Girl Out of Water(56)

What the hell?

I step outside and count about ten people in the backyard, hanging out, skating around the pool, and skating in the pool like it’s the bowl at the skate park. Then I focus in on the music. It’s an old song made recently familiar to me.

Bruce Springsteen. I narrow my eyes. “Lincoln.”

And then he’s in front of me, wearing jean shorts as always, a straw hat, and an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt with nothing underneath it but his dark, defined abs. He pulls me into a hug, his chest hard and warm, and tempting, but I shove him away. “What the hell is going on?”

Anger rattles through me. My aunt is sick, and he took that as an opportunity to throw a party? This is so unlike him. I mean, not that I know him. I met him a month ago. And you can’t know anyone in a month. And yet, I would have never expected this from him. This is the guy who spent ten minutes consoling Parker after Nash nailed a kickflip better than him. That guy doesn’t throw parties at other people’s homes when they’re in the hospital.

But—I guess he does.

Before he has a chance to respond, I snap, “Get these people out now! And where are my cousins? What the hell were you even—”

“Anise, calm down.” He tries to put a hand on my shoulder, but I back away.

“Don’t patronize me. My aunt just had emergency surgery, and you’re throwing a fucking party in her backyard instead of watching my cousins. Where are my—”

“Anise!” Nash bounds up to me and hugs me around the waist. A bit of chocolate rings the corner of his mouth, probably from the cookie in his right hand.

Before I can respond, Parker runs up to wave at me and tug Nash away, saying, “You have to watch this guy.”

“Don’t worry,” Lincoln says. “They’re strictly forbidden from going into the pool. No more broken limbs in the family, I promise.”

“And Emery—”

“Right there.” Lincoln points toward the back corner of yard, where Emery sits on a pool lounge, talking to Austin.

Lincoln speaks again, quickly, probably so I can’t interrupt. “Look, they napped for a while and woke up in bad moods, like really bad moods.” He lowers his voice. “Like my mom almost died again moods, and so I brought them out here, and we cleaned all that sludge out of the bottom of the pool so I could show them a few tricks, and then Emery asked if Austin could come over, and then one thing led to another. I texted you to let you know, but you weren’t responding, and Parker and Nash were loving it so much, so a few more friends showed up. I’ll send everyone home now if you want. Maybe I fucked up, but they were upset, and I was trying to—”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s what?”

“It’s fine.” I take a second to think it through, then nod. “Yeah, I mean this was pretty irresponsible and don’t think I’m still not totally pissed at you…but the kids seem happy.” Even Emery looks okay—maybe not happy but okay, a stark contrast to earlier at the hospital. “So it’s fine.”

“Okay. And I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.” Lincoln’s worried look transforms into a mischievous one. “Moving on though, I only have one question for you. Ever skate in a pool?”

? ? ?

An hour later, bruises, tiny scratches, and not-so-tiny scratches splatter my body, but I can’t wipe the smile off my face. Adrenaline pumps hard and fast as I balance on the lip of the pool, shout, “Dropping in!” then lean forward and plummet into the rutted cement bowl. Air slaps me as my wheels rattle against the uneven terrain, my pulse accelerating with every bump and jolt. The pool has less length than the bowl at the skate park, but I have enough room to ollie before I gear down, kick hard against the pavement to regain speed, and burst out over the rim. I land in a tangle of my own limbs, but at least I’m outside of the pool, a giant success in itself.

“You okay there?” Sofia leans down to lend me a hand. Her long hair flows over her shoulder, falling over her sleeveless white T-shirt.

I grin and take her hand, standing up to assess the damage. Just more bruising. “Most definitely okay.”

“Awesome.” She grins with infectious eagerness. “Watch this.” She turns and launches off into the pool with all the grace of someone who’s been skateboarding since birth.

“I kind of hate her.” Lincoln comes up behind me, speaking so close to my ear that I can barely think of anything but how near his lips are to my skin.

“Why?” I ask.

“Because talented people make me look less awesome in comparison.”

“Oh, I still think you look pretty awesome,” I say, trying to concentrate as Sofia lands trick after trick.

“Oh, you do?” Lincoln asks. I turn to find a roguish—yes, roguish—smile playing on his lips. “I think you look pretty awesome too.”

I don’t think we’re talking about skating any more, especially as Lincoln’s gaze flicks over me, making me all too conscious of my flimsy cotton shorts and tight-fitted tank.

“Come on.” He nods at the house. “Let’s see if we can scavenge up some of your cousins’ old pads, otherwise when your dad gets back, he’s going to ask why his daughter is completely black and blue.”

I hesitate. My heart races again, this time with a different type of adrenaline. I should probably still be pissed at Lincoln for throwing this mini-party, but of the many things I feel right now, anger is not one of them.