Between Heats (Downtown Aquatics Book 1) (8 page)

Finally, it was Madison’s insistent reminder that he had to
get to the aquatic center that sobered Aaron up. He poured two quick bowls of
cereal for both of them, insisting on driving her to her apartment, but she
didn’t want to give in.

“I don’t have anywhere else to be this morning. I’m in no rush;
I’ll be fine,” she assured him, playfully tugging a lock of his dark hair. “But
you’ll
be late.”

“All right,” he agreed reluctantly. “I’ll be out of the pool by
9. How about we do brunch?”

Madison smiled slyly. “Aren’t you tired of me yet, hotshot?”

“I’m the kind of guy who doesn’t give up until he gets what he
wants,” Aaron reminded her, taking a step closer.

But she agreed, and Aaron found himself too pumped up for
training. On most days he was a machine, conditioning himself one day at a
time. Hitting his stroke rate. Mastering his drills. Perfecting his turns.
Keeping
himself
streamlined. Shaving seconds off his
time through a
carefully-designed
regimen. But that
morning, instead of taking extra time to warm up after his two-day rest, he
exploded with a jump start and went through his laps like there was a record to
beat; meter after meter of raw power fuelled by the thought of her eyes, her
skin, her lips.

When Madison went home to her small and cramped apartment in
Little Tokyo, she thought she was all ready to pass out and sleep the rest of
the night off without dinner. Her supposed typical midday shift at the Common
Grounds wasn’t so typical at all. It was as if there was a convention nearby
and the place was packed more than usual. She overheard a couple of bearded
guys in plaid shirts complain that the place has become too popular for them,
but they stayed anyway. They also ran out of beans in the grinder so she had to
go out back and get a whole bag since no one else would do it. When the crowd
thinned just as her shift was ending, she was asked to extend to cover for an
absent Sandra. She didn’t really complain since it was extra money, and she
hoped this meant she and Sandra were now even.

 
But the truth was,
she was too keyed up to relax. She couldn’t help but think about how extremely
well last night—and this morning—went with Aaron. Now she couldn’t
stop thinking about him and his hot body, and the way they were in tune with
each other’s needs. She felt herself flushing at the thought of seeing him
again, and that surprised
herself
.

Early on she knew nothing in life was permanent, and that she
had to keep moving if she had to make sure she still had a job by day and then
make it to a casting call somewhere. If she wanted to pursue acting full-time
and secure her career, she needed to do a lot more than just brewing coffee and
looking pretty in front of the cameras.

Maybe she didn’t have any plans in going further than one night
with Aaron, but she wanted to see more of him. Heaven knows she wanted more.
But doing so added variables she might not be able to control, and uncertainty
wasn’t an option at the moment.
At least for her.

Madison was still deep in thought when her phone started
ringing. Thinking it was
Aaron,
she excitedly sat up
and took out her phone from her bag. Only to see someone else’s initial on her
screen. She had to talk to him sooner or later.

Fuck.

She took a breath before answering the call.

“Finally. You’ve been dodging my calls lately,” the low,
familiar voice said by way of greeting.

“I’ve been busy. There was that Stroke catalog shoot I needed
to do,” Madison informed her caller.

Sean chuckled. “Well, I’ve been missing you. A couple of
scripts landed on my desk; you may be perfect for one of them. Dinner tonight?”

She hesitated. She didn’t know if last night with Aaron changed
things—or if she wanted things to change in the first place. Her arrangement
with Sean may be complicated but at least they both knew where things stood
between them. None of these odd lingering notions from last
night,
like fear or desire or great bliss that threatened to sweep over her whenever
her thoughts wandered to a certain swimmer.

She cleared her throat. “Where?”

Madison wasn’t able to sleep, even if Sean had been
demanding in bed last night and she was exhausted. But she wanted to leave, and
she could, so she did. After quickly putting her clothes back on and starting
the coffee, she had left his posh apartment to go back home.

That was the best part of this arrangement: no questions asked.
And it
was
supposed to be easy.

But last night was completely different. Even if the promise
was a lead role in a popular, though low-budget, movie franchise, she found it
hard to be with Sean. The sex was good, especially with a man of his
experience. But in the end she had to imagine another man’s clear gray eyes
instead to get a satisfying payoff.

She wasn’t quite sure how exactly she got into this arrangement
in the first place. Madison had met Sean at an industry party more than a year
ago. He had enough clout to rub elbows with the big league players. They must
have crossed paths a few more times before they hooked up.

It was a relationship that she hid from everyone else,
especially her family. Only Elliott knew. They saw each other for dinner or a
gallery opening, and then some. It was no big deal. They were both single and
unattached, he was easy to get along with, and they both had needs. It was half
a year ago when it started being beneficial as well. He'd find her acting
projects, and she’d get a call. He made
good
on his
word, as she had already gotten a couple of acting jobs, albeit bit roles, in less
than a year. More than she could get through her small talent agency in this
competitive city.

It was an open relationship and there were no emotional
commitments. Easy.

But why did it sound so pathetic right now?

Was it her guilt at seeing Sean that drove Madison to see
more and more of Aaron? It wasn’t as if he had come out and said they were
dating exclusively, and she didn’t want to be the first to broach the subject.
Besides, how was she going to explain Sean to him?
Oh, by the way, I’m seeing someone else, too. But
don’t
worry
,
we’re not serious
.
Or the more
direct
You
don’t mind if I take this booty call,
right?

If Aaron noticed anything wrong, he didn’t show it. They saw
each other thrice in the first week, a record for Madison and—if his unforgiving
schedule was any indication—for Aaron as well. Soon they had established
a comfortable rhythm. With her car back in commission, it was easier for her to
see him.

They ate out a lot together. Aaron needed to eat almost all the
time to compensate for all of his training, but he easily burned everything
off. They would either have to do a brunch date after his morning training and
before his midday nap, or dinner after his afternoon training. Or both. She
didn’t mind adjusting her diet around their dates, and it almost always ended
up with her just ordering a juice or a glass of water, or a nice salad if it
was available on the menu.

Madison once brought him to the farmers’ market down on 3rd and
Fairfax, since he said he’d never been. It wasn’t really a grower’s market, but
there were a lot of different food stalls from Jewish to Spanish to Malay. But
it was with him that she discovered a lot more food trucks. She indulged in
some of them, and decided that all the workout they’d be doing afterwards would
make up for all the bingeing anyway.

Conversations with him ranged from comfort food to Japanese
rock bands, something she decided, she didn’t mind at all. They’d also talk
about things from her own field—movies and industry politics and coffee
roasts—but their conversations also meandered to more mundane things like
weather, or what their days would be like, or where they’d eat next. It made
Madison happy to be on someone’s top-of-mind. They were strangely matched at
times, a girl who ordered the least fattening thing off the menu and the guy
who did nothing but eat, but they had found an easy and familiar rhythm with
each other.

Aaron was a different man entirely when the topic revolved
around swimming. He would talk about it enthusiastically, how he loved being in
the water and he could spend hours in it. His life revolved around it so she
couldn’t blame him. Little by little, he opened up about starting at a young
age because his father had swum competitively. Once Aaron could keep up with
the older boys, he began competing seriously himself. Madison noticed that he’d
grow tense whenever the conversation shifted to his dad. From what she could
gather, Mr. Harding was an extreme perfectionist.

She secretly read up on interviews and articles about him, and
also to keep up with the terms he kept mentioning. This was actually the part
that her sister Mackenzie was the biggest help; Mac was a bit of a fan, and
after Madison had convinced her that Aaron wasn’t the douche she first thought,
Mac was her constant source of info. She was thrilled that Madison was dating
an Olympian, a thought that never really entered Madison’s head until Mac
mentioned it.

But she didn’t leave everything to her sister. She even visited
him once or twice during his morning practices, and saw how much he was really
into swimming. But whenever she asked him about the more technical stuff, he’d
just shrug and grin, “Simple. The fastest guy wins.”

When he had time, and when she let him, he returned the favor
and watched her at a couple of shoots for small local magazines. Even if
shooting the covers for
Quilt It Simple
or
Yoga Monthly
wasn’t as exciting as
the Stroke campaign, he told her he enjoyed watching her work.

Aside from always being hungry, he was always sleeping. There
were times she actually found it endearing, because he looked calm and adorable
when he dozed off, but it did tend to take up the time they could’ve been
spending time together.

One time, she asked him to catch a foreign film at an art house
theatre on Santa Monica Boulevard. “Are you sure you
wanna
watch this one?” he asked with a frown when she
pointed at the poster.

“Yeah, why not?” she asked him. “It looks interesting, and I
thought you’d like it since it’s Japanese.”

Aaron simply shrugged. “Sure. Your call.”

He made it sound like she was dragging him to watch paint dry.
And it felt that way, too, since he fell asleep fifteen minutes into the movie.
He had his head leaned back and didn’t seem to be moving, and so she had to
look closely to see that he really was sleeping. Madison even poked his
shoulder once but he didn’t budge. She shook her head and just leaned back.
With his training getting more and more intensive, she knew that Aaron needed
as much rest as he could get.
 
She
enjoyed the movie nonetheless, liked its quiet pace and characters, but she
just wished he
was
awake the whole time to enjoy it.

So she decided to tease him when they walked to a small cafe
afterwards. With her hand tucked in his, they lined up for drinks, and after
they had gotten a cup of Darjeeling for her and a smoothie and slice of cake
for him, she nudged him. She wasn’t going to let him live it down.

“So, Mr. Harding, what was your favorite part of that beautiful
movie?” she asked him in between giggle fits.

She was all prepared to laugh at his confused expression when
all of a
sudden,
he leaned forward and looked straight
at her. “When the owner of the bath house in their town died, and the guy had
to prepare the body in front of the family. I liked that he really earned the
respect of his wife and of their small town, for a job he had learned to value
as well. Thought that was pretty cool.”

Madison looked at him, mouth open in surprise. “B-But you were
sleeping!”

“I was?” Aaron asked, a sheepish smile on his face.

Realization coursed through her. “You’ve already seen it!”
Of course
he had. He seemed like the
type to get into Japanese culture—food, music
and
film. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Well, you seemed you wanted to watch it,” he said, ducking his
head and staring at his orange smoothie. “And I still wanted to spend time with
you,” he said in a low voice. “I’m sorry I dozed off though.”

Damn this man. He was adorable
and
sweet, and she felt an unfamiliar tug inside of her, and it
warmed her to her toes. There was something with what he said and how he said
it that made her want to hug him and kiss him. And just be with him. She
settled with leaning forward as well, their heads almost touching, the
lingering smell of chlorine already so familiar, and she smiled at him shyly.

“Thank you,” she said softly. For what exactly, she didn’t
know.

“Hey, Harding, we’re hitting Papa Mel’s,” Craig Parker, one
of the younger guys on the team, invited him after practice one afternoon. He
had his leg stretched out for a massage from one of the club’s therapists. “You
coming?”

He opened his mouth but his teammate and oldest friend Patrick
Donoghue beat him to it. “C’mon, Parker, don’t tell me you didn’t see the
hottie
who came to pick Aaron up. He’s not going to line up
saying
‘Bros before
—
’
”

“Can it, Donoghue,” Aaron sniped good-naturedly. He and the
rest of the guys trash-talked each other a lot, but the truth was they were a
pretty tight team. People always thought swimming was an individual sport, but
that was before they realized that swimmers spent so many hours together,
working and training like a unit. He couldn’t imagine swimming with a different
bunch even if they talked smack about each other. “Besides, it’s no contest.
Your ugly mug’s got nothing on her.”