I am completely submerged in the deep end of the pool when I hear a faint splash from the shallow end. I swim to the surface, expecting to see Vanessa coming to see if I’m okay, but to my surprise, it’s Evan, and he’s swimming my way. I look out toward the office—Sammie’s gone, as is Professor Cox. Great. Now she’ll really hate me. My attempt to deflect attention from my Episode has not just failed; it’s accomplished the exact opposite of what I intended.
Evan approaches, with a soft, concerned smile on his face. “You okay?”
I nod, but I don’t want to say anything to complicate this situation any more. The less I say, the better. That being said, I can’t help but smile a little at the fact that Evan’s also fully clothed in his sweatshirt and sweatpants, that he jumped straight in after me and is now completely drenched.
He treads water next to me. “So, is this, like, the opposite of skinny-dipping?”
“Something like that.” I force the words out through heavy breaths. “I guess.” I am considerably calmer but still know that I’m at the edge of an Episode, and the mix of swimming and talking is making it worse. I motion that I want to swim over to the closest ladder.
We each grab a rung and hold on, the water bobbing and lapping around us. There’s a weird kind of quiet here in this corner of the pool, even now that he’s next to me. I know I should get out of the water, dry off, find Sammie, apologize—again—for being so careless. But I also feel like I should stay to offer some explanation to Evan, or to say thank you, or to tell him something—anything—since he offered this grand gesture of drenching himself for me.
“You didn’t have to jump in after me,” I say finally. “I’m not drowning or anything.”
Evan smiles and wipes the dripping water from his eyes. “I know you’re not drowning.”
“Then why are you here?”
Evan bites his lip and then says, “You can’t let Professor Cox get to you. You can’t take him seriously.”
I shake my head. “It’s not just Professor Cox. It’s a lot more than Professor Cox.”
“I’m a good listener,” he says with a smile. Even though we’re both fully clothed, there’s something strangely intimate about being this close to him, the only two people in the pool. I realize that the last time I was alone with him was at Anne Boyd’s party. I wonder if he remembers. It hits me that the other reason I’m having trouble leaving is because of how nice it is to be here together, sort of hiding from everyone under the edge of the pool.
“You don’t want to talk?”
I do, I think. Desperately. And I feel like Evan’s someone who could listen, who could ask the right questions, who maybe even understands.
He moves closer to me. “I’d really like to get to know you better.” He places his hand on my forearm, and my promise to Sammie floods back, along with the dizziness and nausea.
I pull my arm back, shake my head, and try for something cold instead: “I don’t need you to save me. Thanks, though.” I start to climb up the ladder. My clothes, heavy with water, feel like they’re trying to pull me back into the pool.
“Oh God. I’m sorry. I never said I was here to save you.”
I turn around. “Isn’t this part of your job? Saving flailing victims from drowning? Do I look like I’m that pathetic?”
He doesn’t answer at first. Instead, he just sort of stares at me, stunned, like I’m not making any sense. Probably because I’m not.
“Seriously, Viviana. I just wanted to see if you’re okay,” he says, finally. He climbs up to the top rung. “Look. I just have to say it. I like you. I do. And I’m here for you, if you need anything. Is that the worst thing in the world?”
Yes, I think. For so many reasons, it really, really is.
But I don’t say this. I don’t say anything. Instead, I leave him there in the water and head out of the pool and back upstairs, the complete, dripping mess that I am.
*
Thankfully, Sammie doesn’t hate me. In fact, she’s the one who texts me first. She writes that (1) she’s sorry she walked out on me, (2) she wants to know if I’m okay, and (3) can we meet up on the roof after dinner. I write back (1) It’s okay, (2) I’m okay, and (3) Yes, please, ASAP. I decide that instead of trying to apologize via text, I’ll tell her what happened with Evan in the water, and I’ll say I’m sorry in person. It’s time to lay it all out on the table, be completely honest with her.