“What?” she asked.
“Nothing, it’s just a huge change, from what I’ve seen. My sister found it tough, being the first of her friends. She went from this intense, social job to being at home with a baby all day.”
Chloe felt a nagging guilt. Did shereallyknow how Kiko was doing? They talked on the phone all the time, but Kiko usually steered the conversation away from herself, joking about how boring her life was now. Maybe there was more going on than she’d admit over the phone. Chloe didn’t know why shehadn’t made time to go and visit her yet. Was she scared of finding their friendship changed? Of Kiko evolving, leaving her behind? She pushed the thought away, something to examine later.
“So, you’re an uncle?” she asked.
“Yes,” John said, grinning with pride. “Rupert, he’s four now. When I go on digs, I always bring Rupert back a souvenir—a fourth-century Greek coin or a Roman shot glass. For some reason my sister doesn’t think these are suitable gifts for a four-year-old.”
“I’m not sure you’re supposed totakethe stuff you dig up, John.”
“Ha, no. Don’t worry, mementos from the gift shop, not the ground.”
“So where have you been on digs?”
“Oh, all over: Tuscany, Germany, Vietnam—I’m with this organization and they just send you where they need people.”
Hearing him talk, Chloe felt inspired. What was to stop her from doing something like that? She didn’t like the idea of traveling alone, but being part of a project, working with other people, that sounded different.
She asked more about the archaeology, the people he’d met. She wanted to know about his most treasured finds, where he stayed, what he learned. And the more she asked, the more his eyes lit up, the more wildly he gesticulated as he told her his favorite stories. Then before she knew it, they’d caught up with the rest of the boats, and they were back at Magdalen Bridge.
“Oh, I wasn’t ready to be back,” she said.
“Nor me,” he said, and they shared a smile.
At the mooring point in the river, their classmates were disembarking, tying boats to poles, gathering back on the bank. There wasn’t much room left for John to dock.
“Just tie yours to the back of another boat,” the man running the punt hire called back to them. He was busy dealing with another boat, so John reached out the pole to hook another punt and pull their boat toward it.
He found the rope, secured a knot, then stowed the punt pole in the bottom of the boat. Then he reached out a hand to Chloe. “After you, my lady.” Chloe stood, keeping her weight low, as she moved forward to crawl onto the next boat so she could get to the bank. But as she gingerly stepped between the boats, Richard moved, leaping off the front, pushing their boat back, just as she had one foot on each boat. She lost her balance, tipping forward, arms waving like windmills, legs splayed wide, then fell—even as she struggled to believe it was really happening—face-first into the river, hitting the surface with a splash, then going entirely under. The water was cold, she felt it like the shock of a thousand needles.
As soon as her head broke the surface, she gasped for air, then heard Sean laughing from the bank. She splashed around, trying to find her footing on the murky mud of the riverbed, choking on the water that had gone up her nose, but as she tried to right herself, she felt strong arms beneath her, sweeping her up.
John. He had jumped in after her, hauled her up, and was now carrying her toward the bank. He was unexpectedly strong, holding her as though she weighed nothing.
“Your dog flipped me in,” she cried, self-conscious of their proximity, of her wet top, pressed against his wet shirt.
“I can only apologize,” he said, suppressing a smile.
“Why did you jump in after me?” she asked.
“I promised I would,” he said, his brown eyes taking her in. Their faces were so close now there was no escaping it—that unexpected heat, even in cold water.
“I don’t need rescuing,” she said, suddenly very aware of every point at which his body was touching hers.
“I thought you were scared of water rats, but fine, suit yourself,” John said, unceremoniously dropping her back in the frigid water.
“Okay no, no, pick me up, pick me up!” she squealed, laughing now.
Grinning, he swept her up again. She stopped laughing and they didn’t speak as he carried her to the bank, his breath warm against the damp skin of her neck. Water trickled down her spine, but all she could feel was him—solid, steady, his chest rising against hers. She risked a glance upward. He was already looking down at her. Now his gaze held hers—not flinching or retreating. It was bold, unexpectedly confident, this side to John that either was new or she just hadn’t seen before. The moment stretched. Neither of them looked away. The cold of the river still clung to her skin, but his heat was seeping through it, chasing it away. It was just a look, but it felt loaded, daring, as though they were pulling at this taut thread of tension between them, testing its strength. She felt entirely herself but somehow new too.
As he set her down on the bank, she murmured her thanks. His jeans were covered in mud. She noticed a few people eyeing them strangely. Had they seen the way they’d been looking at each other? She blinked, trying to recalibrate her senses, come back to reality.
Sean was bent double with laughter. “Mate, that was hilarious,” he cried.
“Har de har,” Chloe said, wringing out her sopping-wet hair. Richard bounded over to her, cocked his head as though he wanted to apologize.
“It’s okay, Richard, it wasn’t your fault,” she said, patting him on the head.
