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“Rate your discomfort from one to ten,” he says.

“Mm…four, maybe?”

“So it’s six?” he asks, and his index finger twists into the ridge of my spine, which instinctively makes me squirm and blush.

“I can handle it,” I protest, and Aaron scrapes his index finger higher up my back, which tickles enough to make me knock my fist against his chest. “Don’t do that!”

“We had a water war here the first time, which I won easily,” he says. “But you’re hurting, so let’s call it quits.”

I scrunch my nose in disbelief. “We haven’t even done any swimming.”

“True. But it’s better to play it safe, since you’re still recovering. Besides, just sitting in the water is romantic, right?” Aaron’s grin is cheeky, and he does something truly diabolical. He snaps the elastic of my swimsuit.

Blood rushes hotly through my limbs, and I squawk in protest, then plant my foot on his abdomen and push with all my strength. “Brat!” I snap. “Let go! You’re supposed to listen to me!”

Aaron bursts into laughter, allowing me to thrust myself away through the water. “You’re cute when you boss me around,” he says, hiking himself onto the edge of the pool. “Normally you like it vice versa, so this is refreshing—”

“Shut up!” I wheeze out, and I plunge beneath the surface so I don’t have to listen to him. Naturally, I last about ten seconds before my lungs burn, forcing me to resurface.

Aaron is still seated poolside, dripping with sparkly beads of water, his face propped in his hand. “You done?” he asks.

“Are you?” I shoot back.

“If I must be. Though I could go on and on about our amazing sexual chemistry—”

I throw myself back underwater, cutting him off.

He teases and torments me all the way back to my house.

11

Climbing up through my bedroom window isn’t as daunting as coming down. Aaron goes first, pausing along the way to offer his hand and hoist me up. I’ve been shivering since the pool—once I got used to the water, the cool air became my next burden. Because I can never be comfortable, ever.

“So,” he says when we’re inside, and I’m panting from the strain of having climbed a whole entire tree.

“So…goodbye, I guess?” I say, peering awkwardly around at the sunset-orange walls and mounted pictures I still can’t get used to. Aaron has good taste. Or maybe I picked them out, and he hung them for me. “Sorry the date was a bust. But at least I remembered you pushing me into the pool. I’m hoping the memories will get longer.”

“Me too,” Aaron says with a softer smile, and I swallow hard, twisting toward my dresser to fumble around for fuzzy pajamas. We changed out of our swimsuits in the locker room, but I still feel damp in all my nooks and crannies. “Though our first date didn’t end after the pool.”

I pause my rummaging. “What do you mean?”

“I said you had to spend at least three hours with me for it to qualify as a date,” Aaron admits, guilt hinging on his voice. “Like, a dinner-and-a-movie length of time. So you suggested a movie to avoid talking to me. We watched it in bed on your laptop.” Aaron rubs his neck sheepishly. “You must be exhausted, though, so you should just get some sleep—”

“Let’s do it,” I say firmly.

Aaron blinks. I match his fierce stare with mine.

“What we’re doing is working, at least a little,” I say, pulling free my checkered flannels (not the leopard ones. I hate how he knows about those). “Flashes are better than nothing. Let’s follow our previous dates as closely as we can. What movie was it?”

Aaron glows with delight, I guess because he gets to spend more time prodding me. “1917.”

“Really?” It’s my turn to brighten. “I love that movie. Did you like it?”

Aaron gives me a fond look that warms my face. “Sure, sunshine,” he says.

We both fit on my bed and each have a pillow to lean against the headboard with, but it’s not a queen or anything, so we’re thigh-to-thigh. I try escaping this fact by wriggling under my comforter and sheets. This doesn’t seem like a date movie—why didn’t we watch a rom-com or drama or just something not horribly traumatizing?

“Do you know any history behind this movie?” I ask, nestling into my pillow. Thankfully, Aaron hasn’t tried snuggling up with me. He’s just sitting there, his lanky legs stretching across the bed, his hands folded in his lap. He examines my face with a carefulness that makes me want to bury myself deeper in my comforter.