Page 28 of One Last Summer
On and on we went like this, over and over without a word. Slowly, my brain started clearing out, the water sweeping away all my thoughts of Amaya, and Charles, and my bare, depressing apartment. My heart settled back into my chest, that sweet ache of pure, physical exhaustion slowly seeping into my bones.
From a distance, in between jumps and leaps and dives, I watched as our friends waved at us from the shore, gathered their stuff, and stomped out the coals of the fire. Soon they were mere shapes fading into the darkness as they headed up the hill toward the bunks, and it was just Mack and me, out here alone.
After what felt like an hour of propelling our bodies into the water, I clambered back up onto the raft and splayed out flat like a starfish, exhausted. Above me, the moon was tucked behind a shred of clouds, and the only sound was my breathing and the mournful call of a loon, floating somewhere on the lake. It was a haunting, high-pitched wail that was somehow both eerie and beautiful all at once.
The platform dipped as Mack lifted himself back on and scooted across the boards, lying down beside me. I didn’t turn to look at him, but I could feel him there, inches away. This was the thing about Mack. He radiated warm energy, a big, blinding beam, like a flashlight with fresh batteries.
The water was cold, but the air wasn’t much warmer, and my skin prickled with tiny goose bumps. Still, the pleasure of just lying there, wearied by the water and the emotion of being back in this place that I loved, outweighed my desire for warmth. I exhaled audibly, a sigh laced with pure pleasure, a sensation I’d missed more than I’d realized.
“Admit it, you’re glad I made you go swimming,” Mack said, giving my hip a gentle poke with his finger. “I think Pine Lake missed you.”
His touch lingered for only a fraction of a second, but it ricocheted through me like a bolt of electricity.
“It’s amazing how the magic of this place can come right back to you, like riding a bike,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady and my eyes locked on the stars bobbing and twinkling above. “It’s in my bones.”
“I get it. Sometimes it feels like this place was born inside of me,” he murmured, all scratchy and low. “I’m gonna miss it.”
“You’ve been here for so long.” I tilted my head far enough to see the outline of his face in my peripheral vision. “That makes sense.”
“Yeah, I’m not even quite sure what to do with myself if I’m not working here, you know? It’s been my whole life, practically.” He bit the corner of his mouth in thought. The sadness in his voice went straight to that soft part of my heart that always opened up a crack whenever he was near.
“Sometimes I feel like I use work to hide,” I confessed, and I quickly looked back up at the sky, not quite ready for eye contact. It was the first time I’d said this to anyone other than the therapist I spoke with online from time to time. “It’s a distraction from all the stuff I don’t know how to deal with. And now I almost can’t survive without it.”
“Is that why you haven’t been up here in forever?” he asked. He could have made some joke about it, called me a city girl again, but he didn’t.
“I guess,” I admitted, running a finger back and forth along the grained wood beneath us. “That, and there was just always something else happening that felt like it was more important.”
“Ouch,” he said in a pained voice, sucking air through his teeth.
“That’s not what I meant!” I scooted up onto my elbows to look at him.
“Relax, Millen, I’m just fucking with you. I know what you mean.”
“Oh, really?” I said, giving him a look that said I didn’t believe him.
“Yeah.” He rolled onto his side to face me. “It’s, like, the things you think you’re supposed to do take precedence over the things you actually want to do. And then somehow you don’t even want to do the things you cared about anymore because your brain has tricked you into thinking what you should do is more important. Or something. That might not make any sense.”
He lay back down and I followed, stretching out long again.
“It does, actually,” I agreed. “It makes total sense.”
“My parents asked me to go back to LA. They want me to run their business with my brother.” There was no humor to his voice now; he sounded flat, lifeless. “They need someone to handle operations, which I can do easily.”
I couldn’t imagine anything less Mack-like than music licensing. Judging from the way he sounded right now, he couldn’t either. And yet, he still smiled. It was resigned, and shadowed by sorrow, but it was a smile nonetheless, and this meek attempt twisted my heart up into a knot.
“It sounds like a ‘supposed to’ thing, instead of something you want to do.” I reached over and gave his forearm a sympathetic squeeze. As my fingers left his skin, his hand was suddenly in mine, pulling me back to him.
This is how it had happened, all those years ago.
The two of us walking along the path toward the cabins after campfire, flashlights in hand. Then, a quick brush of skin, and his hand in mine, pulling me into the shadows until we were face-to-face, up against a tree.
And now—just like when we were younger—it felt like the stars I’d been watching overhead were spinning down to earth.
“Isn’t that the way it goes, though?” His voice was a rumble; I could feel it across my skin. “Sometimes it feels like getting older is just letting go of what it is that you really want to do with your life.”
“Um, excuse me,” I said, running my thumb over his knuckles. My heartbeat thrummed in the palm of my hand, thumping loudly in my ears. “You do not sound like the Mack Sullivan I know.”
He let out a quiet laugh. “That’s just because you beat me tonight, and I’m a sore loser.”
