Diving Heart First (Magnolia U #1)

Chapter 1 Stroke of Fate

Stroke of Fate

Connor

My leaden arms and legs pump through the water like they have thousands of times before.

I’ve been swimming my entire life. And while I have kept up in the gym the past few months—and while this is one of the finest indoor facilities in the country, the water perfectly temped—nothing could have prepared me for this college-level intensity.

First day out of the gate, and I think I might puke.

That’d make an impression. The only thing making it bearable?

Getting to sneak glances toward the diving well—where she is—every time I’m not face-down in the water.

My first glance of her was on freshman move-in day.

I recall Hunter’s Corolla squeaking as it pulled up to the curb.

Sweat was already dripping down my brow, but as I hopped out of the car, my eyes landed on her immediately.

Her wavy chestnut hair fluttered in the breeze as she hauled more than someone her size should have been able to handle.

Her legs were the kind of toned that drew every eye as she walked.

But what really captured me was her smile.

Cliché, I know, but it was unencumbered, stretching from ear to ear.

And the way her eyes lit up? She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.

Unfortunately, my chance of meeting her was diminished because Hunter, my long-time best friend and one of my roommates, reminded me we had to get a move on towing things to our apartment—the apartment my dad was paying for, which still made my chest tighten, but I ignored that feeling and let Hunter direct move-in day.

He was solid like that. Always reliable.

When we got back for the next load, she was nowhere in sight. It’s a big school, with at least a hundred buildings and double that many majors, and I was worried I wouldn’t see her again.

But when I got to practice today, there she was, balanced at the end of the board with the poise of a fucking swan in a cut-out suit that left nearly nothing to my imagination. The sight immediately did things to me—unideal things while in my Speedo at my first swim practice.

It’s a stroke of fate. I have to talk to her after practice.

No, I will talk to her after practice. Grandpa always said he knew the moment he laid eyes on Grandma that she was the one he was going to marry.

I always secretly thought that was bullshit, especially after seeing how love could implode, but my racing pulse and yearning to know her don’t feel like an accident.

Coach Ken blows the whistle, the sound piercing my ear, and shouts that practice is over.

We all pull ourselves out of the water, and I huddle up briefly with the guys.

Coach recruited me when I was a sophomore in high school, since I had already won states two years in a row for the 50 and 100 free.

And two years later, he snagged Hunter, too.

He flew me out again for Hunter’s recruiting trip, and that was where we met our other two roommates—Brock and Tyler.

“Antonio’s after this?” Brock asks, holding his stomach. “I’m starving.”

“Fine with me.” Tyler shrugs.

Hunter chimes in, “I’m just gonna go to the dining hall. If we keep eating out, I’ll have no money left. I’m still trying to find a campus job.”

Brock groans. “But what if I spot you?”

“Nah,” Hunter remarks, too nice to accept help.

“Connor, you’re in, right?” Brock’s expectant brown eyes widen.

“Sorry, guys. I have something I need to do,” I say, the muggy air licking up my spine as I try to end this conversation as quickly as possible. I can’t miss her.

Brock wiggles his eyebrows. “Something…or someone?”

“Jesus, Brock. Not everyone is looking to get laid every second of the day.” Hunter jabs his arm. “Cool it.”

He’s not entirely off the mark, except I want a lot more than someone to warm my bed. Something about her has me drawn in. I need to know her. We’ll start with her name.

My heart leaps when the diving coach announces their practice is over, too.

“Gotta run,” I say, stooping down to grab my fins and kickboard. I rush to put them away in the designated bin and slip into the locker room. I’m taking the fastest shower of my life when Hunter’s blond hair comes into sight.

“Why are you in such a rush?” he asks.

“Like I said, just have something I need to do.” I scrub my body clean, trying to get the scent of chlorine off me—as if that is ever possible.

“Okay. Care to share with the class?”

I shut off the water. “It’s a girl, okay? I saw her on move-in day, and now she’s here. At practice. And I can’t explain it, but I need to know her.”

“Sounds a little stalker-ish, bro.”

“I know what it sounds like. Just shut up. I’ll see you at home.”

“Fine,” he says, turning on the spray of a nearby shower.

“Fine,” I say, and rush to change as quickly as I can.

When I pop out of the locker room and into Cardum Natatorium’s main hallway, lined with Magnolia University green, I balk.

There she is. Rolled sweats and a tank top that leaves a sliver of her stomach exposed.

I’m walking toward her before I can fully process the movement.

“Hi.” The greeting slips off my tongue. That’s all that comes out. Real smooth. I’m not usually tongue-tied around women, but apparently all my words have run dry.

“Hi,” she says, followed by a closed-lipped smile.

“You were amazing today,” I manage to get out.

Her cheeks turn a dusty rouge, and it’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. “Umm, thanks,” she says, her gaze averting as her delicate hand tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “Are you a swimmer?” Her eyes come back to mine. She’s not running; that has to be a good sign.

“Oh yeah, sorry, I’m Connor.” I hold out a hand. Grandpa always taught me it was polite to greet everyone with a handshake, but now it feels a little out of place. I wince.

If she notices, she doesn’t let on. “Maisie,” she says, teeth showing in her smile now as she takes my hand, eyes softening. Her grip is strong, which is funny since her hand is so small that it isn’t even visible when mine is wrapped around it.

I release her hand but hold her gorgeous green gaze. “I was thinking, maybe you’d want to grab dinner?”

Her eyes flare, but before she can respond, a lean dude with bleach-blond hair in our school’s soccer jersey approaches, slapping her ass before slinging an arm over her shoulder. She startles, and the soft expression from moments ago vanishes. She looks down at the floor.

“Ready to go, babe?” the dude says, pinning me with a death glare.

Well, shit.

Who the hell is this guy?