Saint (Angelview Academy #1) - E.M. Snow Page 0,21

band around my wrist and gaze down into the blue tinted water for several moments, breathing in through my nose and holding my breath before I jump in.

The water is cool, but not cold, and I’m smiling when my head pops back through the surface. Taking a breath, I tread water, refamiliarizing my body with the motions needed to keep me afloat. Once I feel loose and warm, I begin swimming to the opposite end. When I reach it, I dive below the water, turn around, and push off the wall as hard as I can. Breaching the surface, I breathe, then resume my strokes.

I do this for a while, until my limbs begin to burn. It feels good, so I keep going, turning all my stress and anger from the last couple of weeks into energy as I push myself harder and harder, swimming one lap after another until I have to force myself to stop.

Clinging to the pool’s wall, I fight to catch my breath, already knowing I’m going to feel this in the morning.

“You’re going to drown yourself if you keep that pace up,” a gravelly voice speaks from above, startling me. I let out a yelp and jump, losing my hold on the wall and nearly going under the water in my surprise. When I’m able to gain my bearings once more, I gaze up and find Liam’s dark stare peering down at me.

“Holy shit,” I pant, dread unfurling in my belly. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

I’m alone with a guy who hates me in a place I’m not supposed to be. This could prove hazardous if I’m not careful.

He scoffs. “You think you’re the only person who comes here at night? I’ve been sneaking into this pool since freshman year.”

“Oh,” I say, sounding lame. It’s at that moment that I realize that Liam’s shirtless. I’ve never seen him with short sleeves, let alone shirtless. The school has two options for uniforms for the guys. The summer shirt, which is short-sleeved, and the winter shirt. Liam only wears the winter-shirt beneath his blazer. Not only that, he’s constantly tugging on his sleeves, as if worried they’ll roll up on him if he’s not vigilant.

I’ve caught myself wondering if it’s a nervous twitch or if he’s hiding something. Track marks? Bruises? Scales?

Now, I’ve discovered his secret.

He’s covered in tattoos. From his wrists to his shoulders, across his broad chest, and down his chiseled stomach. Colorful, intricate images decorate his entire torso. Some are rough looking, like the cross on his upper chest. Some are gorgeous—the harlequin on his left forearm, the 3D heart tattoo on his torso. I can’t help but stare in awe, my eyes traveling along each design and noting every detail.

“Stop it,” he snaps, yanking my attention from his chest back up to his eyes. They’re narrowed and angry, but no angrier than any other day.

“Stop what?” I ask, genuinely confused.

“Stop staring. You’ve got a fucking problem?”

I shake my head, caught a little off guard by his defensiveness. “No, sorry, I don’t have a problem. I’ve always wanted one, you know, but scared of needles. Just … just admiring, I guess.”

I feel my cheeks catch fire and wonder if I should clarify that I’m admiring his ink, and not his body. Though, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that his body is utterly drool-worthy.

You hate this guy, remember? It doesn’t matter how hot he is. He’s a shitty person.

The reminder is sobering.

“Sorry,” I say again as I begin moving down the wall toward the ladder. “I’ll get out. The pool’s all yours.”

I reach the rungs and am about to climb up when his voice whips across the water and stops me.

“Don’t. Pool’s big enough for two of us. You just … stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine.”

I stare up at him with wide eyes. “A-all right. I can do that.”

He offers me a brittle smile. “This doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re a bitch, though. So, don’t go thinking this is some olive branch or shit.”

My lips curl in irritation. “Don’t worry. No risk of that happening.”

He nods and steps away from the edge to walk to the other side of the pool. I watch him dive in like a pro, and he begins swimming his own laps. Back and forth. Back and forth. After a few more minutes of rest, I resume my own rounds, though at a gentler pace than before. We ignore each other as we share