Deceit (Gallows Hill #1)

5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Skyla

T he rest of my day went by surprisingly well. Maggie and I met for lunch. She ended up taking us to this really cool hole in the wall sandwich shop that had to die for chili cheese fries. I had never tried them before. Carbs were practically banned at my school in London, which is a disgusting rule, I know. Oh my god, though. Change my freaking life– delicious. I could gain twenty pounds for all I care, as long as I can have an infinite supply of those fries.

Once I was in for the night, I called Steph and we talked for a few hours. I told her about my ‘lovely’ fiancé as well as Maggie. I even mentioned the pool that I had found on campus. Conveniently, I did leave out the whole sexy swim coach part. I’m not sure why I didn’t tell her, we tell each other everything. Maybe I didn’t tell her because honestly, there was nothing to tell. God, he was so hot though.

I set my alarm for a few hours before my first class today, because ever since yesterday I’ve only had one thing on my mind. I slip into my swimsuit, grabbing my cap and goggles before throwing on a t-shirt and baggy sweatpants. If my father saw me looking like this, out in public no less, I think he would die of a heart attack. I refuse to get all done up only to submerge myself under water, though.

The way to the pool from my dorm is actually pretty straightforward, and I get there in minutes. The sun still hasn’t risen, and the courtyard is quiet as I sneak inside the building. Crossing my fingers that the door is unlocked, my heart does a happy little flip when I pull the door and it gives way to my hand.

I make my way through the hall before pulling open the door to the pool. I’m smiling to myself, excited to have the pool to myself, except I’m not the only one here. There is somebody already in the pool. I can’t tell who it is, not like I really know anyone here anyways. All I can see is a back covered in what looks like tattoos. They stretch down the length of both of his arms and his back, stopping just above his swimsuit.

His moves are so fluid, so graceful. He practically glides through the water like he’s a part of it, as if it was as easy as simply existing. He’s making the breaststroke look that easy at least, as he rises up and down from the water, taking only enough breath to push him one more stroke. I have to admit that he’s incredibly fast as well, I’m dumbstruck just watching him go.

Suddenly he stops, ripping off his goggles as he levels me with a stare that feels capable of incinerating me right here, right now.

“The pool is closed,” he practically snarls.

My head jerks back, as if his words physically struck me before I raise an unimpressed eyebrow at him.

“Doesn’t look closed.”

“It is. You can’t be in here,” he bites out.

God, this man is absolutely infuriated. Like my proximity offends him on a cellular level, and he’s two seconds from decimating everything and everyone near him.

Unfortunately for him, he’s not even close to one of the most intimidating men I’ve ever met, and the worst thing I could do is show weakness in front of someone like him. So, I don’t.

I keep my eyes on him the entire time I set my bag to the floor before taking off my sweatpants and shirt. I don’t even break our stare as I pull my cap out. Somehow, I magically keep my eyes in his direction, as I bend over to tuck every piece of hair inside and slip my goggles on before I stand up again.

His nostrils are flared, and his mouth pulled up into an ugly sneer that doesn’t do anything for how surprisingly good looking he is.

Seriously, what is it about this college? I don’t think I’ve seen a single bad looking man or woman since I’ve gotten here. Genetic lottery or something? I’m definitely not complaining, I just wish some, or most, of them had better attitudes to compliment those good looks.

I walk past him, keeping my head high and not having a care in the world that he’s watching me as I do a perfect dive into the opposite side of the pool. Instead of doing a warm-up lap or jumping straight into a workout, I dive down until my belly scrapes against the bottom before I cross my legs and sit.

It doesn’t matter that I can’t physically breathe down here, metaphorically, emotionally, spiritually, whatever you want to call it, I finally have breath poured into my lungs. A soft peace falls over me, and the stillness of the water heals something inside me that I’m not sure is even broken.

I’ve missed this. So much.

Sadly, my lungs begin to burn, and I feel the warning signs that I need to return to the surface for air, but I’m so desperate for this peace that I want just another second or two.

Unfortunately the next thing I know, two strong arms are wrapping around me, hauling me to the surface. When we break through, I inhale a greedy breath, allowing my chest to heave as my breathing begins to normalize.

Once it does, I’m furious. I spin around to face my ‘savior’ splashing a large amount of water into his face. His goggles are still off and I get him right in the eye. I wish I could be sorry, but I’m not.

He winces, rubbing at his eyes, before he levels me with a murderous look.

“What is your problem!? Why did you grab me?” I snap.

His gaze becomes almost crazed.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You trying kill yourself down there?”

I roll my eyes at him.

“Did it look like I was trying to kill myself? No. I was just taking a moment. I was about to come up for air.”

“Whatever you say, Siren,” he scoffs.

I frown at that and am about to ask him what he means by Siren, when something catches me off guard. His eyes are so grey they look like slabs of slate. They’re a perfect combination between dark and light grey. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life.

God, what is it with me and noticing everyone’s eyes? Do I have an eye fetish? Is that a thing? I think it might be.

Some of the anger begins to fade in them as I continue to stare at him before he looks away, practically shoving out of the water as fast as he can. He easily lifts himself out of the pool and onto the concrete walkway, grabbing a towel and a duffel bag in the corner, as he heads for the locker rooms.

Shaking my head, I begin with some warm-up laps before I line up on one end. Though I was never given the chance to actually compete, me and some of the girls at my school and in my swim club would race. It made it all the more fun, having someone push you, someone to compare yourself to and setting new goals to strive for.

I look up at the clock, waiting for the hand to hit twelve before I begin. I’ve always been a fan of the butterfly stroke. Though it is arguably one of the most challenging strokes, it’s the most fun in my opinion. If I could have competed, this is definitely what I would have chosen.

My arms glide through the water and my shoulders burn as I bring my head up to the surface, gasping in a breath before doing it again and again. My legs are burning as they fight to continue propelling me. God, it’s been a while that’s for sure. Like riding a bike though, it starts to come back to me. I can feel each stroke getting more fluid, more synchronized as I make it to the end of the pool, flip and do it all the way back.

As soon as I surface, my head whips around to see my time– sixty-eight seconds. Damn. I mean, it’s not bad but it’s not great. When I was an avid swimmer, I was comfortably under fifty-nine seconds when doing the butterfly 100 meter.

“You again,” a deep voice rumbles from across the pool, forcing my eyes to land on the figure above.

Coach Ronan is wearing basketball shorts today and a sleeveless tank top. His forehead is dotted with sweat, and it looks like he just got done with a run if his shoes are anything to go off of.

I don’t say anything, mainly because I’m not sure what to make of his statement. He let me stay yesterday. Was that just a one-time thing? Did he not want me to come back again? I really hope it isn’t the latter.

He stares at me for several seconds, looking up at the clock before his eyes come back down to me.

“100?” he questions.

I nod quietly as he lifts the bottom of his shirt to wipe off the sweat from his forehead, gifting me with the view of gorgeously toned abs.

When he drops the material, I can’t lie that I’m disappointed. Would it be so bad of me to tell him that he missed a spot?

“What was your time?” Ronan pants, taking a slow controlled breath, forcing his chest to settle.

Embarrassment nips at me, he’s a swim coach for an elite college. I’m sure he has swimmers that are cutting my time by ten seconds at least. He continues staring at me as if he won’t accept my silence, though.

“Sixty-eight,” I say softly, lowering my head so I don’t see the disappointment on his face. God, I hate being a disappointment. Chalking it up to whatever kind of mommy-daddy abandonment issues you want, I hate being in trouble and I hate being a letdown. Like, to an absolute extreme.

“When was the last time you trained?” he asks, his tone curious with no judgment.

I glance up to him carefully before I shrug.

“Five years.”

His eyebrows knit together. “You haven’t swam in five years?”

“No, I have,” I say. “Just not in a serious sense. Not outside of doing laps in my friend’s pool.”

“Well, shit. With a time like that and virtually no training in over five years, that’s impressive.”

“Really?” I ask. “What are your other girls’ times?”

He shakes his head. “We only have a men’s team.”

My face screws up at that as I take off my goggles, tossing them to the side as he slowly starts walking towards me.

“Why?”

He shrugs, choosing not to fully answer which I find odd. His steps take him all the way up to me, crouching down so he’s closer to my eye level as he speaks.

“You should start training again. You could be really good.”

I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face, even if I try. I do try to bite it back, but it’s no use.

“Why are you trying to hide your smile?” he asks, that half smile of his own tugging at his lips.

“I’ve just never heard that before. It’s nice,” I say softly, cringing at how insecure I sound.

His hand reaches out to my cheek, cupping it tentatively, like he’s giving me space to pull away. Yeah, like that’ll happen. I lean into his touch and his thumb pulls at my lip, freeing it from my teeth.

“You should hear it more.”

There was nothing I could do, no way it could have been prevented. My smile turns megawatt, as I grin up at this deliriously good looking older man, cupping my face tenderly and giving me all the words I’ve longed to hear from anyone before.

We stay like that for several seconds, just staring at one another before I speak.

“Are all teachers as caring as you?”

Something flickers behind his eyes as he lowers his voice, still holding my face as he does.

“If any of them are to you, you let me know.”

With that, he pulls away, standing up to his full height as he turns on his heel. I don’t let him go that easily, though. I lift myself out of the pool, climbing to my feet before I start after him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.

He continues walking for several steps and then he pauses, causing me to bump into his back before he turns to face me.

“It means, if a teacher is looking at you the way I am, you should definitely report them.”

My stomach flips at his words as I look up at him curiously, doing my best to keep my tone light.

“Doesn’t that mean I should report you?” I test.

He shrugs.

“You could, but I’m a coach, not a teacher.”

“Is there a difference?”

“Definitely,” he nods.

I let out a laugh at that as I nod.

“I’m not sure my father would see things that way.”

“I don’t know, I can be a pretty charming guy,” he says with a smirk.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. Regardless, you’re definitely too old to be flirting with students, Coach.”

“Who said I was flirting?” he asks, that flirtatious smile speaking volumes.

I got the vibes a little bit yesterday, but I wasn’t sure if I was making it up in my head or not. Now I know, without a doubt, I was absolutely not making it up and I don’t even want to question it. So, I take a step closer to him, brushing my chest against his in a way that makes him skip a breath, before he looks down at me. His eyes flick over his shoulder as if he were checking to make sure no one was coming, before he turns back to face me.

“Me,” I smile.

“Yeah? You, Miss…”

He trails off, waiting for me to fill in my last name no doubt.

“Parris,” I fill in.

His teasing smirk drops in a moment and his eyes widening as he takes a quick step away from me, like my touch has burned him. It takes him a moment to seemingly compose himself, before he straightens his posture and slips on a mask of indifference.

“Your name is Skyla Parris?”

I frown at his lightning quick change of character as I nod.

“Yes, is something wrong with that?”

He shakes his head once.

“No, I just didn’t realize. You’re engaged to Asher Putnam.”

I roll my eyes at the reminder.

“Does everyone on this campus know that?”

“Yes,” he answers quickly, so quickly it makes me take a second look at him. Really? Why on earth would it be everyone’s business? I’ve only been here two days. Unless arranged marriages are extremely common around here, it wouldn’t surprise me if they were. Or maybe this arrangement has been set in stone for a lot longer than I’m thinking. That, I really wouldn’t be surprised about.

“Well, if I’m honest, I don’t have much interest in marrying him. He’s an ass and has nothing but disdain for me. I don’t know why my father thought we would ever work out.”

“Working out doesn’t matter, committing to your arrangement is all anyone will care about,” Ronan says.

“Well, what if I’m unhappy? What if it would make me unhappy to marry him? I humored my father out of respect, but I can’t marry a man that can hardly stand the sight of me.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says briskly.

“It does to me,” I counter.

Ronan looks away for a moment before he speaks, keeping his eyes fixated on the wall as he does.

“Happiness is just a fairy tale dream. Even if you think you have it, think you can taste it, you’ll wake up soon enough and it will fade from your mind, until you can’t remember it at all.”

There is something so strong in his words, so truthful. Like he knows this pain firsthand. It breaks my heart. First, to hear someone be so cynical about something as simple as happiness. Second, to be so obviously crushed under the heel of life’s boot that you’ve accepted a future devoid of happiness.

“I hope not,” I say softly.

He swings his gaze back to me, a disbelieving look in his eye.

“You hope not?”

I nod. “In the lack of happiness or light, or anything relatively good, there is always hope. It’s always sitting there, idly by, ready for you to take it. You just have to be brave enough to.”

Ronan doesn’t say anything, and honestly, I don’t know what else there is to say. So with a small shrug, I walk past him, grabbing my things and head back to my dorm before the sun comes up.