Something that might've been. This one is just for you, Shane. Enjoy. ;P Interpret how you will.
If You Take The Plunge, Have It Back By Thursday
This was his first time and she found herself wondering if he'd be able to finish. Of course, she was proud of him for even giving this a shot, but he'd admitted to 'performance jitters' in the past and she hoped he wouldn't be crippled by them now. Still, he looked nervous before he'd even begun, moist hair slicked to his skull, sweat glistening on his bare chest.
Bianca's hand slipped in the liquid pooling on the bench; it covered most available surfaces. Given the nature of the activity, it wasn't really surprising that the furnishings (such as they were) were soaking. Wearing jeans had been a mistake, they itched unbearably.
All she could do was smile at him and hope Robert found a little extra courage to push him through. He flashed his teeth, running a hand through his curly orange tresses, obviously hoping he looked confident. Bianca wasn't fooled, there was anxiety written all over his face, in the depths of his beautiful green eyes. He worried that his performance would be lacklustre. She was positive he would be spectacular.
He leaned forward, bouncing a little, clearly trying to psych himself up. Robert tossed his head, flicking luscious locks free of his vision. His fingers turned to claws at his sides, fisting and unclenching a few times before at last relaxing completely.
Finally, he plunged.
Bianca gasped; thoroughly surprised by his grace and gentle manner. He broke the surface flawlessly, penetrating right to the depths like he was born to it. Her knuckles went white on the edge of the seat.
He was a ten out of ten (although she would've argued for eleven). His total dominance really could not be disputed. She'd have words with anyone who mentioned otherwise.
Bianca screamed.
She leapt to her feet, charging down the aisle to lean over the railing as Robert climbed out of the pool. The crowd roared their approval of his routine behind her. He hustled over to the wall and she threw her arms around his neck, heedless of the fact that he was dripping wet.
"You were fantastic," she laughed into his ear. "And you were worried."
"What was my score?" he asked softly, untangling himself to grab a towel.
"Ten," she replied happily. "You got tens from all three judges. How good is that?"
He blinked. "I got… I got a perfect score?"
"Yeah, you did! You crushed it. Wait until we tell Marceline."
Robert barked a laugh at that. "You know that diving is still an unmanly sport in her eyes," he said around a massive grin. "It doesn't matter how well I do, it's still a 'girly' activity. Like gymnastics."
Bianca affixed a mock apologetic expression to her face. "I hate to break it to you, Rob," she sighed solemnly. "But male gymnasts are really nice to look at."
Reflexively, he looked down at his own washboard stomach. "What are you saying?" He pointed at his abdominals. "This isn't good enough for you?"
She ran her hands across his shoulders. "Puh-lease! You're awesome." She winked then before bending down to whisper, "And a girl loves a man who can cook."
He went bright red.
"Oh sure," she giggled. "That's what makes you go crimson, not all of Marceline's crass jokes earlier."
"There were jokes?" He frowned in that adorable way he had. "Bee… what jokes? Did I miss them or something?"
She burst out laughing again. "Oh, sweetie, I think you must have." Bianca kissed his cheek softly. "But that's alright, I can demonstrate later."