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His head breaks the surface first, hands gliding up my sides as I’m given a satisfied, masculine smile. He shakes his wet hair like a dog, making my nose wrinkle.
“Jerk.” I shove him, squirming out of his hold, but it’s no use. Logan’s tall enough to touch the bottom, though only barely.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks.
When he pins me to his chest, our laughter gradually fades to soft, even breaths.
We’ve spent most of our days together, teasing and pushing each other’s buttons. He’ll sneak attack me in the stables, wrapping an arm around my neck and ruffling my hair, and I’ll get him back by hiding in the chicken coop, scaring the hell out of him.
None of those things ever felt romantic to me. But today feels different.
“You’re not alone in your struggle,” I say. Our wet clothing clings to our upper bodies while tickling my abdomen below the surface. “My parents have sacrificed everything for me and Carrie to live the way we do, too. And no, college isn’t something I care to pursue, but I applied to Stanford because, like you, my dad has expectations. And I guess no matter how much I feel like the black sheep, all I’ve ever wanted is for him to be proud of me. To accept me.”
He squints as if to study me. “Nope. Can’t be. Black is too dark a color for you.”
“Fine. I’m a rainbow sheep, then. Either way, I stick out like a sore thumb.”
Logan hooks my legs around his middle, and I go rigid at the heated contact, enhanced by the water swishing between us.
Amused, he tips his gaze up, his thick lashes coated with water droplets. “I wouldn’t change a damn thing about you, Penelope.”
“You’re just saying that,” I whisper, because I need a logical reason for whatever’s happening right now.
“No, it’s true. And anyone who wants to dull that spark of yours is gonna have to answer to me.”
“So serious.” I lower my voice mockingly, deepening his amusement.
“I am when it matters.”
Logan’s unwavering stare conveys his meaning, loud and clear.
I matter.
“Promise me something,” I say, tracing little doodles at the base of his neck.
“What’s that?”
“No matter what happens when you leave, I want you to follow your own path. Not the one your dad’s laid out for you.”
Logan holds me in a way that defies the boundaries of friendship, and it makes my body buzz with nerves.
“There’s no sense in making you a promise like that, Pen.”
“Why not?”
“Because, god forbid, if you ever have to live the way we have—scrapping your way through each day, barely keeping your stomach full or the water running—you’d know that I can’t turn my back on him. I owe him too much.”
I stare at the rivulets of water trailing down the angles of his face, wanting to ask him if Silas hurts him, and hating that I suspect he might.
“You know,” I say in that no-filter way of mine, “I guess you’re kind of cute, too.”
He scoffs at that. “Kind of?”
His heart thunders fiercely against my chest when I brush a lock of hair off his brow.
“Have you ever been kissed, Penelope?” Logan rasps.
“Of course I have.” My pulse gallops right along with his, unleashing a string of nervous chatter. “Just because I’m eighteen and still a virgin doesn’t mean I’m a prude. And for the record, I’m not ashamed. Mom told me and Carrie that if we were going to give it to someone, we better make damn sure they were worth it.”
