“I will.” I head toward the end of the dock, letting my hips sway just a little more than normal.
“Okay, now you’re just being mean,” he calls to me.
I glance over my shoulder to see him still holding the hose, his jaw twitching a little, his eyes giving me a look that is definitely appreciative but also fondly annoyed.
“Don’t strain your neck!” I laugh and turn back toward the water, but before I can take another step, a sharp jet of cold hose water hits me dead center on the back of my thigh. I shriek, whirling around. “Nate!”
He’s grinning, a wild, entirely unrepentant expression that makes his eyes crinkle. He holds the sprayer up in a gesture of mock surrender.
This time, I don’t wait for him to say anything clever or for the sudden, magnetic tension to build again. I spin on my heel, and dive headfirst into the cool, dark lake water, letting the sudden shock wash away the heat of his gaze.
12
IFLOAT ON MYback, letting the water support my weight, staring up through the fading light. The world is reduced to the sound of lapping water against my ears and the distant, lonely cry of a loon. The sun, now low on the horizon, has turned the sky above the pines into a palette of lavender and apricot, reflecting faintly on the water’s still surface. I’ve always loved this feeling of weightlessness.
I used to sneak down here late at night during my high school years. Looking back, it seems kind of dangerous, coming out here alone in the dark—but back then, it felt like a sanctuary. There’s a particular memory that surfaces: A summer night after a brutal preliminary pageant round, I swam out until my arms burned, trying to wash off the scent of fake tan and frustration. But usually, I’d just come out here to float—letting the water hold me up, letting the pressure melt away.
I sigh, letting my head sink a little lower. From under the surface, I can hear a steady splashing.
I roll over, treading water, and see Nate slicing through the gentlewaves toward me, paddling a neon-yellow kayak with easy, powerful strokes. Even from here, I can see he’s ditched the T-shirt.
When he gets closer, I see he’s towing a hot pink inner tube.
“Wanna ride?”
I swim over to the kayak, grabbing the side for support as I hoist myself out of the cold lake and flop ungracefully into the pink tube. It’s slightly deflated, smelling faintly of sunscreen and stale vinyl.
“Thanks,” I say, leaning back and closing my eyes, soaking up the last warm rays. “Okay, off you go, twice around the lake.”
Nate laughs. “By ‘ride’ I was kind of thinking more like ‘float here and chill.’”
I crack open one eye to look at him. He’s glowing, the low-hanging sun catching the droplets in his hair and tracing the sharp line of his jaw. He looks like a movie hero, captured in the perfect golden hour light.
I reach a lazy hand into the water and splash him.
“Hey!” he says, laughing and wiping water from his eyes.
I shrug. “Payback.”
“Come on now, is that any way to treat your friends?”
“Arewe friends?”
I’m not sure that’s the word I’d use to describe someone you made out with once, and who is now living in your home for ten days because his sister—your mortal enemy—is marrying your brother.
He tilts his head to the side. “Isn’t that what we agreed the other day, at the parade?”
“To be just friends?” I clarify.
“Not ‘just friends.’” He wrinkles his nose like the phrase offends him. “Just… friends.”
I shrug again, then stretch, letting both hands drift through the water and come to rest behind my head. “Okay. I suppose we couldbe.” As I say the words, I realize I mean them. We both agreed it would be too complicated—and too ill-fated, given our differences—to try anything romantic. But I enjoy spending time with Nate. He’s easy and fun to be around. And I never know what wacky thing is going to come out of his mouth next.
Case in point, he turns to me and says, “As your friend, I feel I should warn you that your brothers are about to go the way of Stannis and Renly.”
I furrow my brow. “What?”
“Game of Thrones,” Nate says. “The warring brothers?”
