Page 112 of Salto
He grabbed a stool from the corner of the room and placed it next to the tub. He sat down, then gestured toward the water.
I sucked in a deep breath, kicked off my shoes, and climbed over the edge. When my feet entered, I immediately shivered. I hissed under my breath when I stood completely in; the water came up almost to my waist, and it was freezing.
"I hate you," I muttered.
"I know," he said without sympathy. "Now all the way in, Red."
I didn't move.
"You can do this. Five minutes. That's it."
I clenched my eyes shut, took several rapid breaths, counted to ten, and lowered myself onto the narrow ledge inside the tub.
It was the worst.
As the water encased me, my entire body tensed up, and the pain in my abdomen and back was electric. I tried to soften, but I couldn’t. It was so cold it took my breath away.
“I can’t, I can’t.” I was clenching the metal rim, my knuckles white.
“You can. Only a few more minutes.”
“Rove, I can’t.” I was practically hyperventilating. “It hurts,” I whimpered, gritting my teeth so hard I worried I might break one.
“Relax—”
“I can’t.” I shook my head and suddenly couldn’t do it anymore.
I pushed myself upright, water sloshing over the edges of the tub.
Rove sighed.
I stood there shivering, my leo soaked, water dripping off me as I glared daggers at him.
“Rove. I can’t.”
He leaned on his elbows, his brow furrowing. Not saying anything for a moment.
“Okay,” he finally said. “Tell you what. We both get in.”
“What?” My eyes widened.
“Five minutes. Together.”
It took me a moment to realize he was serious.
He stood up and pulled his sweatshirt over his head, tossing it onto the stool. He stepped out of his sweatpants, slipped off his shoes, and set them beside the stool. He was left in a black T-shirt and athletic shorts.
“I'm going to need it after that fall anyway.”
Before I could even process what he was doing, he climbed into the opposite end of the tub.
His eyes met mine.
“Ready?”
“No,” I said, still a little taken aback.
“I’ll be suffering right along with you.”
