So much of our history is missing here, but not that.
Our spot is the community boathouse by the lake. It’s where, as kids, we fished and learned to skate. Where we took prom pictures. Where we sat and watched the Fourth of July fireworks. Where, on Bridget’s surprise sixteenth birthday, her then boyfriend jumped out of a cardboard box, and Penn threatened to do the same for me, which was mortifying.
It’s also where we almost lost Ryan.
10
Intimate Gyrating
Penn beats methere.
From the far edge of the grassy park, through a break in the tall oak trees, his figure is visible on the deck of the big wooden boathouse on the lake. He’s taken off his sweatshirt. His white T-shirt strains as he sits back on his hands, face slanted toward the sky, and his legs dangle off the deck’s edge, so much longer now that his white sneakers nearly touch the glittering water below.
The sun is pleasantly warm, the deep blue of the lake a color I could match from memory.
I feel bad leaving Theo to his own devices, but he assured me over the phone that he’s “on like Donkey Kong,” completely misusing a phrase he shouldn’t use in the first place. And I need to prioritize Penn. I have to play along with whatever game he’s playing to get answers.
“Careful,” Penn says when I approach, lifting a hand to shield his eyes. “Your shorts might blind me if you get too close.”
I take his warning as an invitation and shimmy right beside him, making the bright reflections from my shorts dance acrosshis cheeks. He laughs, surprised, and the jingly sound echoes across the water.
Looking down, though, I realize I’m quite literally shaking my ass in Penn’s face. I’m tempted to back away, horrified, but when he gazes up at me, his smile fades and a tingling sensation rises up my legs, my body acutely aware of just how good it feels to have his eyes on me.
I sit beside him, my palms pressed into the wood. The sun is warm on my thighs, which haven’t been this tan since I spent entire summers at the pool as a kid.
“I’ve been thinking,” Penn says, wrestling with a grin.
“Uh-oh.”
“And you must’ve reallyFast and Furious–ed your way through Lakeville to stalk me today.”
“I plead the Fifth.”
He smirks. “Glad to see you’ve taken it down a notch. You seem lighter.”
“It’s hard to take anything too seriously when I’m in rainbow-striped knee socks.”
Penn hums. “Fair point.” He shifts to reach into his pocket and pulls out his wallet.
“Consider that shimmy move on the house,” I joke, “I only charge for lap dances. Or especially intimate gyrating.”
“Do you do a lot of intimate gyrating in your spare time?”
I shrug. “Why? Interested?”
“I don’t know. I’ll need to look into your lap-dance pricing model before I commit,” he says, straight-faced. “I’m on a pretty strict budget.”
“Guess you better save up, then.”
Penn’s laugh escapes, and I fight a smile as we both look away.
It’s strange, being here with him. I wonder if it’s weird for Penn, too. We watch the ducks pass by like we did as kids. I can practically smell the coconut sunscreen and the Fruit Stripe gum that he used to chew.
“So,” I start, interrupting unwanted thoughts. “You and Earl. BFFs. Do I finally get to hear about the meet-cute? And why you’re on a first-name basis with Lakeville’s retirees?”
Penn turns his wallet over, the smooth leather sliding between his fingers as he pulls out a small, shamrock-green card. He hands it to me. “This is why.”
It’s a business card. At the top, in big white letters:Pennpals.
