Ugh.
My head hurts.
Maybe I’ve been out in the sun too long.
Rolling over in the water, I scoot my way back to shore, enjoying the cool ebb and flow as much as possible until the final moment when I absolutely have to stand. With the shallows of the lake at my heels, I adjust my damp glasses and squint toward the parking lot. An ocean of cars catch twinkles of sunlight atop their hoods.
No Dominic in view. But that makes enough sense. We had to park pretty far back by the time we got here.
I squish some water from my hair and wait by where our picnic blanket was. It seems he took everything back with him already. Including my tote bag. With my towel and sandals. Hopefully, he figures that out and brings it back when he comes to get me.
While I’m contemplating heading toward the car myself and just hoping the tarmac isn’ttoohot for my feet, a hand lands on my shoulder.
“Hey,” not Dominic’s voice says. “You here alone?”
I turn to discover that the stranger talking to me isn’t here alone. He is, in fact, with two other men, meaning I’ve been half-circled by three barely clothed strangers.
Knowing exactly what to do when presented with unwelcome male attention, I point at the water, ignore theverysketchy question, and say, “I wouldn’t go in there right now. I just peed.”
Predictably, their faces twist, and the central man in the semicircle lets go of my shoulder. “Uh,” he stammers, awkwardly taking a half-step back.
The guy on the left recovers, ponders, and proves himself to be a little more of a criminal than his now uncomfortable companions when he gives me a once over and it’s so obviousthat he’s thinking:Eh,she’s still cute, and the mentally ill ones are easier to manipulate anyway.
My stomach knots.
“That’s okay,” Creepy murmurs, closing in on the space his buddies had begun to vacate. “We don’t have to swim anymore.”
“Dude,” central guy protests.
“Come on,” Creepy says, undeterred. “You ever see a jacked-up truck before? I’ll show you mine.”
My stomach riots.
Breath tight, I close my hand into a fist, but someone else slugs the guy clean across the shoreline and into the shallows before I figure out what I’m going to do with it.
My vision clears on my savior just in time for pain to grip Dominic’s expression. He unlocks his hand, shakes it, andalmostcusses, “Fu—dge.”
“Whoa, man.” Central guy lifts his palms as he and his remaining friend back away. “We don’t mean nothing.”
“Uh-huh,” Dominic seethes. “So I eitherdidn’tjust see your friend’s hand inches from her butt,oryou’re keenly aware of your use of a double negative.Which is it?”
Less considerate of the children around, central guy cusses. “We’re leaving. Both y’all are nuts.”
After they drag their friend up and make themselves scarce, Dominic stretches his fingers and frees a heavy breath.
My eyes widen. “You’re bleeding.”
He looks down at his raw knuckles and the droplets beading there. “I guess I am.” Ignoring his injury, he settles the palm of his bleeding hand against my cheek. “Are you okay? They…” His eyes close, and his jaw locks. “I got here fast enough? They didn’t get a chance to touch you, did they?”
My lips part, and I soak in his torment until his face hardens further and his eyes reopen. “August. I asked you a question.”
I swallow, an oddly difficult thing to do. “Iie.Daijoubu.”
He searches me. “What?”
I blink. “I’m fine.”
He finds air, loses a centimeter of tension. “Good.”
