The chalky haze makes the gold-leaf pages of the book in my hands glisten. It’s the size of a notebook with the softest leather cover. My heart begins to pick up momentum when I flip it open to a blank page and another and another until it thunders in my chest at the realization that it’s a sketchbook. The most beautifulblank canvas that feels both captivating and terrifying to hold in the palms of my hands.
I scan the front yard as if I’ll spot the person who left it for me. Which is ridiculous. No one is up at this time of day but me.
The crisp air bites at my skin, and I tuck the book up underneath my shirt to keep it dry from the moisture in the air. The lake shimmers with an inch of fog along the surface. Even my bare feet blanket with dew as I make my way toward the dock.
In a soundless tiptoe, I cross the wood planks, still double-checking to see if anyone is watching. A part of me wanted to slip back inside after finding the sketchbook, use it as my excuse not to do this, but I’m here and I can’t let this flicker of a flame that’s been ignited inside of me die.
I grip the hem of my cotton pajama bottoms and in one tug, they drop from my waist. My tank top with my new gift tucked inside finds a home within the same heap. I cross my arms over my bare chest as my nipples pebble. I start to feel that giddy sensation I felt on Reed’s boat last night and I let it wash over me. Then I shimmy my panties down my legs. Cupping my arms over my head, I dive into the water.
When I come up for air, I sweep my hair back out of my face, and I catch the backside of a familiar shirtless figure as he climbs the gravel driveway in a jog. Seconds later, he disappears behind the trees that shade the main road leading to Bloomington Lake.
I crank back the string for the eighteenth time.
Silence.
Short strands fall from my tiny ponytail with each pull, and a bead of sweat runs from the base of my hairline down the back of my T-shirt.
“What are you doing?”
I glare over my shoulder at Miles, who stands there with his hands balanced on his hips. The same guy who hasn’t bothered to interact with me in over a week now, but cares about my lawn mowing struggles?
“What does it look like I’m doing?” I snap.
“It looks like you’re about to throw out your back.”
“Why do you care,” I growl, brushing away the fresh beads of sweat that have gathered along my forehead.
I’m not mad at Miles, but he’s the person interrupting me during the one time I’m trying to do something nice yet unpredictable for my parents.
“Teddy, let me see that.” He sighs and grabs the rope start, brushing his fingers against the back of my hand in the process. They send a waterfall sensation straight to my stomach.
In one swift pull the motor hums to life.
“Figures. And don’t you dare comment on how small I am,” I lecture, pointing an accusatory finger in his face.
He holds both arms in a goal post. “Wasn’t going to. But I do want to ask where your parents are. I don’t want to be sexist, but your dad’s typically the one out here mowing.”
“They’re in town getting some groceries. We haven’t been getting along lately, and I just wanted to do something nice for them.”
His eyes drill right through me. “You just wanted to do something they wouldn’t let you do if they were here,” he argues over the sound of the idle mower.
I swing my hands out wide. “Fine. Sue me. I hate being cooped up in that cabin all the time. It’s either the restaurantor here, and here isn’t really my favorite place to be.” I give the mower a swift kick for good measure.
Miles reaches over and cuts the engine.
“If it’s not here, then where is your favorite place to be?”
For someone who has done a damn good job of keeping me at arm’s length, his attempt at connection just jolted my heart in my chest like the end of a four-foot-drawn tape measure.
“I think you know the answer to that.” The crystal-clear water of Bloomington Lake paints across my mind.
“So, go,” he pushes.
I shake my head. “Have you seen it in the middle of the day? Not like that. It will be swarming with people right now.”
“Okay, well, there must be something else that you enjoy doing… you go do that, I’ll finish this for you. You can have all the credit.”
Why, suddenly, is he taking an interest in something I’m doing?I narrow my eyes at him. This is a new side of Miles. Helpful Miles. Notignoring meMiles, orcan’t stand to be in my presenceMiles.
