Chapter 11
The Endgame
If community service fed my heart, swimming fed my soul.
I loved swimming. There was a reason I picked that sport, and it was because it was a solitary endeavor. When you were a lonely person, you searched for lonely activities, like reading, swimming, and running.
With swimming, it was me and the water. Though there was a swimming team, with whom I had to race against the other teams, in the end, it was me alone who had to push. There was something soothing about the water as it embraced me while I pushed my body to move through it.
The splashing of water was the best sound in the world. And once I was underwater, I heard different things.
No phones, no cars or people. Only water.
Peace.
Iâd been on the swimming team since freshman year. For someone who loved the sport, I wasnât very good at it, but I didnât care. Swimming was more about recovering than competing and winning. It was an activity only for myself and my satisfaction.
Due to my lack of talent, Iâd never befriended the girls on the team. They wanted to race, and I wanted to cherish every single stroke and take my time.
Practice was over, but I liked to remain in the pool for a few more minutes. A few minutes without voices urging me to move faster, quicker. This was my therapy. And after the past few weeks, I was threading through the water forcefully and impatiently, like I was running away.
When I was done, I was panting. My heart was going miles per hour, and though I was exhausted, all restlessness was gone.
I climbed out of the pool and headed to the empty girlsâ locker room. I liked to be the last one since the showers were empty and all to myself.
I grabbed a towel and headed to the shower. I took my sweet time under the hot water, enjoying it as it slid down my body and soothed my muscles. I was stiff after not practicing at all during the summer. The next day Iâd be sore for sure. Itâd take time to regain fitness, but I enjoyed it, nonetheless.
After I finished, I removed my swimming suit and washed it. Then I wrapped a towel against my naked breasts and torso and headed to my locker where I had my clothes and bag. When I arrived, I realized my locker was empty, save for my phone and school bag.
No clothes in sight.
I was suddenly cold.
~No, no, no! This cannot be happening. There has to be a mistake. This has to be a prank.~
I scrambled around, looking in different lockers, hoping to find my pile of clothes, but all of them were locked or empty. I removed my bag and searched inside, but nothingâthere were only my books inside.
I searched around the locker room but didnât find anything. I was left confused and exasperated.
I hadnât heard anyone entering the locker room, though it was hard to hear anything in the shower. Also, no one knew my locker combination.
I closed my eyes, clenching my jaw.
I picked up my phone and thought about calling Melissa. Maybe she could bring me a change of clothes, but as I dialed her phone, it went to voicemail after a few seconds. I shot her a message, but she never replied, and I was growing desperate. I decided to call my mother, but she didnât pick it up either. I swallowed hard. She must be on her shift.
I thought about my father but had a feeling he wouldnât pick up. He was at work.
I was stuck and utterly helpless.
I didnât know what to do. This had never happened before. I usually wasnât targeted for bullying. I was simply ignored.
âNo,â I muttered under my breath, anguished.
I slapped my fist against the locker when I heard someone opening the doors to the locker room.
âMiller?â a familiar low voice called, making my back tense. I turned around to face Graham. He frowned at me, worried. âAre you okay? Something wrong?â
âNo, I mean, someoneâ¦â
Suddenly, I hesitated.
Why was Graham here?
Football practice was over long ago. It seemed like an incredible coincidence he was here, just outside the girlsâ locker room, when my clothes went missing. Everything pointed at him being the culprit.
I narrowed my eyes. âWhat are you doing here?â I questioned.
He shoved his hands in his pockets. âI was waiting for youâ¦â He sounded a bit sheepish about the fact. âI was hoping I could give you a ride home.â
I didnât believe him.
âDid you have anything to do with this?â I demanded, pointing over my shoulder to my locker.
âWith what?â he asked, sounding confused. I scrutinized his expression, looking for hints of deception. There seemed to be none.
I wrapped my arms over my towel-clad breasts protectively. âSomeone opened my locker and stole my clothes.â
I waited for his reaction. His eyes widened and he suppressed a chuckle. âYou donât say.â
His answer caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand. âItâs not funny. Where did you put them?â
He raised his hands in defeat. âI was in football practice. When would I have stolen your clothes?â he said in a soft voice, trying to appease me. It wasnât working.
His answer wasnât a denial, and Graham had a long history of being a bully. He might not be the one who did it, but I was certain he was the brains behind the plan. He could have sent one of his minions.
âIt didnât have to be you, St. Claire,â I spat, glaring at him. âBut you could have easily given the order.â
He scowled. âIâm sorry to disappoint you, Miller, but it wasnât me, I swear.â
He looked earnest and offended at being pointed out as guilty. Meanwhile, I was a bit desperate to find the culprit and demand my clothes be returned. âThen who?â I insisted.
He shrugged. âI donât know. Have you pissed anyone off these days?â
I exhaled as I thought about it but couldnât come up with an answer. Everyone ignored me.
Who would have I upset? Could it have been the girls on the swimming team?
I bit my lip, worried.
Would this turn into a common event?
âGood thing is that now you have an embarrassing story.â Graham smiled softly at me. âYouâll laugh one day.â
My blood was simmering, but at his smile, it calmed a bit. Still, I was angry. âJust fantastic, exactly what I needed in my senior year.â
Graham chuckled beside me.
âItâs not funny!â I snapped at him.
âOh, it is,â he said, his eyes glinting with mirth. âI promise you, Hazel, one day youâll laugh.â
That day couldnât come faster.
I exhaled, resigned. Now what? I had to go home somehow.
âWhat do you need, Miller?â Graham asked, smiling at me.
I gritted my teeth. Though it pained me to rely on him, he was my only solution at the moment.
âDo you have an extra change of clothes in there?â I nodded at the bag slung on his shoulder. It was large and black and looked full of things. It seemed promising; there had to be at least a freaking shirt in there.
âNo, I only have sweaty clothes.â His brow furrowed as he opened it, ransacking through it. âUnless you donât mind it.â He shot me a playful look.
I scrunched my nose in disgust. âNo, thanks.â
âI can give you my jacket,â he offered.
I finally breathed for what felt like an eternity. âYes, please, Graham.â I moved toward him.
He dropped the bag to the floor and removed the jacket. His shirt was plastered against his impressive chest and his giant arms were exposed. He passed the jacket to me, and I tried not to stare at how his shirt revealed every taut muscle in his body.
âThank you, thank you, Graham,â I said once I grabbed it.
âI can drive you home too.â
âThat would be great.â
âBut I want something,â he said at last.
I tensed as he walked toward me and looked down. His large frame engulfed me. My heart stuttered and my stomach coiled at his proximity. He smelled heavenly, freshly out of the showers like me. His cologne invaded my nose.
I gulped, narrowing my eyes. âYouâre kidding me.â
âNo.â His gaze swallowed me. He never removed it from me, and he sounded far too serious.
I didnât like this.
What did he want? Money? Couldnât he be satisfied with the fact that I was in a vulnerable situation and at his mercy?
I took a step back and glared at him. âCanât you do a good deed one time? Would it kill you to be nice? Didnât you say youâve changed?â
âI am nice, Miller,â he answered. I almost snorted. âBut Iâm not a saint and Iâm not missing this chance. Iâm not asking for something you wonât enjoyââ
My blood started to heat, thinking about his tongue between my thighs.
âI know youâll like it a lot. Or you can say no and walk home in a towel wrapped around your tits and ass. I wouldnât recommend it, though. The town could get a peek. It is windy tonight.â He smirked. âItâs up to you.â
Was he serious? He was finally showing his true manipulative colors. Where was the vulnerable guy from Ashtonâs? An act, apparently.
âWhat do you want?â I growled.
âA kiss,â he answered. âWith tongue. Iâve been thinking about kissing you since last Thursday at Ashtonâs. In fact, since earlier.â His words stole my breath and my body tingled.
âOnly a kiss?â I clarified. For some reason, Iâd hoped for worse and was a bit disappointed with his proposal. I removed any thoughts from my head. âYouâll keep your hands to yourself?â
âI promise.â
My eyes squinted. âI donât know if I should believe you, St. Claire.â
âIâm telling you, Miller, Iâm no saint, but Iâm not a liar,â he said earnestly. I wanted to snort at the last part. The jury was still out.
But if I wanted to leave this place with a bit of dignity, I had to accept the terms and conditions.
If I wasnât lying to myself, a kiss wouldnât be the worst thing in this world. Then he could leave and hook up with his college girl.
I nodded. âOkay.â
Graham smiled in triumph. âDo you want to seal the deal with a kiss?â
âDonât push it, St. Claire.â
He chuckled behind me as I walked to the bathroom stalls to put his jacket on. I realized he was only teasing me.
âIâm the one doing a good act here, Miller,â he joked from the other side of the stall.
I pressed my lips together as I finished zipping up his jacket. When I exited the stall, he was smiling at me. It took a moment to adjust to the sight. He was breathlessly, painfully handsome. It was freaking unfair.
When he saw me, his gaze glided down my legs, and I saw something shifting in him. His jaw clenched and he closed his eyes for a brief second. His jacket reached mid-thigh and I felt slightly naked, but it was an upgrade from the towel. At least, I wasnât expecting the jacket to suddenly drop off. I placed the towel in the cart and moved to Graham.
âOkay, Iâm good to go.â His jacket smelled divine, like him, and was warm too. I almost wanted to steal it.
Graham nodded. âIt suits you, Miller, by the way.â
I blushed at his gruff voice. It sounded like he was in pain. âTry to keep your eyes on my face and on the road. Thank you.â
Graham chuckled. âIâll try if thatâs what you want.â Then he swallowed. âWhatever you want, baby.â
~Whatever I wantâ¦~