Chapter 2
Rory
The pool is always so fucking loud. There’s zero soundproofing, which I get, but it would be nice if someone could invent quieter materials for people watching the swimmers. I slide my headphones into my ears and start my audiobook up on my phone. My toxic trait? Listening to smut in public and not breaking a sweat. There’s probably something wrong with me, but I guess I knew that already. I decide to pull up a mindless game while I wait for lessons to be done.
Claire is older, so it’s not like I need to keep an eye on her or tell her to pay attention. I’m just here for transportation. Ten minutes into my audiobook and I’m already done with this. I don’t like crowds, tons of noise, or waiting for people. Seems ironic that I’m a bartender. Maybe I hate it all since I have to do it for work.
My mind starts wandering down the path of “Is this my life now?” and I’m hesitant to let it happen, but maybe it’s worth thinking about. I have my own one room apartment that suits me just fine. It’s not fancy, but I think fancy might be out of reach on a bartender’s budget. I don’t mind, I like things simple. That was something we never really agreed on. Simple doesn’t have to mean shabby, but that’s how he always saw it.
He walks around the apartment, looking at the white walls, minimal decorations, and my second-hand furniture. None of it’s in bad condition; there aren’t any rips or tears. There’s one stain and I just flip that couch cushion over so nobody can see it. His nose wrinkles as he takes it all in.
I stand to the side, nervous about what he’s going to think. He’s told me that money doesn’t matter to him, but a lot of people say that until faced with reality. Heaving a heavy sigh, he turns back to look at me. His dark eyes pull me in like always and I find myself eager to hear his approval, and terrified to be rejected.
He smiles, but I’m not really sure it reaches his eyes. “Not bad E. It’s nothing fancy, but considering your pay as a bartender, I wouldn’t expect fancy.”
So, he likes it? I can’t tell.
“Um, thanks, I was hoping to put more pictures up and make it a little nicer,” I tell him.
I wasn’t, but I’ll make it nicer for him if that’s what he wants.
“That’s probably smart. I’d like to have something nice to look at when I’m here with you,” he says, walking toward me.
I give a small smile at the idea of him being here with me. The heaviness feels a little easier to bear with him around.
“Well? Ready to go?” he asks.
“Oh, where? We just got here.”
“We’ll go to my place. It’s nicer so you’ll be more comfortable. There’s bound to be more food there, so you can have more options for cooking dinner. I know you like to cook,” he says as I lock my door.
“Oh, okay,” I say, nodding my agreement.
He’s right, I can’t afford much on a bartender wage, but I want him to be happy, so I have to ensure I have more of the stuff he likes. He’s so sweet to me, it’s the least I can do.
I shake myself out of that bullshit and try to refocus on the present. Nice things aren’t the end goal. I need to remind myself of that. What I like is good enough; I don’t need to live up to anyone else. I don’t need anyone to help me manage my depression. I can handle it fine.
Tuning out the extra noise of the pool area, I work on centering myself and pushing out memories of the toxic shit I put up with for way too long. All I wanted was some peace from my depression, but he never wanted to help with that.
After a couple more minutes, I lift my eyes to scan around the pool to see what’s going on around me. I can see Claire grinning and laughing while she swims. That girl has the biggest heart and makes friends with anyone. She gets reprimanded by the teacher for not paying attention, and when the teacher looks away, she gives the other students a conspiratorial grin. My lips draw up in a small smile at her antics.
My eyes lock on someone holding onto the edge of the pool, goggles on and staring right at me. Fuck. I whip my eyes back down to my phone as fast as I can. It’s so awkward making eye contact in public like that, especially when it’s someone gorgeous. How do I know he’s gorgeous? He’s got that chiseled jaw thing going on and his dark hair is slicked back from swimming. Hard NOT to find that attractive. Curiosity has me in a chokehold and I glance up toward him again.
Just in time, because this glorious man is heaving himself out of the deep end and water sluices down his body. What I wouldn’t give to be the one running down his body. Damn, he is fit. Not body builder level, but he has muscle, that’s for sure. He stands there for a moment with his head tipped back before whipping off his goggles and shaking his hair, reminding me of a dog. A smile tugs at my lips at the image.
He turns, and I’m pretty sure I start drooling when I catch sight of his abs. Damn, he looks good. Looking down at my own soft belly, I pat it and mentally assure it that I’m not trying to look like that. I like my rolls, my extra weight. I’m not in what you’d call the “very fat” category, but I’m not “straight sized” either. Somewhere in between. My eyes are drawn back to the swimming masterpiece as he walks into the men’s locker room, and I admit some disappointment as he moves out of view. The eye candy was nice. Now back to reality.
Claire’s swimming lessons end, and I smile as she walks up to me, grinning from ear to ear. Handing her a towel, I fall in step next to her as we walk to the locker room.
“Good lesson?”
“Yes! I think I’m getting really good at backstroke. Pretty soon I’m gonna be teaching those classes myself!” she brags.
“Damn straight you are,” I say with a small laugh.
“Aunt Rory! You’re not supposed to swear.”
“I won’t tell if you don’t,” I tell her, a single eyebrow raised in mischief.
She giggles. “Deal!”
I tweak her nose and stand by while she changes. I try to give her some privacy since she’s starting to want that more, but I don’t leave her sight. There’s probably nothing to worry about, but one can never be too cautious when your only niece is on the line. The gym is crowded as we leave, walking slowly through the crowd of people coming and going from the building. I swear I feel someone’s eyes on me, but I chalk it up to paranoia and move on. There’s no way someone’s checking me out, and I know he’s not here. He’s only ever at the pub.
On the way home, I pull into a drive thru to get some chocolate milkshakes. It’s tradition on swim lesson days. Okay, it’s tradition anytime I take her anywhere, but it’s my right as the aunt to spoil her some. We get our shakes, and she looks over at me, a small gleam in her too-knowing eyes as I slowly steer through the parking lot.
“Aunt Rory? Who was that guy that was looking at you?”
“What guy?” I ask, hoping it’s not that muscle man who hauled himself out of the water at the gym. Not that I am still thinking of him. I can stop anytime I want to.
“That guy that was swimming then got out and stared at you before leaving the pool. It was weird. I think he was watching you on the way out too.”
Well, of course she noticed that. She’s too observant for a ten-year-old.
“I’m sure he was just looking around. I don’t know who he was. Maybe he’s a secret agent, tracking down a villain!” I tell her in a conspiratorial voice.
Claire rolls her eyes. “That is SO not a thing!”
I start humming the Mission: Impossible tune. My head whips back and forth as I scan the parking lot for potential villains.
“What are you DOING?” Claire screeches, clearly embarrassed.
“Uh, Mission: Impossible , duh,” I tell her.
“Oh, is that like an old people movie?”
“You can walk home.”
She giggles and drinks her milkshake as I lament about “kids these days” and drink my shake. Good thing it’s easy to distract ten-year-olds, or I’d be forced to keep thinking about Pool Hottie. Not that I won’t anyway. At least I have Claire to keep me from obsessing, though. It’s been too long since I was attracted to someone. I have no plans to enter into any kind of relationship, but enjoying the eye candy is nice for once.
Maybe he’ll be there next week, too.