Page 64 of One Last Summer
It was straightforward enough, no teasing or flirting. I thought back to this morning and how I’d angrily reduced him to a checked box on my list and felt a slight pang of guilt for dismissing him so quickly. But I pushed it aside, because I couldn’t help but worry about what he wasn’t saying.
“You’re being really vague,” I said. Is this about us? I wanted to ask. Are we “stuff that doesn’t work out”?
But I didn’t. I just glared.
He let out a tired sigh as his eyes scoured the room, avoiding mine. “I know. Sorry. It’s too much to get into right now.”
“Well. I appreciate the apology,” I said, my voice curt, arms still tight and protective. Definitely about us.
“Can I make it up to you?” he asked, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he finally gazed down at me.
“How?” I questioned, my voice softening. It was so easy to let him back in, too easy. He was like a gin and tonic at happy hour, the perfect mix of sweet and tart.
“I planned something for us tomorrow morning,” he said with a shrug, and if the light were better in there, I could have sworn I’d have picked up a faint blush on his cheeks.
“Kind of like a date, as much as it can be, at a camp.”
“Okay,” I said, softening a bit, as the word date spiraled through my thoughts like a hurricane. “What are we doing?”
“It’s a surprise,” he said, taking a small step closer to me, his hands still in his pockets. “Just be at the soccer field at ten in the morning tomorrow, and wear sneakers.”
He wrestled his hands free and dragged them through his hair, the pieces still sticking up waywardly despite his best attempt at taming them.
“And a sports bra?” I flicked my brows up, eyeing him. I was still pissed, prickly and sensitive even with his apology. But I couldn’t resist flirting with him; it was like the only things I wanted to say to him were laced with innuendo.
“I guess?” He shrugged, giving me a clueless face.
“You guess?” I explained, half teasing, half serious. “How am I supposed to trust you if you don’t know how my boobs will handle whatever it is you have planned?”
“Okay, yes, wear a sports bra. And I promise, you’ll love it.” He moved closer until he was standing between my legs, hands on my shoulders. “Trust me. I know you.”
He did know me, and I couldn’t quite understand how he did it. How after years away and time apart, Mack was somehow wired to the workings of my brain, for better or worse. For a moment, I considered unloading it all on him: Abe’s terse reply, and the Google search results that hit way too close to home. How I’d been clinging to my old letter like a road map, and the stinging shame I felt at my life being nothing like I’d hoped it would be when I was fifteen. The way something as basic and vital as joy had escaped me for years, and now it was here, standing right in front of me.
But instead, I just ducked out from under his hands, even though every part of me wanted to throw myself against him, wrap my arms around him, and drag him to the floor. Sex felt simpler than parsing all my painful, unfiltered feelings, or asking him what this was between us, what any of this meant, or if it meant anything at all.
“Good night, Mack,” I said, pushing the door open behind me.
I waited for a moment, hoping he’d say something; beg me to stay, tease me, dare me to run back with him to the boathouse, escape all the anxiety coursing through me under the sheets of his bed.
But this time Mack, who always had something to say back to me, said nothing at all.
28
THE NEXT MORNING, I spotted Mack first, standing with his hands clutching the back of his head, fingers lost in that mess of hair, chatting with Nick, who was clad in a Hawaiian shirt the color of fruit punch. He had the same ridiculous glasses he’d worn to our Capture the Flag game a few days ago, but now he’d added a full-on captain’s hat.
Even though weirdness lingered from last night, the sight of Mack still vaporized my insides, turning every bone and organ into lovesick gas. Twelve hours without him had been too many, but I quickly shoved the mushy feelings aside and reminded myself that in a few days we’d be separated by an entire country’s worth of distance.
The mental clock that ticked closer and closer to me leaving Pine Lake was just the protection I needed right now to keep my heart safe. This couldn’t be anything, because soon this place—just like my time with Mack—would be finished, closed, gone for good.
But despite all of that, I couldn’t help the hopeful excitement that danced across my skin. I’d been looking forward to this ever since Mack had said the word “date” to me last night. And so I’d left my phone behind in Sunrise today; I didn’t want to think about Amaya snubbing my email any more than I already had. And I’d tucked my camp checklist next to it; today I wanted to be free of distractions.
Mack’s sparkling laugh cut through my thoughts, and my eyes lingered too long on the length of his neck, the tensed muscles in his arms, the way his shoulders always seemed just a little too broad for his T-shirts.
Well, free of most distractions.
“Well, if it isn’t the competition,” he said as I sidled up next to him, lips curling into the love child of a smile and a smirk.
“I thought this was a date,” I said, genuinely confused about what I was about to get myself into.
