In any other circumstance I’d be all for trying something reckless and new. I would. But even thethoughtof falling flat on my face as Miles watches… well, I’d rather suffocate in a life jacket.
“Come on, Teddy, it’s fun!” Ronny says, barreling over the stern. When his foot connects with the same leather seat we’re sitting on, it skids, and he shoves against Miles’s back to catch himself. Miles lurches forward and knocks the wind from my lungs as he lands… Right. On. Top. Of. Me.
Forget the life jacket, I’m already dead. I’m not even on the same planet because Miles is touching me… everywhere.
Between the weight of him and the warmth of his skin, my breath ghosts out of my body. My pulse hammers through my chest and I sweat.Is this what a panic attack feels like?
Good. Perfect. I’m having my first panic attack with Miles on top of me. I’ve never been more mortified in my entire life.
But then our eyes meet. Lost in a caramel haze, only a small part of me remembers that everyone else is watching this. I should be scrambling upright, looking for a different place for my eyes to land than his. In fact, I hear Reed asking if we’reokay, but his voice sounds like it’s coming through a wind tunnel because every one of my senses is connected to Miles. All I can think about is the sound of his ragged breath inches from my face, the feel of his warm thighs pressing against mine.
But then he blinks and clears his throat. In one swift movement he lifts off me and says, “I want to go next.”
Everyone is momentarily stunned when Miles volunteers, especially me. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about him this summer, it’s that he isn’t the one who makes the decisions.
Is this him trying to get away from me?
“Go for it,” Reed says, trading him spots on the bench.
I’ve never seen Miles wakeboard, but I know it’s not his first time in the way he tightens the bindings to his feet with ease. He glances over his shoulder to make sure I’m watching, and then performs a replay with his hands.
He volunteered for me, I realize.He wanted me to know what to do when it was my turn so that I wouldn’t be embarrassed. My heart grows a pair of wings and takes off with him into the water as the boat idles away.I can’t believe he did that.
“So, Teddy, where are you going to high school next year?” Reed asks, scooting closer.
“Oh. Um… Jefferson High,” I mumble, trying to focus on him but distracted by Miles’s gaze trained on me. I roll my lips to keep from grinning and continue.
“It’s in Boise. That’s where I’m from. What about you?”
“Park City,” he says, sweeping his hand through his hair. “We live in Utah.”
I draw my eyes away from Miles, trying to give Reed my full attention.
“Cool,” I say, hoping my next question comes out as nonchalant as I want it to. “Do you know where Miles is going?”
“Oh, yeah. Miles goes to Montpelier.”
“Montpelier?”
“As in the city that’s twenty-eight miles from here. He and Shep pack up their trailer and close the fly shop at the end of the summer. They live on his grandfather’s land. He never told you where he’s from?” he asks, sounding surprised.
I guess I never thought to ask.I shake my head.
Then his eyes narrow a bit as he chuckles. “Well, I wouldn’t worry if I were you. I think their class size is about thirty-five kids.”
My face flushes. The line of the tow rope makes a snapping sound when it’s pulled taut, saving me from having to continue this conversation.
“Who’s on flag duty?” Mr. Morgan hollers.
Reed shoves the flag in my hand. “You should try it.”
I give Mr. Morgan a thumbs-up and then whip around to stare at the same eyes that are still looking back at me. Miles always looks at me like he’s remembering something. And I’m always wishing I could hear what he’s thinking when he does. I don’t know if it’s the breeze or the way my mouth hangs open in a trance from holding his stare so long, but it starts to feel like I’m eating cotton.
Mr. Morgan guns the gas, and Miles eases to the surface of the water, gliding back and forth between the wakes. It’s the most confident I’ve ever seen him next to fishing and tadpole-hunting, and I can’t take my eyes off him.
After landing several tricks, he lets go and dips beneath the surface, and by the time his head submerges, I’m standing up, dancing that little neon flag, my long hair fanning across my face.
Much to my surprise, a few tries and an hour later I’m doing the very same thing.
