***
Henry’s poolside when I arrive.
He’s left a towel, his book, and his shirt on a chair near where he’s sitting on the deck, legs dangling in the illuminated water. He waves as I approach, and whoa. I’ve had him pegged as an adorkable intellectual, which I still think is true, but he definitely has a thing for the gym too. It strikes me as comically unjust that this boy was granted brains, muscles, thick hair,andetiquette. What was left for the other boys once Henry received his attributes?
Maybe he’s the reason Damon lacks any good qualities.
I drop my bag on the chair beside his stuff. I leave my clothes on, feeling a little shy about hanging with Mr. Washboard Abs in my bikini, and take a seat on the deck. I leave a chasm of space between us, wishing I didn’t feel this new compulsion to keep boys at a distance.
“I was starting to wonder if you were gonna show,” he says.
I splash water over my knees. “My keeper wasn’t keen on me coming down.”
“Ah. My dad’s still at work, or he would’ve hassled me too.”
“He’s overprotective?”
Henry gives a derisive laugh. “More like he wants to hang out all the time. When I was showering earlier, he burst into the bathroom to tell meField of Dreamswas on TV. Let a guy rinse the shampoo out of his hair before you start hounding him about a movie that’s older than he is, you know?”
I resist the urge to tell him how lucky he is, that he should never take his parents’ care for granted. Not that Tati doesn’t care about me. She cares that my GPA remains above average. Shecares that I don’t end up a teen mom or with a criminal record. She cares that I become a responsible, productive Floridian because I’m a reflection of her. Because she took on a parental role she never asked for. Because she refuses to fail.
She doesn’t care like a mom or a dad would.
But this is one of thosegrass is always greenersituations. Maybe if Henry knew how I live—perpetually pestered about the importance of good grades and my bank balance and my future—he’d think,Yes, please. I sure as shit wouldn’t turn my nose up at watching a movie with my dad.
The way he regards me makes me worry that my usually dormant grief has revealed itself. Very aware of how intimate this conversation is about to become, I say, “Your dad must love you a lot to try so hard.”
Henry grasps the back of his reddened neck, watching the water lap against the tiled pool wall. “Yeah. I just wish he’d tone it down a little. I want towantto be here, you know?”
His deep brown eyes lift to meet mine. The air is warm, infused with ocean salt and the lingering scent of tropical tanning lotion. It scares me a little, how much I like being around this boy who gives me space without asking why I need it.
I smile. “Yeah, I know. I want you to want to be here too.”
Henry
I slip into the pool because the eye contact suddenly feels too intense.
My memories of Piper from three years ago are wholesome. Her blond curls. Her freckles. How she talked about loggerheads like she’d been studying sea turtles all her life. Her sarcasm made me laugh. Our kiss was transcendent. But mostly we floundered our way through the night. She joked almost constantly, and I talked way too much, but being with her was easy because—for me, at least—expectations were nonexistent.
Fate’s laughing in my face now. I like her dark curls even better, she’s still wryly funny, and I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about what it’d be like to kiss her again.
I duck under the water, cooling my sunburned face, trying to pinpoint what I said to make our conversation go sideways. Because her expression went gloomy for a minute, and I don’t want to be the sort of guy who makes her sad.
I bitched about my dad.
She suggested I appreciate how good I’ve got it.
I resurface, shaking the water out of my eyes, and kick to where she’s sitting. “You coming in?”
I pretend not to watch while she peels off her tank and steps out of her shorts. She moves down the deck to where the water’s deeper, then launches into a dive that’s a hell of a lot more graceful than her entry the other night. She swims toward me, hair flowing behind her. When she surfaces, she looks like a real-life mermaid.
“Thank you for coming to sit with me earlier,” she says. “At the restaurant.”
“I knew you had fried food on the way.”
She smiles. “You did crush my coconut shrimp.”
“Yeah, happy to be of service.”
