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We grew quiet and Dean reached between us to turn the radio on before returning his guitar to the backseat of the car.
A few hours later I spotted a sign for a lake and veered off of our course.
“What are you doing?” Dean asked at the same time the app began shouting at me that I was going the wrong way.
“Lake!” I answered eagerly, unable to hide my large grin.
Dean shook his head and leaned back in the seat. I knew he was probably muttering to himself about how crazy I was, and what kind of trouble I was bound to get into, but I didn’t care.
Too many days of being cooped up in the car and only stopping at random roadside stores had left me restless.
I needed to do something fun.
I followed the signs and eventually came to the large lake. There was a gravel parking lot and it was mostly full but I managed to snag a spot.
I turned the car off and Dean shook his head. “What happened to going to the Grand Canyon?”
“It’s over nine hours from Roswell. There’s no way we would’ve made it there today. We always stop a million times, so why is this any different?” I asked, climbing out of the car—legit climbing and not using the door. I jumped to the ground and my shoes slid against the gravel.
“It’s different, because I know you,” he said, following me to the back of the car. “The last time you
were at a lake you fell and had to get five stitches in your forehead.”
“My dad overreacted,” I countered, “it was only a small cut.”
“When something’s gushing blood it’s not a small cut,” Dean countered, following along beside me as I headed in the direction of the busy lake.
I already wore my bikini under my clothes, because it’d been scorching hot this morning, so that would make getting into the lake even easier. Dean, however, was dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt with the Avengers on it.
“Shouldn’t you go put your board shorts on or something?” I tossed a thumb over my shoulder back towards the car.
“I’m not getting in.” He shook his head adamantly.
“You’re gonna get wet.” I sing-songed, lifting my shirt off my head and tossing it at him.
“Willow—” He began to grumble, reaching up to jerk the piece of fabric from his face. When he saw that I’d now removed my shorts and they dangled by a lone finger the words died on his tongue and he swallowed thickly.
His teeth sank into his bottom lip and his eyes darkened to the color of moss after rain when he looked me up and down.
“Are ya coming, Hot Buns?” I tossed my shorts at him and his hand shot out to grab them.
He nodded woodenly.
I couldn’t control the twitch of my lips.
The lake was straight in front of me and I headed towards it, doing a cartwheel in the sand before my feet landed in the water.
“Willow!” Dean groaned—no doubt afraid my boobs were about to come flying out for the world to see.
“Chillax.” I adjusted my top—no nip slip, might I add, and backed further into the water so it was up to my knees.
I knew there was quite the crowd around us, but I paid them no mind. The only person I saw was Dean and at the moment he stood at the shore’s end, his hands stuffed into his jeans pockets, the action pulling his shirt taut across his chest.
He shook his head, seeming to know that I was up to no good.
I kicked my leg out suddenly, showering him in water.
His eyes closed and his lips thinned when the water soaked his shirt and dampened his hair. The brown strands stuck unevenly to his forehead and I had to giggle.
