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“Either option sound pretty horrible to me. ”
Bishop shrugs. “I don’t know, sometimes I think we should just tear down the fence. Towns didn’t have fences around them before the war and everything was fine. I think it was supposed to keep us safe, but instead it’s made us scared. ”
Before I can respond, we emerge from the trees next to the river and my thoughts fly right out of my head. These are not the wild, raging waters I’ve seen before. Here it is lazy and shallow, bubbling quietly over huge flat rocks that lie half submerged. Trees bend over the water like they’re straining to touch it with their leaves and small white flowers grow along the banks, nodding their heads in the breeze. There’s a steep limestone cliff on the far side, which adds to the feeling that this is a secret, secluded place. Its tranquility is catching. Standing at the edge of this water makes me calm.
“Nice, huh?” Bishop says.
“It’s beautiful,” I breathe.
“Follow me. ” He steps out onto one of the flat rocks in the water, moving across to the far bank in seconds. It takes me a little longer to find my footing, but I make it across without getting my shoes wet.
Bishop drops the backpack at the base of the cliff and kicks off his tennis shoes. “Leave everything here,” he says. “Except your swimsuit. ” He reaches behind him with one hand and yanks off his T-shirt.
I feel self-conscious as I step out of my shorts and remove my tank top. I take the time to fold both items of clothing, keeping my eyes on my task. My black bikini is more sporty than sexy, but I am still closer to naked than I’ve ever been with anyone other than my sister.
When I turn, Bishop is watching me. I stare back at him, telling myself I am not embarrassed.
“Ready?” he asks.
“For what?”
Bishop heads toward the limestone cliff and begins to scale it as if it’s a ladder, barely looking at where he puts his hands and feet. “Put your feet where I put mine,” he says. He doesn’t seem at all concerned about my safety, as if he’s sure I can handle the task. Strangely, his confidence in me erases any questions I had about making the climb.
I clamber onto the rock below him and start up, watching to see where he moves. The muscles in my shoulders burn as I pull myself upward, but it’s a good kind of pain. The cliff isn’t so high that I’d inevitably die if I fell, but I’d break something, maybe many somethings, so I don’t look down. I keep my focus on Bishop climbing above me, the muscles in his back shifting and bunching as he moves. His body works with a kind of lazy grace, making every move seem effortless.
“Almost there,” he calls down to me as he heaves himself over the top lip of the cliff. I curl my fingers into a handhold in the rock and use my legs to help propel me upward the last few feet. Bishop leans over and I grasp his forearm, and together we get me over the top.
“So I’m guessing we’re going to jump?” I say, sucking in air. My heart is pounding and sweat stings my eyes. I haven’t felt this alive in a long time. “Unless there’s an elevator I’m unaware of. ”
“No elevator,” Bishop says with a grin.
I walk to the far edge of the cliff and look down. There’s a pool on this side, the greenish water still and flat in the midday heat. It’s impossible to tell from looking how far down it goes, but it must be deep because we have to be at least three stories high.
I cross back to where Bishop is standing. “Run and jump?” I ask.
He nods. “Don’t think about it—”
But his words of advice are lost to me because I’m already running, flinging myself off the edge with a scream of delight. Hot air rushes against my skin, the water rising up to meet me until all I see are its green depths. I plunge in feet first, the shock of cold forcing a yell from my mouth. Bubbles tickle against my closed eyelids and the underwater silence envelops me. I let myself sink, down, down, down, until the need to breathe takes over and I kick my way upward.
I break the surface just in time to witness Bishop make the leap above me, his body plummeting like an arrow. He barely makes a splash, disappears with a slight ripple into the water beside me. He takes so long to come up that I start to worry, until his fingers clamp around my ankle, dragging me under.
I rise with a splutter and a squeal, splashing him in the face when he bobs up next to me. He grins, shaking the water off his face. “I can’t believe you jumped like that,” he says. “What if there were rocks down here?”
I shrug. “You would have warned me beforehand if there were. ”
“Again?” Bishop asks. I nod in agreement, and he cuts through the water to the bank with long, sure strokes.
We climb and jump until my fingertips burn from pulling myself up the rock face and my stomach is cramping with hunger. I swim over to one of the flat rocks poking partially out of the water near the base of the cliff and rest my arms on its heated surface. Bishop joins me and mimics my pose on the opposite side of the rock.
“Having fun?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say with a smile. I tip my head up and close my eyes, let the sun burn into my closed eyelids. I didn’t have a bad childhood, but there was no magic in it. No one hit me, no one neglected me, but there wasn’t much that was childlike about it. Even fun involved barely disguised lessons about my future and my father’s plans. It is only now, away from the presence of my family, that I can admit that to myself. This has been one of the most carefree afternoons of my life.
“When you smile,” Bishop says, “it gives you a dimple. ” I feel his finger press gently against my cheek. “Right here. ”
I open my eyes and look at him. His hair is wet and unruly, his eyes glowing. He’s at home here, outdoors, in the water. I wish I had never mocked his love of the river. He may be the president’s son, but his rightful place will never be at a stuffy council table.
My stomach gives a huge growl and Bishop laughs. “Guess I don’t need to ask if you’re ready for lunch. ”
