After we ate, we stayed at her dining room table and finished the puzzle that she admitted had been spread out there for a long time. It was a such simple activity—the kind I don’t normally spare much time for—but doing it with her made it fun. Somehow by the end, we’d turned it into a competition of who could find specific pieces first. We even jokingly tried to block the other person a few times, resulting in arms tangling and laughter.
Then we spent the rest of the night cuddled up on the couch. We listened to music for a while before turning on the TV. We watched a random episode ofThe Great British Bake Off, and Addison couldn’t stoppointing out everything the contestants were doing wrong.
As I sat there, leaning against her with her arm around me, my feet pulled up underneath me, and her fingers idly tracing patterns along my bare thigh, it felt like I’d found an intangible something that was missing in all my past relationships. And I had a moment of temporary insanity where I thought to myself,If she asked me right now to stay forever, I would.
I’m not actually crazy enough to think she’d ever ask me something like that, of course. And obviously, I can’t abandon my career. But in that moment, it had become so easy to picture what a future with her would look like. And it was a nice picture.
I wore her flannel the entire time I was there. Except for when she pushed me onto my back and spread me out on the couch, peeling me out of the shirt and my underwear before going down on me. Then she dressed me right back in it afterward, buttoning it up for me the same way I’d done it.
There were moments where I caught her staring at me, almost zoned out, her eyes not trained on my face, but at the shirt wrapped around my body. And just like how she stared at me when I first walked into her kitchen wearing it, I couldn’t figure out what the intense looks meant. But they set something buzzing under my skin every time.
She didn’t ask me to take off the shirt when it was time for her to bring me back to the inn, and I didn’t want to give it up, so I kept my mouth shut and left wearing it.
I told her about my plans for hanging out at the lake today with my brother and going back to the town green tonight for the traditional Mayweather ending to the summer festival—s’mores and a group singalong. Knowing she has the day off, I invited her to come. I didn’t expect her to agree, but I was excited when she did.
Well, she agreed to meet us at the lake, at least. She ignored the part about the singalong, only muttering something about how ridiculous thetown is. I can’t blame her though. The singalong is pretty whacky, even for Mayweather. But it’s fun, and it’s something I haven’t gotten to do since I was a teenager. And now I’m old enough to get drunk on the infamous Mayweather Party Punch with the other adults, which I suspect will make it even more fun.
Tearing my eyes away from the shirt, I finish getting ready. I throw on a pair of jean shorts and a threadbare old T-shirt from one of my tours. Andrew said he’d bring a beach towel for me, so I just stick a book and some sunscreen into my tote bag. Then I tie my hair up in a high ponytail, slide a pair of sunglasses on top of my head, and step into my flip-flops right in time for Andrew’s text that he and Toby are outside.
I get into the backseat of my brother’s car, and we all exchange quick greetings before he starts driving. There’s music playing loudly, and as one song transitions into another, I recognize it as a Skyler James album. Toby loudly sings along, and I try not to grimace. I do love Skyler’s music, and I really don’t blame him for the mess I’m in. But damn. I’d rather not be reminded of that mess on what’s supposed to be a fun day out.
“Addison’s going to meet us at the lake,” I shout over the music.
“What?” Andrew asks, turning his head toward the backseat and smacking Toby on the arm to get him to stop singing. I repeat myself, and for a few seconds Andrew doesn’t say anything, so I’m not sure if he heard me. Then he turns down the music and says, “Oh yeah?”
There’s an inflection in his voice I can’t quite read.
“That’s okay, right?” I ask, fiddling with the straps of the bag in my lap.
Andrew keeps his eyes on the road, but from his side profile, I catch the smirk on his lips. “The more the merrier. Was there anyone else you wanted to invite?”
Now Toby smacks Andrew’s arm.
“Uh, no,” I say.
“Okay.” Andrew shoots me a reassuring smile before turning the music back up.
All right, so that was weird. Maybe he already suspects something is going on between me and Addison. Were we being obvious in public? I didn’t think so. I can’t afford to get caught again.
Whether he suspects it or not, though, I need to tell him. I want to. Just not now in front of Toby. It’s not like I don’t want Toby to know I’m bisexual. But this feels like the kind of conversation I should have alone with my brother.
It doesn’t take long to drive to the lake at the edge of town. Andrew pulls his car into the dirt parking area and pops the trunk so we can grab the towels, beach chairs, yellow inner tube, and the cooler that the guys packed with drinks.
We walk down the short path leading to the water and start setting up our stuff in the sand. We’re the only ones here, but that could change. Although we picked today partly because most people in town will be at the festival.
Once we’ve laid out the two chairs and towels for each of us, Toby yanks his tank top over his head and runs splashing right into the water in his tight, bright purple swim trunks.
I admire his bravery. I’m not a dive right in person.
“How cold is it?” Andrew calls out.
Toby throws his arms up in the air. “It’s great!”
Chuckling and shaking his head, Andrew turns to me. “I think I’ll sit in the sun a bit first.”
“Me too.”
He opens the cooler and pulls out a can of hard seltzer. “You want one? We’ve got lime or raspberry.”
