Drowning With You

CH. 13 ❄️

WINTER'S POV

Louie went to practice this morning, not talking to anyone but not avoiding them, either. They stared and laughed; however, my glares were enough to keep them dampened down a little.

At this point, their behavior is annoying. Sure, we've all hated on her swimming, but this is out of hand. It's not just about Louie here, it's about why they are treating her this way.

She doesn't throw a fit, she doesn't make it known just how angry she is, she just leaves right after she is changed and packed up. I know she's furious about this all and I know she hates not being able to yell at them all.

The rest of the girls seemed relieved when she left, but I felt... disgusted. Not because of Louie, but of how they see her now. They see her differently now that they know such a tiny thing about her, something that she never felt like sharing with them.

Someone outed her. That is shitty.

Now here at lessons, she's late. Or she's not coming. I hope that's not the case. I need her to make this work. It's my captain position on the line. And... I miss being around her, even if it's fighting or yelling. I miss watching her swim, even if it's still not exactly great form. I'm seeing improvements, though, and I can tell my breaststroke is getting better.

I'm about to get up and leave, not even try to knock down her door and give her a beat down. I took her to ice cream and was nice, genuinely. I was nice. And then she pulls this shit. Damn, this is just like her. We make a deal, and she forgets about it.

Whatever. She hates me. I hate her, too. I think. I don't know, everything is conflicting and it's confusing me. Obviously, she just doesn't want to see me, even after me bringing her to ice cream and compromising on this whole debacle.

Just as I go to grab my stuff, in walks the girl who hasn't left my mind in days. I hate that. I hate her. Why am I having to remind myself of this?

After noticing my angry expression, she raises her eyebrows and puts her hands up as if to gesture a 'whoops' moment, but I don't think she really cares. Actually, I know she doesn't. "Cool your tits." She grins, plopping her duffel on the bleachers. "I made it on time."

"Nuh uh. You made it twenty minutes late," I counter, already having the minutes in mind since I've been watching the clock pass by for what felt like forever. 

She checks her watch and nods. "Huh. Okay."

I stand there, watching her take her time as she slips out of her sweatshirt to reveal the swimsuit she has already put on. Well, at least she won't waste time getting changed.

She pulls down her pants and I try to push out the thoughts of her having nothing on underneath. The idea of her stripping bare in front of me.

It's wrong and awful of me, that's not who I am, that's not what I... like... Yet my mind wanders anyway.

But holy fuck she's hot, her legs toned and muscular.

My mind is going terrible places and instead of continuing, I jump in the cold water and tell her I'm doing a warmup. Maybe it's a mental cool down.

Once I see she's joined me for warm-up, I end at the wall and wait for her to finish. Even with her cap and goggles, which let's be real; are undeniably ugly, she's beautiful.

"200 kick," is all I say, part of our routine. She's gotten much better at continuing her flutter kick without many breaststroke kicks, but they are still there. I let them go now, since she catches herself and fixes them without comment.

The kick goes much faster, as does she, and I give her ten seconds before giving another command. I was going to have us do more drills, but she pissed me off by being late, so ten minutes of sprints seems more intriguing.