His quiet laugh echoed off the high ceiling. "Lean back. I've got you."
"From your story, that's what Tom Rogers said before—"
"James." The way he said my name cut through the spiral of memories. "Trust me."
I did. That was the terrifying part.
Slowly, I leaned back until the water lapped at my shoulders. Marcus's hands stayed firm, one supporting my lower back while the other steadied my neck. The position left me staring at the metal rafters overhead, counting rust spots while trying to regulate my breathing.
"See?" Pride colored his voice. "Physics works."
"Smartass."
I wanted to continue the argument by saying something coherent, but the water's gentle resistance was oddly soothing. My pulse slowed as Marcus guided me through basic floating positions, his touch simultaneously professional and intimate.
"You're doing great." His praise shouldn't have affected me so much. "Ready to try moving?"
"Absolutely not."
He laughed—that rich sound that seemed to bypass my defenses. "Too bad. Flutter kicks, on my count."
Marcus counted the kicks with the same steady rhythm he used directing his crew. "One-two-three-breathe. Keep your legs straight. Good. Again."
My muscles protested at the unfamiliar movement, but his hands stayed firm at my waist, supporting me as I fought against instinct. Water lapped at my chin with each kick.
"Better," he said after several sets. "Now, let's try arm movements. Keep floating on your back, and we'll work on backstroke technique."
I swallowed hard but nodded.
"Start by reaching one arm overhead and pulling through the water. Let your hand slice in, then sweep outward in a controlled motion."
He guided my right arm first, adjusting the angle of my wrist. "Think of making a small circle, pushing water past your hip before lifting your arm out again. Good—keep it steady."
I focused on the rhythm: reach, pull, recover. "Like this?"
"Exactly. Now alternate. Left arm up as your right arm comes down."
Coordinating both arms felt unnatural, and my strokes were uneven. I splashed more than I moved forward, the water sloshing against my face as I fumbled for control.
"You're rushing it," Marcus corrected, his hands skimming along my ribcage to adjust my balance. "Relax into it. Trust the rhythm."
"Sorry," I gasped, finding my feet. "I don't think physics is on my side today."
"Physics is fine. Your coordination, on the other hand..."
"Are you mocking my technique, Lieutenant?"
"Wouldn't dream of it, Professor." His eyes sparkled with mischief. "Though I have seen more graceful drowning victims."
I splashed him deliberately this time, sending a small wave toward his face. "I thought drowning wasn't allowed."
He retaliated with a precisely aimed splash that caught me square in the chest. "That's not drowning. That's karma."
"I'm pretty sure this violates proper instructor protocol." I was already plotting trajectories for maximum water displacement.
"You're thinking too much again." He moved faster than I expected, his hands catching my waist as I tried to dodge. "Some things you have to learn by feel."
The playful tension shifted as we moved closer together. Water beaded on his eyelashes, and his smile softened into something that made my breath catch.
