Tricia dug through her bag, finding the modest black swimsuit she'd thrown in during her whirlwind packing. Passing by the beds again, she felt Damon's eyes following her to the bathroom; they followed her again as she emerged, wrapped in the far-too-tiny towel provided by the hotel.
"Have fun," Damon said, laying on the bed with his hands behind his head.
"You know, you can see the pool from the window," she said, nodding towards the big window that covered one wall of the hotel room. "Just in case you get bored of looking at the ceiling."
Damon lifted himself onto his elbows, gave her a level stare.
"Do you want me to watch you? Make sure everything is okay?"
Tricia's brow furrowed. That's not really what she'd meant at all. She just thought he might appreciate the view of her without the towel around her waist.
"Uh," she said. "No, I'm alright. It was just an idea."
Damon nodded, but his expression remained firmly determined. Tricia left wondering if she'd somehow messed up, if Damon's mixed signals weren't mixed at all, but she was just reading them all wrong. She decided to put it out of her head while she swam; perhaps the kinks in her back from a long day of driving were clouding her senses.
20
The few men she'd seen loitering around the pool hadn't seemed to move much in the time it took her to get changed and walk down to join them. She lay her towel out on a lounging chair, aware of but unbothered by the looks she attracted. A look was just a look. It couldn't hurt her.
Slipping into the pool, she sighed from the reprieve it gave from the heat, the immediate sensation of weightlessness afforded by the water. She'd been on the swim team when she was younger, before nature gave her a body that didn't cut through water as easily as her flat-chested, rail-thin teammates.
Now, as she pushed off the wall, she just enjoyed the natural rhythm of her body, acting off long-instilled instinct, her arms turning into knives that sliced the still, blue surface, her legs propellers. She did a few laps back and forth, wishing the pool was larger, then settled herself along the far edge, where it was deepest.
She let her legs drift below her, scrunching and releasing her toes. She gave a friendly wave to two of the men as they left the pool area, their voices seeming muted in the thick air. They'd been talking about a fishing trip. Tricia closed her eyes and thought about going fishing with her father when she was younger, her mind drifting along just like her legs, easy and free. This was a nice moment.
Until she felt a blast of chlorinated water against her face. Shocked, she opened her eyes and blew hard from her nose to clear it of the intruding water. The third man, the one with the cooler, had jumped in right beside her, splashing her with the wave he created. His laugh hit her just as hard, and she bit back her irritation to return his grin.
"Nice day for a swim, huh?" he asked. He couldn't have been more than 22, with a bright red head of hair and a spray of freckles across his nose. Cute enough that Tricia would have flirted with him – four years ago, if she wasn't already interested in another man. A man, not a boy.
"Sure is," she answered as he paddled away, swimming backwards. She closed her eyes, hoping it would tell him she wasn't in the mood for making friends. But when she opened her eyes again, she saw that he hadn't paddled away very far. He was swimming in a line a few feet away from her, his blue eyes fixed on hers.
"You from around here?" he asked, keeping his chin above the ripples.
"No," she said. "Delaware. If I was from around here, I wouldn't be at a hotel, right?"
"Oh," he said. "Well, kids sneak in here all the time. I don't have to, my mom is the housekeeping supervisor."
"Cool," Tricia said, pressing herself back as far as she could against the wall. She was a little annoyed about the interruption of her Zen moment.
"I've never been to Delaware," the kid said, stopping his mini-laps and floating in place.
"Yeah," she said. "Well, it's not exactly the place to be. If you're driving through, you blink once and it's gone."
"You go to school there?"
Damn, the kid was persistent. Still, she had to admit to being a little flattered. At 26, she rarely got taken for a college girl anymore.
"No," she said. "I graduated years ago."
"Aw, shit," he said, splashing a bit of water around. "What, did you skip some grades in school?"
Tricia shook her head. This had gone past the realm of friendly conversation. She should have known.
"I go to school over at Trident Technical. Graphic design," he said.
"Cool," Tricia said, looking away now and wondering if she should just get out. She wanted to swim a bit more, but not if it meant she had to endure much more of this.
"You want a beer?" he asked and swam over to her side, mimicking her posture against the wall.
"No, thanks," she said, and pushed off, leaving him behind as she swam towards the opposite side of the pool. To her consternation, she saw him following her when she turned her head during her stroke, his own swimming sloppy and splashy. He followed her to the far end and back, was panting by the time they had made a full round. When she pushed off the end again, meaning to outswim him until he gave up, she felt his hand on her arm, stopping her mid-stroke.
"Hey, you're a good swimmer," he said through labored breaths. "Wanna show me a few tricks?"
She yanked her arm free, glaring at him.
"Not really," she said. "Sorry, but I'm just trying to relax."
"Oh, I get it," he said. "You'd relax more with a beer."
"I don't think so," she said and dove underwater, swimming away from him again and hoping that her kicking legs sent a good dose of chlorine his way. When she got to the shallow end and turned around, he saw he was still waiting for her at the deep end. Now, he looked a lot less friendly.
Tricia groaned and stood up. So much for getting the kinks out, she thought, splashing her way towards the stairs. The noise she made covered the sound of the kid lifting himself out of the pool, but she heard the slapping of his feet as he trotted towards her across the wet cement. She didn't look back, though, making straight for her towel.
"Hey, I'm sorry if I ruined your swim," his voice came from behind her as she wiped the towel across her face. "Just don't usually get pretty girls around the pool. Usually it's all old ladies who wanna do water aerobics or whatever. And parrotheads asking where the Tiki Bar is."
"It's alright," Tricia said, running the towel over her hair to get the worst of the wet out.
"C'mon, let me make it up to you, have a drink, it's a good day for a cold beer," the kid said. "I'm Ron, by the way."
"It's really okay, Ron," Tricia said. "I'm just going to go back to my room and … "
"Hey," Ron said, and the tone in his voice forced Tricia to look at him. He reached out once more, taking hold of her arm. Firmer now. "Don't be a bitch. I'm trying to be a nice guy here."
"I'm not being a bitch, kid," she hissed, trying to shake free but finding his grip tight. "I'm just not interested in … "
"Fuck off," a voice said from just outside the gate. A voice Tricia recognized in an instant. For a moment, she forgot about the boy's hold on her arm and turned to look at Damon, striding towards them. "Can't you see she's not fucking interested?"
Before Ron or Tricia could react, Damon was on them, pushing the kid away so hard that he stumbled backward, nearly falling into the pool.
"What the fuck, man? Who the fuck are you?" Ron's face reddened, anger contorting his features. "You her fuckin' bodyguard or something? I think the lady can decide for herself if … "
"Keep talking, dilo," Damon growled, advancing until he was nearly on top of the kid, leaning in so far that Ron's heels dangled over the side of the pool. "You really wanna know who I fuckin' am? I don't think you do."
"Where the fuck did you even come from, man? I'm gonna tell the fuckin' manager and he'll kick you out of here so fast … "
Tricia stifled a cry as Damon pushed again. This time, there was nowhere for the kid to go but down. His back hit the water with a splash, a splash that was followed by the sound of Damon jumping in after him. Tricia rushed to the side of the pool, worried that the kid had hit his head; it was the shallow end. When Ron didn't surface immediately, she began to panic, her heart kicking up into double time.
"Damon! Damon! You have to … "
But then she saw why he hadn't come back up for air. Damon was holding the kid by his red, red hair. Bubbles floated upward to the surface and Ron's hands slapped at the surface of the water, the shivering image of his legs under the water frantic as they kicked. Damon was soaked up to his chest, still wearing his clothes, as he held the boy's head underwater.