“I—yes. But how’d?—?”
“When you never texted me back, I figured.” She shrugs, but also looks a little … sad?
Wait a minute. “You didn’t text me?”
“Yes, I did,” she says. “It took so long to get rid of him, I wasn’t sure if you were sleeping or awake still, so I texted. But when you didn’t message back, I assumed you changed your mind.”
I smack the pockets of my jean shorts and come up empty. My mind whirls before I remember; Casey threw my phone on the lounge chair after catching me on Nina’sInstagram. In the aftermath of Marcus’s interruption, I forgot to grab it, and I was so lost in memories before falling asleep, I never realized I didn’t have it.
“My phone is still on the deck,” I explain. Casey momentarily brightens, and it does something weird to my stomach.
No.Friends can’t hook up without ruining the friendship. I thought I was going to die after Nina and I broke up, losing herandCasey will definitely kill me. It’s not worth the risk.
“But you’re too important to me,” I say. “I really appreciate your willingness to do that for me, but I think it’s better if we don’t … you know.”
Casey scratches her nose and nods before standing up straighter. “Of course. We can forget last night ever happened.”
“Thank you.” I smile.
Casey comes around the counter and pulls me into a hug. We squeeze each other, and I don’t want to let go. Her skin is so soft and warm. She smells like her lavender shampoo. The scent is both calming and intoxicating, and I sink further into her embrace.
She rubs my back like she always does when we share hugs like this, but there’s a new ache low in my belly that catches me off guard. My arms are wrapped around her bare back, my hands gripping the soft skin of her waist, and I jolt back as desire floods me.
Casey thankfully doesn’t seem fazed by the way I recoil from her. “I love you so much, Dakota.”
“I love you too, Casey.”
“Hey, come drive for a second.” Casey waves me over while moving toward the back of the boat. We’ve been cruising along the water in what has been our longest stretch of time not getting hailed down by someone wanting to talk.
It’s a beautiful day at the end of June in Michigan, and the water is crowded. I recognize only a couple boats, but Casey waves to everyone and occasionally stops to catch up with someone. Normally, this would be my introverted self’s worst nightmare, having to stop and interact with so many strangers, but the conversations energize Casey, who is sweet and charming to every person she’s ever met. I love seeing her like this—in her element. Her smile is brighter, and I can’t help but match it even if I’m not a part of the conversation.
“Um, are you sure that’s a good idea?” I stand frozen, staring wide-eyed at the steering wheel.
“It’ll only be for a second,” she says. “Unless you want to check if the bilge is still running?”
“The what?”
Casey smiles. “Exactly. Come here.” She hooks her finger into the belt loop of my jean shorts and tugs. My palms are clammy as I hover them five inches above the steering wheel, too afraid to touch it.
I’ve had a hard rule prohibiting myself from operating any vehicle on the water after I accidentally crashed my jet ski. Sophomore year of high school, my family went on vacation to Florida. My brother begged our parents to let him rent a jet ski, and despite him being older, I’ve always been the more responsible one. Afraid of getting in trouble, I rarely goofed off or broke the rules. Unlike James who was grounded every other weekend and spent high school in and out of detention.
James kept playing around, trying to do tricks he wasway too inexperienced to pull off, and I warned him he was going to get himself killed. But it was me—too distracted watching over him—to see the approaching group of kayakers despite their desperate hollering. I overcorrected and flipped my jet ski after narrowly dodging the lead kayak.
Thankfully, nobody was hurt, but I’ve been racked with guilt ever since. It didn’t help that James was so damn smug that it wasme,Little Miss Perfect, who almost killed someone instead of him. It was rare, but he always loved getting the last laugh when he could. It’s how I know he’s eating up every second of being the new favorite since I replaced him as the family disappointment. Nothing he could ever do can be worse than my coming out and “embracing my homosexual lifestyle.” I hope he appreciates me forever taking the heat off him, but I doubt it.
“Just hold it like you would a car steering wheel.” Casey holds her hands up in the air, modeling the correct position. “Ten and two.”
“Do people still say that?” I ask and clutch the cool stainless steel like our lives depend on it.
Somewhere over my shoulder, Casey laughs. I focus on my breathing, my entire body tense and locked up as I focus on the expanse of water before me.
Oh no.A boat approaches in the distance. Sweat pools on the back of my neck. The boat is gliding closer toward us.Tooclose. My heart is lodged in my throat. How do I slow this damn death trap down?
“Case!” I yelp.
“Huh?”
“Boat!” I shout.
