His T-shirt turns a darker color where the water hits him, and I can’t help but watch it spread and cling to him as he stares at me, his mouth open.
“What the hell?” he asks, a smile on his face.
“My bad,” I say with absolutely no apology in the words, something that is made even clearer when I hit him with the water again. He looks down at the shirt, now drenched, and back at me.
“You brat,” he says.
I aim it at him again, and while he once more gets wet, he also takes a step towards me. My eyes widen, and I take a step back, but not quick enough as he reaches forward and takes the hose from my hands. Then he directs it towards me, spraying me with the cold water.
“Oh my god!” I shriek, because it’s colder than I expected.
“My bad,” he says mockingly, then directs at me again. I let out a loud laugh, then start to move, turning away from him and trying to escape the stream. He chases me, spraying me as I yell and laugh, getting soaked as I go. The hose is long, and I run in circles, but never fully out of reach, enjoying this game.
“I give up!” I shout, throwing one hand up after a minute, my hand going to my aching side, a stitch from running and laughing stabbing my side. When I look up at him, he has a similar entertained look, and I realize either I got him a bit more wet than I thought, or his wild spraying of me got him just as wet as it got me.
Either way, despite the stitch in my side and the cold water making my clothes stick to my skin, this is the most fun I’ve had in…a long time.
With a sigh, I move to the ground, stretching out to wait for the stitch to resolve itself as I lie in the warm grass. Pulling my sunglasses that somehow stayed on my face off, I use the one, somehow dry corner of my shorts to dry them off, slip them on, and let out a deep sigh as the sun’s rays warm me through. After a moment, a shadow crosses, and water drips onto me. I look up at a smiling Leo, his soaked hair dripping down on me.
“Stop it! I said I give in!” I say with a giggle, shielding my face.
“You started it,” he says, but lies down beside me. I turn my head to him.
“Sorry, it just always looked so fun in the movies.”
“Dousing me in water?”
I laugh, but shake my head.
“No, although I’m seeing the benefits.” I look him over in a way that makes a blush burn on his cheeks. Just like his laughs, Leo getting shy or embarrassed is happening more and more often, and I’m realizing it’s fun.Flirtingis fun.
I can see why people do it so much.
I never thought I liked flirting. It always felt unnatural, scripted, and awkward, but I’m realizing it was. The only time I’ve flirted in recent memory was for a fake relationship, for the cameras.
But flirting with Leo feels…natural.
“No, I meant a water fight.” His brow furrows as he takes me in, clearly confused. “Like, hoses and water guns and water balloons. It always looks so fun.”
“You’ve never done that?”
“Not a lot of time for water balloon fights and water guns when you’re a child star. Plus, scraped knees make more work for the makeup crew, so it was mostly activities that were gentle or helped me improve in some way.” I stare at the sky, fluffy white clouds floating overhead, and smile. “That’s why I got into playing guitar. That’s a safe activity.”
“Wow, Willa, I’m sorry, I didn’t—” he starts, and an all-too-familiar embarrassment swirls in my stomach. I shake my head, then turn to face him once more. I see it there, that pity that I didn’t have what he deems to be normalcy, a normal, healthy childhood.
I do what I always do: fake it.
“I’m not. It was a sacrifice I made that gave me all of this,” I say. I’ve seen that look before. A pitying look, and I don’t deserve it, I don’t deserve people’s pity, their empathy. That’s for people who have had hard lives and rough times, not for pop princesses who were always handed everything.
Well, mostly everything.
“You can’t have it all in life. I chose my career, and I’m okay with that. I had some of the most amazing experiences, and I’ve never had to face any true hardships. What do I have to complain about?” He stares at me, assessing, trying to read past my shield, but I keep my smile on my lips, making sure it’s part friendly, part sweet, all airy and carefree before I turn back to the sky.
“Willa—”
“What do you see?” I ask, gently, desperate to change the topic.
“What?”
