Not that I’m complaining. She looks good—verygood.
“What?” she says, checking to make sure the essentials are covered by the small bits of fabric. “I thought we were going to the lake next?”
“No, you’re right. We are,” I say, resisting the urge to roast her a little. Has she everbeento a lake before? “It’s just, uh—there’s goingto be a bit of mud. And sticks that might tear your skirt. But you look really nice,” I rush to add, because I’m overcome with a strong urge to make sure she knows she should feel confident about how she looks.
Her eyes flash up to meet mine, a sudden blush turning her cheeks pink. “I look nice?”
“You do.” I swallow. I’m having a hard time looking away.
“Thank you.”
“We should probably—” I start, at the same time she says, “Should we go meet the others?”
She leads the way, and ohshitis that a mistake: her bikini bottoms are cut to show off her curves and a whole lot of skin.
I may not make it to the lake.
I force my eyes down even lower, and that’s when I notice she has something stuck to her leg.
“Sadie?” I say. “You have something…uh…there.”
She twists around to check out the back of her thigh, just above her knee, but the mesh skirt is in the way of her fixing it.
I thought she was blushing before—but that was nothing compared to now.
“YesI brought wax strips to a wilderness excursion,” she blurts out suddenly, misreading my confusion for judgment. “I’m very particular about my legs, and they drive me nuts when they’re even a little stubbly.”
I hold my hands up. “I didn’t say a word.”
“I heard you in my head, though.”
I laugh. “What, exactly, did I say?”
“You were like, ‘Sadie, youknowyou could’ve saved some space if you’d left those at home, right?’ And I was like, ‘But it’s just so much morecomfortablethis way,’ and you just shook your head and sighed.”
“Wow—I said a lot in your head.” I grin. “But that does sound pretty accurate.”
Again, not that I’m complaining.
“Well, bringing all of that stuff was worth it to me,” she says with a smirk.
She totally caught me staring, and probably (accurately) read my every thought.
“I didn’t say a word,” I repeat.
When we get down to the lake, the others fall silent, as if they’re witnessing a rare bird. Especially the guys—but all of the girls, too.
“See, babe?” Zoe says, swatting Joshua on the arm before adjusting the asymmetrical strap on her navy-blue one-piece. “I totally could have brought my bikini. You look amazing, Sadie—I’m going to pretend we’re on the Amalfi Coast right now!”
Sadie’s face turns stormy at the mention of Italy.
“Thank you,” she says. “I’ve always wanted to go there.”
Matteo takes the lead on getting everyone set up with the kayaks, demonstrating how to get in and what to do if you tip over. Mackenzie Lake is large but not overly deep, so we’ll have ample space to paddle around without being too cramped.
“Want to go together?” Sadie asks me.
I really should say no, make up some bogus icebreaking exercise just to put some space between us; we’ve gotten close so quickly, more than I meant to. And after how she looked like she desperately needed a friend, or a hug, ormoreup on the cliff earlier—and now that white-hot bikini and everything it doesn’t cover—
