Chapter 4

The next day, I went to the swimming pool at 3:50 pm. I told myself something that sounded very reasonable: I was just passing by, not expecting anything. Don't have to wait for anyone.

But when I stood in front of the long glass looking into the deep blue water inside, holding the violin close to my chest, did I realize how pathetically I had lied to myself.

It's early autumn, the sun is not as strong anymore, but the light is still golden enough to reflect on the lake surface in sparkling streaks.

The swimming pool was empty, there was no sound of water stirring. There is also no David Windsor.

I looked at the clock:

4 hours.

4 hours 5 minutes.

4 hours 10 minutes.

No one appeared.

I just stood still, feeling like every second passed like an eternity, then realized my heart was strangely skipping a beat out of frustration.

I laughed a little to myself, it was so funny.

Yesterday we met for two hours, but today we've been looking forward to it as if we've known each other for half a lifetime. I turned around to leave.

But behind him, in the silent space, suddenly came the sound of water splashing onto the surface of the lake, a sharp, clear sound, as beautiful as a falling moon drop. I turned around.

David has been in the water ever since, swimming with long and strong strokes. The swimming form is so beautiful that it makes me forget how to breathe. His movements were not like a swimmer but like a freely flowing stream of water. He swam to the edge, placing his hands on the edge of the lake. Water flowed down her shoulders, down her neck, down to the toned muscles hidden under her tanned skin. The face is slightly wet, dark hair pressed against the forehead.

He looked up at me, calmly as if this were obvious:

"I knew you would come."

I frowned, trying to hide my sudden joy:

"You're late."

David shrugged his shoulders and tilted his head:

"Going swimming is not the same as going to gifted class. Being a few minutes late doesn't create any cracks on the keyboard."

I hummed softly:

"Didn't create any cracks in your brain either?"

He laughed, his eyes shrinking into warm curves:

"Are you worried about my brain?"

"Are not." - I replied too quickly.

He nodded, as if he knew I was lying:

"Yes. I don't really believe it."

I pretended to look away to avoid those eyes, eyes that easily made people forget that I was trying to act cold.

He looked down at the guitar I placed on my lap:

"Why bring a herd?"

"I..." - I paused, not knowing how to answer - "Because I like it."

David leaned his hand on the edge of the lake, water continued to drip from his elbow to the surface, drop by drop:

"Then let's play."

I was startled:

"Here?"

"Yes. Here."

I looked around, there were only two people in the entire large space. The sound of the water purifier running was very soft, the sunlight slanted down on the water surface like melted glass.

I put the violin on my shoulder. Pull the bow.

The first note sounded trembling slightly, like a sigh in the air. Then each note gradually spreads, becomes softer, deeper. The sound of the violin mixed with the sound of water, sunlight, and cold air, creating a strange peace, so peaceful that I thought I was floating.

I have never played violin in a space like this. No one has ever looked at me like that.

David did not blink. His gaze clung to my every move, as if the sound of the violin was drawing slow lines on the surface of the lake that he could see clearly.

When the music ended, I looked up and realized my heart was beating too hard. Water rolled down the corner of his lips. He said something that made me not know whether to breathe or laugh:

"The sound of your violin is like deep water."

I blinked: "...What does that mean?"

"If you can't swim, you'll drown."

I choked: "Are you praising or threatening?"

He shrugged: "I'm inviting you to jump down."

"No way."

He laughed, his voice low and soft:

"Come down and swim with me tomorrow."

I shook my head: "I don't know how to swim."

His eyes lit up a bit, very beautiful:

"I teach."

"No need."