If I Was Your Girl(17)

I nodded silently. “Did he do it himself, or did somebody do it to him?”

“If people drive you to something,” Grant whispered, his voice quaking slightly, “then it’s their responsibility.”

I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to let him know how much it meant to have found someone out here, in this place, who would stand up for someone like Tommy, who would stand up for someone like the boy I used to be. I leaned forward, searching with my fingertips, and slid my hand into his.

“You were a good friend,” I said.

He squeezed my hand and for a long moment we listened to the wind on the lake and the frantic buzz of cicadas as life prepared for its long, cold sleep.

“Thanks,” he said after a while. He put the flashlight down and lay on his belly, his upper body disappearing over the edge. “You know how to swim, right?”

“Yes,” I said. Swimming had been the only exercise I liked after puberty turned my body against me. Floating and darting through the water, I escaped the horrible tethers of my physical body. “I don’t have a suit, though.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, scampering down and out of sight. There was a momentary rustling and then his white undershirt soared over the tree house and landed at my feet. I stripped to my underwear quickly and pulled his shirt over my head—Grant wasn’t that much taller than me, but boy clothes were so loose and baggy that the shirt came down low enough to cover everything.

“Don’t lose that dress,” I said as Grant climbed back up. “It’s my favorite.”

“It looks good on you,” he replied. I fell silent as he hoisted himself back onto the platform and stood to his full, lean, shirtless height. He caught me staring and blushed. The tension broke as he exploded into motion, leaping off the edge. He hung suspended for a moment, arms spinning wildly, before straightening out and piercing the water’s surface with a whisper.

I held my breath for a few tense seconds before he surfaced, laughing.

“You could’ve broken your neck!” I cried, putting my hands on my hips. “Do you know how many people get spinal injuries from bad dives every year?”

He wiped his eyes and slicked his hair back, treading water gracefully. “No,” he said, catching his breath. “How many?”

“Well,” I said as I stood, “I don’t know either. But I bet it’s a lot.”

He laughed as I walked back toward the tree.

“I’m going to jump,” I announced.

“I don’t think—” he began, but I started running before he could finish. I reached the edge and took off. For one joyous moment, I felt weightless and free. And then came the burning slap as I hit the lake flat on my back.

“Ow,” I croaked, floating to the surface.

“I tried to warn you,” Grant said, swimming over.

“It’s fine,” I said, closing my eyes and feeling the pain radiate through my body. I didn’t mind it; pain reminded me I was alive. For years I had been so numb, desperate to feel anything at all.

I opened my eyes and stared up, watching the stars turn overhead. A firefly buzzed urgently above my forehead, pulsing brightly to attract a mate. I sighed and gently paddled my feet, all my fear from earlier melting away.

Finally, after what could have been minutes or hours, Grant paddled toward the shore. He strode smoothly out of the water, not showing any sign of fatigue, and stared at me as I emerged.

“What?” I asked, looking down and panicking when I saw the thin white T-shirt sticking to my black bra. I crossed my arms over my chest and felt my face color.

“You’re beautiful.”

I blinked in surprise. No boy had ever told me that before.

He grabbed my hand and we began the walk to my apartment. Reeds gave way to cut grass, and soon we were on a sidewalk. Streetlamps glowed through the trees.

“You know what I’m gonna ask you, right?” Grant said. “Because I’d like to kiss you right now.”

My heart caught in my chest. “Really?”

“We don’t have to,” he said quickly. “I know what you said before, about not being able to date.…”

“No,” I said. I leaned over and placed my hand on his. “I mean stop worrying. Yes. I mean yes.”

He started to say something else but I closed my eyes and leaned toward him. He touched my face and met me halfway. Our lips were beaded with lake water. The kiss only lasted for a moment, but my mouth was numb and warm all at once.

He took my hand again and we finished the walk to my apartment in a pleasant, comfortable silence, my whole body singing with joy.

Except, a voice in my head whispered, he would never have done this if he knew the truth.

“Is something wrong?” he said, giving me a concerned look. I realized I’d been lost in thought.

“Oh,” I said. “No. Nothing’s wrong.”

“It was a bad kiss, wasn’t it?” He groaned.

“No, it was great. It’s something else.” I hadn’t expected this, hadn’t planned for it, wasn’t ready yet. But my lips were still warm from the kiss, and I felt more alive than I ever had. Happier than any medication had ever made me. Maybe I would never be ready; maybe I had to leap off the dock even if it meant falling flat moments later. Maybe I had to just let go. “I just … I like you.” It felt like a relief to finally say something true.