Hate the Game

by Holly Hall

  “Ready?” I asked.

  “Yes.” It was unconvincing.

  Without thinking, I reached out and rubbed in a white smear of sunscreen she’d missed on her shoulder. As it absorbed into her smooth, milky skin, it revealed a patch of freckles sprinkled across her upper arms.

  “I’ll carry your board to the beach, Ava,” Jake interrupted. “Theo, you’re on your own.”

  With that, I removed my hand from her skin, where I’d basically been feeling up her deltoids like a prepubescent teenager. Then I grabbed my board while Ava carried the paddles.

  Despite the early hour, locals and tourists alike were taking advantage of the weather, and the beach was teeming with people. Balls sailed through the air, bright umbrellas dotted the sand, and heads bobbed among the seemingly endless blue waters of Lake Michigan.

  There was a bare stretch of beach that led into an unoccupied portion of water marked by buoys. The launch point, Jake explained to Ava as he set her board in the sand. It was a designated area so the amateurs wouldn’t mow down some innocent child while they got the hang of the paddle-boards.

  “You guys have fun,” he said in farewell, giving me the nod before hustling back to the building. Ava hadn’t noticed; she’d set down the paddles and was standing a couple feet back, surveying her board.

  “You’re looking at it like it’s gonna bite you,” I said teasingly. From what she’d implied in the past, she wasn’t athletically inclined, but paddling didn’t take a ton of skill. Just balance. And with her almost gymnast-like stature, it wouldn’t be long before she mastered it.

  “It’s fairly simple. You’ll stand just here,” I indicated the rectangular hole in the middle of the board, “so you stay balanced. Keep your stance nice and wide. Hold the paddle about here.” When she lifted one of the paddles, I adjusted her hands. My tutorial was quick and general, mostly having to do with how to steer in each direction and how to paddle in reverse to slow down if she needed to.

  She threw her hand in the direction of her board. “I’m supposed to stand on this thing?”

  “That’s what you got out of the lesson?”

  “It’s my one main concern!”

  I adjusted my trunks on my hips and made sure my pockets were zipped. “The other concerns being . . .”

  “Sharks.” Her wide-eyed gaze and the way she let her jaw drop was adorable. It took my mind off how it would feel to nibble that lower lip of hers for about two seconds.

  “It is a lake, you know.”

  “Yeah, but look at the size of that thing.” She motioned over the breadth of the lake, occupying the entire horizon. “You can’t tell me there’s nothing shark-like in those depths.”

  “Hope not. Anyway, let’s get these into the water.”

  I pulled my board to the lake’s edge and she followed my lead. Cool water lapped at our feet, and the boards bobbed on gentle waves. I showed her how to fasten the straps that would attach the boards to our ankles, then I waded in to my waist and laid my torso on the board, pulled my knees up under me, and stood in one smooth motion.

  When I looked over, she was staring at me with either awe or self-doubt. Maybe a little of both. “You can start on your knees,” I urged. Mistake number one was me hopping up on my board like an idiot and not helping her onto hers first. It would’ve been an excuse to have my hands on her again.

  Ava was still eyeing the board like an enemy, sizing it up and analyzing how it would first try to defeat her. “But first I need to get my knees on the board.”

  “You don’t have to come in this far. Just deep enough where you can steady the board and ease on, one knee at a time.”

  Ava tested the board with one knee, noting how it moved in the water, but she left one foot anchored firmly on the sandy bottom. Then I saw her draw a huge breath and pull her other knee up, wobbling on all fours for a few precarious moments.

  I can’t say I didn’t appreciate the view, but there were more important things to remember. The fact that I was getting paid for this, for one—guiding her through an “alternative workout session.” This certainly didn’t feel like work, and although I enjoyed my gym, I would’ve rather been out in the sun, with someone like her, any day.

  She’d steadied herself and rested her butt back on her feet.

  “There you go! Now you can paddle from there until you get comfortable, or you can stand.”

  I paddled around to face her, keeping my knees loose to adjust to the bobbing that accompanied the oncoming waves. When she dragged the paddle back, as I’d taught her, and the board glided through the water with ease, an instant smile lit up her entire face.

  “You’re a natural.”

  “I’m not even standing!”

  “You’ll get there.”

  It didn’t take a genius to see she was more comfortable with her feet planted firmly on solid ground, and I meant that in every sense of the phrase. Her being out here on the water, in an environment (and with a man) she didn’t completely trust, was a huge step for her confidence. She didn’t need my help finding it—I saw glimpses of it when she traipsed around her spotless, girly apartment—but finding a way to expose it was deeply satisfying.

  “Ready to explore?” I called over my shoulder.

  “We’re not staying in the shallows?”

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  Her gaze switched from the launch area to the darker part of the lake in indecision. It was the first time I’d seen something that looked like real fear in her eyes. Then she squared her shoulders and said, “Lead the way.”

  I flashed her a smile and headed out, past the farthest buoy. We were pointed south, parallel to the shore. Farther from the swimmers and into uncharted waters. But what she didn’t realize would make it all worth it was the view of the city from the water.

  Just ahead, the John Hancock Center stood sentinel with the rest of the skyscrapers, presiding over land and water. It was the kind of sight that made you feel so incredibly small. For me, it provided a chance to appreciate the journey that’d brought me here instead of cursing the woman who’d drawn me away from my family and everything else I’d loved only to royally screw me over in a city that was still unfamiliar.

  But that was neither here nor there.

  I paddled up ahead so I could turn around and get a glimpse of Ava, and seeing her look of awe shoved every resurfaced regret and ill-feeling back to the abandoned corners of my mind. She looked from the immense skyline back down at me and stifled a grin.

  “I’m not enjoying this at all!” she called. I’d been paddling backwards, taking it slow, but somewhere along the way I’d stopped altogether.

  “I can tell,” I said with a laugh. I laid my paddle on my board and held my sunglasses with one hand before plunging into the water. It wasn’t warm by any means, but the cool water was a reprieve from the relentless summer sun. Ava was back to regarding the lake warily when I surfaced.

  “Cool, right?” I said, straddling my board and wiping my hand down my face.

  She looked into the distance, toward the city. “I can only imagine how it would look at night, with all the lights.”

  “A night paddle.” I swore under my breath and she looked over. That would’ve been romantic as fuck. Her and me, out here in the darkness. “Why the hell didn’t I think of that?”

  She shook her head briskly, making her ponytail swing. “No. Nope, this is fine. Being out here in the dark . . . can you imagine?” She looked at the water, like she was picturing all the things that might be concealed beneath the surface. Meanwhile, I was submersing my legs without any concern as to what might be swimming beneath us.

  “The same things are under there right now. Doesn’t make a difference if the sun’s out.”

  Her eyes widened. “Right. Thanks for that.”

  “You seem to be doing okay.” Truthfully, she looked terrified, but she was out here. I wondered what else it would take for her to realize her own strength.

  “I a
m. The view helps.”

  The moment she said it, she was looking at me. And something about that doe-eyed gaze awakened all the feelings I’d kept locked up since the break-up. If I thought too hard about those things, and her right there in a curve-hugging swimsuit that covered a good bit but didn’t discourage my imagination, I’d soon be pitching a tent in my shorts. So I looked away and stretched my arms overhead, lengthening my back muscles.

  “How do you feel?” I asked, then clarified, “This is supposed to be a session, remember?”

  “Good?” She rolled her shoulders.

  “You might not say the same tomorrow. But I can show you some stretches to help with recovery.”

  “Some stretches.” She chuckled. “That’s either the best or worst pickup line I’ve ever heard.”

  I smiled and shook my head. What she was hinting wasn’t completely off-base; it wouldn’t have been the first time a “stretching” session turned into something more. I’d been a trainer since college, could you blame me? “For the record, I didn’t mean it that way. Totally nonsexual. Keep in mind I’m a personal trainer, so I’m allowed to say things like that.”

  “Uh-huh. Sure.”

  If she caught on that she was flirting back, she’d do that thing again, where she got all flustered and talked a mile a minute. And although it didn’t bother me, she’d clam up immediately after, effectively ending any progress I’d made at getting to know her. We needed to get off this subject.

  I held my paddle in both hands, arms outstretched, while I bit back a smile. “Sit cross-legged and hold your paddle out like this, arms a little more than shoulder-width apart.”

  She did as instructed, though not without caution. She was still getting used to the whole balancing-on-water thing.

  “Sit nice and tall, back straight, shoulders back.” I demonstrated a few stretches with the paddle, ending with me holding it behind my back with my arms notched around it. Tension eased from my shoulders and chest and I knew she was feeling the same. Looking over at her to confirm was a mistake. That stretch made her full chest strain against the confines of her bikini top.

  Her eyes were closed, and she finally looked at ease. It also meant she didn’t catch me gawking like a thirteen-year-old.

  “You can do the same stretches using a broomstick, or Swiffer, or whatever you have,” I said, clearing my throat. “How do you feel now?”

  “Relaxed,” she said breathily. And dammit if the huskiness in her voice didn’t send a shudder down my spine.

  “Now imagine how it would be at night. Less boats, a break from the sunshine.”

  She squinted one eye. “I’m not sure I’d be as relaxed.”

  “Fair enough. But I will get you out here eventually. I’m determined.” I wanted to spend time with her outside of these trainer-client parameters.

  Evidence of a smile had appeared at the corners of her mouth. “What are you smiling about?” I paddled closer and put a foot on her board to keep us anchored together.

  Her brows raised, the smile dropped, and she shook her head. “Nothing.”

  When she wasn’t blushing and babbling, I could almost sense the thoughts buzzing behind those navy-blue eyes. She didn’t let her guard down unless she was distracted, and until now, I’d managed to do just that.

  “Fill me in on your week,” I said more intently. “You sounded like you were struggling at dinner the other night.”

  Her shoulders raised and dropped with the giant breath she took. “I’m just having a hard time figuring out what my boss wants from me.”

  “Have you tried asking her?”

  “In theory, I know that’s the right move to make, but that’s not really how Leigh works. She gives us room to work within our specialties and then provides redirection, but when I try something new with my clients or propose a new post for the blog, it always seems to be the wrong choice.”

  “Boss is a job title too,” I pointed out. It was a lesson I’d learned the hard way, through building my own business and managing a team of employees. “And every leader should be open to the same feedback and criticism from their employees, if they want to improve in their field.”

  Her sigh made me think it wasn’t that simple. So the boss was a no-go. “What are your goals with the position you’re in now?”

  “The position I’m in now was an accident. I was never supposed to be specializing in relationships. I mean, you saw when I first met you—I could barely put together a coherent sentence.”

  I smiled. I remembered. “Well, you must be doing something right, if she’s left you in that role.”

  “Or she doesn’t have anyone better for it. Yet.” She rubbed her lips together. “But, I need to prove I can handle anything if I’m going to get anywhere in the industry. And proving myself starts here, as an RC.”

  I’d been led to believe she was a calculative go-getter, but the Ava I knew—or the one I’d known for all of a few weeks—didn’t seem to possess the confidence necessary for that. She was passionate. Driven. Self-motivated. Qualities that seemed necessary for success in her line of work. “You’re acting like she did you a favor, hiring you.”

  “She’s allowing me to associate myself with her name. I think that falls under the column of favors.” Her hands dropped to her sides, slapping her board in the process. “I don’t know.”

  I pushed my sunglasses up, leaning closer. “I don’t mean to be harsh, but it’s important to find out exactly what you’re worth. And what does this ‘Leigh’ know about relationships, anyway? Maybe she cares less about mastering the different departments and more about stamping ‘her name’ on everything she can.”

  Ava’s brows furrowed. Either she was wondering who the hell I thought I was, offering tough love to someone I barely knew and advice on a subject I knew nothing about, or what I’d said hit home. I got fired up about people settling for what they thought they deserved, and sometimes I came on too strong. Or at least that was what I’d been told.

  I’d driven my trust-fund-baby fiancée right into the arms of her boss.

  “Sorry. I shouldn’t be lecturing you, and you know more about your job than anyone else. I just hate seeing people kill themselves working for someone else.”

  “Is that why you work for yourself?”

  “That’s exactly why I work for myself. Every mistake comes back on me, but so does every success. It’s stressful, but it’s the way I work best. With built-in accountability.” It also served as a damn good distraction when life outside of work kicked me in the balls.

  In contrast to my brash thoughts, Ava smiled wistfully and regarded me with something that looked like respect. “That says a lot about you.”

  “’Preciate it.” I shrugged it off and focused on the callouses on my palms. “And I apologize for going on a tangent. It’s just something I’m passionate about, people breaking out of the boxes they put themselves in.”

  “I get it. Passion recognizes passion, you know. And I know what I should do with Leigh, but doing it is another matter altogether.” She shook her head, as if resurfacing from the intense conversation, before shifting to her knees. Then she stood slowly, holding her arms outstretched like a tightrope walker’s.

  When she looked over at me for approval, I offered a thumbs up. It was about time she felt empowered today. She did a little shimmy-jig sort of move, then her arms shot out to the sides when the board shifted. But she didn’t fall. Amid her celebration, the distant motor of a boat whizzed by. Uh-oh.

  “Incoming,” I warned.

  I said it quickly enough to catch her attention, but not to prepare. And as the wake from the passing boat finally reached us and rocked our boards, she toppled into the lake.

  What surfaced was a sputtering, frantic version of her, and I staunched my laugh. Strands of hair were plastered across her face, and she scrambled to pull herself back onto her board. She finally draped her torso across it and wiped water from her eyes.

  “I warned you,” I offere
d, my shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

  The stare she pegged me with was accusatory, but she was smiling. “I braced for it!”

  “Exactly. You have to keep your knees loose. Roll with the waves.”

  “If you’re about to tell me to ‘be one with the board’ or something like that, you can suck it.”

  I chuckled. “Would it make you feel better if I were wet, too?”

  “I mean—” The words were barely out of her mouth when I performed a perfect can-opener so I could splash her in the process. I kicked to the surface and emerged with a shit-eating grin.

  “I would’ve felt better if you’d fallen in.” She sniffed. “Now how the hell am I supposed to get back on?”

  I planted my hands and propped myself up enough to sling a leg over. She copied my moves, with only slightly more difficulty, and managed to get her knees back on the board. A glance back at the shore showed me the beach had gotten noticeably busier. It was about time we returned Jake’s equipment.

  “Ready to head back?”

  “I guess we should.” She appeared to take one last look at the skyline, and the stretch of water that met the horizon, then cautiously returned to standing.

  I pulled my phone—thanks, waterproof case—from the pocket of my trunks and held it up. “For your project. Paddle a little farther over there.” I snapped a picture of her against the backdrop of Chicago skyline. “Beautiful,” I said, and she dipped her head and smiled. I tapped the screen a couple times, selecting her name from my contact list. “I sent it to you.”

  We set off for the shore and I could feel the rush of blood in my muscles, the buzz that came purely from being alive. It was an overall epic morning, and I didn’t want it to end.

  After dropping off our equipment and thanking Jake for the experience, I showed Ava to a tiny employee bathroom in the rental building, where she could change. I dried my own trunks with a towel and then put my tank on. We were bound to return to our apartments and go our separate ways, with just the photo I’d sent her and the burn in our muscles as reminders of our day.