SWIM Book 1 (Complete three-hundred pages)

Day 44 Monday, January 1, 2018

I must have had this same dream a million times. Hearing the crowds shouting in the water, "Swim! Swim! Hurry! It's coming! Get out of the water!"

And of course, it all started with six Martini's on my parents' yacht. My father had received it as a birthday gift from my mother the day before. Naturally, I took it for a spin with my boyfriend Jack, and four of our guy friends. I couldn't protest to the fact that I was the only girl out of our six-person posse.

The ocean was glimmering underneath the sun. It sparkled like twisting saranwrap while the stretch of ocean between our little yacht and the shore featured a kelp forest of visitors who traveled all around the world to enjoy the southern California beach weather in the winter time.

While we blasted dance music on the yacht, and George DJ'd while Brett bartended, and Craig took shots of Grey Goose vodka while Jack and Travis stood off the edge of the yacht to contest their diving skills, I was busy soaking in the summer sun. I slipped off my top whenever the boys weren't looking as a form of wishful thinking that the sun would magically tan my breasts before I had to quickly cover them again whenever Jack and Travis climbed back up the boat ladder, soaking wet as the Pacific Ocean dripped underneath them onto the wooden deck.

I noticed Brett and Craig shooting looks at me as I lay on the chaise. They thought my eyes were closed underneath my Prada sunglasses, but I let a slight smile slip across my cheek with the satisfaction that I attracted more attention than I deserved (although I'd argue everyone deserves to feel beautiful; albeit the boys were ogling me despite my boyfriend Jack being only yards away—was I immodest? I'm not naked, at least.)

My nostrils soaked in a refreshing breath of sea salt air, and expensive cologne drifting from the boys' chests. I particularly enjoy the smell of shaving crème and certain hair gels. . . I assume that's the point of their scents.

The breeze picked up my sundress a couple times to reveal my legs, and I pretended not to notice as I tended to my iPhone X that kept ringing every ten seconds thanks to the new picture I posted here on my father's new yacht. My Instagram jumped another million subscribers since I became sponsored by Prada, and it's a nice ego booster as well as an easy income (all the money of which was going straight into gifts I'd be buying for Jack on our monthly anniversaries. He loved to write, so I thought I'd buy him the new MacBook and expensive gold pens business partners always like to show off in the movies as well as real parchment paper I saw the other day at the local Hallmark store in our beach town by the water.)

Jack did come around eventually with Travis to grab their towels, dry their hair and snatch a couple extra shots of scotch because my boyfriend and Travis—the intellectual savant of the group—were snobs when it came to the fancy alcohol. Travis's Rabbi was the first person to get Travis so hammered on Scotch that Travis threw up and blacked out on his first night in Israel. . . Travis introduced Scotch to Jack after that and they'd enjoyed the activity ever since.

So, besides the wild salmon and the mousse chocolate, I went to get a taste of Jack before he went back to do his diving lessons with Travis. Unfortunately, something happened when I went down to the restroom that I won't be able to tell Jack about.

After I flushed and was about to return upstairs, Craig appeared behind the door, and he had bedroom eyes that could only mean one thing. "Thanks for inviting me, Zara," Craig said, his face was very nice.

"You're welcome," I said, smiling and trying to casually slip between Craig's body and the door.

But his hand fell upon my waist, and I stopped. He smelled like leg-shaking cologne, shaving cream, and a little bit of mint leaves from his mixed drink. I didn't mean for my nose to bend forward to catch the smell of the mint leaves from his breath. But walla—I made the mistake of leaning in to smell Craig's lips, and he came in for the kiss. I blacked out when our lips touched, and might have collapsed if he hadn't caught me. I stood back up straight with the feeling of Craig's soft lips still on mine and I pulled back quickly.

To avoid awkwardness, and to show him understanding and instant forgiveness, I only gave him a smile, and a pat on the shoulder as I stepped out of the hall and toward the stairs. "You're drunk, Craig," I said

And while his face showed that he wasn't really that drunk, that he knew what he wanted, and he was sincere about his feelings for me, I knew he knew I had to leave, to return to Jack.

So I did. I ascended back up to the main deck, opened the door, and the streak of sunlight greeted me, as well as the sound of the ocean, the sea salt air, the dance music and the four other boys. And when I closed the door behind me, I hoped the secret would stay behind it too.