous of their easy togetherness.
How they were so carefree. What was it like to feel that with someone?
Anyone. Benoit was a few meters away, still watching me.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, then dove in with my hands straight out over my head.
The water surged around me, freezing and enlivening.
I opened my eyes, paddling and kicking hard the way the nuns had taught me in school.
Not far up ahead were Benoit’s bare legs, glowing white in the water.
The salt stung, and so I stood, pushing my head above the surface.
My thick blonde braid floated around my shoulder.
I wiped my eyes and blinked away the salt.
“It’s refreshing, isn’t it?”
“It is. But I don’t remember it being so salty.”
With the waves, the water was at my shoulders in the valleys and so deep at the peaks that I had to float up off the sandy bottom to keep my head out. We stood there for a while, saying nothing and enjoying the feeling of being in the water. Of cooling off so thoroughly.
“Do you want to swim a ways? We could stay parallel to the shore.”
“Yes.” I was always a decent swimmer, and by decent I mean not at risk of drowning. “But you don’t have to wait for me. I’m probably slower than you.”
“I won’t leave you to swim alone. It’s not safe.”
“Well then, I suppose I’ll race you.” I dove in without waiting for his response; with a body like his, I assumed the only advantage I’d get was that of surprise.
My form, especially in the current, wasn’t elegant or strong.
And he quickly overtook me. But when he was only a few meters ahead, he rolled onto his back and smiled. Gloating.
“That you’ve physically bested me doesn’t mean you’ll ever best me again.” I panted out the words between strokes, which weren’t as furious now that he’d unofficially won.
“I would never assume so. I know better.”
“Good.” I swam to him and faced him. I planted my feet in the sand, which shifted and swirled away in the waves.
The current seemed to be pushing me toward him.
Or him toward me. And then we were standing quite close.
The fabric of his bathing suit stretched across his chest; the creamy skin of his shoulders and arms exposed.
He was pale with blue undertones from the cold water.
When I looked up at him, the sun gleamed, and I had to shade my eyes.
He opened his mouth to say something, and then took a step back. He changed his mind.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me.” I wanted, more than anything in that moment, to be standing so close to him again, the water swirling between us.
“I don’t know.” He pushed his wet hair back from his face with both hands.
“You never really gave me an answer, for one. I thought you were thinking about my counteroffer, but you’ve been avoiding me for days.
Now here we are, you agreed to meet me for a swim.
I assumed, and perhaps wrongly, that you came because you have something you need to say. ”
He wasn’t wrong. Not indulging myself in this man would be the wiser choice.
But my physical longing for him was making it difficult to think.
Forgetting it, ignoring it wasn’t working.
I also had a growing feeling that this trip and what happened on it didn’t really matter.
We’d go back to Paris and who knew what would be happening at work.
Sure, our editors thought they had it all figured out.
But how much did they really know about what the owners were working on or thinking up.
One of us could get the job, but someone else just as easily could.
Either way, we would have to break up once we were back in Paris.
Here at Cabourg, though, we could simply see what happened.
See what came of it. See how we felt. Right there, in the water, I wanted to very much. “So…”
“So?”
“So, I understand what you’re asking of me. And I can’t say that I’m not interested.”
He smiled at this. Came a little closer.
“But in these matters, I am…”
He tipped his head, waiting for me to finish saying what I didn’t want to say.
I’d never had this conversation with a man before, and I wasn’t sure how he’d react.
He could lose interest, or make some misogynistic comment that would make me change my mind.
That would end the flirtation before it went any further.
“I am not experienced.” I looked down at the water and wanted to sink into it.