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“Fine, keep your secrets, Ethan Gallagher,” I teased, letting it go with a laugh. “I’m glad we didn’t have to sneak tonight.”
His eyes gleamed in the dim light. “There’s more we can do out here, you know?”
“Like what?” I leaned in, voice dropping.
A sly glint flashed in his gaze. “Skinny dipping. Pond’s perfect when it warms up.”
I pictured it—him dripping wet, water sliding down his chest, his eyes in the moonlight. “Just say when.”
We paused by the pond’s edge, the water a dark mirror under the deepening sky. Ethan turned to me, his hand still in mine.
We lingered and I stepped closer, resting my head against his shoulder. He tilted his chin to press a kiss into my skin.
The sounds of the woods enveloped us: the gentle lapping of the pond, crickets coming to life, an owl hooting in the distance.
I jumped at a rustling noise that was louder than any other noise I’d heard since we’d come out here.
“Easy,” Ethan said calmly as if nothing happened.
“What was that? Are you sure it’s safe to be out here?”
“It’s completely safe.” Ethan kissed me. That and the fact he didn’t seem worried helped me relax. “Sure, there are animals out here, but nothing that would hurt us. It could’ve been a branch falling out of a tree, which happens sometimes. Of course, it could be Mabel. Maybe we gave her a show.” He chuckled.
“You don’t believe in the myth do you?”
“Completely. I’m sure I’ve seen her a couple of times out here when I was a kid. I even helped build a place for her food. I can show you sometime.”
I shook my head. I was surprised that Ethan not only thought Mabel was real but that he’d seen her. “I’m going to need to know everything about that sometime.”
“Sounds like a story to be told on a summer night when we can have s’mores.”
“Hmmm. That sounds nice.”
He pulled me into a hug, making me feel safe from whatever might be out here. I wasn’t sure how much longer we stayed by the pond, but eventually we turned back toward the house, our steps slow as if we didn’t want to let the moment end.
On the deck, I pulled him into a tight hug, his bare skin warm against my shirt. He melted into it, his breath hot on my neck. “Shower?” he asked, voice soft. “Together or separate—your call. After that, time for pie.”
“Already had dessert with you,” I murmured, lips brushing his ear, “but pie’s good. And let’s shower together. I don’t want to miss the chance to scrub every inch of you nice and slow.”
He kissed me and then led me into the house, neither of us in any hurry to end the evening.
SEVENTEEN
ETHAN
The satisfying sound of my skates cutting through fresh ice echoed in the empty rink. For as long as I could remember, I’d loved that sound. I’d discovered it when I was around five or six when I’d arrive at practice early to work on stick and puck handling. All these years later it still calmed me, a constant no matter what was happening in my life.
After an hour of familiar drills, my head remained cluttered, thoughts bouncing between last night with Andre and today’s speech.
Last night had been incredible. The comfortable dinner conversation, Andre’s eyes lighting up as he described his summer camp plans, the electricity of the unexpected make-out session at the lake. Every hot detail played on repeat in my mind. A goofy grin spread across my face even as I lined up shots.
The puck hit the back of the net with a satisfying swoosh. I retrieved the dozen or so I’d shot and set them up again at the red line, determined to focus on the mechanics of the game rather than the memory of Andre’s naked body.
Despite wanting to focus on pucks, I was wondering if he was awake yet and if a good morning text might seem too eager?
The kiss he’d given me when we’d said good night suggested otherwise.
I shook my head vigorously and skated full speed to the opposite end of the rink. I picked up the puck and shot it once I crossed the blue line. It went wide, the thunk against the boards reverberating loudly.
