I snorted. “Thanks for ruining the moment, smartass.”
“That wasn’tthe moment,” he countered. “The moment is imminent; the moment isairborne.”
Jump!I thought, unexpectedly so excited I couldn’t breathe.
But Connor’s outstretched arm blocked me from leaping. “The current is strong,” he warned. “Be ready to swim, okay?”
I nodded, the butterflies in my stomach stirring. I might not like the diving board, but I’d always been a solid swimmer. Everything would be okay.
“Three?” Connor asked.
“Two,” I answered.
“One!” He grinned, and at the very last second, when only the tips of my toes touched the bridge, I reached for his hand.
Eleven
I knew I was in trouble as soon as I broke the surface, completely miscalculating the meaning ofstrong current. I’d expected something intense, something that wouldn’t stop jostling me. But no matter how hard I kicked underwater, I felt powerless. There was nothing violent about the channel; instead, the water was calm. It was evensmooth, the flow like a conveyor belt…but one I couldn’t escape. “Connor!” I called as I fought being carried out to sea. Our entwined hands had been ripped apart upon hitting the water. “Connor, where are you?”
“Let it carry you!” he called back. I thrashed around until I could see him bobbing behind me, seemingly in control. “Let it carry you a little farther, then start swimming toward the seawall!”
This wasn’t Connor’s first rodeo, so my pounding pulse and I believed him. I took a deep breath, then stopped kicking and surrendered to the current; it scooped me up and swept me away in a diagonal direction. Only when I was in line with the boulders did I channel my inner Katie Ledecky, breaking into my best freestyle.
Unfortunately, exhaustion soon struck. My arms and legs shrieked, and while I was aware of Connor cheering me on, I could barely hear him over the blood pulsing in my ears.
Just keep swimming, I chanted to myself.Just keep swimming…
But when the seawall didn’t seem to be getting any closer, I started to lose steam. Being swept into the bay wouldn’t be the end of the world, right?Island Girlwas out there! Nick and Sage would see me!
It wasn’t until someone onshore waved at me that I snapped out of the fantasy and back into motion. A tall man in a blue baseball cap was walking down the wall, to the last rock. “Right here!” I distantly heard him call, arms over his head. “Focus on me!”
Okay.I inhaled, then exhaled.Okay, okay, okay.
“Olivia, you’ve got this!” Connor shouted right before I sucked in another breath, closed my eyes, and ducked underwater.
And slowly but surely, I made progress, coming up every several seconds for air and to make sure my coach was still in my crosshairs. Closer, closer—I was gettingcloser. The man nodded encouragingly as I swam and stretched out his hand the moment I could grab it. “Breathe,” he said once I was safely ashore, bent over and my body burning despite being sopping wet. “Just…” He trailed off when I managed to stand and we looked at each other. He was much older than I’d thought, maybe even close to Annie’s age with white hair under his sun-bleached hat and deep creases around his wide green eyes.
“Thank you.” I continued gulping for air. “Thank you so much. That was”—I mustered a shallow laugh—“a disaster.”
“It was my pleasure,” he replied. “I’ve dealt with manydisastersover the decades.” He paused, tilted his head intently. “Was that your first—”
“Olivia!” Connor blurted, and I unsteadily spun to see him emerge from the water, hair plastered to his forehead. “I’m sorry! That was so much rougher than last time…”
“Don’t apologize,” I said, feeling something untangle in my chest. “It ended in a meet-cute.”
Connor smiled, but the older gentleman didn’t pick up on the joke (he must not have been a rom-com fan). “That current waswild,” Connor told him. “Thank you for helping her.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, then added, “I like that.”
Connor furrowed his brows. “Like what?”
“‘Thank you for helping her,’” he quoted. “Not ‘thank you forsavingher.’ You recognize the distinction.”
Color rushed to Connor’s cheeks. “Of course.” His Adam’s apple bobbed and goose bumps bloomed on my skin. “Olivia doesn’t need saving.”
“Oh, yes, I can tell.” The man smiled and pointed to the bridge, right as a teenage boy in blue board shorts executed an off-kilter flip. He whistled. “Let’s hope my grandson doesn’t either.”
* * *
