20A LITTLE WATER
Riley
In two weeks’time, this place will be filled with laughter and long-lasting memories, with tiny footprints being left behind after hours of singing, swinging, and swimming their little hearts away. All of them are looking to hold on to one last summer of joy and happiness, even if they don’t realize it. Some of them will be dropped off and start crying; even if this is not a sleepaway camp anymore, it is still scary, especially for the youngest ones. I still remember when I joined the camp for the first time—just shy of five years old, terrorizing everyone around, as I didn’t listen to a peep of what any of the counselors said. How many times did Dad have to come grab me so I wouldn’t cause another counselor to quit?
I was the true definition of a handful, but I never stopped loving this place. Even when I left and traveled and explored. Even when I met new people and wondered and wandered, collecting stories and experiences along the way.
I love it here. My heart belongs to this place like the bald cypress trees around the river. My soul is rooted in every inch ofthe cardinal directions composing Riverbank Ranch, and now, I have to figure out how to keep this place afloat. Lilly’s taken over so much of the responsibility of keeping everything running, and it hasn’t been fair. It’s my turn to do something about it too, but how can I when it takes more energy to keep me from fucking something else up then it takes for me to just mind my own business and leave the big decisions to the adults?
I toss a rock into the river, skipping once, twice, three times before sinking in the water, leaving ripples of disturbance behind. A great representation of who I am and what I’ve done. For every three steps forward, there’s a mess the size of a crater when I have to take a step back and try again.
I down the rest of my Angry Orchard, because now, he messed up tequila for me too. Now, every time I taste it, I’ll think of him and his damn perfect laugh, his damn wisdom. I toss the bottle to the side and pop another one open.
These are my guilty pleasures either way, these little drinky drinks, low in alcohol but reminding me of times when the biggest worry I had was getting caught sneaking a drink while out with friends. My sisters and everyone in this town did a great job at sheltering me from everything that went on with my parents’ deaths.
It wasn’t until I overheard Lilly that I realized how much she’d given up for this place, for me. Half the time, I’m just treating her like an overbearing mom, when, in reality, I’m a little older than she was when she had to drop everything in the blink of an eye to come here, run a business, and help raise two kids.
“That’d be me!” I shout into oblivion, taking another sip of my third, no, fourth bottle.
“I didn’t think I said your name,” Dom’s voice, one I could recognize from everywhere now, says from behind me.
Of course, he’s here. I can’t even escape this man for a second to drown my sorrows in alcohol. Not that I don’t enjoy his company—totally the opposite, actually—but every time I’m around him, I find myself so hot and bothered, it takes a cold shower, a run, or an intimate session with my trusted hand tomake it out the other side with my sanity intact. And then, last night happened, and what I thought was a moment between us was just me and my stupid crush messing up the one thing I have going for me.
He’s making me question it, my sanity, with his emotional push and pull, as if we’re on a fairground attraction and he’s toying with me. It’s been more than once that he’s been close enough to kiss, but nothing ever happens. Last night made it abundantly clear where he stands.
He can’t be lying to himself. I know he feels this too, these out-of-this-world sparks that ignite every time we’re close. Like just now, the mere image of him standing in front of me has me sweating and my thighs clenching tight. Like a horny teenager, I tell you.
“You didn’t. I was talking to myself.” But maybe he isn’t lying to himself and it’s all in my head.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
I take another sip of my drink. If I’m going to have to deal with his moodiness and my lust, I might as well have a buzz too.
“You do that often?” he asks, kicking a rock into the river. He looks relaxed, as if the day ending has him feeling like the weight of the world lifted off his shoulders. That makes one of us. It’s impossible for me to be cool, calm, and collected around him.
I’m pretty obsessed with him, and it makes me feel silly, considering he’s either dead inside and doesn’t feel the spark, or he’s waiting for the match to light the fire. But I can’t be that for him. Other than flat-out telling him to kiss me just once so I can see if these stupid flutters will go away, I’ve done my part. He’s not interested, and I need to live with that.
Or I can keep tempting him, making him and me both sexually frustrated.
Both sound equally miserable and fun.
“Talk to myself? You’d be surprised.”
“Everything about you surprises me, Riles.”
Fuck him and his little teasing words and theRilesmelting from his lips like marshmallows on s’mores. I scoff, ignoringhis remarks and finishing my drink, tossing the bottle with the rest of them. He follows my movements with his eyes, opening them wide as he sees the number of drinks I’ve had.
“You can spare me the disappointing looks,Dad. I only have one more.”
He’s taken aback by my choice of words, tensing as soon as they leave my lips. “What did you just call me?”
I laugh. “What? You prefer daddy?”
“Riley,” he grunts.
I raise my hands in defeat. “I might start calling yougrouchinstead. Lighten up, buddy. Life’s too short.”
I grab my last bottle, removing the cap with ease and offering it to him. “Want a sip? I’m happy to share.”
