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“Yeah, well, he’s out,” I said, a little defensively, “probably with your parents?”
“Yep,” Sawyer confirmed.
“Recovery dip,” I said with authority, like it was the only reason I was here. “Increase the blood flow. Improve circulation. Relax the muscles,” I recited, sounding a lot like Coach, my Dad. My Dad, the coach. “You coming in?” I untangled the long straps of my swim bag from over my shoulder.
“Nah, you go,” Sawyer said, “I’ve got a game on.” I slapped his back as he led me into the den where the screen was on pause. I knew he was down over finding out Amanda was on a date with the drum major. “Sierra’s out there.”
My heart leapt out of my chest like a phoenix rising from the ashes. Trying not to look too keen, I put down the snack bag beside the empty pizza boxes. Dad wouldn’t consider that as recovery food. Going to the bathroom, it took me less than a minute to kick off my shoes, tear off my hoodie and sweatpants and emerge in my swim shorts with a towel around my neck.
Sawyer was sitting in the center of the couch, controller in hand. Gaming was his way of relaxing, but I’d never been into it like him. I grabbed two bags of marshmallows and tossed the chips and pretzels across to him. He raised his eyebrows in appreciation.
Pop music blasted from Sierra’s small speaker that was beside the tub. At the sight of me, she floated up to the surface, eyes wide, wrapping her arms around herself.
“Marshmallows!” I said in a panic, hoping she wasn’t about to get out. I dropped my towel and sat down by the entrance steps to block her exit. “Didn’t know which ones you liked.” I held up the two bags, one traditional white marshmallows, the other a multi-colored spiral twist.
“I didn’t think you were actually going to,” Sierra said, rising up so I could see she was wearing a green one piece swimming suit.
“Your wish is my command,” I said in a fake genie accent.
“Ahh...” She smiled as she pointed to the white marshmallow bag.
I ripped the top open, and she shook her fingers as if to dry them. Knowing it wouldn’t work, I shuffled a little closer and said, “Open up,” and reached forward with the marshmallow perched between my fingers.
“What?” There was a moment of hesitation, and I feared her brown eyes were on the verge of shutting me down, that she’d remembered how I’d pulled away from her kiss, that I was going to be left in the hot tub on my own holding a bag of marshmallows I couldn’t eat.
“Wet marshmallows aren’t a good idea,” I said and, as if she recognized it was as simple and innocent as that, she opened her mouth.
I popped it in, quickly and efficiently.
“Mmmm,” she said swirling it around. “Thank you.”
I fed her another, and she asked, “Aren’t you having one?”
I shook my head and simply said, “Championship week.”
She smiled apologetically, and I popped one more into her mouth. I put the bag down and slid beneath the water, sitting opposite her.
“This feels nice,” I said, the jets of warm water shooting against my body. Yes, it was definitely therapeutic—Dad wouldn’t be able to complain about me sneaking out. And I hadn’t actually snuck out, I just drove in a normal manner.
“Are you tired?” Sierra asked.
I shrugged, not wanting to admit it, saying, “I’m okay. I’m still on a high, so I don’t think I’d be able to sleep anyway. You?”
“Same,” she said. “I feel like I’m still buzzing. Everything about the day was so great.”
“Yeah,” I said, and we dissected the game quarter by quarter. My legs floated up, lightly brushing hers. She didn’t pull away, her toes fluttering against my feet. The touch became a little more like a kick, which made a splash, which became competitive as our feet played underwater soccer.
It left us both laughing, exactly the way we used to be—friends, buddies.
Yet it wasn’t the same. Not anymore. But I didn’t know how to address it, didn’t know if she wanted to. She’d said she didn’t know what she was doing, that the kiss was a mistake. Probably the whole situation around Granddad’s heart attack had clouded the situation.
“I’m getting all wrinkled,” Sierra said, looking at her fingertips. “Probably time to get out.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, my body on the brink of overheating. I leaped out, emptying half of the hot tub as I did. I grabbed her towel and held it out for her. It was a repeat of last time as she pulled it around herself tightly, making me reluctantly release it.
“Thanks,” she said.
“You can finish the marshmallows inside,” I said, bending to pick up my own towel and the bags of candy.
