Page 34 of Stroked Long
“I really think you should do some arm swings,” she suggests.
“I’m good.”
Desperation laces her features. “Bodi, do some arm swings so I know at least I warned you. I can’t have this project hanging over me if something happens to you.”
To appease her, I move my arms back and forth, knowing full well I will be fine. Visibly she relaxes and hands me the brushes once I’m done.
“All set?”
“Yup, all warmed up.” I try not to roll my eyes. She’s looking out for me, which is something I’m only used to from Lauren and Eva.
“Good. Now I figure we start with the easiest stroke, your freestyle.”
“What makes you think that’s the easiest?” I ask, curious to her reasoning.
She pauses and thinks about my question. “I’m not sure. Just seems like the more natural one. Butterfly looks painful and breaststroke by far can’t be the easiest. Backstroke seems difficult to do right now so I figured we would go with freestyle.”
“Not doggy paddling?” I quirk an eyebrow at her.
“No.” She playfully pushes my chest, surprising the both of us.
Fuck. It feels as though the weight of the world isn’t resting on my shoulders. I feel . . . light? It’s a feeling so unfamiliar I can’t really label it. I don’t know how to express myself, but right now, Ruby is making it a hell of a lot easier with her easy-going, accepting personality.
“Freestyle works.”
“Good. Now I picked a few colors for you to play around with, it’s your choice what to paint with, but I will say, I only chose bright colors for you.”
“I can see that.”
“Oh, don’t get your Speedo in a bind. It will be healthy for you to add some color in your life. Before you dip your brushes in the paint, why don’t we do a few practice strokes so you know how you’re going to hit the canvas.”
“Fair enough.” With the brushes in my hands, I stand in front of the canvas, bend over into position and slowly move my arms, barely grazing the canvas with the tips of the bristles.
“Good,” she coaches. “Now I think you can go a little faster than that.”
“Faster?”
“Yeah, just slightly, that way we get a crisper paint stroke.”
A strange sensation rolls through my body and for the first time in a very long time, I feel the urge to joke around. So I pick up the pace for only a few strokes before I drop the brushes and grip my shoulder, acting as if I’m in pain.
“Holy fuck,” I shout, playing it up.
“Oh my God!” Ruby’s eyes widen to saucers, and she starts running in place. “Oh my God, oh my God, you hurt yourself. I knew this was going to happen. This is all my fault. Your coach is going to kill me. Lauren and Eva will disown me and make sure I’m fired from the club. Oh God, and then I will be kicked out of my apartment because finding a job with an art degree is like trying to find a carrot at a doughnut convention.” Her hands are in her hair, pulling on the strands while her eyes search me out. “And now you can’t swim at the Olympics. Oh my God! Not only will your coach, Lauren, and Eva hate me, but all of America will hate me. I’m going to be deported and sent to some shoe factory in Bora Bora where we make moccasins for misbehaving mallards who have no interest in purchasing them. I’m not good in humid heats, my hair gets crazy, and I know I won’t be a good salesperson to the duck community when it comes to footwear. This is horrible.”
Yikes. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.
“Um, Ruby—”
“No, don’t move. I need to get you ice. I’ll massage you until it’s better. Do we need to go to the hospital? Let’s keep that as a last resort; the press can’t hear about this just yet. Ugh, I can see it already: NBC Olympics on Facebook is going to crucify my face. The end of Bodi Banks’s career, taken down by an art major with no solid savings in her bank account.”
“Ruby—”
“I’m going to have to sell my story and throw you under the bus to the tabloids just to feed my Pop Rocks addiction, and I’m not talking about crackling cocaine. I really mean Pop Rocks, you know the little shards of sugar that explode in your mouth? Of course you don’t, you eat whey protein as a ‘treat.’ But let me tell you, I can’t get enough of them.” She drops down to her knees, fists in the air. “Oh Pop Rocks!”
“Ruby!” I bend down and grip her shoulders so she’s forced to look at me. “I was only kidding.”
“You were what?” Her eyes light up with fire.
