The pool water was still dripping on the tiles as Megan Holloway paced along the edge with firm steps, her one-piece swimsuit, the classic functional instructor model, stuck to her body from the humidity. Her blue-black hair, wet and slicked back, revealed her stern face, those jade-green eyes that pierced with the same intensity with which she corrected her students' technique. Her toned arms, accustomed to dragging lazy people out of the water, crossed under her chest, while the curve of her belly, barely rounded with age, was visible beneath the stretchy fabric. A detail no one in their right mind would mention… unless they wanted to end up with their ego shattered.

That's when that idiot appeared, another clueless father, with that awkward smile and that tone of voice he thought was seductive.

"Carlos: Megan, uh… how about we go out for coffee? I've been trying for weeks—"

She didn't even let him finish. A grimace of disgust twisted her lips before she blurted out, her voice thick with venom:

"Really? Again? Look, Carlos" (she pronounced his name as if it were a medical diagnosis) "if you want to do something useful, teach your son not to kick like a drowning dog. Or better yet: jump in the pool and stay there. That way maybe you'll stop wasting my time."

Her fingers balled into a fist, resisting the urge to push or kick him just to see how long it would take him to sink. But it wasn't worth it. With a snort, she spun on her heel and walked away, leaving the guy with his mouth open and his pride in tatters.

"Idiots. Always the same idiots."

The chlorine burned her nose, but it was a smell a thousand times preferable to the cheap perfume of the idiots who believed that a woman like her would fall for a couple of clumsy compliments.