"Get your diploma. Take whatever classes you have to. You're twenty-one. It's not too late."
He snickers as he leans back onto his elbows. "Sounds easy."
"Is this water swimmable? Any alligators?" I ask, feeling the heat from the sun scorch every inch of my exposed skin. I don't spend much time outside, and when I do, my fair skin on a nearly red-headed girl isn't very compromising.
"Nah, it’s safe over here. They’ve never seen any gators near here," he says.
"Close your eyes, then." I stand up and wait for him to do as I ask.
Instead, he looks at me with a raised brow.
"Despite the fact that you took your clothes off in front of an open window last week, I'll be a gentleman.” A gentleman wouldn’t be laughing through his words, and every time he reminds me I did that, I feel a little worse. Desperation is not attractive on me.
Raine turns his head, facing the opposite direction, so I take the opportunity to slip my shorts and top off. I kick my shoes to the side and jump from the edge of the dock into the bath-like water. "Okay, you can look now," I shout up to him.
He glances down at me with a small smile, almost like he knows this is all I ever want to do. This is what I dream of doing...swimming in a lake, being free and having a friend to share it with.
He tears his shirt over his head and stands up, stepping out of his shoes and dropping his pants. The sight of this causes me to gasp, and I turn around to give him the privacyIasked for. "Why didn't you tell me to turn around?"
"Boxers are the same as a bathing suit, minus the water resistance of course." And a lot shorter. He forgot to mention that part. A large splash showers over me, and I turn to find him. He's under the water, and I watch as his dark silhouette glides toward me. Raine emerges with his hair slicked back and a glimmer in his eyes. "Good idea."
"I'm full of good ideas," I quip, knowing there are no words for the sight I’m seeing.
"Yeah, like walking into a smoky biker bar alone?"
"Yup, just like taking home a sleazy woman you know nothing about." I can play too. I know he thinks I'm an idiot, but his choice of women the two nights I spotted him at the bar didn't exactly scream the definition of intelligence.
"Jealous?" he teases.
"No." I duck under the water, letting myself sink to the bottom where my toes brush against thousands of smooth rocks. I open my eyes, panning around, finding nothing but clean water and some small fish. With my much-needed pause, I float back to the top and push my wet hair out of my face.
"Do you always run away from serious questions?" he asks.
"I answered you, and I don't think your question had much seriousness to it." Why is he looking at me the way he is—like I'm a broken girl? Jealousy doesn't define a person, especially since I know little about him. I have no right to be jealous or feel much of anything for that matter.
"Why did you take your clothes off last week? I know you intended for me to see you. Yet, I know you aren'tthatgirl."
I find myself unable to explain anything beyond the truth. "I wanted your attention."
"Besides the fact that it worked, you could have just come outside and said ‘Hi.’ That would have gotten my attention too." His hand finds mine as he intertwines our fingers—the sensation of his touch surprises me. I can't see through the water and wouldn't expect this type of gesture from him after being pushed away the last couple of times.
"Guys like you don't fall for girls who just say, ‘Hi’,” I explain.
He brings our hands up above the water and presses my knuckles against his warm, kissable lips. The smallest bit of affections causes heat to rush through my cheeks and a flutter to erupt in the pit of my stomach. "If I were the guy you're accusing me of being, I'd agree. However, I'm not that guy. I’m someone who knows a good thing when he sees it."
"That's bull," I argue. "How many women have you taken home from that bar?"
His arm sweeps around my back, and he pulls me in a little a closer. "I may have needs and desires, but I don't confuse that with something that could someday be real." Forgetting the fact that I’m having a hard time breathing with his arm wrapped around me the way it is, I have basically thrown myself at him the same way he was baiting those women home. Technically, I'm no better. My need may not have been sexual, but I had a desire to be noticed.
"What is real?" It's such a broad question, but I get the feeling he has a simple answer.
He pulls me in even closer, our chests meeting, and our hearts pounding into each other. “Knowing there is a connection—one that makes you take a deeper look, thoughts of a person, which linger overnight, and a desire for more, even if it means getting my head chewed off by a five-foot-nothing, hot-headed, freckle-faced, badass wannabe." While I want to take the last part as an insult, there's truth to it—there's truth to everything he's saying and an explanation for the way I've been feeling.Aconnection.
"Now what?" I ask, looking up past his wet lashes and into his deep gaze.
"We wait until you're not living under the mayor's roof. I'm not about to go messing with him."
He's out of his mind.
