8. Miller
Once again, holy shit. When I catch a glimpse of her on the beach, my world comes crashing to a stop.
How is this girl single? She’s gorgeous, and her body is perfect. She’s wearing a navy one-piece bathing suit that sits high on her hips, showing off curvy thighs. Her round ass and cute little swell of a tummy are impossible to tear my gaze away from.
And her tits. God, those tits. I want to bury my face in them.
Something occurs to me as I’m picturing her naked. Is she single? I didn’t exactly ask. But with the cold shoulder she’s giving me so far, I feel like she would have brought it up as a brush-off.
We’ll look into this, I decide, nodding my head to myself before sauntering over.
“Hey, partner,” I say, casually slinging my arm around her shoulders. She comes up to my shoulder, fitting perfectly, even if she stiffens at the contact.
It seems to be her default state around me, her back ramrod straight and her muscles so tight it looks painful. Maybe I can offer her a massage to help her loosen up. I trail a finger over the soft skin of her arm, pleased at the goosebumps that rise in its wake.
“How come you’re doing lifeguard training? Do you even need it?” she asks, shrugging my arm off and taking a step to the side. I don’t think I’m imagining her breathing getting quicker.
Ooh, she’s prickly, even though her body can’t hide her reactions. It’s interesting, because I’ve watched her with her friends. She’s quiet, but even in one day she’s warmed up and is laughing and talking with the other girls.
She’s only like this with me. My own little hedgehog.
I’ll keep that one to myself. Somehow, I don’t think she’ll like being referred to as a hedgehog. The thought almost brings a grin to my lips.
“It’s a good skill to have, right? Even if I’m hanging out at the nature barn, I can still spend time at the waterfront.” And I plan to, if that’s where Becca will be. I wonder what the structure of the camp day looks like, how much free time the counselors get. I doubt the schedule is made with the intent of maximizing counselor flirting time, but one can hope.
Becca’s jaw clenches.
A tall girl in a bright red bathing suit announcing her status as LIFEGUARD blows a whistle. “Okay guys, listen up. I’m Jana, waterfront director this summer. Let’s warm up with some laps and then we’ll move into practicing rescues.”
We splash into the surprisingly cold water. I like to think I’m an okay swimmer. My technique may not be pretty, but it gets the job done.
Becca, however, is way above decent. She glides through the water like a dolphin, the sun glinting off her wet arms as she moves them in a perfect crawl stroke. I tread water for a minute, watching her.
“Dude!” Dave’s head hits my shoulder. “Move it along.”
I grin and shift back into a cross between a crawl stroke and a doggie paddle.
Jana keeps us swimming laps for what feels like a long time, but according to her was only ten minutes. I probably would have gotten more laps done if I hadn’t stopped every time I hit the edge of the swimming area to look at Becca. I just pretended I needed to catch my breath.
To be fair, I did need to catch my breath. I’m not exactly one for cardio. I do spend my fair share of time at the gym, but I mainly lift.
Jana taps her fingers against her hip, watching while we get out of the water and sit on the beach. The sand coats our legs as she goes over the basics of some rescues.
“First, we’ll do an active drowning rescue, where the victim is conscious. Anyone want to demonstrate?” she asks the group.
My hand shoots into the air. I have no idea how to rescue anyone, but I’m pretty sure I can drown like nobody’s business.
“Okay, you and your partner go for it and show us how it’s done.”
Becca does not look pleased, but she stands up alongside me as I walk into the water.
“You rescue me first,” I say, then swim out into the center of the swimming area where it gets deep and start flailing my arms dramatically.
Becca glares at me from the shallow water while Jana hands her the red lifeguard floaty thing. I figure I’m too big for her to really rescue, but it’ll be fun for her to try. Honestly, I’m probably too big for anyone in this group to rescue, so it’s not like I’m putting her on the spot. More just making fun of how big I am.
Becca keeps her eyes on me, brows still furrowed as her eyes shoot daggers in my direction, and swims toward me with the red float under her arms. I grin at her and splash some more, ducking under the water for a minute. This is going to be fun.
But when I surface, she’s gone. Where did she—
Smooth arms come up under my armpits and before I know what’s happening, she has me on my back, red floaty under my shoulder blades, and she’s expertly swimming me to shore.
Holy shit. This girl is amazing.
“Good work, Becca,” Jana calls when Becca reaches the shallow end and unceremoniously dumps me off the float. “Now, everyone saw how she approached from the back and pulled Miller onto the tube, right?”
So that’s what the floaty thing is called.
Everyone nods, and then Jana watches as three pairs at a time practice.
“Do I get to save you next?” I ask Becca.
She doesn’t answer, but Jana looks at us and gives the signal.
Becca sighs, defeated. “Just don’t let me actually drown.”
With that, she wades out to the deeper water.
I slip the strap of the lifeguard tube over one shoulder and hold the red part in front of me. I think I’d be good at this lifeguard thing. Just stand here with this floaty and get tan.
“Go save your partner,” Jana orders.
Right.
I swim out to Becca, who is calmly treading water.
“You’re supposed to be drowning,” I say.
She gives me a pointed look. “Then rescue me.”
I take a few strokes closer, then without warning, she lunges forward and grabs my arm.
“Approach from the back so your victim doesn’t try to grab onto you,” Jana calls from the beach.
I wrestle Becca off of me and try to swim around behind her, but she spins so I’m still staring right at her face.
And her tits, which are right at water level.
Focus, Miller.
We play this game for a few minutes while I swim in circles around her and she toys with me.
Finally, Jana blows her whistle at us. “Becca, give him a chance.”
Thank you, Jana.
Becca shrugs and lets me swim up behind her this time.
I awkwardly manage to pull her onto the tube. Now what? When Becca rescued me, she held me with one arm across my chest and used the other to swim. I look down to gauge the feasibility of that move, which only gives me a very clear view of her tits.
And her hard nipples.
Fuck. Me.
“Don’t even think about it,” she says from her victim position. “Use your legs to pull us in.”
Probably for the best. I keep my gaze off her chest as I pull her to shore. Mostly. I steal a glance or two at her gorgeous tits. I’m not a saint.
The tube is supporting her upper back, but the rest of her body is floating below it. What she apparently failed to consider when ordering me to swim like this—both arms under her armpits, swimming backward, instead of holding her across the chest the way she did to me—is that with this rescue her ass is really close to my crotch.
I hadn’t really considered this aspect of lifeguard training. It’s both the best thing ever—having her perfect round ass brushing up against me—and the worst, as I try my best not to get a boner. I’m glad the water is as cold as it is. It’s helping keep things in a low profile.
By the time we get to shore, her cheeks are flaming again. The blush is subtle against her tan skin, but it’s there. Is it that she’s embarrassed by being the center of attention? Or is it me?
God, I hope it’s me.
“We’ll do passive drowning next, then a submerged victim,” Jana announces.
Becca is easier to rescue as a passive victim. She can’t fuck with me when she’s pretending to be unconscious.
As I get her onto the tube to rescue her a second time, she cracks one eye open. “Keep your hands to yourself,” she mutters.
“Go back to being unconscious.” I grasp her one-handed this time, my forearm across her chest. This turns out to actually be easier for a few reasons. First, it lets me use my other arm to swim, and second, I don’t have to spend the whole time thinking of my mom to avoid a boner.
When we switch, Becca manages to knee me in the leg while rescuing me, which I’m not at all sure is accidental, despite her muttered, “Sorry.”
Both of us successfully rescued from drowning for now, we sit together on the beach watching the other pairs practice. The sand clings to her legs, and I watch as she pushes a wet strand of dark hair out of her eyes and tucks it back into her long braid.
“So, tell me about yourself,” I say, trying to crack her icy exterior.
She looks over at me and furrows her brows. Is she offended by my attempt at small talk? Or maybe it’s just my entire existence that bothers her.
“Not your whole life story. Just like, one thing about you.” I give her a nudge with my elbow.
There’s a mix of emotions playing in her dark eyes as she watches me before shrugging her shoulders. “Fine. I’m from New York City originally. I came here as a camper because my mom worked here as a teenager. I fell in love with camp, just like she did.”
“I love that. She must be proud of you.”
Becca doesn’t respond. I know she’s capable of having a conversation. Hell, I’ve watched her have plenty of discussions with Vivien and Lillian just in the last day. She’s even seemed animated through some of them. So it’s either that she’s shy around me, or she hates me.
Based on our interactions so far, I’m thinking it’s the latter option. Actually, it’s definitely that. She’s not exactly been subtle about her distaste for me.
And while most normal guys would probably take this as a signal to back off, it just makes me more determined to win her over. Even if it’s just as friends.
I mean, I don’t want to be just friends, but you’ve got to start somewhere, right?
Everyone loves a good friends-to-lovers story. Or enemies-to-lovers, which might be even better. I’m definitely a fan of both.
What, you don’t think a guy can be into romance novels? I’m confident enough in my manhood to admit it. My mom’s book club competes to see who can choose the spiciest read each month, and she passes them on to me when she’s done.
Let me just say, those slow burns… when they get to the good stuff? Totally worth the wait.
“So… what’s your favorite animal?” I ask. That should be a benign subject, right?
“Um. Probably… panda bears? Or maybe penguins.” The corner of her lips quirk up in the tiniest of smiles. “I love how they look like little cocktail waiters in tuxedos.”
I laugh out loud, picturing penguins carrying trays of drinks. “Love that.”
“What about you?” she asks, tracing a line in the sand with her toe. “Do you have a favorite animal? You must, cause you’re in Nature for the summer, right?”
I wince slightly, remembering the goats. “Hedgehog.” Maybe someday I’ll tell her why that’s my favorite.
A whistle blast pulls our attention to Jana. “Okay, guys, last drill. Submerged victim again, but this time you need to bring your unconscious victim all the way onto the beach enough for your team to save them. Not just dump them off the tube once it gets shallow.” She blows her whistle again.
I want one of those. I wonder if they stock them somewhere or if she brought her own.
I consider where I could buy my own whistle while Becca rescues me first. I’m amazed once again that she’s able to pull a 250-pound, six-foot-four guy off the bottom of the lake and all the way to shore. I guess the water buoyancy helps, but still. It’s really fucking impressive.
She drags me along the sand until my shoulders are all the way out of the water. I do my best to stay unconscious and ignore the sand that’s making its way into my ass crack. I’m taking a long shower after this.
Partly for the sand, but after being this close to Becca for a couple of hours, a cold shower seems like it might be warranted. Down, boy.
“There. You’re saved.”
I open my eyes to find Becca leaning over me, her face blocking out the sun. “Aw, you rescued me,” I say.
She heads back into the water. “Come save me so we can be done.”
We’re just getting started, if I have any say in this.
I follow her out into the deeper water and do my best to scrub away the sand with my palm. God, it really gets into your crevices, doesn’t it?
I’m getting a little better at this after practicing all afternoon. It only takes me two tries to pull Becca up to the surface of the water and onto the tube, and she plays the part of the unconscious victim as I pull her into shore. I feel a little bad, knowing she’s probably getting sand in uncomfortable places as I pull her further onto the shore.
“Don’t worry, victim,” I say, leaning over her. God, her lips are so close, deep pink and soft. I’m itching to run my thumb over her full lower lip, to tug on it until her mouth opens just enough for me to press my lips against hers. “I’ll save you.” I bring a hand to her face and cup her jaw.
Her lips part on their own, just slightly, and there’s a sharp intake of breath just before she opens her eyes to meet mine.