by Love Belvin
Zoey inclined in her seat, coming close enough that I could smell the coconut of her fragrance, but not enough for me to taste it. I couldn’t believe the excitement that spiked in my chest.
“Me, I get my men the old fashion way: boy meets girl…boy’s attracted to girl…girl so happens to be attracted to him, too. Boy and girl do whatever they want together…mutually-consenting, mutually-desiring, and mutually-pursuing. I bet my situation is a lot more genuine and uncomplicated than yours. Unlike you, when men pursue me, they see me. They can experience my essence with no façade that I create to attract or maintain their interest. With you, women are drawn to those materialistic things you’ve acquired and never look within because they’re too preoccupied by your manufactured exterior reeling them in. I don’t have to be concerned with that. So, good luck to you, sir.”
She was pissed. And so fucking cute. I’ll be damned if my dick didn’t harden under the table at her jibe. I couldn’t contain my chuckle. Later I would consider the truth in her rant. Right then I just wanted to enjoy her. She was like a little ball of energy with so much fire in her.
A Niña.
I took a swig of my water then asked. “What are you studying?”
Her neck twisted to face me. “Huhn?”
“You’re a student at Princeton, right? What are you studying?”
“Finance,” she tossed over. “Just ended my second year.” Her voice was much lower now. She was affected, still fighting her anger.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty.”
Fuck.
“What’s that face for? Why did you wince like I insulted you?”
Because you haven’t lived yet and have shown more substance than women I encounter that are twice your age.
“How old are you?” she pressed.
“Twenty-nine.”
“Well, don’t be concerned about me wanting you. Remember, I’m void of ulterior motives here.” She slightly rolled her eyes over her folded arms.
So fucking cute.
“So, tell me something about you,” I forged ahead, finding myself entertained by this conversation.
“Hunh?” she asked again, confused.
“I’m sure you know everything about me. Shit, my life is laid out for the world. Tell me something about you.”
“I know everything about you?” she scoffed. “My. How presumptuous we are.”
“Yeah…isn’t that why you chose this summer program?”
“No. And I only know what I need to know about you.”
“Which is?”
“Your name, your height, the team you play for, and my cousin is going to have your babies—or was going to have your babies,” she corrected herself just as the waiter came with our food.
I laughed. I mean, I cracked the hell up. My babies? Me…kids? Parenthood for me wouldn’t be for another ten to fifteen years. I thought I’d be the type of father that would be rolled into my child’s high school graduation in a wheelchair because that’s how far off in the distance it would be for me.
“What? What’s so funny?” Zoey frowned. “See, you don’t know the other side of it. You just dribble the ball, smile every once in a while, and show off your fancy tattoos, but there are actually some women…and young girls, who take to that and they include you in their dreams.”
Hmmmm…
“Well…we have no perfect idea of anything but of a perception,” I say under my breath, not intending for her to catch it, per se. No one knows me. They all swore to have wanted to. “People just know what they want to know.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?”
I glanced over at her. “It means that’s all your cousin told you about me because that’s basically all she wants to know.”
And the fact that I’m paid out the ass.
“No. She knows about your tattoos. She knows what the ones on your arms mean, at least.”
“Yeah,” I said dismissively. “But that’s not the totality of me. She doesn’t know the essence of them. She doesn’t know what ideas they were born out of, the significance of them, where they came from. She has no idea the state of mind I was in when I got them.”
“She knows you’re from Newark,” she argued.
“Yeah, because those are easily obtained facts. But what about truly knowing people for who they are…through conversation and really getting to know them?”
“Well, people don’t have the luxury of opportunity to do that with folks like you. You can only get what’s accessible through Mr. Google. Besides, it’s not like you’re willing to give every interested person the opportunity to get to know you. You’re a celebrity for crying out loud.”
“I can’t be too inaccessible if you’re here, having lunch with me.”
“Yeah,” she rolled her eyes. “But that’s because your bestie over there—”
“I don’t have a bestie,” I cut her off to clarify.
“But you and Alton are always together from what I see.”
“That’s because Alton is a good friend. We’re teammates…partners in many respects, but I don’t have a best friend.”
“Well, that makes two of us,” she uttered with her chin slightly in the air, appearing stubborn, and cute as hell.
“Angela isn’t your best friend?”
She shrugged, still not facing me. “Angela has been my partner for years, but we’re not the same people, we just have the same goal.”
“Which is?” My interest was piqued.
There was a long pause. “I don’t want to get into that.” She picked up her fork. “Let’s just eat.” Then, with her head still toward her plate, her eyes coyly rolled up to me. “Oh, and I won’t be using Google to get to know you.”
Amused, I chuckled at that one as she ate her food. Did that mean she’d be trying to get to know me?
So fucking cute…
~~~~~~~~~~
The following Tuesday, after training, I found myself alone with Zoey again. Alton and Angela took off to the hotel, but today, Zoey and I agreed to wait at the club for them to return, seeing that Alton and I drove into Jersey together. There were several amenities on site and somehow Zoey and I agree to swimming. I knew it was against the club’s policy to have employees patron the grounds, but I admittedly threw my weight around for Zoey’s clearance. She initially declined, saying she had no swimwear, but we were able to get her one with the assistance of the accommodating staff.
I was done changing and in the pool before her, taking a few laps. When I came up and wiped my eyes, I saw Zoey tiptoe in, wearing a bikini. My eyes strained. I’d never seen much of her body outside of her legs when she wore those khaki shorts, but this day I saw it all. And I do mean all; the bikini hid nothing. Zoey may have had slender legs and likely no ass in her clothes, but in true form, she was very busty. I mean, Cs type of busty. Her waist was small and hips somewhat narrow, yet undoubtedly feminine, and when she turned away from me to put her towel down on the bench, I saw her ass. Zoey had a nice plump ass. Not the type you saw when she approached you, but the kind that swallowed the small bikini bottom. One side of the cloth was wedged in her ass and I noticed the little dimple on her right cheek. I wondered was there a matching one on her left.
I found myself swallowing hard. When she turned around, I redirected my line of sight, suddenly feeling like I was invading her privacy. Shit, Zoey had a fucking body. Her hair was out and wild as she walked to the opposite edge of the pool and sat. I couldn’t help but notice the wide belly button of her flat belly. The bikini they managed to find her either fit her perfectly or was a size or two too small because her breasts looked to be screaming for release. My dick twitched at that thought.
“Is it cold to you?” Zoey called over. “It feels cold to me.”
I needed to switch gears here; it wasn’t that type of party.
“You’re just gonna have to jump in,” I returned before throwing my own body in for another lap.
Minutes later, a
fter Zoey got acclimated to the water and swam a few laps herself, we found ourselves in the same area of the pool. I was on my back floating on top of the water.
“How did you learn to do that?”
I stood straight. “Pardon me?”
“How did you learn to float?” she asked.
“Do you know how to back stroke?”
She nodded her head, yes.
“It’s the same concept.”
She shrugged. I didn’t know what that meant. I didn’t want to offer to teach her because that would have meant touching her, but she wasn’t giving me any clues as to what the fuck she was asking.
I motioned my hands above the water to gesture my confusion.
“Well…show me.” Zoey’s tone wasn’t salacious. She even seemed a bit resentful for having to ask.
I waded over to her. “You have to try to lay flat on your back. I’m going to hold you from beneath the water to be sure you don’t sink. Is that okay?” I asked, looking directly into her eyes, trying to avoid her bountiful breasts.
Damn, they’re beautiful.
Zoey nodded and managed to lay on top of the water. I immediately took her between her shoulder blades and the back of her thighs.
“Straighten your spine and extend your legs to lengthen your body. Stretch out your arms, too, but not over your head.” Zoey did as I asked. “Your body’s alignment affects your ability to float. The human body is made up of about two-thirds water. This means your body’s composition…its density is similar to the water we’re in now. Anything with a higher density than water will sink. That being said, you don’t have to do much to get your body to float on top of the water. Your body’s natural inclination in water like this is to float.”
She stared at her toes while I spoke, and I could feel her trying to relax.
I continued, “You’re doing a good job at trying to relax. That’s the first step. Look up. Good. Now, slowly fill your lungs to capacity with air. That’s going to help balance you.”
As Zoey pulled in air, her breasts pushed out of the water, and seemingly into my face…maybe not so much, but at least that’s how it seemed.
“Good,” I continued. “Now let it out and do it again. Slowly. Put more weight into your shoulders until your head floats naturally. Okay, now your arms can extend over your head…just slightly.”
Fuck. Looking at her arms coming together over her head was almost my undoing. I needed to get it the fuck together. She’s a young girl—fucking twenty! But Zoey didn’t seem shy or embarrassed to be almost naked and alone with a man in a pool. She didn’t seem the least bit self-conscious about her body, neither was she flaunting it. And that fucked with my head.
“Use your abdominals; they’ll help with the balance. Don’t forget to kick your legs, but not wildly.” I kept with my instruction until I could see her progression in staying above the water. I tried to keep quiet to allow her to focus on her balance.
When she was damn near floating alone, I asked, “Do you have a boyfriend?”
Zoey’s eyes shot up to me, but she didn’t lose her balance, neither did she change her breathing pattern. I wasn’t planning on asking her that, but so many things about her intrigued me. Between Zoey paying for her own lunch at the diner last week and our conversation at the restaurant, I was somewhat fascinated by her.
“Yes,” she answered evenly.
“Where is he when you’re here, playing sidekick to your cousin during the day?”
“He works,” she supplied quickly, trying to maintain her breathing pattern. “He’s kind of sort of not my boyfriend.”
That statement took me by surprise. I found my face wrinkling. Zoey released her weight over the water, losing her balance to stand.
“Thanks for that,” she offered with a smile. “I think I finally get the idea. I’m going to practice. I’ll have it down pat before you know it.”
She sidestepped my question and reaction to her answer to it. I didn’t get the impression she did it deliberately; she just didn’t find her response significant enough to dwell on, I had supposed. But I, for some stupid reason, wanted to dig.
“What do you mean he’s not your boyfriend? Either he is or isn’t. I didn’t know there was an in between.”
Zoey paused to consider my comment. She shrugged and said, “It’s just something that we fell into. Someone I found myself dating.” She quieted for a moment, contemplative again. She shifted next to me, resting her elbows on the ledge of the pool. “He’s a nice guy…”
“But?”
“But…I don’t know…there’s not that wow factor there. I want that wow factor…,” she gestured with a swing of her arms, “…with a guy. I’ve had it before and know it exists.” Her eyes fell. “It just doesn’t exist with him. He’s really nice, very responsible…good man of God. So, we just hang out.” She stretches her eyelids.
Man of God. She’d mention God and church before. Is that important to her? And what was up with that wow factor? Was that code for simple attraction or sexual chemistry?
“So, have you had a lot of those wow factors?” I attempted covertly. I found myself desperate with wanting to know.
I didn’t mean to pry, but Zoey was throwing me off with her signals. It would have been easy to dismiss her as a groupie, an opportunist, but that didn’t match her actions. I’d given her several chances to out herself. But nothing.
Although she didn’t call me out on my prying, the way Zoey lifted her brow told me she had a clue as to the nature of my inquiry.
“I’ve had enough,” she answered and swam off.
I stayed in place for a while, stumped while Zoey took more laps, appearing content in solitude. Eventually I decide to do the same. This girl is an anomaly.
At one point when I came up for air, I heard, “So where’s your girlfriend?”
I swiped the water from my eyes and saw Zoey floating while holding on to the ledge. “Huhn?”
“Your girlfriend. Where is she? And is she okay with you hanging out at the country club after training while Alton cheats on his girlfriend?”
Oookay. “Well, first of all, I don’t know what the situation is between Alton and Tynisha.”
“The world is confused about the situation with Alton and Tynisha,” she quickly returned.
“I don’t think Alton and Tynisha are quite in the know about the situation between Alton and Tynisha, in spite of that reality show bullshit.” I detested that fucking show. They’re horrible for relationships. “But I don’t have a girlfriend.”
Zoey’s arm slipped from the ledge and she lost her balance. We were in ten feet so she had to catch herself quickly.
Her eyes were wild and her breathing matched. “But you told Angela—”
“I didn’t tell Angela shit,” I quickly and calmly retorted. I had a feeling this would come up the more time we spent with each other. I don’t lie, but I also don’t rat.
Zoey issued a long and nasty glower. I decided to give her a moment. I was prepared. She then started to shake her head, exasperated.
“What’s the problem? Why are you looking like it’s about to be a murder was the case that they gave me type of situation here?”
“Because the only reason she’s with Alton now is because she’s under the impression that you have a girlfriend and there’s no chance with you…because you won’t cheat on your girlfriend. But technically it’s Alton that’s cheating on his girlfriend and…” she shook her head, out of breath. “This stuff is so messy. I-I just don’t understand it.” Zoey pinched the bridge of her nose.
“I simply wasn’t interested in Angela.” I found myself wanting to argue my point to this…damn-near teen. “And Alton picked it up…and he also picked up she was game for anything. That’s why she’s with him.” My voice was even, but my tone choppy.
“So you don’t have any girlfriends…no one of significance?”
“No.”
“Well, are you dating anyone?”
“
Well, yeah. I’m a healthy man. I date.”
“Are you dating anyone serious?”
How many times was she going to ask the same question?
“No. Not really.”
“What’s not really—no?” she transitioned in thought. “Answer this: Who was your last date?”
“A woman…from the industry. We’ve been skirting around the idea of formally dating, even went out last week. It’s taking time, but time is necessary for this type of set up.”
“What’s formally dating? Either you’re dating or you’re not.”
“Formally dating is announcing it to the public. I hate that shit.”
“Why?”
“It’s manufactured. My real life isn’t for public consumption,” I more or less mumbled. Truth be told, I didn’t have much of a personal life. I’d been too paranoid about having it dissected by the public.
“So, this woman…,” Zoey continued. Her eyes far softer—timid even—expressing vulnerability for switching gears. “…what are your reservations? Why are you stalling?” Zoey looked away, trying to appear less interested than I knew she was.
Great question.
“I don’t know. She’s been around. And while I don’t really trip off a woman’s track record, I certainly don’t want the world to know who my lady has fucked.”
“And?”
Damn. She could sense my apprehension.
“And I don’t like arranged relationships. If I’m going to pursue a woman, I don’t need my publicist or hers involved.”
“So, this would be for publicity?” Zoey didn’t mask her curiosity this time.
“For me it would. For her, maybe not. She’s been consistent over the years in expressing her fixation with Stenton Rogers.”
“And that’s not the real you,” Zoey noted pensively.
