“But sometimes stepping back is the only way to keep them from eating you alive.” The invisible, yet palpable, shadows gathering around him let me know he wasn’t just talking about me anymore, but he didn’t offer up any more information.
For the millionth time in the last year, I wanted to ask him what had happened. How did he come to live with his grandma? Why wouldn’t he learn how to drive or use the Internet beyond Amazon? But he wouldn’t appreciate me poking at his demons, and he hadn’t pushed me when I didn’t want to talk about mine, so I tilted my head back until I couldn’t see anything other than the endless night sky. “Do you believe in aliens?”
“Wow. You’re really bad at casually trying to change the subject.”
“Shut up.” I gave him a light shove, but the motion rocked the boat, sending me sprawling into him and nearly dumping us both overboard.
That easy amusement he always seemed to carry in my presence danced in the air between us as he held my arms to help me up. My hands rested against his chest, so close I could feel his breath sweep across my lips. Neither of us moved. The humor on his face faded. Slowly, his fingers trailed down my arms, a gentle caress, bringing out goose bumps that had nothing to do with the chilly lake air. My gaze drifted to his mouth.
I could’ve kissed him. I could’ve …
Then Eric, Jessica, everything I’d read about myself on Twitter blasted through my brain. I scrambled back. Too fast. With too much force. The boat rocked the opposite way and I flipped right over the edge and into the water.
Paxton’s deep laugh rang out over the lake as I sputtered and choked my way to the surface. It was too early in the summer for the lake to properly warm, and my tennis shoes pulled at my feet like anchors. The small waves I’d created rippled against the side of the boat. I pushed my hair out of my face as I treaded water and glared at him.
He’d leaned over the side of the boat, resting his dry arms on the ledge, like he didn’t have a care in the world. “If you say please, I might help you up.”
I ground my chattering teeth together. “Please.”
He held out his hand, and I latched on a second before he saw the flash in my eyes and tried to let go. Too late. I had a firm grip, and I tugged. Hard. He went crashing into the water.
He broke the surface and shook his wet head, which sent droplets flying toward me. “You are so in for it now.”
I yelped and swam away from him, but he caught me around the waist and I was laughing so hard, I swallowed a mouthful of water and choked. He held me above the surface while I coughed until I could breathe again. He still held my waist when I put my arms around his neck. To stay afloat. My light pink tank top might as well have been white once I hit the water, which made my red bra completely visible, even in the dark.
Paxton glanced down. “I think my new favorite color is red.”
“Hey. Eyes up here, perv.”
“Sorry. Your bra is just … there.” He paused and turned his head. Our boat had drifted forty feet away. “We lost our boat.”
I laughed and took in another mouthful of the lake.
“Okay. You clearly can’t be trusted around water.” Paxton held me tight as he swam for the shore. I crawled up onto the grass, coughing a few times before I collapsed onto my stomach.
He lay next to me on his back, hands tucked behind his head. “You know, as soon as you’re done dying, you have to retrieve our boat.”
I leaned up enough to shove him, then fell back onto the grass. The soft blades tickled my cheek and hid my smile. I didn’t turn toward him though. If I did, I knew I’d want to finish what I’d considered on the boat before I flipped into the water. Then I’d be doing a different sort of drowning. But I couldn’t, under any circumstance, kiss him. Not when my life was already a complete mess.
By the time I got back home Gram and Mom had gone to bed, so it was like I had the house to myself. For once. I still had too much nervous energy bouncing around inside me to sleep, so I put on the TV. I had the recliner fully extended out in the living room, my quilt pulled up to my chin. The Bees had made this one for me and I’d had it for years. Pretty floral fabrics blended together in a burst of rainbow and life. Ferris Bueller’s Day Off had just started on TBS, and I decided to watch even though I’d rented it fifty million times already.
My phone buzzed, and my pulse quickened at the text from Paxton: Whatcha doin?
Me: Watching Ferris Burlesque
Paxton: Kinky
Me: Bueller, not burlesque asdfghjkl autocorrect
Paxton: Rental or TV?
Me: TV, TBS
Paxton: Now I’m watching too. I’d forgotten what a dick Ferris was to Cameron
Me: Total dick. Type, delete, type, delete. It’s late.
Paxton: Can’t sleep, so I’m watching Ferris Burlesque with you
What was going on? He usually went to bed way early in the summer so he could tend to the rabbits in the morning. Why couldn’t he sleep? I knew why I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about how close I’d come to kissing him tonight. His mouth would’ve grazed mine, soft at first. I would’ve run my hand up his chest, dragging him closer. My lips would’ve parted and he would’ve glided his tongue over mine.…
My phone buzzed twice in my hand. Two texts from Paxton: I always thought Ferris’s sister was hotter than Sloane. The next: You fall asleep on me?
Me: I’m here. If you think Jennifer Grey is so hot, you should have no problem with watching Dirty Dancing for the next movie on the lake.
Paxton: You say that like I don’t already own the collector’s edition
Because I couldn’t stand it anymore. Me: Why are you really awake?
Paxton: Nosy
Me: Bunnies throwing a wild party in the backyard? Too much noise?
Paxton: Funny, but no. I’m just thinking about something from tonight.
Me: Which part?
He waited so long to respond, I thought he’d fallen asleep. I put my phone on the arm of the recliner and snuggled back into my quilt. Ferris had just declared himself the Sausage King of Chicago when Paxton finally texted me back: The part right before you flipped into the water.
My face heated. Me: Oh
Paxton: Night, Macy Mae
I didn’t text him back.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
I AWOKE WITH A start and rolled over to check the time on my phone. Just after two in the morning. I groaned and stared at the ceiling as the horror of my nightmare lingered over me. I’d dreamed that I really had gone into that bathroom with Eric while I wore the Molly Ringwald yarn wig, and I told Jessica she could film it if we split the profits. Ridiculous, but the whole thing left a sheen of cold sweat on my skin.
Since I was awake, I opened Twitter again.
@JohnBClarkwell: I’d do #flyballgirl. #baseballbabe #IonceGotBusyInAburgerKingBathroom
@AbbyAnnaAndrewMommy: I don’t get all this #baseballbabe fuss. The girl isn’t even that pretty. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry every time her pic rolls past my timeline.
@SealedLipsTightShips: Going to a Little League game tonight. I don’t even have a kid. I just want to find a #baseballbabe
@JuneDayFashion: New Twitter poll on #flyballgirl fashion. Is it a No, a Hell No, or a Kill It with Fire? #baseballbabe #UglyClothesOfTwitter