Like he's trying to decide if I fucked his brother.
Hurt flares in his blue eyes. He blinks, and it fades into confusion.
His brow furrows. His lips press together.
"I'm gonna go for a swim." I motion to the sliding glass door. "Join me."
Ryan looks to his brother. Stares at his expression like it holds all the secrets to the universe.
Dean looks to me. Raises a brow. You see what I'm talking about.
I do.
But I still don't know how to fix this.
Cool water rushes past me. It presses my hair against my cheeks. Tests the straps of my bikini.
Swimsuits have an unwritten rule: you can choose cute or practical, but never both. Four years on the high school swim team filled my quota for one-pieces.
I can live with my boobs threatening to pop out of my bikini.
I press off the shallow end of the wide lap pool. Cut through the water to pull my arms to my sides. My fingers slice the surface. They glue together to push water behind me, propel me forward.
My feet hit the surface with a light tap. But it's enough my legs and ass burn.
It's been forever since I've really swam.
It's as comforting as it used to be.
But it's too familiar. I squeeze my eyes closed, blocking out the aqua sheen, saving my retinas from chlorine.
And there it is—the image of my mom at a swim meet, smiling at my coach, sipping from a flask she kept in the front pocket of her blazer.
My coach's concerned stare the next day. Her hand on my shoulder as she lowered her voice to that you can trust me, really tone and asked if things were okay at home.
My squeaky lie. Yes, of course.
Mom, on the couch, sleeping off her drunken stupor, empty bottle of vodka next to her.
Like mother, like daughter, I guess.
If I keep running from my feelings, I'll end up like her.
That isn't happening.
I guess that means I have to woman up and face my shit.
I blink my eyes open as I surface to breathe. Night falls over the backyard, casting the concrete in a beautiful, dark blue.
The kitchen glows with yellow light.
The tiny white string lights lining the backyard shine with a ghostly glow. They make the pool look haunted.
Maybe it is.
By all my baggage. And all of Ryan's.
Maybe Dean's right. I should tell Ryan the truth. Let him decide if he wants to stay or walk. Let him decide if he wants anything to do with a Leighton who's crazy about him.
My hands hit the wall. I close my eyes, dunk my head, do a flip turn.
I get halfway across the pool before I blink my eyes open. Chlorine stings. But it's not nearly as bad as that feeling in my gut.
Mom would rather drink than be there for me. Than have me in her life at all.
And Ryan…
Am I second choice again?
The backup if making Penny jealous doesn't work?
He says he doesn't want her back, that he doesn't love her anymore.
I want to believe him.
I really, really want to believe him.
My hand finds the wall. I do a flip turn, glide halfway across the pool, slice the water with my hands.
I go like that for ages.
Until I see legs. Ryan's calves. He's sitting on the edge of the pool, his eyes on me.
He motions to the plate next to him. "Dean said you didn't eat."
I brush my wet hair behind my ears as I egg beater my way to him.
"Showing off?"
"You do."
He arches a brow.
"How many miles did you run?"
"Don't do it to show off."
"Then why?" I move closer. Until he's five feet away. Three. One. My hands curl over the edge of the pool. This is the deep end. I have to tread water to stay afloat. I have to struggle to stay upright.
"I had to clear my head."
"But why?"
"Why were you miserable all afternoon?"
It's a fair question, but he's still dodging mine.
I stare up at him. "Do you trust me?"
"What are you talking about?"
"I want to explain something to you, but I can't fill you in on all the details. And I need you to trust that I have good reasons for that."
"Leigh…"
"Are you jealous of me and Dean?"
His brow furrows. His eyes turn down. He looks to the den. Finds only yellow light and clean furniture. "I don't know."
"Is that why you went on a run?"
"Not exactly."
"Then why?"
"My head's a mess." He's eyes find mine. "I can't explain it better."
"Dean isn't Mr. Powers."
"Leigh…"
I stare back into his eyes. "I can't tell you who he is. And I know you won't believe me until I do. But it's not Dean. He's my friend, but that's it. That's all I want."
"He makes you laugh."
"So do you."
"Not the same way."
"No. But I like the way you do it better."
He motions to the plate—a stir fry that smells of ginger. "You should eat something."
"Ryan." I can't reach his face, so I settle for his leg. My fingers curl around his calf. My other hand stays on the cement. "Don't do this."
"What?"
"Lock me out."
He runs a hand through his hair. "I'm not trying to."
"But?"
"I don't know how the fuck to handle this."
The cool evening air nips at my nose, my chin, my shoulders. But he's warm against my fingertips. My palm. "What about it?"
"You're too good at pretending."
"Isn't that the point?"
"It's fucking with my head."
"Oh." The words gnaw at my gut. I keep my hand on his thigh. I keep my eyes on his. "It doesn't have to. I got carried away today."
"You didn't. You were going with it."
"So you… you want to stop?"
"I don't know." He stares at my hand. "I don't want shit to change."
"It doesn't have to."
His fingers brush mine. "It does."
I swallow hard. "What do you mean?"
"Mr. Powers is going to realize you're amazing. He's gonna scoop you up. And then you'll be his."
"We'll still… We'll still be the same."
"Shit can't stay the same."
"It can."
"No. I'm starting to get it, why Penny left."
"Oh."
"You seem sober."
"I am. Mostly."
He motions to the plate. "You should eat."
"Later." I tug at his leg. "Come in. Let the water wash everything away."
"How's that gonna help?"
"It just does. Trust me."
He stares at me for a long moment. Then he pulls his t-shirt over his head and slides into the pool.
Water sloshes against the concrete as he surfaces. He treads water, his eyes on me, his body turned toward mine.
"I want to trust you about this, Leigh. But I don't know how." He dives under the water. Swims to the shallow end. Surfaces with his mane of waves sticking to his head.