“You did what?” he asks, dumbfounded. “When?”
Angel catches up to me, his gaze laser focused on me, but I still don’t look at him.
“Last night,” I replied coyly. I have no desire to learn how to swim. I don’t mind getting in the water, but I refuse getting in the deep end. I didn’t message Josie with the intention of actually learning; I just wanted to know why she was upset at me. I wanted to know what I did wrong because I want to fix it. “But I was being funny. Since I don’t have her number and needed to ask her something about the class, I figured she’d reply, but she hasn’t.”
That’s what I get for listening to Gray. Last time I do something like that.
At his silence I say, “Also, don’t tell Gray about it. I don’t need him gloating.”
Still, his silence extends, making me feel uncomfortably warm until he finally talks.
“But you’re—is everything good?” Angel sounds genuinely concerned. It throws me off.
“Yeah, why?”
He stares at me skeptically. “You’re weird about the water. How are you going to?—”
“I told you I was just being funny. I’m not going in the water, especially with her of all people.”
“But what would you do if she were to answer?”
I think about it for a moment but shake my head. “I highly doubt she will.”
The next day, I pull into the parking lot of the trail we’ll be walking today. Because it’s the first, Professor Carleson said we’d start with something light, nothing too exerting. But said as the semester progressed, the trails would be longer and steeper.
Josie is already here. She’s standing by her car, camera in hand, staring at the ground. She must be deep in thought because she doesn’t look up when I approach her.
“Hey, Jos.” I dip my head, smiling down at her.
She doesn’t acknowledge me and pushes away from her car when Carleson makes us all gather around him. He goes over a few rules, the same ones he went over in the classroom, and then he’s guiding us into the trail.
We all walk side by side with our partners. Most of them are talking amongst each other or listening to Carleson as he explains the history behind the trail and marvels at the beauty of it.
I’m doing neither. It’s hard to focus on a thing he’s saying because all my attention and energy is generated towards the girl next to me.
She’s staring straight ahead, still hasn’t talked to me, and I believe she’ll spend the rest of the trail ignoring me until she looks up at me thirty minutes later.
Aggravation mars her face. Her eyes are hardened, mixed with anger and irritation.
“What are you playing at?” she accuses.
My brows draw in confusion. “What are you?—”
“Swimming lessons? Are you serious?” she scoffs patronizingly. “Is this some joke? Who put you up to it? Was it Bryson?”
“What, no. Bryson didn’t put me up to anything.” I detest him, but I don’t tell her that.
“Isn’t it funny how he and his dumbass friends have said the exact same thing on the subject line of the email.” Fury springs in her voice. Her jaw is ticking, and her lips are set in a tight line.
Dammit. I knew I should’ve gone with something different.
“It’s not like that. Matter of fact, I don’t really talk to Bryson, and he didn’t put me up to anything. I—” I pause, my heart hammering fast. “I don’t know how to swim,” I voice quietly.
“Right,” she drawls. “Are you going to tell me your member also needs help floating?”
“Member? What are you?—”
Her gaze draws down below my waist. I grind my teeth, swallowing down my frustration, not at her but at Bryson.
