Butterfly

by Rebecca Sherwin

  He eats up the water on his final length, propelling himself to the wall a good three seconds before the others arrive.

  “Good job!” I say, leaning down to high-five his wrinkly wet hand. He pulls his goggles up and his green eyes beam at me with excitement. “Keep up the good work, buddy. You’ve got this.”

  “Thanks.”

  I turn to grab the clipboard and write down his times, glancing up at the platform where spectators sit during events. I gasp, pressing my hand to my chest as my heart picks up, beating double-time and unevenly, when I see Cooper sitting in the corner on the back row. He’s looking at me, staring through me, but he makes no move to acknowledge I’ve noticed him. His eyes just connect with mine and bore into me.

  “Rob?” I say, nudging his arm with my elbow. “Who’s the new guy?”

  “New guy?”

  Rob looks around before taking direction from my head nod and glancing up at where Cooper is sitting. But when I look too, he’s gone.

  “Competition withdrawals making you hallucinate?” he asks with a laugh entirely at my expense.

  The anxiety seizes me, because I did go through competition withdrawals. I was an utter bitch to students, pushing them harder than I should have expected, because I wanted to be the one in the pool. But I can’t. Not anymore.

  “Look, move on,” Rob says, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I was just playing. I don’t know of anyone new.”

  “It’s okay, maybe he works in the gym or something.”

  I smile, convincing him I’m not crazy, and return to trials as the next group of swimmers line up.

  “3…2…1…go!”

  I shouldn’t have swam tonight. My instincts have always been off when it comes to swimming. I don’t give a shit about dangers or priorities when I’m in the pool. I don’t care about anything other than me and the water. I shouldn’t have swam tonight.

  I expected Cooper would show up again. I don’t know what his deal is, but I know he’s intent on intruding on my solitary time. I’m only twenty lengths in when I see him jump into the pool, splitting the water with his feet, the rest of him following until I see him from the navel down as I swim toward him. There’s no way to avoid him, to turn around and swim back without him knowing he makes me uncomfortable.

  “Hello, Erin,” he says, smooth accent the first thing I hear when I stop swimming and grip the side.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to come for a swim.”

  “Yeah, I figured that.” I narrow my eyes at him, trying to avoid his captivating irises, but completely unable to. “Why here? Why now?”

  “Want to race?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow in a challenge.

  “No, I don’t. I want to finish my swim and get home to my fiancé.”

  I need to use Griffin. I need to put him between Cooper and me because, like before, he becomes irrelevant when water is involved.

  “Oh, she has a fiancé.” He chuckles, like it’s a challenge he’ll willingly accept. “Is that why you’re so uptight? You need more than what you get at home?” When I don’t answer him, already hating him for figuring me out, he continues. “It’s just a race. I need a little resistance.”

  “Are you training for something?” I ask.

  “Maybe. Are you going to help me or not?”

  He has me. He knows, without doubt, that I’ll help him. It’s my purpose in life now, to help people succeed where I failed.

  “Sure.” I jump out of the pool, ignoring the way the usual cold chill is absent, replaced by a warmth that Cooper ignited. It makes me hate him more. It makes me hate me more. “Come on.”

  “Good girl,” he says, making me freeze. What kind of reinforcement is that? He gets out of the pool in one move that makes him look like he’s flying, and stands next to me, stretching his neck and circling his arms. “So, four lengths.”

  “I don’t want to race.”

  “Sure you do.” He turns to me and my traitorous body follows suit. “Competition is in every beat of your heart. I can see it, the hunger. I can feel it, the drive to dive in and take the win. I can sense it, in everything you say and do, the way you walk and watch, how you live and breathe.” He raises his hand to touch my cheek, but moves away quickly, stretching his arms behind him instead. “It’s just a race. There’s no timer, no medal at the end. What harm can it do?”

  A lot. It could do a lot of harm. But I won’t realise that until later.

  “Fine,” I huff, turning and choosing my lane. The one where the moon streams in and lights the way. “Ready?”

  “Ready,” Cooper says, getting into position.

  “3…2…1…go.”

  We jump at the same time, diving deep into the water and racing to reach the top. When I break through the surface, the adrenaline kicks in, the rush takes over, and I swim like I’m at the Olympics. I swim like my life depends on it. I don’t realise that it does. I know Cooper is behind me; I can feel him on my tail, so I don’t stop. I reach the wall and turn, pushing off and ripping up the water as my need to win takes over all thought of technicality. I’m not being judged. I just need to win and ask him to leave me alone. I chew up the water, turning again to begin the third length. I breathe like a monster, inhaling and exhaling like my lungs are starved. My arms circle as fast as they can, my cupped hands pushing me harder against the force of the water. My fourth and final length is the hardest; I can see the finish line and my stamina is waning. I know it will be more disastrous to my mind if I win, but I can’t let him beat me. I push as hard as I can, until I’m sure I’ve beaten my own world record, and reach the wall at the end. As soon as I emerge from the water, I open my eyes and look for him, as the length of his arm eats up the final three feet of the length and his huge hand touches the side. He throws his head back, water flicking from his hair in a glittery arc that makes me swallow hard and gasp for a breath.

  “I won,” I say, taking a deep breath and refusing to smile. I’m not sure I even want to. I’m just glad I didn’t let him win and allow him to mock me for it.

  Whatever his motivation for making us race, he didn’t win.

  “So you did,” he says, reaching out to lean over the rope and cup my face. I freeze, glancing at his wrist. “But, believe me, it won’t happen again.”

  He jumps out of the water, grabs his towel and smirks over his shoulder at me before walking away and disappearing into the changing rooms.

  Cooper is already swimming when I arrive the next day. I should turn around, decided to swim at dawn instead when I know he’ll be gone, but I don’t. Separating us by three lanes, I dive in and swim my usual routine. Sixty lengths. When I get out, after refusing to stop and see where he was, Cooper is gone. Is he smarting from his loss? Has he lost interest in the woman who bruised his ego and reduced his pride to nothing more than the drips that fell from his inky hair? I don’t really care; I managed to stop and watch him swim undetected and, shamefully, I will take the image to bed with me tonight.

  The same thing happens on Thursday. Cooper beats me to the pool, and by the time I finish my lengths and get out, he’s gone. But his towel isn’t. When I’ve taken my costume off and wrapped my own towel around me, I look around for him. He isn’t in the pool, and I can’t see him hiding in any of the shadows in any of the corners of the area. So I pick up his towel, raise it to my face, and inhale deeply. The smell of chlorine is my personal aphrodisiac and when the scent of the chemical, along with something purely masculine and unapologetic explodes in my nostrils, I almost come undone there and then. Cooper smell like deviance, like red-hot perfection that comes with jagged edges and sharp protrusions. I moan, my eyes rolling closed as I take another breath.

  And then, afraid he’ll return and find me sniffing his towel, I take it with me and scurry to the changing room, shoving it into a different compartment of my bag so I don’t contaminate the scent.

  Griffin is asleep when I get home just before midnight. He’s on his side of
the bed, his back to where I’ll sleep and after a quick shower, I slip beneath the sheets, lying on my back and reaching into my bag next to the bed. I pull Cooper’s towel out and scrunch it up as small as I can, looking over at my sleeping fiancé and allowing myself to imagine the man I hate lying next to me instead. Raising Cooper’s towel to my face, covering my nose and mouth so I can taste and smell him, I close my eyes and slip my hand into my knickers. I imagine him laying over me, dripping water onto me as he devours my lips and eases his fingers inside me, as I do. Arousal coats my fingers as I clench around them and drag up, stroking my clit with evidence of my desire for the man who pisses me off like no other. He pisses me off because he stirs the skeletons in my closet and I’ve spent so long waiting for them to disintegrate and take all evidence of my past with them. My body coils up tight, my core clenching as I fuck myself to thoughts of Cooper, his scent driving me wild as I imagine it dominating me, stealing my senses and replacing them with bliss. I come hard, biting down on the towel so Griffin won’t wake to my cries. I withdraw my fingers quickly, so he can’t feel the quivers that have taken over my legs and turned them to liquid, bringing guilt the depth and darkness of the pool where my fantasy torments me. I shove Cooper’s towel back in my bag, rolling over and trying to calm my erratic breathing, with my back to my fiancé.

  Training comes to an end, our last session before the meet. After handing out schedules and checklists to the team and packing the equipment away after they leave, Rob turns to me.

  “Ready for tomorrow?” he asks, tossing me a bottle of water.

  “So ready. I’m excited.”

  It’s my first meet as a coach and the excitement at seeing all of our hard work on the scoreboard tomorrow afternoon makes my blood fizz with anticipation.

  “Great. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  “See you then.”

  I smile, waiting for him to leave, but he halts and nods for me to come with him.

  “Are you sure you want to swim tonight?” I nod. Rob purses his lips and smiles. “Okay. See you in the morning.”

  I shouldn’t have swam.

  I shouldn’t have swam.

  I change into my costume and jump into the pool, thoughts of Cooper non-existent after I fucked him out of my system last night.

  I shouldn’t have swam.

  I shouldn’t have swam.

  At fifty lengths, I see him jump in the pool. My blood heats and my stroke falters, but I can’t let him see. I continue to swim, as if he isn’t there, although I can see him. I can feel him in every cell of my blood that boils with lust for him, and every bone in my body that is programed to be drawn to him.

  Length fifty-five. I take a breath and when my face returns to the water, Cooper is in my lane. He’s leaning against the wall, arms outstretched under the surface. He’s calling me to him, no more than three feet from me. I can’t stop, my stroke failing as I slam into him. He holds me by the neck, stopping me from sinking to the depths where my feet can’t touch the floor, but not allowing me to move. My breath is heavy, adrenaline making breathing impossible, and Cooper’s hold on me making my throat tight.

  “W-what…” My teeth chatter with fear and the chill that slides over me despite the heat radiating from him. “What are y-you doing?”

  Cooper says nothing, his steel-grey eyes burning into me with rage and determination. I hold onto his wrists to stay afloat and try to pry his hands from me, but he’s too strong. Too absolute.

  “Cooper!” I shove at his chest, but the bastard has planted his feet to the ground. “Let me go!”

  My feet are a good six-inches from the floor of the pool, even with my toes pointed. I’m anchored to the spot, the love I feel for the water around me draining with every ripple that leaves our combined bodies and laughs at me for trusting the darkness of my sanctuary. With a menacing smirk, Cooper presses one hand to the top of my head and pushes. My body curls up as my feet press to the floor of the pool and he pins me there. I slip on the tiles, but his grip is tight enough that he doesn’t falter. One hand fists my hair, the other moving to my shoulder. I flail my arms and legs, everything moving in slow-motion as the gravity of the water makes fighting impossible. I hold my breath, keeping the last one I’d taken inside. But my lungs begin to buck and my vision begins to blur. I let the breath out, instinctively drawing another. Nothing but water enters my mouth, forcing its way into my lungs as I gasp for oxygen that isn’t there. I feel my lungs fill with water. I feel every second of drowning. I fight all the way, scraping Cooper’s wrists, kicking his legs as hard as I can, as water rushes around my system like a tsunami. I freeze, counting every one of the convulsions wracking my body.

  3…

  2…

  1…

  Nothing.

  I’m not sure if I’ve woken up, or if the darkness is where I live now; if I’m stuck in some sort of limbo where there is no light. I think my eyes are open, but I can’t see anything and I can’t move my arms or legs to search my surroundings. I groan, the burn in my lungs reminding me what happened…when? How long have I been here?

  “It’s just like the depths of the ocean, isn’t it?”

  I jump when I hear the sound of Cooper’s voice. I remember the swim; I remember swimming my lengths, counting each one until he invaded and…he drowned me.

  “Am I dead?” I croak.

  I try to swallow, but my mouth is dry, and it hurts. God, it hurts. I remember every surge of water into my mouth. The water has become me, like I’ve always wished it would, but this time its punishing. It’s a harsh reality that I’m no match for the wrath of the most powerful element.

  “No.” Cooper chuckles and I turn my head, trying to gage where he is. “But when I’m done with you, you’ll wish you were.”

  “Why?” I want to cry, but I refuse. If he thinks drowning me and locking me up in the dark is enough to break me, he has a harsh lesson on the way. “What did I do to you?”

  “I don’t care about that,” he says. “It isn’t about what you did to me. It’s about what you did to yourself.”

  “W-what-” I stop, try to swallow past the blades in my throat, and try again. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you screwed up. We both know that. We both know you need to suffer for your sins.”

  “Oh.” I force a laugh, trying to sound as menacing as him. “So you’re one of those religious freaks.”

  A hand cups my cheek and I flinch. Cooper is in front of me, invading my personal space, and touching me.

  “Don’t touch me,” I croak, twisting my head to dislodge his touch. “What have you done to my hands?”

  “I’m not a religious freak.” Could have fooled me, the way he talks about sins like I have to answer to the almighty man in the sky for doing what humans do. I’ve never killed a man. “And your hands are behind your back. You might not be able to feel them for a while. The drowning numbs your extremities.”

  “Why did you drown me?” I ask, stilling when his fingers delicately tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Like some sort of baptism? A rebirth, religious freak?”

  “Stop it,” he growls, gripping a fistful of hair. “Believe me when I tell you I left God behind a long time ago.”

  “Whatever. Why am I here?”

  “Did you enjoy spending the night with my towel?” he asks, humour and amusement thick in his deep voice.

  “Is that my sin? Stealing a towel you left behind? Maybe I washed it for you. Maybe I tossed it into the bin.”

  He moves closer, until his warm breath trickles over my face and heats me from the remaining cold of the water. Why am I not repulsed by him? Why am I not scared? I just feel…numb. Numb and warm.

  “You didn’t.”

  “So you’re following me now?” I spit, my voice cracking with dryness. “I don’t favour the religious stalker type.”

  A backhand to the face shocks me and as the pain shoots through my cheek and up into my skull, I tumble sideways. He wasn’t gen
tle. I laugh, knowing I shouldn’t have expected him to be. Taking a fistful of my hair, he sits me up and pushes me back against the wall. I feel my hands now. They’re bound tightly behind me, burning from something synthetic digging into my skin. With every second of him keeping me here, I feel more sensation return.

  “You’re a damn annoyance,” he says, sighing and standing. I hear his shoes crunch on the floor beneath his feet, suggesting we’re not in a cosy living room that just hasn’t got any lamps.

  “So let me go. Let me go back and be a damn annoyance to someone else. At least let me see you.”

  “Why would you want to see me?”

  Good question. Why do I want to see him? I just want to see where I am. That’s what I’m telling myself, at least.

  “Because I’m not afraid. If you’re going to kill me, I want to watch you do it.”

  “Just when I kill you?” he asks. “I mean, you don’t want to watch the build-up? You’ve got a while left.”

  “Why don’t you let me in on your plan, Cooper? What the fuck is going on?”

  “Let’s call it an elocution class.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes, seriously.”

  His hands grab my waist and, like I’m weightless, he lifts me from the ground and throws me over his shoulder. I count his steps, seven of his long strides, as he crosses the room with me and opens a door. It’s heavy and slams quickly behind us when he steps out with me. The bright lights blind me, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

  “Cooper…”

  “Yes, Erin?”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Home.”

  Home? Home? He’s letting me go home? I try not to let myself believe it, but a spark of hope flares in my stomach and I smile through the trauma. I can feel my toes, too. They curl up and brush his crotch, making me blush and recoil at once.

  “It’s okay,” he soothes, keeping a tight hold on the top my thighs. “I like it.”