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I want Bianka because I already know she has a lot more to give than the perfect physique. And I can’t lose sight of that. So rather than pulling her to me and kissing her like I desperately want to, I move to the back of the boat.
“You ever swam in Lake Michigan before?” I ask, flashing a broad grin.
Bianka giggles. “Actually, no.”
“Well, come on. It’s fun!” I do a backflip off the boat, showing off a little and enjoying the sound of Bianka’s shocked squeal as I plunge into the water.
It’s pretty cold, having crept down a few degrees from the marginally more bearable summer temperatures. Still, I’m sure she’ll enjoy it on this beautiful day. It’s been unseasonably warm this September, consistently hitting eighty, and that definitely helps.
When I resurface a moment later, Bianka’s kneeling on the edge of the boat, a mixture of elation and fear coloring her cheeks.
“Come on,” I call again, beckoning with my hands. “I won’t let anything eat you.”
She visibly pales as her excitement shifts to apprehension, and for a moment, I feel bad for teasing her.
“I was joking. Nothing in the lake eats humans. I promise.”
“Cross your heart?” she demands.
I do so with a broad grin. After another moment of hesitation, Bianka makes up her mind, easing into the water rather than attempting a stunt like mine. She squeals as her hips leave the boat, submerging the majority of her body in one go, and I swim to her.
Tiny gasps of shock leave her lips as she acclimates to the water’s temperature and wraps her mind around being in the lake. After a few minutes of visible anxiety, she seems to calm down, and I smile as I watch her.
Is she scared of water? Of drowning?I’m not sure, but whatever she was apprehensive about didn’t stop her from trying something new. That’s another thing I’ve noticed about Bianka. She’s not fearless, but she is impressively brave.
And to me, I’d say that counts for a lot more. Whenever I’ve ever seen Bianka get nervous, she pushes through and does what needs to be accomplished. That level of determination is something rare in today’s world.
“You good?” I ask, swimming close enough that I can feel the ripples of water rushing away from her churning limbs.
Bianka releases a breathy laugh and nods. “I don’t normally swim farther out than I can touch the bottom,” she admits, glancing toward the beach we’ll have to swim to for land.
“Well, the good news is you won’t have to for long.” I swim toward the front of the boat. “Tommy!” I call to the driver.
He appears a moment later with a clear, water-tight beach bag, which he tosses down to me. I catch it and sling it over my shoulder before turning toward the shore.
“Come on,” I call to Bianka, and she follows me.
We set up a nice spot on the vacant beach, laying out our towels and sprawling in the sun for a while as we dry. Of course, our conversation ends up landing on theater in no time. We talk about which performances we’ve each seen and enjoyed and why.
When the discussion slowly edges into our own college classes, Bianka rolls onto her elbow to face me. I mirror the motion, resting my cheek on the palm of my hand, my elbow buried in my beach towel so I can meet her brilliant green eyes. I’m amazed to realize how close they are to matching the color of the water edging the shore.
“Cass, what do you plan to do with a theater degree?” Bianka asks, her tone curious. “I mean, do you actually think you’ll pursue acting?”
I chuckle. “No. Sure, I think acting’s fun. But no one would come to watch me perform. Not like they will you.”
Bianka gives a shy smile. “Then you seriously changed majors just to be near me?”
The emotion in Bianka’s eyes leaves me raw and vulnerable. I feel the sudden and intense urge to make light of my gesture, which she’s managed to cut right to the core of, exposing the depth of my interest in her.
“Yeah, and as a reward for something so incredibly selfless”–I press my hand to my chest in a mockingly chivalrous tone–“I was hoping you’d translate the Old English we’ve been speaking all week for me. I’m pretty sure I get the general concept of what Romeo is saying–or at least how I should be feeling while saying it. But half of it goes completely over my head.”
Bianka giggles, her eyes dancing as the solemnity of her expression cracks. “I’ll break it down for you.”
“Good because I’m not sure how long I can pretend to be a good actor when I don’t know what the hell I’m saying, and I’ll be damned if I let any of those other boys play your Romeo.”
“My hero,” she teases dryly, drawing a chuckle from me. “But seriously, Cassio, if you won’t pursue a theater career, what’s your plan? Do you intend to graduate?”
I shrug. In truth, I haven’t put much thought into my next step. Of the two of us, Lucca’s always been the environmentalist, and while I know I want to do good in the world, I’m not the science nerd he is.
