Alley-Oops I Think I'm Falling in Love (With the Wrong Guy)

[34] Shoot Your Shot

"Uhh... you got it." I said, realizing that his body blocked the underwater pool light, so he couldn't actually see anything beneath the surface.

My head bobbed out of the water and I averted my eyes. He scoffed. "Shut up. You're playing. Taylor thinks he can beat me."

My eyes drifted towards Taylor, my stomach pooling with dread. He looked like a bronze statute, each muscle sculpted to perfection.

Now that he was shirtless, ya girl realized that she might actually have a taste for the rugby phenotype — broad shoulders, thick lats, and core muscles designed for high impact.

Everything about him was more compact, but not in a small way. He was built for power, whereas someone like Roscoe was built for a gracile agility. Both were in peak physical condition, but their bodies were honed for different purposes.

"Meh... how about I watch from here." I countered, tearing my eyes away from Taylor.

Preston made a face at me like I was being ridiculous. Then he looked back at the hoop, at the circle of guys waiting for us.

"She's being lame." He called with a shrug. Every guy there made the same, put out, face.

"Who cares. Make her." Garrett shouted back, throwing his hand up at me.

Preston twisted towards me, a wry smile on his face. "You heard him." He said.

I gave him a wary side-eye. What did that mean?

Then Preston grabbed me by the neck and dragged me out of my hidey-hole. I yowled and clawed at his arm, but it didn't detour him, if anything he found it amusing, like a game. He wasn't flirting and he wasn't particularly soft. It was purely practical.

As he towed me towards the shallow end, my feet scraped over the gritty pool floor. I wrestled with the awful realization that my secret was about to go prime time. I'd no sooner completed this thought, when Preston slowed, his eyes narrowing and his chin lowering to his chest.

His eyes latched onto something just below the surface, then his lips parted, and he whipped his head up to me.

Oh heavens.

I cringed like nails on a chalkboard, preparing for the blow.

But Preston couldn't say anything. What could he really say? "Hey Aria, why are you half-naked right now?" Yeah. He knew that I knew though and that was enough.

His fingers loosened and he dropped me like he'd been burned. Preston had no qualms roughing me up, but a girl, a real girl? His cheeks turned a bright shade of red and he winced sheepishly at me. He gave me a once-over and understanding dawned on his face — he knew why I'd been so dodgy. My bashfulness just added credence to the awkward feeling rising between us.

I wanted to scream, this was torture, I was watching years of work crumble right before my eyes. I was still me! What I wore shouldn't matter, but I could feel the sexual tension bloom and replicate between us. Preston was reconsidering every interaction, reading into the benign, making it weird.

I folded my arms over my stomach in a feeble attempt to cover myself. I felt insane for wearing this bikini.

Why couldn't I have worn a normal swimsuit, why did I ruin a good thing? Ugh!