Playing the Player(51)

PROS: Zilch.





Chapter Twenty-Four

Slade

Tuesday, June 18

I woke up hungover. Even worse, I felt something I wasn’t used to feeling.

Regret.

I’d never felt that after hooking up with a girl, especially when she was the one chasing me, but today was different. Not only did I never want to see the girl from the park again, I most definitely did not want to face Trina at the swimming pool.

Not that she’d know about last night.

But I knew.

I wanted to stay in bed and sleep all day, but I couldn’t. I’d promised Lindsay to be her sub, and I couldn’t bail.

Unfortunately, Dad was already in position at the kitchen table, coffee in one hand, New York Times in the other. The guy was as predictable as the sunrise.

“You were out late last night.”

I ignored him and poured myself a huge mug of coffee.

“Teaching another swim lesson this morning?” he asked my back.

“Yep.” I refused to turn around. I wasn’t interested in facing the inquisition.

“How’s the nannying going?”

I shrugged, closing my eyes to block out the image of Trina’s hurt expression yesterday when I’d been so cold to her.

Dad’s sigh was loud enough to wake the dead. I ignored him and left the kitchen. I’d stop at Mickey D’s on my way to the rec center. I didn’t need his disapproval shaming me all morning. I was doing a good enough job of that myself.

I got to the pool five minutes early, a record for me. The ladies were already there, and so was Skinny Guy, but Trina wasn’t. I glanced at the clock. She still had a couple of minutes until we started.

“Hey, gang.” I went into entertainer mode. I needed to snap out of my funk, and I had some new ideas to try out. Something I hoped wouldn’t seem condescending.

“Everybody warm up,” I said. I watched the clock anxiously. 10:06. “Take a kickboard,” I said, tossing them into the water. “We’re going to work on breathing again today. We’ll stay in the shallow end so you can focus on breathing without worrying about, uh—”

“Drowning?” joked Nancy, the one who always wore the orange swimsuit.

I grinned at her. “Come on, Nance,” I said. “Nobody’s going to drown.”

I showed them what I wanted them to do, holding the kickboard out in front of me and dipping my head in and out of the water, turning to one side to breathe.

“If you’re right-handed, you probably want to turn to the right to breathe,” I said. “But try it both ways and see what feels natural.”

I watched them, keenly aware that Trina was still AWOL.

Regret and embarrassment about my behavior yesterday, and last night, rose like bile in my throat. Things hadn’t gone very far with the girl from the park, but I still felt like crap. Like I’d betrayed Trina somehow, which didn’t even make sense.

This. Sucked.

I closed my eyes and breathed in deep. I thought of Trina’s lavender oil and wished I could hold her hand again, and look into her beautiful, sad eyes. I wished I could erase yesterday, and last night. More than anything, I wished I’d kissed her that day under the tree.

At least I’d know how she felt about me, if I’d been willing to show her how I felt about her.

But life didn’t grant do-overs.



After the lesson, I tracked down Mark at the front desk.

“What’s up, Slade?”

“Uh, someone was missing from my lesson today. I wondered if maybe she’d called.”

Curiosity flickered in his eyes. “You’re showing a lot of concern, for a sub.”

I shrugged. “It’s just, um, someone I know. From school.”

“Ah,” he said.

I didn’t like the smirk on his face.

“Let me check.” He tapped the keyboard and frowned. “Looks like she switched classes. She dropped this one and is coming to the Sunday afternoon lesson instead.”

Shit.

If I needed any more proof about how much I’d hurt her, this was definitely it.

Alex was right; I was a dick.





Chapter Twenty-Five

Trina

Tuesday, June 18

“Report,” Desi demanded, when I answered her call. I lay on the couch, waiting for Mom to get home. She’d texted me that she had to work late and wouldn’t be home until around nine thirty, which just prolonged the agony of what we needed to do tonight.

“Nothing to report.” I picked at some loose threads on the blanket I’d tucked around me. It was ninety degrees outside, but I was shivering.

“Same old Slade?” she asked.

I didn’t want to talk about the asshole version of Slade who’d showed up at the park yesterday. Instead I focused on the slurping sound in my ear. “Are you on break?”