Page 29 of One Last Summer
“Oh, well, that Mack Sullivan I know,” I said, and he jerked his elbow into my side as retaliation, never letting go of my hand.
We stayed like this for a moment, still and staring up at the sky in contemplative quiet.
He shifted next to me, and I followed him with my eyes as he untangled our fingers and propped himself up onto his elbow.
“The last time you were here, you had your boyfriend with you,” he said finally, staring down at me.
I waited, expecting some salty, coy retort to slip from his lips. But his face was oddly serious, and it registered that this wasn’t a statement—Mack was asking me something.
“We broke up last year,” I said, a rush of sound roaring in my ears, despite the quiet of the night. “He ended it.”
“Oof,” Mack said, lying back down. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I tilted my head to look at him, admiring the way his face curved and slanted, the strong shape of his nose, the delicate pout of his bottom lip. “I mean, it’s sad. But you know, I think our relationship became a ‘supposed to’ sort of thing. At least it was for a long time. Or maybe it always was. I dunno.”
I pressed my lips together, retreating back into myself. I’d said too much, more than I’d ever said to anyone about Charles and me. Touching Mack had scrambled my ability to think straight, and his soft, serious words disconnected my brain from my body, leaving my heart exposed and raw, and frighteningly open.
“I am really glad you came this year,” he said, his eyes still locked with mine. “Even if you did just kick my ass.”
“Well, see, that’s a want. I wanted to kick your ass, so I did.” I let out a low chuckle, but in my head it sounded like someone shrieking after sucking down helium.
“What else,” he said, his voice so low it was almost a whisper, “do you want?”
I rolled onto my side, his eyes steady on me as I tucked one hand under my head like a pillow. And then, as if possessed, I reached out and brushed those damn tendrils off his forehead, taking a moment to admire the smooth skin of his cheeks, and the lines that were beginning to form on his brow. There was a softness to him that was new, like he’d eased into his skin while I’d been away.
“Millen?” He said my name like a question, and I nodded, not sure of what I was answering, exactly, but confident that my answer was yes.
This time his hand reached for my face, his thumb running across my bottom lip, our eyes so close that our lashes could almost lock together.
And then it all happened at once, symbiotic; Mack pulling me closer, closer until I was hovering over him, straddling his hips. Me, leaning into him, letting myself fall, hands tangled in his damp hair as his lips, still cold from the lake, just barely pressed against mine.
It had been so long since I’d spontaneously kissed someone that I’d forgotten how something so simple could ignite the most complex sensations in the world. But here my body was, jolted to life.
I flattened my palm against his cheek, as if I couldn’t quite believe it was his body I was feeling and I needed to prove it to myself somehow. But yes, there he was: a nip of teeth, a hint of tongue, his chest firm against the damp cotton of my bra. Every cold part of my body was now raging and hot, a roaring fire somehow burning in the middle of a lake.
Have a passionate love affair.
Maybe fifteen-year-old Clara had been on to something.
His other hand stroked the back of my neck, his lips urgent against mine—and then like the smack of our bodies hitting the water, reality snapped back into us, and we pulled away from each other at the exact same time.
I scrambled backward as he watched me, his eyes wolfish, hungry.
“Um.” I was full-on panting like a sprinter.
“I’m sorry, I thought—” he started, a slightly bashful look on his face.
“No, don’t apologize,” I interrupted. “I wanted to do that.”
The cocky half-smile returned, but he didn’t say anything else. Instead, he shifted forward to stand, and I rushed to mirror him, assuming we were now going to have a very adult conversation about how we’d just reverted into two horny teenagers. But then he gave me that look, one I’d seen a hundred times before, eyes bright, testing me.
“Race you,” Mack challenged. Then he dove off the dock, slicing through the water like a knife, so sharp and smooth he barely made a ripple.
14
BACK AT THE beach, Mack grabbed his clothes off the ground and dragged his T-shirt over his wet hair and down his face, using it like a towel.
“Did we just make things weird?” I blurted out as I hoisted myself out of the shallow water, scanning the shore for my clothes. “Jesus Christ, it’s so cold my nipples are going to fall off,” I muttered before he could answer, rubbing my arms frantically.
