“You might be an adult now,” he whooped, snatching the copy ofTwilightI’d brought. “But some things never change.”
“Hey!” I shouted, but Ever leapt to his feet. I scrambled to mine, snatching at the book he held just out of reach. “If you drop it in the water, I willneverforgive you!”
“Philosophy and a vampire romance,” Everett laughed. “You’re a weird one, Ruth Cornier.”
I leapt unsuccessfully for the book again, cursing myself for growing comfortable enough with Everett to tell him aboutTwilight.
“Ruth and her one true love, Edward Cullen. The only man who will ever possess her heart.” The look on Everett’s face was so wicked I could think of nothing to do except pull my dress over my head and toss it on the dock. Ever froze at the sight of me in my bathing suit—the first two-piece I’d ever owned, purchased secretly with my library money. Yellow, with tiny white daisies.
I held out my hand. Wordlessly, Everett gave me the book. “Thank you,” I said primly. “Now take off your shirt.”
He blinked. In the year we’d been friends, even when we went swimming, he’d never taken off his shirt. I didn’t know why or what had gotten into me to ask him. After a moment of charged silence, Ever grabbed his collar and pulled his shirt over his head.
There was nothing to do but look. His chest was moonlight-pale, which I’d expected, and carved with muscle, which I hadn’t. My gaze snagged on the scars: a handful of jagged lines across his stomach and a quarter-sized circle over his heart, the ugly red of old burnt skin.
“What are those from?” I asked, but Everett made a scoffing sound.
“You know, you didn’t have to get naked just to shut me up.” That wicked grin, revealing his sharp canines—a smile he only showed me—split his face.
It was a provocation, a distraction, and it worked.
I pressed both palms to Everett’s chest and—relishing his shock—pushed him into the water. Then I setTwilightsafely on my towel and took a running leap, shrieking as I jumped in after him.
The gulf water sucked me down, warm and salty, until the air in my lungs tugged me back up. I broke the surface, laughing, and whipped around, looking for Ever.
Ever wasn’t there.
12
JUNE, EIGHTEENYEARS OLD
I scanned the dock. No Ever there or on the shore. He should’ve surfaced by now. A fist squeezed my heart. I tried to see through the waves before they lifted me, but it was—
There. Under the surface, in a patch of darker, cooler water, a flash of pale skin.
I dove without hesitation, swimming until my hands struck his shoulder. Lungs straining, I dragged him to the surface, gasping for air. Everett’s head lolled and I choked back a sob. I’d done this to him—taken him by surprise. Normally Everett was a strong swimmer, but he hadn’t been ready.
I’d been too happy, and now God was striking at me.
Using all my strength, I kicked us to the shore and hauled him onto the coarse sand, dark as brown sugar. The waves lapped our feet as I bent over him, breathing hard, and pressed two fingers to his throat. No pulse. I listened for his breath. Nothing.
He looked fragile and beautiful. Still as death.
There was no time to panic. I pressed my palms to Everett’s chest and pumped, tilted his face back, pressed my lips to his, and gave him my air.
Again—pump, pump, pump. Hands holding his jaw, lips to his, blowing—
Beneath me, Everett’s eyes opened. His mouth stretched into a grin. “Hello, Ruth,” he said against my lips and brushed a wet strand of hair from my cheek.
I froze over him, uncomprehending.
He started to laugh.
“Everett Duncan, howdareyou?” I’d given him all my breath, so I couldn’t even yell as loudly as he deserved. He was winded, too, wheezing with laughter. “That is the cruelest joke anyone has ever played on me.”
I shoved his shoulders and rolled off him, collapsing on my back in the sand, nearly crying at the storm of anger and relief.
“Oh, don’t be mad.” Lithe as ever, Everett rolled on top of me, bracing his hands on either side of my head. “I’m sorry.”
