Page 8 of Dario

I have my foot on the brake after shifting into drive as a red SUV pulls into the parking lot. My heart is pounding in my ears. It can't be her. I wait with bated breath. Gemma gets out of the car, a gym bag slung over her shoulder, and walks into the building I just left.

I lick my lips, wondering what she's doing here.Don't be stupid.She’s here to swim. How did I not know she’s a swimmer?

Hesitantly, I shoot out of the parking lot, and wonder how I can approach her about the swimming. I want to know what stroke she does. How many lengths? Is she wearing a one-piece or a two- piece? It will be a one piece. The pool is for swimming, not playing.

My fingers twitch on the steering wheel. I want to be in the pool with her. Most of all, I want to see her in a swimsuit. I don't know why I'm so fascinated by this girl. Probably because we're forbid- den. Isn't that supposed to be the sweetest fruit? It doesn’t stop me from taking her coffee each morning. We both know it’s an excuse to see her. My fingers always itch to touch her. I’d briefly held her in my arms in the apartment. It hadn’t been enough.

Growling, I sit in my car and try to calm down, knowing that Madden will look at me and know exactly who I've been thinking about. He'd be right, too.

"Let's just get this over with," I mutter.

By the time I arrive, Madden and Bradford have already started their breakfast.

"I ordered enough for you. Tuck in," Bradford adds, his mouth full.

I roll my eyes. "Are you sure there's enough for me?"

Giving me the finger, Bradford continues to eat.

I grab a plate of scrambled eggs and sausage.

Madden looks my way, frowns, but says nothing. He's the only one who knows about my distraction with Gemma. Nikoli is also aware of the situation. Bradford can't keep anything to himself, so he's clueless.

"How was the swim?" Madden asks.

"Good." I grin. "Had an audience."

Bradford chuckles. "Cute?"

"Oh, yeah!"

"I think I need to take up swimming," he says. "What were you wearing in the water?"

"Speedos."

"You mean you put your junk in those little white things?" Bradford looks horrified. "Don't your balls get squashed? And how do you deal with a hard-on?"

I push him hard. "Stop thinking about my junk!"

Madden throws his head back and chuckles. "I'd like to see you squeeze your junk into a pair of them,” he says to Bradford.

"No way. I prefer my junk free and unrestrained. Girls don't like sweaty balls."

"Is that right?" Julia, our server, raises her eyebrows at Bradford.

I snort as Bradford blushes at sixty-year-old Julia’s comment.

I listen to the two idiots as I eat my breakfast.

Their mutual mockery is amusing.

After breakfast I need to go shopping because I'm tired of eating burnt food. My must-haves are an air fryer and a one-pot wonder. I don't think it's too difficult to follow the recipes for either appliance. I mean, you just push a button, and it cooks, right? How hard can that be?

CHAPTER SIX

GEMMA

I foundsolace in the routine of my morning swim—a peaceful escape from the chaos of my thoughts. The water always washes away my worries, leaving me refreshed and ready to face the day ahead. I try to make it to the pool at least five days a week. I don't get to swim much when we're away at a game because I'm not confident enough to swim in other pools. It took a lot of courage for me to come here. But I did it. One of the peculiarities of being a loner.