I was back in the pool, or as I liked to think of it: home. It had been hours since I'd arrived, and I'd already practiced all four strokes a professional swimmer must master. It was getting late, and with no one else around, I decided to have some fun.
I floated lazily in the water, aimless, simply because I could. I didn't have to keep moving or control my breath like others might. I just extended my limbs and stayed afloat as if an invisible pool float rested beneath me.
After a while, I willed myself under, and just like that, the floating effect vanished. I sank to the bottom of the pool, about eight feet deep, and stood on the floor, looking around. Other than the water surrounding me, I didn't feel much different than I did on the surface. I walked from one end to the other without ever needing to come up for air. The water provided enough oxygen to keep me underwater indefinitely if I chose.
The best part was that I wasn't breathing through my nose. Instead, it was as if tiny, invisible gills were integrated into my skin, absorbing oxygen seamlessly. There were no visible bubbles around me, so anyone watching wouldn't notice anything unusual—other than the fact that I'd been underwater far longer than humanly possible.
When I'd had enough fun, I willed myself back to the surface. This time, I stood on top of the water, as if using the water-walking technique from Naruto. As I walked toward the edge of the pool, I willed myself dry. In an instant, all the water dripping from my skin and hair was repelled, leaving me completely dry.
As far as I knew, this was the extent of my powers. I hadn't tried talking to fish or horses to see if that part of the myth held true, but I had experimented with hydrokinesis. The most I could do was make water tremble, and even that only worked if I was in direct contact with it. Still, I'd started using the same principle to dry myself off after showers or swim practices when I was alone.
"How'd you do that?"
I looked up, startled, realizing I wasn't as alone as I'd thought. But as soon as I saw who it was, I relaxed.
"What are you doing here, Lola?" I asked my closest female friend, grinning. "Shouldn't you be at home? It's late."
"Don't change the topic," she shot back. "I saw it. I saw everything."
Despite her tone, I wasn't worried about my secret getting out. Poseidon had assured me that no one would notice my abilities, but even if Lola had seen something supernatural, I trusted her to keep my secrets.
The two of us had grown up together. She was 18, the same age as me, but was a year behind in studies because of my exceptional academics.
As I walked toward her, I couldn't help but admire her beauty. Her dark brown hair was cut in bangs that framed her face, covering most of her forehead. Her light grey eyes, button nose, and the smattering of freckles on her cheeks made her look effortlessly cute. The skin-tight sweater she wore accentuated her figure, and her petite frame, a full foot shorter than mine, only made her more endearing. I'd always had a soft spot for tiny girls, especially when it came to cuddling.
As soon as I was within reach, I pulled her close and pressed my lips to hers. She didn't resist, melting into my arms as our tongues met. Her small frame made it difficult to kiss her properly, so I grabbed her hips and lifted her, her legs wrapping around my waist. One of my hands found its way under her sweater, caressing her breast over her bra, while her hands explored my back, tracing the contours of my muscles before drifting lower.
My growing arousal pressed against her, and before I could go further, she pulled her head back, breaking the kiss.
"You didn't answer my question," she said, still clinging to me. Her voice was firm, but her body language betrayed her eagerness. Only my Speedos hid my excitement, but it wasn't anything she hadn't seen already.
"And you didn't ask a good enough question," I shot back, smirking. "What exactly are you referring to?"
"That water thing." She gestured toward the pool, her brow furrowing. "You were walking on the water, and then suddenly you were dry…" She trailed off, shaking her head as if doubting her own words. "Never mind. I must have imagined it."
A wide grin spread across my face as I realized Poseidon's magic was at work, making her dismiss what she'd seen. Still, I couldn't afford to be this careless again. Despite his assurances, I didn't want to risk being labeled a freak or, worse, becoming a lab rat. Thankfully, it was 1979, and CCTV cameras weren't as ubiquitous as they would be in the future.
"Well," I said to the beautiful girl still wrapped around me, "you're definitely not imagining this."
With that, I went down on my knees and placed her down on the floor. I didn't waste any time before lifting her skirt and pulling her panties off in one swift motion.
"Noah," she whimpered. "Someone will come."
"It's late," I said. "No one ever does. Even if they do, I don't fucking care. It's up to you. Do you want to do this?"
She bit her lip and gave me a sexy, indecisive look before nodding slowly. My grin widened as I lowered my Speedos, unleashing my nine-inch monster. She gulped visibly as she saw me in all my naked glory.
"Hurry up before someone comes," She instructed.
"As my lady commands," I joked before planting a kiss on her eager lips.
(Break)
"I still find it hard to believe that a swimmer as good as you doesn't have a professional coach or train at a proper facility," Lola said, resting her head against my bare chest.
"Do you know how much a coach or a professional pool costs?" I asked rhetorically. "I don't have that kind of money."
"Not even from your modelling job?" she pressed.
"No," I confirmed. "I've got college expenses to cover. And next year, if I want to try out for the Olympics, I'll have to quit modeling altogether. The amateur rules don't allow earning money through endorsements."
"That's fucked up," Lola summed up.
I grinned at her blunt assessment before sitting upright on the floor. "I know. That's why so many athletes don't even bother with the Olympics. It's nearly impossible to sustain yourself financially."
She frowned, confused. "But if someone sees your old ads, won't it cause trouble?"
I shook my head. "I've been modeling since before I started competing professionally. My contract explicitly states they can't use my real name or mention that I'm a swimmer. They use a pseudonym—Nigel Hall. It's a thin line, but as long as I disclose it to the Olympic committee, it shouldn't be an issue."
I stood and offered Lola a hand. "Come on. It's getting late." She took my hand and was on her feet in an instant.
As we walked toward the locker room so I could get dressed, something occurred to me. "You never told me why you were here."
Suddenly, Lola stopped in her tracks, a worried look crossing her face.
"I'm such an airhead!" She grabbed her forehead. "It totally slipped my mind when I saw you…" She trailed off, shaking her head. "Anyway, I came here to get you. Peter, Ash, and Lenny are going to a party at Martha's place. Ash dropped me off so I could ride with you. Come on, if we hurry, we can still make it before it's over."
I shook my head. "I'm not going. I'm busy."
She gave me a skeptical look. "Busy with what? It's Saturday tomorrow! You don't have classes, and you're done with practice."
"I…" I hesitated. It felt a little pretentious to talk about this. If I didn't get the role, it would be even worse.
"Yes?" she prompted.
I sighed. "Promise me you won't tell anyone. Especially not the boys."
She was intrigued but nodded anyway.
"I've been offered an audition," I confessed finally. "For a Hollywood movie. I have to get up early tomorrow, so I can't go to the party."
"No way!" Lola's face lit up with excitement. "That's huge, Noah! You could be a film star."
I smiled at her enthusiasm before correcting her. "It's just an audition. I don't even know what the film is about. And if the guys found out, they'd roast me alive with their teasing."
"It wouldn't be that bad," Lola reassured me before her face lit up with a sudden idea. "I know! How about I help you with your lines?"
I chuckled and shook my head. "It's not that kind of audition. The casting director just wants to meet me and see if I'm a good fit. If he thinks the role suits me, then I'll get lines for a second round."
She pouted cutely. "But I wanted to help you. As soon as you get your lines, you'll come straight to me, okay?"
"Sure," I promised. "Now, can I get dressed? It's already late."
"You know," she said coyly, raking a finger through my chest. "I thought maybe I could have a shower before going? Do you maybe want to take one together? We are both so sweaty and dirty after all that...exercising"
I closed my eyes, trying and failing to resist the temptation. I knew if we went to shower now, getting clean would be the last thing on either of our minds.
"Ah, fuck it."
With that, I grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the showers for another session.
(Break)
The next day, I woke up early, put on my best clothes, and drove to the casting office. Driving from the suburbs to Manhattan is usually a challenge, but thankfully, it was Saturday, so the usual morning rush wasn't as bad.
The building where the office was located wasn't what I'd expected. The walls had chipped paint, and the windows were cracked and dusty. To make matters worse, a group of shady-looking men loitered outside, as if waiting to jump anyone who looked vulnerable. If Jordan hadn't recommended this place, I wouldn't have even gotten out of my car.
Eventually, I did. I knew that if you moved with purpose, people were less likely to bother you. Two men turned toward me, but I ignored them and walked as if I owned the place. True to my guess, they didn't take a step in my direction. Once inside, I quickly climbed two flights of stairs to reach my destination.
To be honest, I was a little nervous about this meeting. In my first life, I'd given countless interviews at companies big and small, so I shouldn't have been. But this was completely out of my comfort zone.
At any job interview, I'd mastered one thing that usually landed me the role: Fake it till you make it. A motto that should be even more important for an acting job. With that in mind, I fixed a confident but easy-going smile on my face and walked into the office with long, steady strides.
The interior was much better than the exterior. It looked like a normal office, with a receptionist's desk on the left and a waiting area with a few couches on the right. A few doors lined the right wall, likely for auditions and meetings. No one else was there except the receptionist.
"Hi!" I greeted her casually. "I'm Noah Hunter. Here to meet Vic Ramos."
The pretty redhead, who looked to be in her early twenties, stared at me silently for a few moments. In hindsight, maybe asking Poseidon for such an appearance hadn't been my best move. Still, over the years, I'd gotten used to girls reacting this way to me.
I glanced down at her desk and noticed a nameplate.
"Hey, Paige," I said, snapping her out of her daze. "If Vic isn't available, I can come back another time."
That did the trick. She jolted slightly, flustered. "No, he's here," she said quickly. "And he's expecting you. Just wait there for a minute, and I'll send you in." She pointed to the seating area.
"Thank you," I said with a warm smile before taking a seat.
The entire time I waited, Paige kept glancing at me discreetly, even after dialing someone on the intercom. The next time our eyes met, I gave her a knowing grin and a wink. She had the decency to look away, her cheeks flushing.
After a moment, she called out, "You can go in now, Noah. First door to the right."
I stood and gave her my best grin, the one Lola had once described as "toe-curling."
"Thanks, Paige," I said, lowering my voice to a huskier tone. The girl blushed furiously, and I walked toward the door she'd indicated.
(Break)
Vic Ramos was not having a good day. This wasn't his first time casting for a movie, but it was definitely the first time the filmmakers were being so obsessive about the lead actor's looks. Who cares if the hero is handsome? he thought irritably. At the end of the day, it's all about the heroine. Guys go to the movies to see a hot chick, not some pretty boy.
He was pulled out of his thoughts by a knock on the door. It opened slightly, and a teenager peeked in. "Hi, Mr. Ramos. I'm Noah Hunter. Jordan sent me."
"Ah, yes, come in. And please, call me Vic," Vic said, motioning the young man inside. As soon as Noah walked in with his confident stride, Vic knew he'd found his hero. In Hollywood, there were countless actors, but true leading men were rare. It wasn't just about looks; heroes had an aura that set them apart from actors. Sure, this kid might be a terrible actor, but not everyone has to be brilliant from the start. He could learn on the job.
The young man stood tall and confident, with an easy-going smile that made you trust him instantly. His golden hair was tied back in a ponytail, and his ocean-blue eyes and perfectly aligned, pearly-white teeth made him look out of this world. He wore a designer light blue sweater paired with white chinos, looking like he'd just walked off the cover of a fashion magazine.
"Vic," Noah said when Vic didn't speak for a moment. "Jordan couldn't tell me much about the role. If you don't mind, could you tell me what kind of film I'm auditioning for?"
"Certainly," Vic nodded. "Have you heard of the book The Blue Lagoon? It came out in 1908."
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AN: Before someone complains about The Blue Lagoon being a terrible movie, I know that. The point of this story is not to get Noah an Oscar for his first-ever role, and show organic growth over the years. He won't be the best actor from the beginning either. His first few roles will be average at best.
Read up to 40 advanced chapters on my website, or check out my other story, Dreams of Stardom.
Link: www(dot)fablefic(dot)com