stay stable, a drug that I never even knew existed until today.
She pulls away right as the guys sprint through the locker room door, clad only in their swim briefs and goggles, telling the raunchiest jokes imaginable .
I give Allison a look, partly to try to gauge her emotional state, and partly to let her know I felt something, even though I’m pretty sure it’s a better idea to keep my desires hidden from her. But I know she must have at least fel t something… Even if she didn’t feel something herself, she must have been aware of ho w I was feeling. There’s just no way a human can experience emotions so powerful and have it not be recognized by someone in such close proximity .
But she doesn’t even meet my eye s . She’s got her head down and jotting notes onto her reporters’ pad with her little stubby pencil.
I can’t help thinking how cute she looks, with the fire of co ncentration about her. Another part of me , though, feels hurt, which surprises me. When’s the last time a girl has made the famous Anchor feel hurt? Probably never. Well, maybe back in second grade once, when I pulled my crush’s hair, and she told the teacher about it, landing me my first of many after school detentions.
Coach is there, coming out of the locker room behind the guys, who have already dived into the pool.
“Way to go Anchor,” says one of the guys, seeing me standing near Allison. He makes a crude gesture with his hands that I hope Allison doesn’t see.
Coach catches my eye, giving me a look that clearly says, “You better not be putting the moves on her, kid.”
“I’m going to get changed,” I say, to Allison, making sure coach can here me. “I hope you got the details you need. I hope it was helpful.” I’m trying to sound professional, but it comes out somewhat awkward. I’m just gla d I don’t already have my swim briefs on, since I still have an erection.
She just gives me a little grunt and a nod, not really looking up from her notes. What happened? Just a minute ago, I could have sworn I felt something from her, some powerful interest. And now, nothing.
8
Allison
Wow, that was intense.
I’m sitting up on the swim balcony again, practically choking on the ch lorine smell that’s wafting up. The heat and humidity is intense, and it seems like the pages of my notebook are growing wetter by the minute. Down below, Anchor and the rest of the swim team are splashing around, doing laps back and forth, as both the coach and the assistant coach bark seemingly contradictory orders at them.
I’m not concentrating on the swimming at all though.
All I can think about is Anchor. Anchor’s body, to be precise. But it’s something a little more than that. It’s a feeling. Some kind of magical electrical feeling that felt like it wa s pulsating through me, pulsing through both of us, binding us together in an inexplicable way.
I wonder if he felt it too.
My plan was just to flirt with him a little. I can tell he’s attracted to me. I c an tell he wants me, although I should know better t han to think it’s for anything more than another notch, another fuck. He’s probably just turning on his animal charm for me, to draw me in.
I wonder i f I can even execute my plan. A fter all, real reporters don’t hook up with their inside sources , no matter what. I’ll never m ake it at a paper like The Journal if I’m falling from every guy with a decent body that I try to turn into my inside source.
Can I continue flirting with Anchor, drawing him in closer, in order to extract juicy dirt on the swim team, without actually falling for Anchor?
If I do fall for Anchor, despite myself, Beaumont will somehow find out. I know it. He has a way of finding out everything that’s happening on campus. He was a damn good journalist back in the day for a reason—he seems to al ways have his ear to the ground, and he can distinguish between the rushing buffalo and the lone detail that he needs.
I look
She pulls away right as the guys sprint through the locker room door, clad only in their swim briefs and goggles, telling the raunchiest jokes imaginable .
I give Allison a look, partly to try to gauge her emotional state, and partly to let her know I felt something, even though I’m pretty sure it’s a better idea to keep my desires hidden from her. But I know she must have at least fel t something… Even if she didn’t feel something herself, she must have been aware of ho w I was feeling. There’s just no way a human can experience emotions so powerful and have it not be recognized by someone in such close proximity .
But she doesn’t even meet my eye s . She’s got her head down and jotting notes onto her reporters’ pad with her little stubby pencil.
I can’t help thinking how cute she looks, with the fire of co ncentration about her. Another part of me , though, feels hurt, which surprises me. When’s the last time a girl has made the famous Anchor feel hurt? Probably never. Well, maybe back in second grade once, when I pulled my crush’s hair, and she told the teacher about it, landing me my first of many after school detentions.
Coach is there, coming out of the locker room behind the guys, who have already dived into the pool.
“Way to go Anchor,” says one of the guys, seeing me standing near Allison. He makes a crude gesture with his hands that I hope Allison doesn’t see.
Coach catches my eye, giving me a look that clearly says, “You better not be putting the moves on her, kid.”
“I’m going to get changed,” I say, to Allison, making sure coach can here me. “I hope you got the details you need. I hope it was helpful.” I’m trying to sound professional, but it comes out somewhat awkward. I’m just gla d I don’t already have my swim briefs on, since I still have an erection.
She just gives me a little grunt and a nod, not really looking up from her notes. What happened? Just a minute ago, I could have sworn I felt something from her, some powerful interest. And now, nothing.
8
Allison
Wow, that was intense.
I’m sitting up on the swim balcony again, practically choking on the ch lorine smell that’s wafting up. The heat and humidity is intense, and it seems like the pages of my notebook are growing wetter by the minute. Down below, Anchor and the rest of the swim team are splashing around, doing laps back and forth, as both the coach and the assistant coach bark seemingly contradictory orders at them.
I’m not concentrating on the swimming at all though.
All I can think about is Anchor. Anchor’s body, to be precise. But it’s something a little more than that. It’s a feeling. Some kind of magical electrical feeling that felt like it wa s pulsating through me, pulsing through both of us, binding us together in an inexplicable way.
I wonder if he felt it too.
My plan was just to flirt with him a little. I can tell he’s attracted to me. I c an tell he wants me, although I should know better t han to think it’s for anything more than another notch, another fuck. He’s probably just turning on his animal charm for me, to draw me in.
I wonder i f I can even execute my plan. A fter all, real reporters don’t hook up with their inside sources , no matter what. I’ll never m ake it at a paper like The Journal if I’m falling from every guy with a decent body that I try to turn into my inside source.
Can I continue flirting with Anchor, drawing him in closer, in order to extract juicy dirt on the swim team, without actually falling for Anchor?
If I do fall for Anchor, despite myself, Beaumont will somehow find out. I know it. He has a way of finding out everything that’s happening on campus. He was a damn good journalist back in the day for a reason—he seems to al ways have his ear to the ground, and he can distinguish between the rushing buffalo and the lone detail that he needs.
I look
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