“HEY!” Sloane’s voice carried across the water like a foghorn. “ARE YOU TWO DONE OUT THERE? I’M HUNGRY AND JADE WON’T STOP MAKING OUT WITH YOUR SISTER LONG ENOUGH TO DISCUSS LUNCH OPTIONS!”
Riley jerked back, laughing despite herself. The moment shattered, again thanks to Sloane. Great. Though it was probably for the best. We were surrounded by people and if I would’ve kissed her right now, I wasn’t sure how the fuck I’d react. Maybe I’d hunt down every single person in here to make sure they left us the fuck alone. Maim some of them. I didn’t know.
“She has terrible timing,” I muttered.
“She has perfect timing,” Riley countered, but her cheeks were flushed and her breathing was uneven. “Depending on your perspective.”
“My perspective thinks she should invest in a hobby.”
“Interrupting romantic momentsisher hobby.” She mumbled under her breath, but her words caught my attention. She’d called itromantic. I filed that away.
We swam back toward shore, and somewhere in the middle of the journey, her hand found mine underwater. Her fingers interlaced with mine, hidden beneath the surface where no one could see. Our secret.
I looked at her. She looked straight ahead, a small smile playing at the corner of her lips.
She didn’t let go until we reached the shallows.
8
— • —
Riley
I woke to my phone buzzing on the nightstand.
I grabbed it blindly, squinting at the screen through sleep-crusted eyes. The time read 8:47 AM, later than I usually slept, but I’d been up half the night thinking about a certain blonde stranger and his hands on my back.
The text was from an unknown number.
Hi. This is Caelan. I got your number from Jade. I hope that’s okay.
My heart did a stupid thing in my chest. I stared at the message for a long moment, trying to formulate a response that didn’t sound desperate or eager or like I’d been thinking about him nonstop since the lake.
Before I could type anything, another message appeared.
I bought pastries this morning. Too many. I don’t know why I did that. I think I have a problem.
Then:Thessa says I definitely have a problem.
Then:Do you want some? I can bring them. Only if you want.
Then:They’re very good pastries. Croissants. The flaky kind.
Then:I’m making this weird, aren’t I.
Then:Sorry. You’re probably sleeping. Ignore this. Ignore all of this.
I was grinning at my phone like an idiot. I could practically hear his anxiety through the screen. The confident, intense man from the lake was completely absent, replaced by pure golden retriever energy. Eager hope and fear of rejection and way too many text messages in a row.
It was adorable and devastating. I was in so much trouble.
I’m awake, I texted back.And I never say no to free pastries.
His response was immediate. Literally three seconds later, like he’d been staring at his phone waiting.
What’s your address?
I hesitated. Giving him my exact address felt significant. Another wall coming down. I knew he probably suspected I lived in the zone, given the amount of times we’d stumbled into each other, but I wasn’t sure about the specifics…
