Shoving down the urge to scoop my shirt back up off the rock and pull it back on, I look over at Star. Our eyes meet, and she looks a little sad.
Fuck.
She opens her mouth, and since I don’t want to talk about it, about the crash, about the guy I killed, about any of it, I cut her off before she can say anything. “You gonna join me?” I ask, and nod toward the water. She kind of blinks at me for a second, like she’s trying to decide whether or not to let me have my diversion, but then a small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.
“Maybe I want you to see how cold it is, first.”
“Oh, I see how it is,” I say, smirking. “You want to see if I’m gonna freeze my balls off when I jump in. Gonna leave it all on my shoulders, huh?”
“Well, swimming was your idea,” she says, and leans back against the rock.
“Fine, then,” I say, and start climbing back over the rocks, away from the shoreline.
“Hey!” she says, turning to watch me go. “Where are you going? I thought you were going in.”
“I am,” I tell her, and turn back around.
“Hard to do that from way over there. What? You chickening out already?”
I shake a finger at her. “You’re going to regret saying that in a minute,” I say. Then I drop my arm, bounce a little on the balls of my feet and start running toward the water.
I race through the forest, bare feet pounding against the dirt, and as soon as my feet hit rock, I do what I haven’t done in five whole years.
I close my eyes. I jump.
I fly.
In that moment, there’s nothing. Nothing but the wind in my face and the feeling of weightlessness before I come crashing down. And this . . .
This is the hardest part, the shock of the cold all around you when you first hit the water. It moves through your body in a jolt, like an electric shock gone wrong.
It gets to me every damn time, and this time is no different. Still reeling from the cold, I feel my feet hit the bottom of the lake bed, and I shove against it, propelling myself back to the surface. I spin around, searching for Star, and find her on her feet, sputtering, dripping with water. I grin. I knew my splash would get her.
“I told you so!” I yell. And she looks over and glares at me.
“You’re a jerk,” she calls back, wiping her hands down her arms to get the droplets of water off her.
I laugh. “Well, you’re already wet now,” I call out to her. “You might as well come in.” I’m not gonna lie, the sight of Star dripping wet in front of me is doing things to me. Even through the chill of the water, I can feel the heat that courses through my body at the mere thought of her with her soaked clothes sticking to her.
Down boy, I tell myself. No perving on Star. We’ve fucking established this.
“Turn around,” Star calls from the shore.
What?
“What?” I yell back. It’s weird how loud the water is once you’re actually on it. All I can hear is the sound of the waves around me, the echoes of the splashing and laughter from the beach across the way. Why the hell would she want me to turn around?
“Just turn around, Ash,” she says, planting her hands on her hips and giving me a little glare that’s honestly not doing anything to make the heat in my belly die down.
“Ugh, fine,” I say, and swirl my arms around me until I’m facing in the other direction. From here I can see the crowd on the beach, and I can’t help but wonder if my parents are a part of it. They could be there, right now, attending another barbecue or whatever the hell they do during the summer now that they’re retired. I’ve never asked. I feel kind of bad about that, all of a sudden. It’s been five years, and other than them losing my dog, I have no idea what they’ve done in all that time, no idea what their lives are like. I tread water for a bit, waiting, wondering what Star’s doing back there. With my luck, she’ll have grabbed my shirt and shoes and run for the car as soon as I turned around, leaving me waiting here, splashing around like an idiot. That’s what my ex Gina would have done. She would have laughed the whole way, and then would have told me to stop being such a pussy, that it was just a joke, when I would be all pissed at her, afterward.
Not that I’m speaking from experience or anything.
But seriously, what the hell is Star doing back there? I wonder if I should turn around, but she told me not to, and technically she’s my boss, so . . .
“Okay,” her voice breaks through my daydreaming. “You can turn around now.”
With a splash, I turn back toward the shore, and I’m kicking myself for not turning around. She would have killed me, but it would have been worth it, because fucking hell that girl is wearing the tiniest black bikini I’ve ever seen, and I’m so freaking glad I’m immersed in cold water right now, because Jesus Christ. She’s so fucking hot. I can’t help it; I let out what I hope is the quietest groan ever, and dunk my head under the water. When I come back up for air, she’s making her way down the rocks like a billy goat, arms stretched out at her sides for balance.
The girl has tattoos everywhere and that fact alone is going to kill me.
“Be careful, okay?” I call out to her, because, contrary to popular belief, I’m not a total asshole. “The rocks are slippery.”
“You’re not kidding,” she says, sliding a bit before catching herself with a gasp. I swim closer. Better she fall on me than on the rocks.
“Just get to the edge of that one and jump in,” I tell her. “It’s deep enough.”
“I’m not really the jumping type,” she tells me, but she plants her feet on the edge of the rock like she’s considering it, anyway. “Normally I just ease myself in.”
“Rookie mistake,” I say, and now that I’m close enough I start treading water again, holding my position. “It’s better to just get it over with.” She stares down at the water like she’s trying to figure out its secrets, and I want to laugh at the serious look on her face, but I’m too distracted by her tattoos. I’ve seen the one on her right arm, but it looks like she has an almost matching one on the back of her upper left one, but I can’t make out what it says. There’s also a bunch of stars trailing up her foot—fitting, I decide—and what looks like some kind of pink-and-white flowers dancing up her ribs.
She’s fucking gorgeous. Her eyes dart up to me, catching me looking at her, and at first I’m afraid she’s going to tell me off, but all she says is “you sure?” and I nod.
“Just jump,” I tell her. “You’ll be fine.”
And then she does.
***
We lose track of time and the sun is starting to set by the time we head back to the car. We’re dripping wet and laughing, our clothes sticking to our damp bodies like a second skin, our stomachs rumbling from our forgotten lunch and dinner.
“I’m starving,” Star moans as we pull up to the house. Her hair is still dripping, and the tiny droplets keep running down her neck and under her shirt, and I really really want to follow them with my eyes, find out where they go. But instead, I nod my head in agreement and haul myself out of the car. Instead of heading to the diner for the millionth time, we stopped at the grocery store on the way back and got stuff for sandwiches, and I pull the bag out of the backseat and slam the door. “I forgot how hungry swimming makes me.”
“Too bad,” I tell her, following her to the backyard. “Because I’m going to eat all the sandwiches. All of them.” I wrap my arms around the grocery bag to claim it for my own. “Every last one.”
“Not a chance,” she says. “You even try and I will feed you to the wolves.”