Gage
Saturdayafterbreakfast,Oliviaand I canoe to the center of the lake. We bring a picnic lunch so we can find a nice spot on the other side of the water to eat and relax together. The air is warm today, but the heat wave of a few weeks ago has dissipated, so it’s normal end-of-June heat.
I’m nervous as I consider the best way to invite Olivia to my parents’ Fourth of July party. The best way being the way that gets her to say yes. I stare at the back of her head from the stern seat, shuffling potential words around in my mind as we paddle.
The rhythmic pump of my arms as I pull the oar through the water, gently on one side and then pulling it out and dipping it in on the other, calms me. The thwack of the oar as it carves through the surface, the drip of the water as it sluices down the blade, the thump of the handle against the side of the boat—these are all part of the soundtrack that slows my heart rate and quiets my racing thoughts.
We stop rowing when we reach the middle of the lake, and Olivia spins around in her seat so she’s facing me. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
I blow out a breath.Here we go.“I talked to my dad the other day. They’re getting ready for their Fourth of July party next weekend.”
“Oh yeah?” Olivia smiles. “We always used to have so much fun at those.”
We did. Olivia stopped coming after high school, though. Whether it was because she was busy with other things or avoiding me, I’m not sure.
“They’re even more fun now that we’re old enough for Dad’s Patriotic Punch,” I joke.
She laughs. “I did always want to try that punch, but I knew if I snuck even a sip, my mom would catch me. Or yours.”
“You could try it this year,” I suggest cautiously.
She tilts her head. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I guess Annie told my parents you were working here, too, and my dad wants me to invite you to the party.”
Olivia’s mouth draws into a straight line, and she bites her lip. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Just … I don’t know, Gage. It’s easy here at camp, you know? No one knows us or our families or our past, and we can hang out together. But at home…” Her voice drops, and she reaches up to adjust her ponytail.
I swallow. “You don’t want our families to know we’re together.”
“It’s a summer fling, right?” She smiles ruefully and shrugs her shoulders. “No sense giving anyone the wrong idea.”
Iknowthe whole “summer fling” thing is her stance and has been since the beginning, but it’s like a jab to the heart with a dull knife every time she says it.
“Please,” I practically beg, “come with me, Olivia.”
Her eyes soften, and I see her start to waver.
“You don’t need to come as my date or anything,” I push on. I know I’m pressing hard, but I can’t stop myself. I can’t give up the time I have with her. Time not only to soak her in, but also to help her see how right we are together. “Come to see Annie. Come to see your parents. I’ll keep my distance if that’s what you want.”
“Well,” she says, “we can be friends at the party. We don’t need to ignore each other or anything. But, no flirting or unnecessary touching.”
“So, you’ll come?” I ask eagerly as the corners of my mouth lift.
She chuckles and shakes her head. “Yeah, I’ll come. It’ll be fun to drive over with you, and it feels like forever since I’ve seen Annie. Plus, I miss your parents’ parties.”
I want to ask her why she stopped coming, then. Why she’d been avoiding me. Why she ghosted me after graduation after she agreed to stay friends.
It’s fragile, this thing between us, or at least it feels that way to me. I worry that one wrong word or one indelicate action from me could make it come crashing down like a tower of wooden blocks. And I desperately need the fortress to hold, need to keep Olivia with me.
I feign an assurance I don’t feel. “Great, it’s settled then. I’ll let my parents know.”
Olivia’s eyes twinkle as she rotates to face the front again. “Let’s paddle around some more before lunch,” she suggests.
Before I can agree, she sinks her oar into the water and flips the blade up in my direction, sending a wave of lake water splashing onto my lap.
