I rapped my fingers impatiently on the wooden table. My feet were kicked up on a nearby chair while the contents of my backpack were scattered all over the table. I checked my phone for the umpteenth time and sighed noisily. Thanks a lot, Sage! I could have been well on my way home instead of stuck in this smelly library waiting for a guy who might not even show up.

Earlier, I had gotten the chance to talk to Sage during swim class, and I made it crystal-clear that I had no interest in being tutored. But Sage meekly replied that Luke had already cleared his schedule for me, so it was now between he and I.

"Just meet him in the library and tell him face-to-face," she'd suggested.

"But don't you have his number or something? Can't you tell him for me?" I had protested.

Despite my pleading, Sage was convinced it was too late to go back on her word. So, with a sigh, I resigned myself to my fate. That's why I had been sitting in the library for fifteen minutes, completely and utterly bored out of my mind. I decided to give Luke two more minutes. Then, if he still didn't show up, I would leave.

Suddenly, the front door swung open, and the librarian smiled up at the newcomer. "Can I help you with anything?" she asked.

"No thanks." The student—a tall, tanned boy with brown hair—smiled and shook his head. "I'm just meeting someone here for tutoring."

The librarian nodded in understanding, and the boy swept his gaze around the room. I immediately wished I had a book to hide my face. Despite my previous intentions, I suddenly didn't know how I was going to tell this guy that our tutoring session was off.

The boy, upon realizing that I was the only student in the room, casually stepped up to my table and said, "You must be Rayne."

Darn it. I swallowed the lump in my throat and sat up straighter. "Yeah. And you are...?"

"Luke Sanchez. Nice to meet you." He stuck out his hand, and I shook it a bit reluctantly. "So," he said, taking a seat across from me, "Sage said you needed some help with Spanish."

I stared at him. He didn't even have an accent. Only his chocolate-brown eyes and shaggy brown hair hinted that he was Hispanic. And maybe the way his nose was slightly pointed and his face was perfectly chiseled. And possibly how his mouth curled up into a sort of half-smile when he talked. And—

"You do need help with Spanish, right...?"

I immediately glanced away, trying to ignore the deep blush rising on my cheeks. "Yes! Yes, I'm terrible," I said hastily. "Terrible at Spanish, I mean. I'm pretty good at other things."

His lips quirked up into a smile.

"I—uh—do you play any sports?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Sports?" he echoed. "Nah. Not really my thing."

"Oh. I thought you might, because you're really...ah..." I winced. "Muscular?"

Luke tried in vain to suppress a laugh. "Thanks," he chuckled.

I ducked my head in embarrassment. My cheeks were now flushed scarlet. Since when had I become such a dunce? The words had just popped out of my mouth before I could stop them.

"I should probably get going now," I said nervously. "Sorry for wasting your time." And sorry for making this way more awkward than it should be.

"Wait, you're leaving?" he asked, crestfallen.

I fumbled for the right words to say, but all I came up with was, "I don't need a tutor."

Luke studied me carefully. "I thought you said you were terrible at Spanish."

"Well, I am," I admitted.

"Then you're not wasting my time," he said. "Not even close."

"Alright." I tucked a stray of my still-damp hair behind my ear. The rest of it was done up in a sloppy bun, leaving a few tendrils hanging down to frame my face.

Luke smiled, and I added, "I'm not sure how long you can handle my awkward social skills, though."

He shrugged. "And I'm not sure how long I can keep staring at a pretty girl like you."

I nearly choked on my own saliva. "What?" If my cheeks had been scarlet before, then they were blood red now.

Luke shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Sorry. That was out of line."

"It's okay," I said, even though I was even more confused and embarrassed now.

We sat in another awkward silence for a few seconds. Finally, Luke stuck out his hand and suggested, "Hey, why don't we start over?"

I nodded.

"Okay, I'm Luke," he said.

I felt a smile creep up on my face. "I'm Rayne," I said, and we shook hands and laughed.

"There. Now that that's over with, should we get to work on your Spanish?"

"Sure." I flipped through my scattered papers until I found the worksheet from earlier. Señora Ramirez wanted me to redo it for homework tonight. "Let's start with this one," I suggested.

Luke turned the paper sideways and skimmed the instructions. "Oh, hey, I remember this. It's just some fill-in-the-blank stuff. Pretty simple."

"Yeah, but way too confusing."

"Having trouble remembering verb conjugation?"

"I guess."

"Do you remember how it works?"

"Don't take the same word and just change it around?"

"Right." Luke grinned. "It's when you take a verb, like estudiar, and change it to match the subject."

"Oh, yeah."

"Good. It's a start." Luke shifted his chair to sit diagonally from me, and I hoped I didn't smell too strongly of chlorine. Or sweat. I wrinkled my nose.

"—the verb ir."

"Huh?" I snapped back to reality.

Luke glanced up, and our eyes met for a brief second. "I said, 'it looks like this worksheet is focusing on the verb ir.'"

"Oh. Right."

"So how would you conjugate it to fit the first sentence?"

I shifted my gaze to the worksheet and stared at question #1. The words swam before my eyes. I took a wild guess and blurted out a random answer.

Luke corrected me patiently, but it took multiple tries before I finally understood what he was saying.

"Let's try this again," he suggested. "Look at question two."

This time, I thought I knew the answer, but it turned out I was wrong again. Frustration was beginning to settle in.

Luke smiled wryly. "I think it's time to go back to the basics." He pushed the worksheet away and pulled out a scrap piece of paper. "Okay," he said, taking out a pencil. "Listen carefully."

_ _ _ _ _

One hour later, Luke had successfully taught me the basics of verb conjugation and helped me complete Señora Ramirez's worksheet. It was hard to believe that it was already past four o'clock. Although my brain was fried and my eyes were dead tired from concentrating for so long, I had to admit that Luke was a great teacher. He was patient and willing to put up with my slow learning, but he was also charming and comical at the same time. Once I got over my embarrassment from earlier, I actually had a great time.

"So," Luke said, swinging his backpack over one shoulder, "same time and place tomorrow?"

"Sure," I replied without missing a beat.

"Great. I'll see you tomorrow, then." He grinned and waved goodbye before heading out the door. I smiled in return as I gathered my belongings, shoving multiple papers and binders into my bulging backpack.

By the time I made it outside, I realized my bike was the last one chained to the rack. The school was nearly empty and felt like a ghost town. I quickly unlocked my bike and hopped on the seat, pedaling towards home. It wasn't until I was riding down the dirt trail that I realized I had made a huge mistake. The whole reason for meeting Luke at the library was so I could tell him I didn't need tutoring. But now the complete opposite had happened—Luke was tutoring me again tomorrow.

"Good grief," I muttered. What had happened to my firm resolution from earlier? Then again, I had certainly benefited from his help. Maybe the tutoring wasn't such a bad idea after all.

I glanced up, expecting to see my castle of a house looming high above the horizon, but instead I realized I was heading straight for the edge of a cliff. I screamed and slammed on my brakes, quickly swerving to the right and coming to a complete stop. My heart beat rapidly as I stepped off my bike. "That was a close one," I breathed, peering over the edge of the cliff at the swirling ocean below. Waves slammed against the rocks in a spray of glittering foam.

I swallowed nervously. How could I have let myself get so sidetracked? I nearly rode straight off a cliff! And what was I even doing here, anyway? I was supposed to be heading home, not to the entrance of the trail leading to the private beach.

There could only be one explanation: the ocean was pulling me back in. Its invisible undertow was drawing me to the seashore once again. I could feel its pull on my heartstrings like thousands of invisible fingers, tugging at me, urging me to come swim.

I let out a shaky breath before slipping off my backpack and placing it next to my bike, which was lying in the tall scraggly weeds behind me. "Well, I'm here now," I murmured. "Might as well..."

The shock from my near-death experience soon gave way to relief. The familiar buzz of excitement took over as I raced down the steep trail. As soon as I reached the bottom, I quickly peeled off my clothes and darted into the water in my bathing suit. While the sand was blazing hot, the ocean was freezing cold, chilling my limbs to the point where I could hardly move. But once I began swimming, my muscles warmed up and made the cold seem a little more bearable.

I took a deep breath and dove under an oncoming wave. It surged over my head like a billowing white cloud, causing sand to shift underneath me. I closed my eyes and relaxed my arms and legs, allowing myself to float with the rhythm of the sea until my lungs ran out of air and I was forced to swim back to the surface.

I frowned. The need for oxygen made staying underwater extremely inconvenient. I wondered if I could train myself to hold my breath for a longer period of time. Then I would be able to swim underwater for minutes rather than a few measly seconds. I smiled and took another deep breath before diving back under. This time, I counted in my head as I closed my eyes. I felt waves crashing above me and seaweed brushing against my legs. My lungs began screaming for air, but I gritted my teeth and forced myself to stay underwater. Then, just when the need to breathe became unbearable, I bolted to the surface.

"Forty-three seconds," I gasped. "I can only hold my breath for forty-three seconds." I let out a wry laugh. Well, that left a lot of room for improvement.

For the next half hour I continued to practice holding my breath, sometimes for so long that I nearly passed out. I finally decided it was time to take a break when black spots started to dance across my vision. I staggered out of the water, the world spinning in front of my eyes. Before I knew it, I had collapsed on the sand and emptied the contents of my nauseated stomach.

I groaned and clutched my hair. I felt extremely lightheaded. Maybe I shouldn't have held my breath that many times in a row, I thought miserably. My record had been a minute and two seconds, but without a watch it was hard to know the exact time. Plus, the more I had practiced holding my breath, the more it made me feel dizzy and exhausted.

I lay on the warm sand for a few minutes until my head felt a little better. Then I meandered over to my clothes and got dressed, my arms and legs shivering from being exposed to the cool evening air. I barely had the energy to make it up the trail to my bike, and my vision was cloudy and constricted by a massive headache.

By the time I finally dragged myself through the front door, it was nearly five thirty. I dumped my backpack on the dining room table and grabbed a water bottle from the refrigerator. After glancing over my shoulder to make sure Dad was nowhere in sight, I grabbed the saltshaker as well. I took a seat at the kitchen table and stirred some salt into my water, swirling it around until the entire bottle was cloudy. I gulped the entire thing down, letting the refreshing taste run down my throat and satisfy my taste buds. Once again, I was enthralled. Who knew saltwater could taste so good?

"Rayne?"

I jumped in my chair, nearly spitting out my mouthful of water. "Oh, Dad! Hey, I didn't see you there." I laughed nervously.

But he wasn't amused. "I've been waiting for you to come home from school! Where have you been for the last two hours?" he demanded.

"I had a tutoring session," I explained, "in the school library. I needed some help with my Spanish."

Dad's stern expression transformed into one of relief. "Oh," he said simply. "I tried calling you a few times, but you wouldn't answer. Did you turn your phone off?"

"No, I think it was on vibrate...but it may have gotten shoved to the bottom of my backpack."

Dad nodded and was about to turn away when he suddenly paused and cocked his head. "Say, why is your hair so wet? I thought swim practice was over two hours ago."

"Um, we ran a little late. And then I didn't squeeze it out very good."

"Well, next time use a towel," he called over his shoulder.

"Will do." As soon as he left the room, I let out a sigh of relief and rubbed my eyes tiredly. The saltwater had definitely helped clear my head and gotten rid of some of the dizziness.

Feeling slightly refreshed, I headed upstairs to get started on my pile of homework. Just as I plopped down on my bed, my phone suddenly vibrated. I pulled it out and realized it was a text from Sage: Ready 4 the meet this weekend?

The meet? I had completely forgotten about it. That was a first. Why didn't I remember something so important as a swim meet?

The answer came to me immediately: the ocean. It seemed like that was the answer to all my problems recently. Something was constantly pulling me back to the crashing waves and mysterious underwater world of the sea. Yet I had never felt that way before. I used to be obsessed with swimming and racing...and now my thoughts were consumed with swimming in the ocean.

I sighed and quickly texted a reply to Sage, something along the lines of You bet I'm ready, even though my stomach twisted at the thought of a swim meet this weekend. I would rather spend the entire weekend diving under the waves and swimming in the sea until my arms gave out.

I glanced at my phone. It was almost time for dinner, and I still hadn't done any schoolwork. So I before I could be distracted any further, I pushed my phone away and grabbed my backpack. It was time to get busy.