He smiles at me, water running down his face in glistening rivulets. “Nah,” he says. “You love me.”
And then he drops me in the lake.
That evening, after we FaceTime my mom and Bennett gives her a detailed play-by-play of how she got up on water-skis, my niece and I arrive at Charlie’s house in our pajamas with bags of chips, candy, soda, our toothbrushes, and more books and magazines than we can possibly read in one night. Charlie has the tree house all set up for us, with two sleeping bags and pillows on an inflatable mattress pushed under the window so we can sleep under the stars (number seventeen).
Bennett marvels at the view, the twinkle lights, and the arched doorway, and Charlie looks like he might float away with pride. He leaves us to ourselves. Bennett and I eat and talk and read and then eat and read some more until she can’t keep her eyesopen. I tuck the sleeping bag around her shoulders and quietly sneak out of the tree house with my toothbrush.
The house is in darkness, but Charlie has left the porch light on and the door unlocked. I sprained my right wrist in a waterskiing mishap this afternoon, so I’m brushing my teeth with my left hand. I hear the floor creak behind me. I meet Charlie’s eyes in the mirror. He leans on the frame. No shirt. Pajama bottoms.
“Did I wake you?” I whisper, even though there’s no one here but the two of us.
He shakes his head. “I was watching TV in the basement. I heard you come in. Where’s Bennett?”
“Sleeping.”
“Do you need help?” he asks, stepping inside the bathroom.
“With brushing my teeth?”
His gaze lands on the smudge of toothpaste that’s landed on my top.
I scowl. “It’s hard with my left hand.”
Charlie holds out his palm, and I raise my eyebrows. “Seriously?”
“I’m always serious.”
I hesitate for a moment, then hand Charlie the toothbrush. I stare at him, suddenly feeling more vulnerable around him than I have in a long time.
“Open up,” he says, gently taking my chin in his hand. He starts with the bottom molars, completely focused on doing a good job. When his gaze flicks to mine, an all-too-short shock of green, my chest squeezes. Charlie Florek is brushing my teeth, and it’s possibly the most intimate experience of my life. I grip the counter behind me because my legs are beginning to hollow out.
“You know what I was just thinking?” he says, voice low.
I shake my head.
“After tonight, we will have finished everything on your list.”
My eyes go wide.
“As long as you’ve taken one good photo, it’ll be done,” he says. “Minus the backflip.”
“Wow,” I try to say, and Charlie smiles.
“Spit,” he says. And I do.
He takes my chin again, moving to the upper teeth.
“I missed you last week.” His voice is rough, scraping down my body like a calloused palm. He’s still concentrating on the task at hand, and I can’t reply. “I couldn’t wait to get back. I didn’t stop the entire drive here. I felt like I’d left my family behind when I was in the city.” His eyes find mine. “You’re important to me, Alice. I just wanted to say that in case you don’t know. This year has been hard, and I’m not sure how I would have coped without you this summer.”
I let Charlie finish, and take a moment to wash my face with cool water. I meet his eyes in the mirror. “You’re important to me, too.”
With a hand on my shoulder, Charlie turns me to face him. He tucks a stray curl that’s fallen out of my bun behind my ear.
“I don’t want the summer to end,” I tell him.
“We can pretend it won’t.” His tone is casual, but his gaze is heavy.
The air shimmers around us. We stare at each other for one charged breath, and then we collide like knights on a battlefield. We kiss and bite and taste each other. Our mouths are ravenous. And so are Charlie’s hands, which move over every inch of skin he can find. Mine track his ridges and valleys. My shirt is off. His hands are on my waist, lifting me up. I sit on the counter, legs spread, reaching for his pants as he’s sliding off my pajama shorts.
