Nate pulled his clothes back on and eased down beside her. “So, up to much later?”
“Actually,” she said, tapping her temple, “thinking an early night. This is still recovering.”
“Ah.” He nodded, the way someone does when they’ve survived a battle and now understand the stakes. “Makes sense.”
She smiled, relieved. “You?”
“Same, honestly. Dinner. Bed. Weird cheese dreams.”
They both leaned back, elbows digging into the pebbles, legs stretched toward the lake, anarchy swirling around them. A group of teenagers shrieked as someone was shoved into the water. A volleyball skittered to the ground and rolled past, followed by an apologetic shout. Music blasted from three different directions at once, colliding into a tinny, off-key soundtrack.
Allegra tipped her head back anyway, eyes fluttering closed behind her shades, letting the sun warm her skin. For a moment, the noise blurred into something distant and harmless. Like the world could spin itself into chaos all it wanted. She was perfectly content right here.
Nate cleared his throat. “So, uh…”
She peeked one eye open.
He was picking idly at a pebble, not quite meeting her gaze. “I had fun today.”
Her chest did that thing. The one where it lifted like she’d just crested the top of a rollercoaster, heart thumping with oh shit, what’s next?
“And I was wondering,” he continued, “if maybe you’d want to hang out tomorrow?”
The rollercoaster dropped. Her stomach tried to locate itself somewhere near her knees. Yes. Oh God, yes. Another whole day of being Ella. Sunburn magnet, fondue connoisseur, completely average twenty-three-year-old who definitely hadn’t spent the afternoon cataloging the way Nate’s smile crinkled the edges of his eyes.
She turned to face him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. “Yeah,” she said, trying to sound casual and not like her heart was attempting to escape through her ribs. “I’d like that.”
His eyes widened as if he’d been bracing for a hard “no” and instead got exactly what he’d hoped for. “Cool.”
They lapsed into silence. Nate kicked at the pebbles, sending a spray over his foot. He opened his mouth like he was about to say something, then stopped. Closed it. Opened it again.
“Oh my God,” Allegra said. “Spit it out before you sprain something.”
“Okay,” Nate said, sitting up suddenly. “There’s this thing I’ve seen people doing. Floating down the river at the end of the lake.” He made a vague circling motion with his hand. “On, like, inflatable tubes. What’s that river called again?”
“The Rhône.”
“Right! The Rhône.” He snapped his fingers, pleased with himself. “Floating down the Rhône. And I was thinking…” He hesitated, scratching his cheek. “It looked fun. Would you want to try it?”
Allegra knew exactly what he meant. She’d seen it a hundred times. The slow, laughing parade of people drifting downstream, legs dangling in the water, drinks clutched in precarious hands,tubes bumping together like a flotation-device conga line. She’d always watched from the sidelines — the shore, shaded balconies, the decks of speedboats cutting purposefully in the opposite direction.
“I know it,” she admitted. “I’ve never actually done it. More like observed.”
“Observed,” he repeated, amusement coloring his voice. “From a safe distance? What happened to ‘big fan of nature’?”
“Oh, well, I prefer to keep my relationship with fast-moving water theoretical.”
“So that’s a ‘yes,’ a ‘no,’ or a polite ‘maybe’?”
Her pulse skittered. Tomorrow. Together. A river with nothing to do but drift and talk and exist side by side. She sat up, straightening her spine as if posture alone could summon courage. “It’s a yes. Floating sounds manageable.”
“Perfect. We can both pretend we know what we’re doing.”
“Exactly. Confidence is mostly vibes, right?”
He laughed and settled back onto his elbows. “It’s on. Tomorrow. Rhône adventure.”
Chapter Seven
