“Okay.”
“You’ll move your arms like this,” he says, gently taking my wrist. He stretches my arm straight and sweeps it back in a slow arc underwater. “Then alternate with kicking—arm, leg, arm, leg. Nice and steady.”
I nod, my throat tight. “Got it.”
I try, awkward at first, my arm slicing back through the water while my feet kick unevenly beneath me. Mason swims alongside, close enough that I can feel the faint brush of his fingers if I veer.
“You’re doing great,” Mason promises.
By the time I reach where the water shallows, I’m breathing hard, but there’s this strange, light feeling in my chest. As droplets trickle down my face, I glance back at the path I just swam. It’s not far—but I did it.
Mason grins, arms snaking around my waist. “Told you I wouldn’t let you drown.”
“You’re a good teacher,” I tell him, looping my arms around his neck.
He lifts me effortlessly so our faces are level, the lake swirling around us. His mouth finds mine—quick at first, then lingering—before he spins me once in the water, both of us laughing.
The sound echoes across the empty beach, carried away by the wind. Despite my fear, when I’m here in his arms, I don’t want to return to shore. I could stay like this for eternity, drifting in the water together until our fingers prune.
Chapter Twenty-Three
By the time we drag ourselves back to land, the sun has baked the coarse sand into a heat that stings my feet. I flop onto my towel, the terry cloth scratchy against my damp skin. I cross my arms beneath my head, sighing as the warmth seeps into me.
Mason stands over me, his shadow falling across my face, and shakes his curls like a wet dog. Cold droplets spray over my stomach and chest.
“Stop it!” I squeal, rolling to my side and shielding myself with my towel.
He grins, shameless, before dropping down on his own towel beside me. Reaching into his backpack, he grabs his pump, reconnects it, and pulls out a bottle of sunscreen. He starts rubbing it into his shoulders, his skin gleaming under the sun, muscles shifting easily with each movement.
“Help me with my back?” he asks, glancing at me from the corner of his eye.
“Sure,” I say, pushing myself up.
I take the bottle, squirt some into my palm, and work it into his shoulder blades. His skin is warm from the sun, and I can feel the tension in his muscles gradually ease under my hands.
“You’re good at this,” he murmurs, leaning forward and brushing his hair out of the way so I can reach the back of his neck.
When I’m done, Mason turns and gestures for me to switch. “Your turn. No sunburns on my watch.”
I lie on my stomach, and his hands are firm but careful, spreading the sunscreen over my shoulders, down my spine, and along my arms. The pressure is slow, deliberate—like he’s memorizing every inch of me
Once we’re both covered, we stretch out side by side, towels just touching. The gulls cry overhead, and the steady lap of the water fills the air. I can feel Mason’s presence even with my eyes closed, the warmth of him a steady anchor in the heat of the afternoon.
“This is a really nice beach,” I muse, flipping over to face him. “It’s so quiet.”
He smiles softly. “Yeah. Super private. Back in high school, people used to come here to hook up.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. Right over there, by the trees.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Didyou?”
His cheeks flush. “I—uh, maybe.”
I snort. “Sounds like you were quite the player.”
“I’m not proud of it,” he mutters. “Had a lot of bad sex with a lot of disappointed girls.”
