“Rhea,” he scowls, and I think,that's the Brighton I know.
“Yeah,” I huff. “Okay,” I whisper, looking around, and do the next thing I can think of. I kick off my shoes, stripping from my socks. His face tenses in confusion as I leave them on the path to take off in a sprint. I whip past him, just hoping that the lake is decently deep before throwing myself off the rocky ledge, three feet down into the frigid water.
The water splashes up around me, and I can feel the wet, muddy earth beneath my toes and hold my breath for as long as I can just to avoid the look on his face.Drowning feels like a more dignified option.When my lungs start to burn uncomfortably, I push back up to the surface, and Brighton is cleaning his face with the bottom of his sweater. A habit he seems to have, and one that causes my temperature to rise. His stomach is tight and bare as he dries off his face.Just let me die.I sink back beneath the water as he drops the fabric from his hands, and his eyes narrow in on my face.
Be normal. For the love of God.
I break the surface and tread water out from the shore as Brighton takes another sip of coffee. “You’re insane, you know that?” He says after a few minutes of welcoming, calming silence.
“Feels nice,” I admit, the chilly water nips at my skin and refreshes me better than a cup of coffee would. “You should get in.”
Why did I say that? Please just shut up.
“No thanks.” He shakes his head.
“What, afraid you’ll shrivel?” I tease.
Brighton glares at me, finding no humor in the joke. “I don’tshrivel.”
Cool, now that I know that…
“Fine, you’re just a chicken then.” I splash water up at him.
“Just not a fan of leeches.”
“Did you say leeches?” My brows furrow.
“The black bugs that stick to your skin, suck your blood?” He raises an eyebrow. The words come off his lips, and it takes a second to register what he’s said, but I’m moving faster than I ever have toward the shore. Brighton is laughing, but he offers his hand to me and pulls me up from the water.
As soon as I’m on flat ground, I’m checking myself over and spinning in a circle to try to get a view of my back I’ll never get. “Are there any on me?” I ask, my voice panicked as he continues to laugh quietly. “Brighton!” I hiss at him.
“Turn around,” he says softly, wagging his finger in a circle as his eyes trace down me. “Nothing,” he confirms after a minute or two.
“That’s good.” I breathe out in relief.
“Not surprising considering there are no leeches in this lake,” he says with a smug look.
“Are you fucking serious? You’re such a—” I step forward, but he doesn’t move, with his back to the lake, it makes revenge for his little joke easy. Before he even realizes what I’m doing, I lay both hands flat to his chest and shove him backwards. He hits the water like a ton of bricks, and when he rights himself and breaks the surface, his expression is deadly.
“How fast can you run?” he snaps.
“Faster than you, I think we proved that.” I cross my arms over my chest to control the way my entire body goosebumps in the cool air.
“You think you’re so smooth,” he groans, kicking to the shore. He hauls himself up on a few rocks and stalks toward me as I back away, still laughing and trying not to trip over anything.
"Don't you dare!" I yell as Brighton grabs the loose, wet fabric of my tank top at my stomach, pulling me closer to him as he shakes his head, sending water spraying all over my face.“Hey!” I cry out as the droplets hit me.
I shove against his chest and escape the unexpected shower with a loud gasp of laughter. When I clean the water from my eyes and face, he’s stripping from his sweater, and I’ve realized the massive miscalculation.Brighton’s naked again.
The water seems to stick to the tattoos and makes his skin shine under the warm light from the rising sun. And he’s right, my eyes widen as they hit the dark fabric of his wet sweats,he doesn’t shrivel…He inhales sharply as the cool morning air hits his damp muscles, and he throws his wet sweater over a nearby rock.
“I’m going to get swimmers' itch.” He turns back to me and points to his wet sweatpants, and I can’t help but snort at his concern.
“You can take them off,” I say before I can think about the consequences of what that means.
“No,” he sighs, “I actually can’t.”
He’s not wearing anything under them. This just got so much worse.
