Wet and Wild

So I arrive with my swimsuit. I don't actually have it on, as I'm still holding out hope that this is just some crazy mix up. Tyrese sees me walk in, and immediately catches me before I go into the locker room.


"Get in your suit. You have 5 mins before I go in there and git you." (Yes, he actually said "git".)


I hurry in and throw off my clothes. As I'm wrestling with my suit, I start wondering if I need to do a little landscaping. I remember that my suit is one of those matronly ones with a skirt, so I stop worrying. I pull my cover up on as I walk out the door. Tyrese is standing by the front door, looking exactly as he did when I first walked in. I imagine he will just stand out of he pool, and yell at me from there. Or maybe he has a bullhorn or a whistle? Or both?


We walk across the street, and sure enough, he has a key to the pool. (BTW, if I ever find out who is lending him that key, I'll going to put the voodoo on them.)


"ummmm.....I'm pretty sure I'm going to get a yeast infection if I go in there."


He just looks at me.
Then he blows his whistle at me.
Dammit.


The pool is small and lonely. And cold. I go into a dark corner, and take off my cover up. I enter in the shallow end, and I'm taking baby steps towards the deep end. I look up in time to see Tyrese rip off his sweats, revealing shorts underneath, and dive into the water.



Mercy.





He swims two laps in perfect form by the time I wipe the water out of my eyes. I'm pretty sure I looked like a drowned rat (in a skirt) by now. He swims up next to me, and tells me it's time to start. I start swimming to the far side of the pool. My shoulders creak and pop the entire time. I get to the end, and I'm already out of breath.


"That's 15 ft. you have 19 more laps to go."


Then he whistles at me again.


Nineteen freakin laps!! Nineteen!! I start swimming because I don't want him to blow his damn whistle at me again. Around lap number 5, I get water up my nose. There is no recovering from that. I stop and hug the side of the pool while my head is throbbing. He 's already whistling. I try and ignore him.

"I got water up my nose. I need a break." It suddenly gets weird. He heads over to me. And for an actual second, I think that he is going to stick his finger up my nose. I lean my head back, away from him. Instead, he starts kneading my head and cheekbones. I'm not sure what to do at this point. As soon as he slows down, I move away from him and tell him that I'm ready to swim.

"Okay, but speed it up some. You're too slow."

"Oh, that's my skirt. It's holding me back. It's causing drag."

He ignores me.

I sputter my way through a few more laps. Every time I start to get tired, I start to doggy paddle. Every time I start to doggy paddle, he blows his whistle at me.

I ignore it.

The worst part is that it's not so much that it's tiring on my muscles, it's just hard on my lungs. I feel out of breath, and I don't like it.

On my last few laps, I walk them. I mean, underwater, I'm tiptoeing along, but above water, I'm still flailing my arms along like a goon. (I know I'm not fooling anyone, but it was worth a shot.) Surprisingly, he doesn't say anything to me.

I finish my laps, and get out of the water. He does the same. While I wrap myself with my ginourmous towel, covering every bit of me, he lounges out in the sun to dry off. (I don't even remember if he had a towel or not. I was too busy being mesmerized by his body.) I work hard on regulating my breathing, and getting the water out of my ears. And out of my nose. I grab my stuff, and start heading out. He open one eye, but doesn't move from his lounge chair.

"Saturday, we're meeting on the beach."

WTF.
"Why?"

"So you don't tip toe on your laps."
He closes his eye, and turns his face back to the sun.

So now I got to do this again, but next time with sand in my swimsuit.
Great.