“Fuck,” I mutter, waving my shirt in the air again and screaming until my voice breaks. The patio below us is illuminated like the afternoon by the flames.Surely the Andersons will notice soon.The lights are still off, there’s just the one single porch light taunting me. What if they aren’t even home? It’s a Saturday night. Mom and Dad have gone to a bed and breakfast for their anniversary and won’t be back until tomorrow night. “Fuck.” The heat is almost unbearable now and the smoke is thick around us, choking me even with my head out the window.
“Get on the edge,” I say, grabbing Sienna’s waist. “Get your legs out.”
“Cameron.”
“Do it, Sienna! I’ll hold on to you.”
She scrambles up into the window frame as I hold onto her. Both of her legs are over the edge and I wrap my arms around her waist as she ducks her head down, swinging her upper body under and out the window. Her body goes rigid and I know what she’s thinking.
It’s a long fucking drop.
I’m trying not to think about what hitting the stone from twenty-five feet up will feel like. We don’t have another choice.Aside from the Andersons’, the nearest house is a half mile away because my parents always dreamed of living in the country.
Some dream.
“Don’t think about it. You got this.” Sienna’s a cheerleader—she was a gymnast when she was a kid. She’s small and cat-like. The girl the other cheerleaders all toss in the air and catch with their arms. But there’s no group of perky, ponytailed girls in red to catch her now, and we both know it. “Push off with your feet. Roll when you land. On three I’ll let go.” My head is wedged out the window by her shoulder, and I kiss her sticky skin. It’s not something I would normally do, but God, this isn’t how our nights normally go.
“Camer—”
“On three.” I know I can’t give her too much time to think about this.Ican’t think about this. “One. Two. Three.” I release her waist as she pushes off the side of the house. She’s on the ground in seconds and I hear a piercing shriek as she makes contact, rolling on the stone in a rigid, unnatural way. She screams again, a shrill sound among the pops and cracks and steady whooshing of the fire.
I hoist myself over the windowsill, gripping the frame as I twist my upper body under and out. Sienna is slightly off to the right, and as I jump I think “roll left, roll left, roll left.” The flames have lit up the river, reflecting oranges and yellows, and the Andersons’ house is bathed in light. All of the lights are on now and I see a single figure running down the dock, pulling the ropes free from the small speedboat.
Pushing off with my feet, I propel myself away from the house as another shriek of pain cuts through the air. Roll left, roll left, roll left. I think it like a prayer. As my body twists against the hard rock I hear the snap of bones, and in the distance, the soft wail of sirens.
VIRGINIA
Just like I promised Cam I would, I remember everything about last night. Cort’s squealing, the drinks, the feel of Cam’s hands on my waist. The cool wash of the water against my hot skin. My drunken rambling. Walking a jagged line in the sand, his lips on mine. His hands all over me. Even though it feels like someone is shoving a drumstick in one ear and out the other, every moment of last night—good and bad—is seared into my brain. The only detail that’s escaping me is how I ended up in Cam’s bed.
I smell him before I see him, because I’m wrapped in a cocoon of Cam. I bring the blue comforter tangled around my waist up to my nose, trying to identify the clean, minty, musk smell. I’d like it to take up permanent residence in my nose.
“Did you just sniff my sheets?”
I want to pretend like it didn’t happen, but I’ll never get away with it. Using my best sleepy voice I say, “Shh, I’m sleeping.”
“Mmhmm.”
I roll over slowly, keeping the covers pulled up to my chin. Cam is lying on the bed on top of the comforter facing me.
“I like your bed.” I don’t know what else to say. What do you say when waking up in the bed of the guy you’re dating (but not dating) after crying and then kissing him?
“Mmhmm.”
“Is that the only thing you can say in the morning?”
He nods, smiling at me. “Mmhmm.”
“Whatever.”
At that word, his whole body shakes with laughter. Realizing what he thinks is so funny, I grab my pillow. Launching myself at his face, I attempt to smother him.
“You have anger management issues. You know that, right?” he says, holding me back with one arm.
I laugh. “You have boundary issues.”
“I didn’t hear you complaining about my boundary issues last night.”
“Har har,” I say, flopping onto my back and pulling the pillow across my face. The bed dips and the pillow is jerked away.
