Underwater(47)

“I was thinking!”

“Well, stop thinking!”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

He’s poised to yell again. He opens his mouth to let loose. But then he clamps it shut. He smacks at the surface of the pool because we’re still standing in the shallow end. Drops of water fly up into the air and splash back down again. I roll my eyes. He rolls his back.

Eye-roll challenge.

He crosses his arms over his chest, all huffing and puffing and blowing my house down. I try to muffle a laugh, but it spits out of my mouth and breaks through the courtyard.

“What’s so funny?” he asks.

I try to be serious, but when I look at him, I know my eyes are cracking up. “You jumped in with your clothes on,” I say.

“Yeah? So what?”

“That’s so dramatic,” I mutter. “I was just thinking.”

“There are better places to think, you know?”

“I used to do all my thinking underwater.”

He leans back on his elbows against the edge of the pool, shifting to casual, like we’re suddenly at some fancy resort where people order drinks with tiny umbrellas in them.

“Okay, so what were you thinking about that was so important?”

“I don’t know. Stuff.”

“Like what?”

Who is he? Brenda? “Like that it felt good to be back in the pool.” Since Evan is of the water, he will understand what I mean.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good.”

He reaches out his hand. He flutters his fingers in the pool, daring me to take them. I reach out to him, only my fingertips at first. Then he grabs my hand to knot our fingers together just under the surface.

“What else?” he asks.

“Nothing.” I look at our hands before I look at him. “Maybe you a little.”

“I like that.” He pulls me closer to him. I look up. He looks down, pushing my wet hair back from my face. “But only a little?”

I nod.

“I wish you thought about me more than a little,” he says. “I think about you more than a little.”

I flutter in my heart and in my hands. “I might think about you more than a little. If I’m being honest.”

“Yeah?”

I nod again. “But I shouldn’t because of Taylor.”

“Taylor? What? Why?”

“Aren’t you guys a thing?”

“Whoa. Not even. We just hang out. And surf.”

He leans in, bit by bit. Close enough to make me suck in a breath.

“Really?”

He grins. “I swear.”

“So you’re glad that I think about you?”

He nods.

“And you think about me?”

He nods again.

“Okay.”

He leans in a little more. And I wait. He slows down for only a second. Until he finally presses his mouth to mine. We’re all soft lips and pool water until suddenly we’re not. We quickly become swoony thoughts and grabby hands. We’re clumsy and giggling until off in the distance someone whistles and claps.

“Woo-hoo! Get some!” they yell.

I break away from Evan to look over his shoulder and see Taylor standing by the mailboxes. Her camouflage tank top and black workout pants are drenched in pink, yellow, and pale blue paint, while her arm muscles bulge out as buff as G. I. Jane’s.

“I knew it,” she squeaks. “God, I love love.”

I raise an eyebrow at Evan. “Do the two of you have plans to hang out and surf today?”

“No. But I’d cancel if we did,” Evan says, ducking into me again.

I laugh, wrestling myself away. “Taylor’s right there. She’ll see us.”

“So what? I don’t care if the whole world sees us.”

“Seriously, Morgan. I’ve seen it all,” Taylor says, sauntering over. “Actually, I’ve done it all.” She waves us away with her hand like we’re as insignificant as spare change in the tip jar at Starbucks. “You guys being happy makes me happy, so carry on.” She sinks onto a chaise longue, leans back, and closes her eyes to the sun, making it easy to study her.

“Why are you covered in all that gunk?” I ask.

“Paintball. It’s my new thing.”

What? Is she serious? I pull myself out of the pool and hover at her feet, dripping water on her toes. “Paintball? Sorry, Taylor, but that is kind of messed up.”

She shades her face with her hand to look up at me. “Not really. At least with paintball, I have a gun, too.” She smiles, leans back, and shuts her eyes again.

Evan comes up behind me. We stand. We stare. We drip water onto the pool deck. I lean into him and whisper, “Is she okay?”

He shrugs. “In her own way, yeah.”

I look at Taylor, all long limbs, taut muscles, and tan skin. She’s completely oblivious to the fact that I’m trying so hard to figure out this new version of her.

“I’m going to get a towel,” I finally say. In my hurry to get to the pool, I forgot one.

“I’ll be right here.” Taylor doesn’t bother to open her eyes or move. “I just came by to say hi, but you guys are clearly busy. I’m good just hanging in the sun until I have to go to the gym. Toss down a trashy celeb mag if you have one.”