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I shake my head, my heart pounding.
“Would you like to be?”
“Now?”
He shrugs a shoulder, one eyebrow rising, teeth white when he smiles.
“I think so,” I say.
“Me too,” he says, and leans in to kiss my mouth. I close my eyes, feel the cool water, taste chlorine and beer. I feel something else too, hard against my stomach. With a groan, he draws back and presses his forehead to mine. “I like you, Phee. You’re sweet,” he says. “But you’re also jailbait, so we’re going to have to wait a while.”
I blink, a little dazed honestly. Ethan is technically almost an adult, and he can literally have any girl he wants. He likes me?
A phone rings, and I realize it’s Ethan’s. He left it on one of the lounge chairs. He pushes back from the wall, swims to the other end and climbs out. He answers the phone, keeping his back to me for a minute.
“Hey Anya.” He glances at me, then holds up a finger to tell me he’ll be right back.
“Wait!” I call out, but he’s already halfway to the house, and I’m not sure he hears me because he’s laughing at something Anya said. “Ethan, wait!” I crane my neck, my back against the wall, my elbows up outside the pool edge holding me up. “Ethan!” But he goes inside without looking back.
I take a deep breath in and close my eyes. I can do this. It’s fine. He’ll be right back. All I have to do is turn around and I can climb out. It’s easy, I can do it.
Swallowing hard, I open my eyes and I don’t let myself look down. That’s always when the panic hits. When I can see how deep the water goes.
I’m shaking, and I taste the salt of a tear as I try to get myself to move. One tiny movement followed by another and another. I can do this.
But when I manage to turn, my panic intensifies because I can’tnotlook down. Frozen, I cling to thewall by my fingertips and close my eyes and try not to hyperventilate.
I can’t do this. I can’t.
“Ethan?” I try calling out, but my voice is choked.
I hear a car door somewhere, but I still don’t open my eyes. Footsteps. An unfamiliar woman’s soft laughter. When I open my eyes, it’s not Ethan I see. It’s Silas Cruz.
He stops when he sees me, like he doesn’t expect me to be there. The woman beside him is still talking but the smile drops off her face when she sees his expression.
“Ophelia? What the…” he starts, then, as if something clicks in his brain, he tears off across the lawn, rips off his T-shirt and jumps into the deep end.
I let out a scream when my hands slip from the pool wall, and I go under, panic taking over my brain and my legs and arms doing everything wrong. I swallow water, thrashing, until strong arms wrap around me, and one powerful kick has us catapulting to the surface.
“Oh my God! Is she all right?” the woman asks as Silas lifts me out of the pool, then climbs out himself.
I’m coughing, choking up water and trying to wipe it from my eyes.
“Ophelia? You’re all right. Hey. You’re okay. Look at me. Look at me, O.” Silas’s hands are on me, he’s pushing hair back from my face, and when I open my eyes, I see his. I see his beautiful sea-colored eyes fullof concern and then, when my pupils focus and I blink, relief.
“Should I call an ambulance?” the woman asks, and I can make out her phone in her hand.
I shake my head, embarrassed, wanting the ground to swallow me up.
“My glasses,” I say, searching for them.
Silas looks around, reaches behind me. “Here. Here they are,” he says, handing them to me. I take them, turn away, embarrassed. So embarrassed. I can’t look at him as I try to sit up, but I’m still coughing up water and the chlorine is burning my eyes.
“Look at me, Ophelia,” Silas says, helping me sit up and taking my face in his hands.
His hair is stuck to his face, he’s shirtless and his pants and shoes are soaked.
“I’m sorry,” I say, not sure what I’m apologizing for. I wipe my eyes.
