April’s touch was like fire. Goose bumps broke out along Daphne’s skin, but she tried not to react, focusing instead on her swollen ankle. “I’m fine.”
“Yeah, you look just peachy,” April said, leading Daphne to one of the wooden benches lining the hallway.
Daphne plopped down, sighing when she got her weight off her ankle. April peered down at her, an uncertain expression on her face.
“I saw you fall. Just wanted to come check on you,” she said.
Daphne nodded, couldn’t look at her. Her whole body felt hot, a little sweaty, and she wasn’t sure if it was pain endorphins rushing to her rescue, or something else. Something she probably needed to forget but also couldn’t seem to stop thinking about—legs entwined, April’s scent as she pressed close, like pears and lemons, with something a little spicy just underneath. Chili or peppers, Daphne wasn’t sure, but whatever it was had addled her thoughts, made her feel drunk.
She’d love to blame that awful poison-purple concoction theywere serving in the studio, but she’d only been able to stomach a couple of sips. She could blame the day itself, her painting and Elena’s call, getting caught up in dancing, in strangers’ attention, which she’d never really experienced so closely before, but no. She’d danced with at least five or so other people before April, just as close, just as…well,dirty, and they hadn’t reduced her to a trembling mess. She’d laughed and tipped her head back and grinned and felt nothing but pure freedom and joy, a wildness to her body and heart. She could certainly blame the situation, the tight, fraught cord between her and April making everything feel more intense, and maybe there was some validity to that.
But that didn’t explain why she was so…
She was…
God, she wasturned on.
There. She could admit it. Had no idea what to do about it, but there was no other way to explain the dull throb between her legs right now.
She shook her head, sucked in a lungful of air.
“I’m okay,” she managed to say, but then couldn’t hold back a wince as she rolled her ankle to test it.
April squatted down to inspect Daphne’s ankle. Her touch was gentle, fingers light as they held her foot. “Looks a little swollen,” she said quietly, glancing up at Daphne. “Maybe a bruise forming. We can get some ice in the cabin.”
Daphne nodded, swallowed hard.
“You think you can make it back there?” April asked, standing up.
“Yeah,” Daphne said. She stood, relying on her good foot, but she wobbled, and April grabbed her elbow again to steady her. Then she took Daphne’s arm and slung it around her shoulder, hooking her own arm around Daphne’s waist.
Daphne got a whiff of pear and spice again, and her kneesnearly buckled. Somehow, though, she managed to hold herself upright as April led her toward the exterior door at the end of the hall.
Outside, the weatherwas humid and heavy, the lake a dark swath to their right. Daphne couldn’t say the air was fresh, necessarily, but it was different, the breeze swirling April’s scent away from her, clearing her head.
But then April’s fingers would tighten around her, and she’d remember the way her nose grazed that spot right above the dip in April’s collarbones, and her thoughts would muddle all over again.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block it all out, but she quickly realized that was not a wise move while hobbling along the cobblestone path toward the staff cabins, so she stared down at her feet. She opened her mouth a hundred times to say something—anything—to April, but nothing ever came out.
And then, a rumble of thunder.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” April said as the first drops of rain started falling, plinking onto Daphne’s bare arm.
Very suddenly, the sky opened up, as though someone from above had dumped a bucket full of water onto the earth. Daphne was soaked in seconds, and lightning crackled across the sky, flashing an eerie purple-white as April tried to move them along faster.
“This seems excessive,” Daphne said, her teeth chattering.
April laughed at that, and then Daphne laughed because she’d made April laugh—an air-light, bright sound through the dark—and then they were both cracking up as they pulled themselves through the deluge and toward the cabin lights sparkling ahead of them.
They stumbled up the porch steps, Daphne’s stomach muscles aching from laughing just as much as her ankle at this point. Aprilmanaged to tap her card against the reader, and they fell through the door, spilling onto the floor in a splay of arms and legs. Daphne wasn’t sure if her ankle was still attached anymore, much less how injured it was.
They were both drenched, making a mess on the hardwood, but still they laughed in the middle of their darkened cabin, the door wide open, the storm raging just outside.
And Daphne couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this free.
This…happy.
It was such a small, silly thing—rushing through an ill-timed rainstorm with her moody cabinmate—but somehow, it felt big.
