The Lifeguard Hates You (Completed)

June Chapter 3

I can't believe she did this to me. Candy Kane—I know what it sounds like but don't say it to her, she'll literally punch you out—my best friend, is moving out and giving her room to Jay. The guy I'm trying (and failing mind you) to get over. Of course he has to move in with me because Candy and I have separate rooms where as Jay and Shawn do not. Don't even ask me about that, I think its super weird that the two of them have been in bunk beds the whole time.

Candy comes up to me as we're guarding, we're not supposed to talk while we guard but Jay's moving out right now so he's not here to yell at me. "Thanks so much for doing this," she says to me.

I try not to look angry, or sound too sarcastic as I say: "No problem," because really, it is a problem. I don't want to tell her that I'm upset with this choice because then she'd feel bad and I want her to be happy with Shawn. I'm pretty sure I'm capable of giving up feeling comfortable in the only home I have to help a friend, she has been super good to me considering how eccentric I am.

"But you have to warn him," I suddenly gush. "He has no idea what I'm like at home..."

"Don't worry, don't worry, I've got all of this covered!" Candy says with a wave her hand and not seconds later we hear a loud booming: "No Buddy Guarding!" and Jay is bearing down on us with Shawn trailing behind him.

Wasn't he supposed to be moving?

"Candy, switch with Shawn, he's making no sense," he orders and then pulls Candy away before she can say anything else. I watch them go briefly before turning back to the pool. I really shouldn't look away for that long, but I'm fairly confident that I can tell the difference between regular splashing and distressed splashing just by sound alone so I'm not worried.

I'm more worried about why Jay needs to talk to Candy so urgently. Shawn never buddy guards with me so he's on the other side of the pool watching a few of our patrons as they swim laps in our pool. I'm over by the slow lane with the little old ladies who don't like splashing and complain about everything.

"Dear, please turn the temperature up," I hear and when I look down I have a little old lady wearing sunglasses and a plastic hair net to keep her curls neat and dry at the wall by my feet.

"The pool is 87 degrees Fahrenheit," I shoot back automatically. "That's the warmest we go."

"Oh, but I have arthritis and the cold is bad for my bones," she says in a particularly whiney voice.

I plaster my nicest smile to my face and try very hard not to tell her that not only are we not an arthritis designated pool it is also not cold. I could also tell her that I don't actually have the ability to do anything to the temperature, I'm not the pool maintenance guy, and even if I was trusted, which I'm not, I'm not supposed to touch any of the dials in the filter room, which includes pool temperature. Instead I say: "I'll see what we can do, but keep in mind it'll take a while to heat up a pool this size."