toned shoulders, forcing him to look him in the eyes.
“What happened?” James asked.
He could see the struggle behind green eyes as Drew struggled with the question of opening up to him or not.
“My father pays you to coach me, not to play shrink to me,” Drew finally said and shrugged off his hold on his shoulders before covering his chest with the soon to be drenched lycra tight bodysuit.
James had been noticing the outline of his swimmer’s body more and more these days. The boy was filling out in his early twenties, and couldn’t even be classified as a boy any more. He was turning into a man, and the training was developing his body in all the right places. If only maturity came with these growth spurts.
“You’re not doing it right,” James said.
His coach sounded far more exasperated than usual. Normally he had to screw up a lot more than this before he got his coach to this level of annoyance. It must have been the stupid quip about the shrink that had set him off, he thought. He just didn’t want to go there with anyone yet, especially not his coach. No use in berating himself further, he thought, and instead of showing vulnerability or remorse for his actions, Drew did what he did best and challenged the authority in his life.
“Well if you’re such a goddamn expert, get in here and show me the perfect fly,” he said.
James did an expert backward dive from the diving board.
“Show off,” Drew said under his breath as James came up for air.
“The secret to the perfect butterfly stroke,” James said, “is the body-dolphin. And speed. You can’t hesitate. You have to know it off by heart,” he said as his hands glided off Drew’s body, helping him to get the posture right.
The guy was passionate, Drew conceded, and it was infectious. Soon the bad mood was lifted, and they got involved. James was so graceful in the water, more than he could ever hope to be. Drew felt most comfortable in the water, but he saw the deftness with which James carried himself inside the pool, the ease, the joy that came with being in his element, imparting his expertise. He also noticed his coach’s muscular swimmer’s chest, the water catching in his lightly furred chest, rolling down each time he lifted himself out of the water.
“Why didn’t you ever go pro?” Drew blurted out while taking a two minute break from practice and doing freestyle strokes.
He saw the carefree expression on his coach’s face replaced with a slight shadow of furrowed brows and the familiar, set crease lines. He instantly regretted the question. Readying himself for a rebuff, he was surprised by the directness of his coach’s reply.
“I didn’t have what it takes to make the big time,” he said.
Drew watched him as he continued with his K-treads. He just imagined his coach’s heavy glutes contracting and releasing underwater and felt his lycra start to stretch over a certain part of his body. He couldn’t take his eyes off his coach, however.
“…but you do,” Drew said, and within a split second his coach had made his way to him from the other side of the pool.
“Enough with the small talk,” James smiled. “Time to get to work again,” he said.
Drew found it difficult to concentrate for the rest of practice, with his coach spending the rest of the session in the pool with him helping him with his technique, but he gave it his best shot.
“Aren’t you hitting the showers?” James asked.
“Not today,” Drew quickly said as he gathered his things and headed to the door. He was still dripping wet and in his practice clothes.
“Or at least change?”
“I have to run. See you tomorrow afternoon,” he said and dashed out the door.
James was worried about his swimmer. Turning up late for practice, it must have been the first time he could remember it happening. He didn’t want to push the topic as he could
“What happened?” James asked.
He could see the struggle behind green eyes as Drew struggled with the question of opening up to him or not.
“My father pays you to coach me, not to play shrink to me,” Drew finally said and shrugged off his hold on his shoulders before covering his chest with the soon to be drenched lycra tight bodysuit.
James had been noticing the outline of his swimmer’s body more and more these days. The boy was filling out in his early twenties, and couldn’t even be classified as a boy any more. He was turning into a man, and the training was developing his body in all the right places. If only maturity came with these growth spurts.
“You’re not doing it right,” James said.
His coach sounded far more exasperated than usual. Normally he had to screw up a lot more than this before he got his coach to this level of annoyance. It must have been the stupid quip about the shrink that had set him off, he thought. He just didn’t want to go there with anyone yet, especially not his coach. No use in berating himself further, he thought, and instead of showing vulnerability or remorse for his actions, Drew did what he did best and challenged the authority in his life.
“Well if you’re such a goddamn expert, get in here and show me the perfect fly,” he said.
James did an expert backward dive from the diving board.
“Show off,” Drew said under his breath as James came up for air.
“The secret to the perfect butterfly stroke,” James said, “is the body-dolphin. And speed. You can’t hesitate. You have to know it off by heart,” he said as his hands glided off Drew’s body, helping him to get the posture right.
The guy was passionate, Drew conceded, and it was infectious. Soon the bad mood was lifted, and they got involved. James was so graceful in the water, more than he could ever hope to be. Drew felt most comfortable in the water, but he saw the deftness with which James carried himself inside the pool, the ease, the joy that came with being in his element, imparting his expertise. He also noticed his coach’s muscular swimmer’s chest, the water catching in his lightly furred chest, rolling down each time he lifted himself out of the water.
“Why didn’t you ever go pro?” Drew blurted out while taking a two minute break from practice and doing freestyle strokes.
He saw the carefree expression on his coach’s face replaced with a slight shadow of furrowed brows and the familiar, set crease lines. He instantly regretted the question. Readying himself for a rebuff, he was surprised by the directness of his coach’s reply.
“I didn’t have what it takes to make the big time,” he said.
Drew watched him as he continued with his K-treads. He just imagined his coach’s heavy glutes contracting and releasing underwater and felt his lycra start to stretch over a certain part of his body. He couldn’t take his eyes off his coach, however.
“…but you do,” Drew said, and within a split second his coach had made his way to him from the other side of the pool.
“Enough with the small talk,” James smiled. “Time to get to work again,” he said.
Drew found it difficult to concentrate for the rest of practice, with his coach spending the rest of the session in the pool with him helping him with his technique, but he gave it his best shot.
“Aren’t you hitting the showers?” James asked.
“Not today,” Drew quickly said as he gathered his things and headed to the door. He was still dripping wet and in his practice clothes.
“Or at least change?”
“I have to run. See you tomorrow afternoon,” he said and dashed out the door.
James was worried about his swimmer. Turning up late for practice, it must have been the first time he could remember it happening. He didn’t want to push the topic as he could
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