"You still have food left." Bruce points to her burger, which isn't even half gone. "Can I have your fries?"
"Take them."
"Thanks for shopping with me. You have such a lovely daughter, Bruce."
"She's a keeper."
Don't I know it.
Thatevening,whentheinevitable witching hour hits and our parents retreat back into their chambers to scan their Reader's Digest or whatever reading material they have, I barricade myself in my room and play video games.
It's strange living across the hall from the woman you secretly admire. We could be neighbors in an apartment complex, but we share a bathroom. More like a coed dorm.
When I lie back on my bed, my thoughts are consumed with Amelia. I can't stop thinking about her. How beautiful she is when she laughs, how cute she is when I get under her skin. She's occupying my brain well into midnight. I'm wide awake, no closer to falling asleep than I am internalizing all the desires I'll never be able to express.
Grabbing my phone, I send her a text.
Ihavenoclueif she sleeps with her phone on silent. I'll let fate intervene and decide if she and I are meant to spend this night together.
My heart skips a beat as I wait for the three tiny dots to appear and signal her reply. Her response is delivered before I have a chance to second-guess sending it in the first place.
Hopping out of bed and into my swim shorts, I decide tonight will not bethenight.
While sex in a pool could also be crossed off my bucket list, people will be over in twelve hours with the intent of swimming. Amelia might drive me absolutely wild, but I do have some manners.
A midnight swim is kind of harmless, but I'd still be scared shitless if Bruce caught us.
While I'm trying to decide whether I want the pool lights illuminated, Amelia makes her discreet entrance outside.
"Couldn't sleep?" She walks over in the same beige bikini, and the darkness is playing tricks on me once more. I've never seen her fully naked; the illusion before me is almost too much.
"Nope. Did I wake you?"
"No, as luck would have it, I was also wide awake."
Pointing to the light switch, I ask "Want the lights on or no?"
Why do I feel like her answer might dictate how our night will go?
"Keep them off," she tells me.
"Okay."
It was a balmy eighty degrees today, so the water temperature should be perfect even if we're swimming under a dark sky and full moon.
"Why were you awake?" Amelia asks as we place our feet on the first step.
"I wish I knew. I used to get insomnia a lot but it hasn't returned until now. I think it's stress related."
"What are you stressed about?"
Holding my breath because I'm captivated by the delicacy of her face, I watch the short pieces of hair that didn't make it in her bun glide across the water in the shallow end. Amelia is stunning, and I can't find my voice.
"Sorry." Clearing my throat to buy me an extra five seconds, because I need all the time I can to appear poised in her presence, I confess to her something I haven't admitted aloud. "I'm scared to lose my mom, too. I lie awake at night imagining these horrible scenarios. Freak accidents, an incurable disease, morbid things that make me sick with worry. That can't be healthy, right?"
"That has to be so hard. I felt that way about my dad a few months after my mom passed, but maybe not as severely. Does it help to know you're not alone? Would you rather talk, and I can listen?"
"Listening is nice. I don't have many people to talk to about this. I don't know why we never commiserated together. We could have been a nice support system when we were missing our parents."
