Chapter 5

The next afternoon, I went to the swimming pool at ten minutes to four. I lied to Liam and said I had a make-up class. He didn't ask much, just said "yes" and bowed his head to practice his dialogue in front of the mirror. I slung my violin over my shoulder and walked out of the house with my mind still floating as if I was running away to do a very secret job.

The sky that day was strangely blue. Not the harsh green of summer, but a soft, windy, slow-moving cloudy green. I walked across the schoolyard, rows of trees casting long shadows down the path. The sunlight penetrated through the leaves, falling on my shirt in small spots of light, flickering as if breathing.

I asked myself what I came here for. Watch swimming? Or just to confirm that yesterday's meeting was not imaginary?

The swimming pool was quieter than I thought. There weren't many people, just a few students packing their things. Through the glass, the blue water surface lies calmly, reflecting the pale sunny ceiling.

David Windsor was standing at the head of the lake, bending down to start. White T-shirt, dark sweatpants, still dry hair. You haven't gone into the water yet. My heart beats a beat faster.

I stood behind the glass, like yesterday. But this time, I don't plan to run away. David raised his head quickly, as if he knew I was coming. His eyes met mine and his lips curled into a very small smile.

He didn't say anything. Just raise your hand and wave lightly.

Just one, but enough to make me feel warm inside. I walked inside. The space smelled of familiar chlorine, mixed with cool steam. The sound of my footsteps echoed softly on the tile floor.

"Are you really coming?" David asked, his voice calm, but his eyes couldn't hide his smile.

"I have more free time than you think." I replied, avoiding looking directly at him.

He smiled and said nothing more. Then turn around and jump into the water. A "whoosh" sound rang out, water splashed lightly on the edge of the lake, a few drops splashed near my feet.

David swimming.

This time, I didn't just see a beautiful boy. I see absolute concentration. Each of his movements was neat and precise, as if his body and water had known each other for a long time.

I suddenly understand why you say water has memory.

Because the way he touched the water...it was like he was talking to it.

After swimming a lap, he stopped at the edge of the lake and looked up at me.

"You study music, right?" he asked.

I nodded. "Violin."

"Practice every day?"

"Um."

David put his hand on his chin, water dripping drop by drop. "So it's like me."

"Alike?" I tilted my head.

"The feeling that if you miss just one day of exercise, something is missing in your body." he said slowly.

"Like not breathing enough."

I was silent for a moment, then said softly:

"...That's right."

We don't talk much anymore. But I don't feel the need to say it. I sat down on the bench next to the lake. David swam a few more laps, then went ashore and sat at a comfortable distance from me. He took the water bottle and took a big gulp.

"Lily Miller."

"What ?"

"Have you ever thought...what it would be like if you couldn't do what you like?"

I tightened my grip on the violin strap. The image of my parents flashed through my mind very quickly, very blurry, but enough to make my heart ache.

"...I think." - I replied

"And I don't want to."

David looked at me, his eyes deeper.

"Me too."

The wind blew in from the window, the water surface rippled slightly. I suddenly realized that, at some point, the distance between us was closer than at first.

Not by footsteps. But by breathing.

When leaving, David accompanied me for a while. We don't touch each other, but the shoulder of our shirt occasionally brushes against each other, very lightly.

"Are you coming tomorrow?" he asked.

I didn't answer right away.

Then I said: "If I'm free."

David smiled. The same smile as yesterday. That night, as I played the violin, I realized my sound was different. Not sadder, not happier. It's just...something is moving inside.

Like water just touched.

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