Thanks to kiaschronicles for the prompt. If you're not listening to Two Dead Chicks you're missing out. Also, I'll be on hiatus for NaNoWriMo (that includes my story Haunted) but I'll continue to accept prompts and will be back to posting in December.

Last lap, Michonne said to herself but she turned and pushed off the wall of the pool and kept swimming. She had been saying the last lap for the past three laps but she couldn't drain this energy from her body no matter how many laps she swam. The reason for her scattered mind was obvious. It was him. Maybe it would help if she stopped thinking about Rick but it was hard to get him out of her mind.

The last lap, she said to herself again as she thought about how things played out with Rick earlier that day. When he left her house, she replayed their conversation in her head a thousand different ways, kicking herself for not saying certain things, and cringing at some things she said. She hoped she hadn't appeared needy and pathetic. He didn't owe her anything, especially not a commitment. Maybe what she said wasn't worth mentioning until they had been out on a couple of dates.

One last lap, she said to herself. She knew from experience when you settled at the beginning of a relationship there was nowhere to go but down. She knew what happened when you pretended to be the cool woman, unbothered by whatever a man did. It became hard to set boundaries you willingly erased in the first place to gain a man's interest.

One last lap she said to herself because she could still see every little thing about him. The dark blue jeans that hung off his hips just right showing his lean frame. The baseball cap pulled down to just above his eyes. The playful smirk of his mouth that made her wonder what his lips felt like. And that's all it took before her mind drifted to what other things would feel like. She had a feeling she'd never experience those things because Rick Grimes probably didn't handle rejection well. Why would he work to turn a no into a yes when he could have his choice of sure things?

Once her arms and legs felt like noodles, she broke the surface of the water and gasped. She placed her arms on the edge as she caught her breath. As she removed her goggles, she saw movement in the corner. The lighting wasn't the best but she could make out a figure headed her way. She contemplated swimming away from the edge and toward the center of the pool just in case this was one of those crazies she watched on ID channel.

"I didn't think you'd ever stop," a male voice said.

The accent put her mind at ease. She looked up at Rick standing in front of her shirtless in a pair of blue swim trunks. His stomach was flatter than she imagined, his arms muscled, and she could see a smattering of chest hair.

"Michonne," he said with a laugh. "Good evening."

She removed her swim cap, biting back a smirk and a smartass comment. It was obvious from the tone of his voice that as he watched her she was just another woman to flirt with, to use his skills to make her surrender. As she climbed out of the pool, she shivered not just as the cold air hit her wet skin, but when he gripped her arm at the elbow to assist her. "Thanks."

"I didn't know you were a member of the club," he said, following her as she grabbed her towel. "I've never seen you."

She didn't need eyes in the back of her head to know he checked her out in her one-piece suit. She placed a leg on the bleacher and dried it off and then the other. "I'm not," she said.

As much as she loved it, there was no way she was paying almost two hundred dollars a month for a gym membership. The YMCA on W Street serviced her needs but a personal trainer friend gave her guest passes from time to time, and while it was a little farther than her gym, it was Equinox, and they had those awesome cold eucalyptus towels; she would never turn down an invitation. When she wanted a late night swim or a little luxury after a grueling day she made her way here.

They stood face to face alternately looking at each other in synchronized perfection. When she looked away, he took her in. When he looked around the pool, she watched him.

"You have great form," he said as he looked her up and down just subtle enough to not be grotesque.

"Pardon?" She said, giving him a gentle ribbing because she knew he could take it.

He smiled. "Your swim form, not a lot of splash."

"Thank you."

"You always work out this late?"

"No. I was restless. I like to swim it off." She discovered swimming relaxed her during her freshmen year in college. While some of her classmates engaged in binge-drinking or put on the freshmen fifteen and then some thanks to the always plentiful junk food, she did laps in the pool.

"Same. My mind is all over the place and it's easier on my knee than all the running."

From the Boston Marathon to the Marine Corps Marathon, he was a runner — everyone knew that. The press loved taking pictures and video of him running with the president during the campaign. Runner's Magazine did a flashy profile on politicians who run but Rick was on the cover. There was an increase in new female runners in D.C. after those pictures. That's what she was dealing with. The man inspired women to run.

"Well, I'll let you get to it," she said as she slid her feet in her flip-flops.

"It was good seeing you, or maybe we can grab a drink next door."

The Ritz-Carlton was next door, and it had a great bar. She wanted to accept the invitation, but she told him earlier that day he would have to work for it and making him wait ten hours then drinking mere feet away from a gorgeous hotel room wasn't much work. "And be the reason you missed your swim and didn't clear your head? I can't be the reason you give the president bad advice. Besides, it's late, and that swim wore me out."

He nodded. "I understand."

"Enjoy your swim," she said then walked toward the locker room.

"One of these days I will get you to say yes," he called after her.

So he was up for more than an easy yes? It took a moment to wipe the smile off her face before she could turn around to give him a stoic look. That smirk was back on his face. "I hope you can."

Just before she made it through the door she heard him.

"I know I can."