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forehead against the concrete rim, his shoulders shaking very slightly. I wonder how long he’s been swimming like that to make him so tired. Eventually, he lifts himself out the pool in one fluid motion, stands, and finally sees me.
    I should probably say something, but all I can do is gape. He’s beautiful. He’s got a perfect swimmer’s body, muscular without being too broad—more toned, like a panther. His flat stomach rises and falls as he pants. He takes a few steps toward me and I’m stunned by his eyes—golden-brown and flecked with silvery gray.
    Stop staring like an idiot, May, talk. “You’rearageswma.” No, talk with words. “You’re a really good swimmer.”
    He stares at me for another second before he scoffs, a tiny sound that lets me know all I need to—he thinks I’m a moron. He slings his towel over his shoulders and starts toward the locker room, water running between his shoulder blades in torrents. “I’m the best,” I hear him say as soon as he’s no longer facing me.
    I can’t let this guy think I’m a total loser. I’ve never seen anyone swim as well as him. I’m burning to know more about his technique. “How’d you get to be so good?” I ask, realizing too late that I’ve got the dopiest smile on my face .
    He stops. Then he turns and approaches me again, getting close enough that I can see the water dripping off the ends of his dark hair. My heart does this stuttering thing. “I’m May—”
    “I don’t care what your name is,” he interrupts. His voice is low and cutting. “ The only thing I’m interested in is why you think you can come here. This is my practice time. Nobody interrupts that. Everyone else seems to get it, so I’m curious as to why you don’t?”
    I’m still smiling like an idiot for a few good seconds after he stops talking, before I really realize what he’s said. He raises an eyebrow. “Are you deaf as well as a moron?”
    “I’m s-sorry.” A hot blush spreads down my neck. “I didn’t realize you could reserve the whole pool—”
    “You can’t,” he says coolly, water trickling in rivulets over his ribcage. “ I can.” He turns sharply, back towards the pool. “Don’t come here again.”
    His voice contains so much contempt that suddenly my embarrassment solidifies into anger. “And why are you so special that you get the pool all to yourself? A pool is supposed to be shared.”
    A fraction of surprise momentarily breaks up his icy expression, but he quickly recovers it. “I don’t share. The pool is mine when I say it is. That’s some thing everyone accepts if they go to this school. If you have a problem with it, I suggest you transfer.”
    His tone is so biting that I can’t think of anything to say in return—all I can do is tremb le with anger. Who the hell is this guy?
    He strides toward the locker room door, but Tanner opens it. He doesn’t get out of the way.
    “Everything all right, May?” he asks loudly.
    I’m still so stunned that I can barely remember how to talk, but Tanner is glaring at the swimmer like he’s prepared to deliver a punch. The problem with Tanner is that he has a terrible temper. Even in middle school, he’d blow up at anyone who looked at him the wrong way. Right now the air in here is thick with tension. “Yeah, everything’s fine. You coming?”
    On his way towards me, Tanner nearly shoulder-checks the swimmer, who’s been standing with his back perfectly straight. I catch a hint of that sneer on his face, but mostly he just looks tired. Then he disappears into the locker room without a backwards glance at us.
    “Congratulations,” Tanner says bitterly, throwing his arms out in a grand gesture as we step back outside into the luxurious Florida warmth I’m still not quite used to. “You’ve just met the biggest asshole at Rothschild University.”
    The guy was definitely an asshole—he spoke to me like I was barely worth acknowledging. And yet…when I think about the way he