Bad Touch TrioxReader
"No, Francis! Elbows out!" you called out to the boy as he sprinted past you once more. Antonio and Gilbert were waiting for your direction in the warm-up lane. Pulling your gaze away from the boy currently ducking for a flip turn, you looked back at the two, weaker swimmers. "Alright," you dropped your knees from an egg beat and easily lifted yourself on the wall, turning at sitting on the edge of the pool, "first things first. Who knows how to do a flip turn?"
The boys shared a clueless glance.
You looked between the two of them, then at Francis, who was currently clinging to the wall. A heavy sigh passed your lips. "Hey, Francis! Show us a flip turn." The teen looked scared, but pushed off the wall and swam heavily across the pool, ducking just past the two meter mark and curling up, only to push off the wall again. He swam a few meters into the next lap before pausing and ducking under the lane line to rest.
With a proud grin, you nodded, "Very nice. Your stroke's improved, too." A relieved, but tired, smile spread over his face and he lied back into the water. Keeping the smile on your face, you looked down at the two boys new to proper swimming. "So, a flip turn. You just flip in the water and push off the wall. Anyone can do it, it's the timing that takes practice."
"Swim 200, head up going out and head down coming back, practicing flip turns at the wall." They both groaned, but head out anyways. You watched them for a while before lifting yourself into the water again.
Lazily, you drifted over to where Francis was resting. He lifted his head slightly to look at you, his blonde hair floating in the water around him and cornflower-blue eyes lidded with relief. "Hey," you smiled at him as he turned upright, "good job out there. Just so you know, I'm going to get the guys started on their stroke, then we'll call it quits for the day. So you can get out now, if you'd like."
The Frenchman returned the smile and leaned against the lane line, watching his two friends tuck their knees up in sloppy flip turns. At one point Antonio was too far out and missed the wall entirely, instead kicking Gilbert in the shin as he turned. The German boy sprang up in the water and began shouting at his Spanish friend who just sat there with an apologetic smile. You smirked, but decided they too had done enough for the day.
"Morons! Stop bickering like a married couple and get your asses out of the water! Unlike you, I have to get ready for a game tonight."
At this, Antonio perked up. "You're playing in a game tonight, chica?"
You narrowed your (e/c) eyes, but distracted yourself as you pulled once more onto the soaked concrete of the pool deck, "Yeah. Against North Shores. We're placing bets on the outcome, so no one's ditching. Which means I have to scrabble for my playing time."
The three boys followed you to the bleachers where your bags were left. Quickly, you toweled off and pulled on your sweater again, but you couldn't escape their questions.
"Where's the game?" Francis asked with interested eyes.
Tugging the cap from your hair, you sighed, "Home pool."
"Why are you asking?"
The teen laughed, pulling his hair from the small ponytail and drying it on the towel. "Is it so unusual to want to watch your coach play?"
He laughed again and waited for your answer. "5:30," you told him, giving in.
Gilbert turned away from his bag, towel in hand, and asked, "What are the bets?"
With an amused smirk, you answered with what most of the boys had placed their money on, "12 to nothing, them."
Antonio's green eyes widened, "You don't believe them, do you, chica?"
You grinned. "Nope!" Walking out the gate of the pool, you shouted your answer back at them before ducking out into the back parking lot, "But I keep my money where I can see it!"