Chapter One-Sophia-The sign up
I stand there at the clubhouse door, fingers curled around the cool metal handle, thinking about it one last time. My heart is beating way too fast for something as simple as signing up for a swim team. It’s ridiculous, really — but that’s what nerves do. They make everything feel bigger, louder, heavier.
Do I actually go in? Do I really put my name down and commit to something I haven’t done in years? My brain starts listing excuses, one after another, rapid-fire.You’re rusty. You’ll embarrass yourself. Everyone already knows each other. You don’t belong here.
“Screw it,” I whisper, cutting off the spiral. “I’m going in.”
I push the door open before I can change my mind.
The familiar smell of chlorine hits me instantly, mixing with the faint scent of sunscreen and the chatter of girls clustered near the registration table. The room is bright, sun pouring through the windows and bouncing off the trophy case like it’s trying to blind me.
And then I see him.
Richard Ellis.
I swear the air shifts.
He’s standing behind the table, sorting papers with this calm, focused expression that makes him look like he’s been doing this job forever. The girls around me are whispering, giggling, nudging each other like they’re in on some secret.
“He’s even hotter in person.”
“That’s the new coach.”
“I swear he looked at me earlier.”
Their voices blur together, fading into background noise because the moment he turns his head, everything inside me stops.
His eyes land on mine.
And I freeze.
It’s like someone hit pause on the entire room. My breath catches, my pulse jumps, and suddenly I’m hyper-aware of everything — the warmth of the sun on my back, the faint hum of the AC, the way my hand is still gripping the door like I’m about to run.
He doesn’t look away.
Not even for a second.
There’s something in his stare that makes my stomach flip — not in a bad way, but in theoh no, this is going to complicate my lifeway. I forget about the sign-up sheet. I forget about the girls behind me. I forget about the fact that I’m blocking the doorway like an idiot.
It’s just him.
And me.
And this weird, electric moment that feels way too intense for two strangers.
Someone behind me clears their throat sharply.
“Are you going to sign up, or are you just going to keep standing there?”
Heat rushes to my face so fast I swear I might combust.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath, snapping out of it.
I force myself forward, legs suddenly stiff, and grab the pen. My handwriting looks shaky as I jot down my name and number —Sophia— like I’m signing a contract with fate instead of a swim team sheet.
I don’t dare look up again, but I can feel him watching me. It’s like a warm pressure on the back of my neck, impossible to ignore.
I drop the pen, turn, and practically escape out the door.
The moment it closes behind me, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. My heart is still racing, my face still hot, my brain still replaying the way he looked at me like he was trying to figure out who I was.
“Screw me,” I mutter, rubbing my forehead. “This is going to be an interesting sport now.”
And I know — deep down — that I’m right.
