Page 23 of Please Don’t Go (The Midnight Strike #1)

JOSIE

I watch him closely, still with my hand in his. I spot the haphazard pulse on his tanned neck, the way it bounces madly like it’s caged and trying to be let out. And I feel his sweaty hand tightly clutching mine.

I don’t point out or wince at how firmly he’s holding my hand. I only continue to rub soft circles and repeat the same words he said to me the other day.

“I got you,” I gently say, keeping my gaze on his apprehensive one. “I promise, Danny.”

His dark brown brows quirk up, his breath quietly hitches, and his hand loosens.

After I left the girls yesterday, I came straight home and did as much research as I could. I may professionally know how to swim, have been taught by some of the best there is, and be certified to be able to teach swim lessons, but that doesn’t mean I know exactly how to help him.

I can’t begin to imagine what Daniel went through. His sister didn’t go into detail about what happened, but the little she shared is enough for me to understand how he’s feeling. A combination of survivor’s guilt and a persisting trauma.

I could’ve looked into what happened because he’s popular enough an internet search would’ve been sufficient, but I don’t want to invade his privacy.

I’m sure if it’s something he wanted to talk about, he would’ve already told me.

Or maybe he’s trying to not think about what happened because like me, I don’t like thinking about what happened to Mom.

Whatever it is, I did research. I spent hours trying to find the best way to help him. I might not be able to help him get over his fear, but it doesn’t hurt to try.

And as shitty as this might sound considering the circumstances, I’ve found a little purpose in my life.

He was and has been there for me. The least I can do is return the favor.

“Did you just call me Danny?”

“Yes, but I think I like Garcia better.”

A smile grows on his face. Bright and sweet like he is. “I think I prefer that too. You’re the only one who calls me Garcia, anyway. So it can be our thing.”

My heart stutters. “No one else calls you that?”

“No, I’m either Danny boy, Danny, Sparky, and occasionally when I get in trouble, Daniel Jesus Garcia .” He says those last three names in Spanish.

My lips twitch. “Occasionally?”

“I got drunk freshman year and found myself laying on my parents’ lawn. I guess I gave the Lyft driver their address instead of mine. Angel was there with me, so he also got chewed out.” He chuckles as if he were remembering the moment. “But that’s the last time in a while I’ve been called that.”

“And Sparky?”

He waves his hand in the air. “I spark energy everywhere I go.”

Yeah…that seems pretty accurate.

I can’t help but smile a little at that and I don’t miss the way his eyes drop to my lips. “Cute.”

“You called me cute; you can’t take it back.”

“Are you always misinterpreting things? Because I can help you in the water, but I fear I won’t be able to help?—”

“I know exactly what you meant. Don’t deny it, Jos, you think I’m cute.” His eyes twinkle with mischief.

“No, I think you’re hot, but if you prefer cute then…”

A splash of pink colors his cheeks and his smile drops before he picks it back up. “No, no. I like hot. So, you think I’m hot?”

“And shallow.” He’s far from it. In fact, sometimes, no most of the time, he feels too good to be true.

He grins, not believing I actually mean it.

“Okay, we need to stop wasting time; it’ll get dark soon.

Do you still want to do this? Don’t feel pressured or obligated.

I’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with. ”

He goes silent, eyes shifting to the pool and back up at me. “Are you sure I won’t be bothering you?”

“I have no life, so I promise you’re not.”

“You understand I’m going to consume your life? It’s going to get so bad, you’re going to get sick of me.”

It’s only been a month since he stopped me from ending it all, but since then, my days have revolved around trying to keep moving, and thinking of him.

I wish I could make my brain cut the wire that seems dead set on being attached to him. I didn’t even think of Bryson this much when I was dating him.

“That’s not going to happen.” I slip my hand away from his and note the way his palm remains in the same position as if he were still holding my hand.

He follows my line of vision and tucks his hands in his shorts’ pockets. They’re shorter than most shorts guys wear, exposing his thick, muscular quads. And he has the right amount of hair on his legs.

Why is everything about that…attractive? Jesus, get a grip.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He shrugs blithely.

I refrain from rolling my eyes and smiling. “I got you something.” I pad over to the chaise lounge chair and pick up the foam board and goggles. When I turn, I find him already behind me, just a few feet away. “It’s something I get for all my clients.”

He takes them from my hands and drags his finger around the lenses before feeling the dark green silicone strap. He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I hope you don’t regret this.”

I pull my shirt off and toss it on the chaise. “My only regret will be not being able to help you.”

There’s a clench to his jaw, his eyes hardened, and it makes me wonder if I’m doing too much. Am I pushing too hard, too fast?

“I really want to help you, but if you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to. I actually found a few people online who are trained and certified specialists. I wrote their information down; I can go get—” I throw my thumb over my shoulder in the direction of my house.

“That’s not necessary. I…” He scratches the back of his neck, cheeks a rosy pink. “I’m…I don’t know how to say this without coming off as a…” He coyly looks down. “Pervert…” He draws that word out, eyes meeting mine now.

“Okay?”

“You’re just…” He waves a hand down my chest. “God, I swear I’m never this awkward. Matter of fact, I’m?—”

“Spit it out, Garcia.” I tap my foot impatiently.

“ Hot .” He clenches his jaw again. “You’re hot and you’re wearing that, Jos. I just needed to get that off my chest. I’m not trying to make it weird, but you’ve got nice?—”

“Please shut up.” My cheeks flame. No. Scratch that. My body is an inferno. But I play it off. Act like I’m not affected at all by him whatsoever. Act like he wasn’t going to say that I have nice tits.

“Right, yeah.” He presses his lips together, eyes flitting to my chest swiftly before shifting back up to mine. “I don’t know why I said that, but disregard it. I promise I’m not going to be weird or creepy.”

I glance down at my bikini top. I didn’t wear my usual swimsuit because I wanted to make him comfortable.

I didn’t want to make this too formal, but maybe I made a mistake.

Not that him staring at me makes me uncomfortable.

It’s actually the opposite. But right now is not the time for me or my libido to act up.

“It’s a good thing I didn’t wear the bottoms that came with this.” I pull my shorts off and toss them with my shirt.

He smiles, grabbing the neck of his shirt, and tugs it off. “Why’s that?”

Abs. Beautiful, tanned, sculpted, firm, and whatever other positive adjective can be used to describe his abdomen is that.

“It’s a thong. If you’re flustered over breasts, I’d hate to see what my ass would do to you,” I absently throw out, but cringe a second later because why am I trying to flirt and why did that sound…ehhh.

“Do you want the truth or the lie?”

Our eyes lock. My heart goes berserk. And my body burns so intensely, I feel like I’m lying on top of lava.

“Pool. We should get in the pool,” I say instead because I can’t be trusted. This is going from G to PG-13. “You won’t need the goggles or board right now. You can just set those down.”

“Right behind you.” I hear the taunt in his voice. Who’s flustered now? I’m sure he’s thinking.

He follows behind me and once we’re waist deep in, his entire demeanor shifts. All the playfulness feels like it was sucked out of him and he’s a different version of the Daniel I know.

“Hey, look at me.” I stand in front of him, leaving a few inches of space between us. “I got you. I promise.” I place my hand over my heart and he follows it. His distressed eyes soften before he nods.

“Sorry, I’m…nervous.”

“Don’t apologize. I promise I’m not going to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” I gently reiterate. “Just follow my lead.”

I stretch my arms at my side, my palms hovering above the surface. Slowly, I wave them back and forth, sink them underneath, and repeat the motion. He follows, his eyes trained on me.

“I’m going to ask you a few questions.”

He nods.

“How do you feel about going under shallow water?”

Daniel falters before he picks up where he left off until we’re in sync again. “I don’t mind it, but I can’t keep my head underwater for long.”

“How long do you think you can keep it for?”

“Ten seconds…something like that.”

“How do you feel about showers?”

“That doesn’t bother me because I can breathe, but when I’m underwater, I just…” He stops moving and swallows hard. “I don’t like it.”

“How do you feel about Marco Polo?”

That causes his lips to curl into a small smile. “We’re playing a game?”

“Don’t tell me you’re too good for Marco Polo?” I feel good knowing I made him smile.

“No, of course not. I’m just competitive as fuck so…” He drifts off before his smile falls again. “You’re not going to have me close my eyes and then push me deeper in the pool because?—”

“Did someone do that to you?” I cut him off, and my blood boils when he nods.

“It happened years ago, but they didn’t know. I was too…embarrassed to say anything.”

My heart aches for him, but I wonder if I’m getting too in over my head. He needs professional help. What if I fuck this up? What if I —he must have heard my thoughts because he speaks up.