“Did you see that?” Elijah yells to the crowd. “She straight-up dropped him, dude!”
“I’m posting this to X,” Miles adds, holding up his phone, which has unquestionably recorded the whole thing. “This is fucking fantastic.”
I groan, flopping backward into the water so I’m floating, arms outstretched. Stare up at the blue sky.
“You’resuchassholes.” I sulk. I want to look cool in front of chicks—not be caught with my dick in my hand.
“Oh, come on,” her voice calls down to me as I float. “It was a joke. This is how I flirt.”
I lift my head. “You’re flirting with me?” ’Cause that would be awesome.
“Actually no—I’m fucking with you.”
I roll, letting my feet reach the sandy bottom of the lake. “Wow.”
The audacity.
Water drips from my clothes, which are weighed down, my hair plastered to my forehead. I give my head another shake, much like a dog would after a bath, and stray to the edge of the dock. Plant my hands against the wood, pushing down to lift myself out.
One, two—
My feet slip, hands scrabbling against the slick dock, and I crash back into the water with a splash that echoes across the lake.
Laughter erupts again, Elijah practically choking as he doubles over, and Lucy? She’s holding her stomach, shoulders shaking, unable to hide her delight.
I surface, glaring. “I hope you’re proud of yourself.”
“Extremely.” She wipes at her eyes, breathless from laughing. “You’re making my entire morning.”
“Well. I’m a swamp monster now,” I announce to them all, accepting my fate. “Forever damp.”
This time I’m successful, planting my hands more carefully on the dock and then hauling myself up in one determined motion. I flop onto my stomach first like a seal—real graceful—before rolling onto my back, clothes dripping, water pooling around me.
Kind of like I’m bleeding out.
“I am never coming here again,” I grumble. “And you can’t make me.”
Lucy stands over me now, hands on her hips. “If you’re this horrible in the water, how on earth are you going to perform in a logrolling competition? You can barely hoist yourself up!”
Oh shit.
“You ever seen a professional logroller?”
“No.”
“Well, there’s your problem—we come in all shapes and sizes.” I get to my feet, pushing my soggy hair back. “My grandpa was alegend—three-time logrolling champion of the Midwest.”
I am such an amazing storyteller!
Her lips twitch, and she’s trying to look impressed. “Three-time champion?”
“Yep.” I nod solemnly, tapping my chest. “It’s in my blood.”
“What’s in your blood?” Elijah looks up from his phone, catching the tail end of the conversation. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Nothing, you pipe down.” I shoot him a glare before turning back to Lucy. “Traitor.”
“The wilderness is making you crazy, dude, I swear,” he mutters.
