Page 55 of Within These County Lines

I glance down, laughing. My shoulders and stomach are ghostly compared to my arms. “Shut up. I haven’t been sunbathing for ten years straight like you. Skin cancer was still a threat up until, like, two weeks ago.”

He spits water. “Yeah, well, now you can.”

“Not for long though,” I counter. “We’re fixing that, remember?”

But he doesn’t answer the question. Instead, he waves me closer. I step forward. He stands once I’m beside him and our eyes meet in the knee-deep, cool water. He takes my hand and places it on his chest again. His heart thuds.

A new soundtrack.

I swallow. “Does this mean you’re having fun?” I ask. My skin breaks into goose bumps.

His lips part, then he places his hand on my chest in return. “It feels like you are too,” he says.

I breathe out. “I’m feeling a lot of things.”

He brushes a loose hair off my forehead. “I can be everything for you.”

“Only good feelings, please.”

His smile tilts. “Can I tackle you?”

I laugh. “What?”

“Can I tackle you?” he asks again, more serious.

“You could’ve just walloped me. It might have been more fun that way,” I tease.

“Yeah, but by asking I want you to know that you can feel everything with me but fear. No surprises.”

My mouth goes dry. “Okay.” I nod. “You can tackle me.” I look over my shoulder to make sure there are no pointy rocks. “Just watch my head.”

Thud. His shoulder hits my chest.

Giggle. I grab him as I fall.

Splash. We disappear beneath the water.

26

At work the next morning, I keep my attention on the department door, tracking each coworker as they stroll in. My fingers drum against my desk, hoping Victor arrives early so I can get this recommendation letter business off my mind and return to fantasizing about Xander’s hands all over me, like they were in the river.

I kind of wish I drew the University of Massachusetts from my mason jar since New England kids just get to think about boys all summer. And beaches. And debutante balls. And lemonade. Or at least it seems like they do. I doubt Cape Cod’s swim club is an abandoned, mildew-infested drainage ditch.

Whitley shows up and I relax my gaze. “Hey, Whitley,” I say, offering her a smile.

I texted her an apology last night after things went well with the counselor.

“Hello,” she says. “Any other secrets to share this morning, now that you realize how helpful I can be?”

I force a sarcastic laugh. “No.”

Technically, it’s not a lie. I still need to tell her about my invisibility . . . and Xander. But not this morning. Xander and I are meeting in the archives department at three p.m. to investigate the Ardor Tree, and I’d rather have evidence before I unload everything on her.

“Who is going to write your second letter?” she asks, stirring an iced coffee. “You should ask Murray as a joke. I bet he’s desperate enough to do anything to win you back.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s not even worth the trouble.”

She smirks. “So who then?”