Page 73 of One Last Summer
He said this matter-of-factly, as if going behind Amaya’s back was the logical answer to my problem. And maybe it was. This was the kind of risky, slightly idiotic but also sort of brilliant kind of thing I used to do at Pine Lake as a kid, before I started living life like it was something I was terrified of breaking.
“That would probably piss her off,” I surmised.
“Which is maybe what she wants you to do? Wouldn’t that signal some sort of new fire in your belly? And prove that her little break idea worked?” he said, giving my foot a squeeze before tucking it back down on the deck.
He bent down and grabbed our two empty coffee cups, heading toward the open doors that led into the boathouse. “Think about it.”
Amaya had said no work emails, but she hadn’t specified with whom. We always emailed with clients as we prepped for pitches, and I had Gabbie Pereira’s contact info on my phone. She’d been one of the most hands-on CEOs we’d ever worked with—even sending us the request for the proposal doc herself. She was probably the kind of client who loved out-of-the-box moves like this, I reasoned.
Do something that scares you. Daily. I’d written. Take risks, damnit! I’m sure I’d imagined myself bungee jumping and skydiving on the regular, things that probably seemed terrifying to a clueless fifteen-year-old. What would younger me say about this version of herself, too nervous to send an email?
Fuck it. I reached for my phone.
Gabbie, hey! I typed. Thought you might like a preview of what we have brewing—pun intended—for your Summer Ale. Looking forward to discussing this in person asap.
I cc’ed Lydia and Amaya, and then, just to shove it in Amaya’s face, added Abe’s name, too, and hit send before I could give it a second thought. The message blasted through the ether, the sound infusing me with an energizing jolt of confidence.
Tucking my phone down by my feet, I tried to settle my nerves by gazing at the water. It spread out before me like a giant slab of glass, perfectly smooth. A loon warbled somewhere in the distance, almost as if it were calling me to join it.
“Hey.” I leaned my head into the boathouse, where Mack was stacking newly clean dishes on the counter. “I’m going to go for a swim before I head up to find Marla.”
He nodded. “I wouldn’t dream of stopping you, Millen.”
Then he cupped a hand to shade his eyes and watched as I turned back away from him and into the bright expanse of sunlight, jumping feet first into the water.
31
“GOOD MORNING, EVERYONE!” I chirped, marching into Sunrise, still damp from the lake.
Sam was on her hands and knees on a yoga mat at the foot of her bed, rounding and stretching her spine, as Nick and Trey sat across from each other on Nick’s bottom bunk, both staring at their phones with giant cups of Dunkin coffee in hand.
“Hello, sunshine,” Sam said as she curled her chin up toward the sky.
“Everyone okay in here?” I asked hesitantly, giving Nick a questioning look. He replied by shaking his head, which I knew meant I shouldn’t ask.
“We’re good,” he said with a tight smile, though the flat tone of his voice suggested otherwise.
“Good, because I’m about to make you eat your weight in ice cream,” I said, giving Nick’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze as I brushed past him toward my bed, yanking my duffel bag off the floor. I rummaged around for a change of clothes, pulling out a rumpled but clean white tank top and sliding it over my head before grabbing my notebook out of my bag, eager to glance at my now-filled checklist. “I’m going to head up to the dining hall to meet Marla, if anyone wants to join.”
“What’s your boyfriend up to?” Nick asked as he shuffled by on his way to the bathroom. I haphazardly shoved my letter and list half under my pillow and gave him the stink eye. His tone was purposefully nonchalant, like he was goading me into responding.
It worked.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I said pointedly.
“What is he then, your lover?” Sam asked as she slowly pushed herself up off the floor. “We all saw that very Mack and Clara date that took place yesterday.”
“I mean, some of us were even on it,” Nick teased.
Sam’s choice of words caused my stomach to drop like an anvil. There was no way she could know what was in my letter, but hearing her say “lover” out loud was like a sudden shot of reality to my lust-clouded brain. My letter. It was sitting here in this very bunk, and I still hadn’t told anyone about it.
I pushed aside the guilt I felt over my intentional silence. What good would it do bringing it up now, just when we were about to leave?
“I’m going home on Saturday to Boston, he’s moving back to California,” I said matter-of-factly, and deliberately shifted all of my focus on neatly rolling my clothes up as tightly as possible to avoid her knowing stare.
“I didn’t ask for a geography lesson,” she pushed. “And besides, you’ve known each other practically your entire lives.”
I’d been foolish to think she’d drop it that quickly.
