I was eyeing one of the tree logs. There was a puddle separating me from it. It looked pretty shallow. But it was wide, stretching right into the trees lining each side of the narrow clearing. Long too. There was no way I could jump across. Maybe if I got a running start . . .
Brett appeared beside me and bent over, nearly knocking me backward. I yelled his name, waved my arms at my sides like a windmill to stay upright. He spun around and caught me. It was those football player reflexes. And he was smiling. Always smiling.
“Sorry,” he said then, hands still on my hips. His hair was wet somehow, and a drop of water was slowly trailing down his nose. “I was trying to give you a piggyback ride across the puddle.” He turned around again, bent over, and reached behind to pat his back. “Hop on.” I only had to glance down at my white sneakers for a second before deciding that this was a no-brainer. I wrapped my arms around his neck and in one swift motion Brett hooked his hands behind my knees and lifted me onto his back. I felt like a kid being carried through the puddle, water splashing up on either side. Brett pretended to almost tip over—at this point I had a death grip on his neck—then slowly let me down where the grass was dry.
“I’m gonna get a drink. Want something?” he asked. I shook my head and he disappeared.
I was looking around for a friendly face when I spotted Jenny standing on her own, leaning against a tree. I took a deep breath and walked over, careful to watch where I was stepping.
“Hey,” I said, waving.
“Becca,” she replied, sipping from her cup.
“I just wanted to say thank you.” She looked confused, so I added, “For handing out those flyers for my mom’s bakery? Jeff told me you gave some to the football team. That was cool of you.”
She shrugged, eyes scanning the trees. “It was no big deal. The pastries were really good and you know how much the football team eats. . . .”
Well, I didn’t, but I could imagine.
“Anyway,” I said, “thanks again.”
I started to walk away, then stopped, remembering what she had said in the bakery.
“I didn’t think we were friends anymore,” I blurted out, turning around.
She looked kind of stunned. “What?”
“That’s why I didn’t tell you about Brett. I didn’t think you would care. Or even want to know. And I didn’t want to tell you, Jenny. You always mocked me for being single, you made me feel horrible about it. So why would I want to share this with you?”
“I . . . I didn’t know I made you feel like that.”
“Well, you did.”
She was staring at her cup, kicking her foot in the dirt. It was weird to see her not looking confident like usual. “Is it too late for me to apologize?”
“Maybe,” I said. “But if you keep handing out those flyers for my mom, maybe we can call it even.”
Jenny smiled. “Maybe.”
She held up her cup in a mock cheers and I took another step in the right direction, heading back over to the tree bench, and took a seat. Brett appeared a second later, kissed my cheek, and sat beside me. His hand immediately went to my knee. I reminded myself this was what couples did. This was what Brett expected me to do.
I placed my hand on top of his.
“Talking with Jenny?” he said, sounding surprised. “What’s that about?”
I glanced at her again, standing by herself in the trees. I knew what that felt like, to be the outsider looking in. But Jenny had never been an outsider . . . so where were all her friends?
I met Brett’s eyes and smiled. “We were talking about you,” I said, “and why I let you bring me into this mess. I don’t get the hype. At all. This is really gross. My shoes are destroyed and my legs are covered in bug bites.”
“I told you not to wear shorts,” he said.
“You told me when I was already wearing them!”
His shoulders shook as he laughed. Brett had this contagious laugh. It was loud and booming and demanded attention. Kind of like him.
“I like the shorts,” he said. Pause. “You look nice.”
He was sitting too close to me and I was wondering how he still managed to smell so freaking good in the grossest situations. He smelled like cinnamon, kind of warm. Then I started to think about this cinnamon cake my mom used to bake. It was my favorite before the jelly bells. Then I was thinking about the selfie Brett sent me of him lying in bed that night after the arcade.
I blinked. Pulled myself together. We were already in dangerous waters, literally, and I did not need this fake relationship messing with my feelings, blurring what was and wasn’t real.
This, I reminded myself, was not.
“You’ve been looking forward to this for how long?” I asked him.
“Three years,” Brett answered. “Me and Jeff tried to sneak in during sophomore year. We waited until the game ended and followed the seniors through the forest. We thought we were so smart, that we’d get away with it. No luck.”
Jeff, appearing out of nowhere, sat on my left and effortlessly joined the conversation. “It was like they could smell the sophomore on us. We barely made it out of my truck before they kicked us out.”
“You two are so weird.”
“It’s Lovers’ Lake,” they said at the same time.
“And?”
“I was an un-kissed sixteen-year-old boy looking for a little love,” Jeff said, placing his hand over his heart dramatically. “Where better to look—”
“Than Lovers’ Lake,” I finished, “got it.” I turned to Brett. “What about you? Were you looking for love at Lovers’ Lake?”
Brett held up our joined hands. “Not anymore.” Jeff made a vomiting noise and stood up, declared he was going to get a drink. “For the record,” Brett whispered, too close again; my nerve endings were on high alert, “I was not an un-kissed sixteen-year-old boy.”
“Let the world know,” I called out, “Brett Wells was not an un-kissed sixteen-year-old boy!” Brett laughed, pinching my lips. When he let go, I said, “If Jeff’s your best friend, why doesn’t he know the truth about us?”
“We don’t really talk about that stuff.”
“Right. Guys only talk about dirt and cars and whatever else is ‘manly.’ I forgot.”
“That’s not what I meant. Believe me, not telling Jeff is for the greater good.”
“How so?” I asked.
Brett gave me a face, said, “Watch and learn,” and called Jeff back over. I watched him run through the water, spraying a group of girls who shrieked, and sit back down next to Brett.
“What’s up?”
“Duuuude,” Brett said in this voice that did not sound like his, “did you see who went into the trees together?”
Jeff’s eyes bulged out. “No. Who?”
“Tallani and Ryan.” Brett nodded toward our left. “Just walked right through there. We saw the whole thing.”
“No damn way! I thought they broke up!”
Brett looked at me and winked. To Jeff, he said, “Guess not.”
Jeff, about to explode, ran away, re-splashing the same group of girls, who screamed even louder now.