They met on Reddit, of all places; one stood out in a sea of strange private messages. He knew what she wrote, but he was one of the few who saw past the words. He wanted to get to know the person behind the screen. After a few weeks, it was time. The first meeting went well; neutral territory, a local cafΓ©. Things went well, and he was officially promoted to the status of "not creepy". The second date was at a restaurant. He passed all the tests on time, smiling, and polite to the waitress. Things went even better, and he was rewarded with his first kiss.
The third date is always important. It was up to him to propose a place and time. She expected a rather boring trip to a local park, a ride on a Ferris wheel, or any of the other clichΓ©s of boring safe dates. However, that wasn't what she got.
See you at the swimming pool! 10 AM. I'll race you.
Wait, what? She shrugged it off. If there was one thing that could define this person, he clearly had a crazy side. Not dangerous, but a hilariously "don't let them know your next move" type. She had heard the stories of him jumping off a boat just to swim, so maybe a swimming pool was logical? He would be in his elements, but this was an element that she knew well too.
10 AM sharp. She was there, and he was too. A quick and shy peck on the lips, and they were walking into the damp corridors that smelled of chlorine. At this time of day, the corridors were empty; only twenty or so people were in the pool, but it wouldn't be that way for long.
They each went to their own stall. She undressed uneasily, a little shy about her appearance. Why did she agree to this? She wore her red one-piece swimsuit. Nothing fancy, but it went with the red hair. She put her clothes back into a bag and opened the door on the other side. And there he was, waiting patiently. His long dark hair, that smile that she had begun to enjoy... and then the rest. She got to see some of the things she didn't see at the restaurant, but she almost blushed at the idea of imagining what he would be like under his shirt. And here it was. He wasn't a bodybuilder, but he certainly took care of himself. His arms were strong, and well-toned muscles could be seen under his skin... Maybe winning the race wouldn't be so easy after all. And then her gaze moved down. A swimsuit. It had sunflowers on it. She tried to stifle a laugh, but it didn't work. She looked back into his eyes, but it was even worse. His expression was a caricature of "Well, what?".
They stowed away their belongings, took a minute under the shower, and went to the swimming pool. She walked to the edge, got into position, and made a dive into the cool water. Her form was good, almost sliding into the water without a splash, her hair flowing behind her as she sped underwater, coming up to the surface a few meters away. She turned to look at him, wiping water from her face. He looked at her, unfazed by her attempted gracefulness, and proceeded to throw himself into the water, almost like a belly-flop, spraying her with water as she giggled, treading water.
They raced. She was caught off-guard by his goofy entrance to the pool; he was a strong swimmer and wasn't about to give in so easily. Two laps, and she had lost, but not by too much. They continued to swim softly, side by side, talking until he decided to dive below her, only to appear on the other side and continue as if nothing had happened, his long hair covering his face to the point of not being able to see. His jest was again greeted by giggles.
They spent twenty minutes swimming slowly, sometimes side by side, sometimes with him trailing happily behind, telling jokes even as his mouth went underwater, the last part blurred out by bubbles. She wondered if she had spent more time swimming or laughing.
They moved over to the recreational part, chatting as a million bubbles surfaced and popped around them, filling the air with white noise, blurring out the real world and the others around them. She felt like she had been talking for hours about everything and nothing. Her cat. Her writing. She even noted two or three crude but funny references to her sex life.
A quick glance at the clock told them all they needed to know. 11:30, people would soon be flooding in for the midday workout session; it was time for them to leave. They got out of the water, and she smiled knowing that his "after you" gesture wasn't that innocent; a faint whistle could be heard as she exaggerated her hip mouvements, slinking out of the water. He, of course, did the opposite, walking out as if he were simply climbing a flight of stairs, then complaining loudly when the fabric stuck close to his body. She caught herself glancing as the fabric stuck close to his manhood.