She reached into the water and gasped when her fingertips sparked to life under the surface. The glow danced along her skin, clinging like it wanted her. Her laugh was quiet.
“God… I forgot how beautiful it is.”
I didn’t answer. I wasn’t looking at the water. I was looking at her. That fluttering feeling was back in my chest, and suddenly I felt like I might hyperventilate. I didn’t know how to control myself around her.
The blue painted her from below, making her seem untouchable. Celestial. Her hair had fallen loose, curling over her shoulders in messy strands. The way her curls fell reminded me of that one night last summer when we stayed up late to watch the stars over the lake. She had held my hand that night. I had felt something for her even then, but I hadn’t wanted to admit it.
She twisted slightly, catching me staring, and when her eyes met mine, something in my chest wrenched tight.
“You’re staring again,” she said lightly, but her tone had softened. She was curious about my behavior.
“Yeah,” I admitted.
“Why?”
I set my paddle across my lap, letting us drift into the glow. “Do you want the boyfriend’s answer or Max’s answer?”
Her brows lifted. “Max.”
I exhaled slowly, watching the light swirl around her hand. “Because I like seeing you like this. Happy. It makes me… I don’t know. Feel things.”
She was still, her eyes locking on mine as if she was weighing something heavy. The air became charged like the moment before a lightning strike.
She shifted to face me fully, knees drawn up, just close enough that I could reach out and tuck the curl from her cheek. I imagined leaning in and closing the space between us until her breath mingled with mine.
For a second, I thought she’d let me. Her lips parted slightly, her gaze flickering to my mouth.
And then she pulled back.
The glow on her face dimmed as she retreated, her shoulders curling inward. She didn’t meet my eyes.
“We… we should head back,” she said quickly. Her voice was tight.
“You don’t want to swim?” My disappointment was sharper than I wanted to show.
She shook her head. “It’s late. I’m tired.”
Her voice was composed but not innocent. She was making a choice, playing a character.
I recognized the move. When things got real, she folded away. But this time she wasn’t fleeing so much as controlling the endpoint. She’d started this game with me; she could stop itwhenever she wanted. She knew exactly what pulling back would do to me, and she was going to do it.
“Alright,” I said, picking up my paddle.
I caught the flicker in her eyes. It was a quick flash of satisfaction, like she’dwantedme to want more than she’d ever planned to give.
“Keep playing, and I’ll have you begging for me by the week’s end,” I snapped, and the satisfactory grin on her face told me everything I needed to know.
She was fucking teasing me on purpose.
The trip back to the cabins was quiet. We both stole glances at each other, pretending not to notice. When we reached the cabin, the place was silent, and most counselors were already asleep. We tiptoed to our shared room.
As soon as we were alone, the door closed, she busied herself with pajamas and washing her face. I just sat there, watching. Every slight movement was another reminder that she was so close, and yet I still didn’t have her. Not the way I wanted. Not yet.
She talked about how the water grew colder after the sun went down, about the glowing algae—probably with some Latin name she remembered from eighth grade—about the mosquito bite on her ankle.
She was talking about everything except for one thing that mattered.Us.
It was making me crazy.
