Without pausing, I turn and step over the edge. My hair lifts gently from my face, and my arms hang delicately in the air over my head as I drop. The water neatly envelops me in its murky coolness, and I keep my arrow form until I hit the bottom. Coiled in a crouch on the deep, slick rocks, I smile at Hayes’s muffled shouting from far above.
I’m waiting. Waiting. Waiting…
He’s silent for a moment before the water suddenly rumbles directly overhead. He’s leapt after me, invading my underwater lair, and I push off the bottom—springing upward. The water presses roughly against my shoulder as I rise and he sinks, blowing past each other by less than a foot.
A short breath after I burst out of the water, he surfaces beside me and I shove his chest. “Are you trying to kill me?”
He splashes me back, hard. “Are you trying to scare the shit out of me? I thought the drop was too much and you were drowning. Why would you stay under the water so long?”
I blink at him. “You thought the fall was too much, so you jumped in after me?”
He’s breathing heavy. “It wasn’t a decision. It was an impulse.”
Treading water, we watch each other as our breath gradually slows to normal. When it does, Hayes turns and swims away from me.
His arms flex as he pulls himself out of the water, and he shakes his hair like a dog. My adrenaline is pumping, and I want to wrap myself around him right now, but he’s somber when he turns back to me.
I pull myself from the water after him and recline on a rock that’s been warming in the sunshine.
I’m killing it in this bikini with my cleavage and strong legs, but he doesn’t look at me as he asks, “Remember when I told you about hitting that dog while driving home in a blackout?”
“Yeah, you said there was blood on your car and it freaked you out. It’s the reason you’re taking a break from drinking.”
He closes his eyes. “I’m not just taking a break, Rory. I am an alcoholic and I can never drink again.” He rubs the water off his face with both hands and mumbles, “One day at a time. With God’s grace.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“I lied to you, okay?” He looks directly at me now. “I didn’t want you to judge me before you got to know me.”
I gesture to the air around us. “Hey, this is a zero-judgment zone.”
Hayes watches his hands as they massage each other. “It wasn’t a dog that I hit. It was a man.”
Holy shit. I keep my reaction tucked tight in my chest, but it isn’t easy. I don’t know what to say, and the silence draws out awkwardly. It feels as if I should know what to say, but damn, what do you say to something like that?
Hayes murdered someone with his car?
Finally he breaks the silence. “There was a whole investigation. I wasn’t supposed to be driving because of my first DWI, but they had no way of knowing I’d been drinking that second night. I’d left the scene while I was in the blackout. And then I got really lucky. It wasn’t technically a crime.”
“H-how did…?” The image of a team of high-priced lawyers marches through my mind, and I imagine my dad complaining about rich criminals paying to get away with murder.
I remind myself about the “zero-judgment zone” and nod for Hayes to go on.
“The autopsy showed that the guy had a .32 blood alcohol level, and the blunt-force trauma from getting hit by my car happened postmortem. He technically died of alcohol poisoning while he was passed out on the road.”
“Wow” is all I can say.
“Yeah.”
He kicks the yellow dirt with his bare toes before stepping onto the rock I’m sitting on. He stands over me and says, “An hour sooner and I’d probably be in jail for vehicular manslaughter right now, no matter how much money my family has.” He openly takes in my bikini a moment before crouching down beside me. “Rory, I am trying not to act impulsively anymore. I’m trying to think of consequences.” He traces my wet cheek with his thumb. “Being around you is making this so much harder.”
I don’t move, but I instinctively lick my lips.
He leans closer and hovers for a moment. My whole body is humming with anticipation.
Finally, he dips his head forward, whispers in my ear, “You are too dangerous,” and springs up to make a running dive into the deep water.
The splash hits me with a light spray, and I lie back on the warm rock, stunned.
“I’m sorry,” Hayes calls from the center of the pool of water. “I just can’t. I need to work through these steps and focus on my sobriety. It’s the only shot I’ve got.”
I roll onto my stomach and watch him treading water. At least Hayes makes a little more sense now. Thinking for days that he’d killed a man must’ve really messed with his head. No wonder he ended up feeling so drawn to me.
I ask, “So the guy was just lying there, dead in the street?”
“His wife had kicked him out of the house. His life was a complete mess. It was like a snapshot of what I could turn into after many more years of heavy drinking. I feel so sorry for the guy on one hand but am grateful to him too.”
I sit up, brushing the wet dirt from my stomach. I have the fleeting thought that it should be Hayes’s hands on my bare body right now.
Moving to the edge of the rock, I drop my feet into the cool pool. Cupping my fingers, I draw handfuls of water and dump them onto my chest to clean the mud.
When I look up, I realize Hayes is watching me with open longing. “You are killing me, Rory. Really killing me.”
I lean back on my arms. “You know, I don’t mind messing around a little bit on this hot August afternoon. No strings attached.”
He slowly sinks underwater and releases a big cloud of bubbles. When he resurfaces, he’s smiling. “I’ll just stay here in the nice, cold water, thanks.”
“Fine, I’ll join you.” I slide into the murky coolness and we swim toward each other. “But I’m keeping my distance,” I say. “If staying platonic is helping you cope, I’m good with that.”
“Thank you,” he says and assumes a brooding expression. After a few minutes of silently floating on opposite sides of the swimming hole, he adds, “You know, I don’t usually tell that story, and when I do, I absolutely stick with the dog version.”
“Well, I appreciate you opening up to me.”
He nods, but I don’t feel like he understands just how much I appreciate his trust. I want him to know how much his brutal honesty means to me.
I blurt out, “I lost my virginity in a stranger’s car the day after we buried my mom.” My mind spins back to the feeling as I left my body and endured the sweaty encounter.
The guy was older and had expertly produced a condom and taken charge. I was in my numb bubble of shock and grief and was desperate to feel anything. What I did finally feel amid muffled grunting and clumsy groping was a sharp, stabbing pain in my lady parts and a flow of blood to rival my heaviest period to date. The guy freaked out over my flair for bleeding all over the passenger seat of his car, and I resolved to forget the encounter ever happened.
I rewrote everything. I did not lose my virginity to some creep in his car. I was never a virgin at all.
And yet, here I am, treading water in a swimming hole in the middle of the woods as I reveal the whole truth to Hayes.
“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” he says. After a pause, he asks if it was consensual.
I nod but can’t help thinking of the time that it wasn’t. The next time.
“So, what happened? Did you ever see the guy again?”
I swim away from him, deciding how I’m going to respond to that. Finally, I say, “Unfortunately, yes.” I glare at him. “I can feel you judging me right now.”
“Hey, zero-judgment zone. You’re the one who called it.”
I look up to the trees. “He was sorry
for his reaction. And it was a really nice car.”
“So you kept on seeing him?”
“We went out again.” I cringe at the memory, but then remember that Hayes has just shared that he hit someone with his car. I can trust him with this. The words rush out of me. “But when we started making out, I changed my mind midway and told him I wanted to stop.”
Hayes is just watching me. Waiting for me to go on.
“He…laughed,” I say. “At the time I didn’t feel like I really had the right to stop him that late in the game. So I pretended to fall asleep. I figured that would get my point across, but he just kept on going. Eventually I opened my eyes and lay there, rigid, while he…finished.”
I plunge my head underwater like my confession needs a baptism of some sort.
When I come back up, Hayes looks away and says, “What an epic asshole.”
“I tried to tell myself it was no big deal,” I say, “but I hate that he thought that was okay.”
Hayes turns his eyes to me. “That was not okay.”
I dip my chin underwater. “We were both high. Shit happens. Not always for a reason.”
“What did you do?” he asks.
I think about all the times I dreamed of getting revenge on the guy. “I didn’t really do anything. Just left and never saw him again. I know it isn’t right, but it’s not like I could let my dad know what happened. My mom’s death had put us all in shock.”
The rage and regret wash over me afresh, and I try to hush the lions back down, but they’re awake now and can’t be easily lulled back to sleep. This is why I’ve kept this tucked away. Now they want to hunt.
Hayes has a look in his eyes I’ve never seen before. I recognize for a moment the lion inside him, and it’s vaguely thrilling. He asks, “Do you know where this guy lives?”
“It’s over. I’ve let it go.”
Hayes moves closer and looks directly into my face. “You did not deserve to have that happen. I wish you could see yourself more clearly.” Frustrated, he tells me, “You are a precious daughter of Eve.”
“Daughter of Eve?”
“It’s from the Narnia books. I thought you said you saw the movie.”
“It was a long time ago, but that sounds familiar.” I swim to the side and pull myself out of the pool. Avoiding eye contact, I squeeze the extra water out of my dreadlocks and lie back.
Hayes follows me out onto the rock and stands with his hands on his hips, dripping all over me.
“Do you mind, son of Adam?” I ask, acting more annoyed than I am.
“Why? Am I dripping my boy cooties all over you?” He gives a juvenile grin as he moves to sit next to me.
I sit up and stare at him, and his grin turns to a look of horror.
“Holy shit, I’m sorry.” He covers his face with both hands. “I wasn’t even thinking…and here you just told me about getting—”
“Don’t say it.” I put my hand on his arm, but he continues covering his face with his hands. “I’m fine. Really. And I’ve always used protection, so I have almost no fear of boy cooties.”
“Good.” He moves his hands from his face, and as we look at each other, he gets an impish sparkle in his eyes. “Then take this!” He shakes himself off like a dog, making me squeal as I try covering myself in defense.
“What are you? In middle school?” I ask, wiping his invisible boy cooties off my arms.
“No, but actually, the book I’m working on is for kids that age.”
I’ve known plenty of people who talk about writing books who never get around to doing the actual work of writing books.
Even my dad has always talked about his idea for a murder mystery based on a local historic case. My mom loved the thought of him getting published, and he would sit and tinker on his laptop sometimes. But I think he did it more for her than for himself. He hasn’t written at all since she died.
“Anyone can say that they’re writing a book,” I tell Hayes. “I’m impressed by people who actually finish them.”
“That’s cool. I look forward to impressing you.”
“Yeah, I’m not easily impressed.”
“Oh, really?” He raises an eyebrow in a flirty way, and I reach back into the water and use my cupped hand to splash him.
“Yes, really,” I say. “Come on. Now that you realize we’re not jumping to certain death, let’s give it another go.”
It’s a long, steep hike back up, around the backside of the cliff, but as we climb higher, the two of us begin speeding up more and more. Within moments, we’re engaged in an undeclared race to the top.
I grab his forearm and pull back hard as he laughs. With a burst of speed, he blows by me, braking when he reaches the top. He steps up to the edge, allowing his toes to poke out into bare air as he waits for me to catch up.
When I reach him, he leans forward, winding his arms as if he’s losing his balance. I can tell he’s joking, but I stretch out and wrap both hands around his bicep, dragging him backward, away from the edge.
“Pay attention,” I tell him. “The jump is safe but not entirely safe.” I point to the rocks jutting around the edges of the water.
He peers down and his face turns somber. “Shit. See that? Being around you is seriously bad for my impulse control.”
“That’s not fair. I’m the one who told you to watch out.”
He looks at me. “I was still showing off, trying to impress you.”
I squint at him. “You do know that telling someone you’re trying to impress them sort of negates the effort, right?”
He runs a hand through his hair, peering down at the water below. “I was clowning around. Wasn’t even thinking.” He looks at my hand, which is still holding on to his bicep, then looks back up at me.
He jerks his arm forward, pulling me along with it, and neatly catches me around the waist. He pauses only a moment before his lips are on mine.
The perfect balance of pressure and softness combine to make my head light and my body heavy.
Someplace in the back of my mind, I remind myself that Hayes and I falling for each other is something that should be avoided, but his excellent kissing is not helping me remember why right now.
We pull apart, look at each other, and then both dive back in for more kissing.
I rise up on my tiptoes, so I’m his height, and he picks me up, so I’m even higher above him. Leaning down to kiss his upturned face, I feel a vibration run through me and realize he’s humming. His hum morphs into an openmouthed groan, and I smile against his parted lips.
“Oh, so you like that?”
“Not bad.” I look down at him and think, I like you. Which terrifies me more than jumping off the cliff.
I wiggle free and move back to the edge. “Come on,” I say, and he moves in beside me. “It’s safe if we jump together.”
“You know I can’t full-on metaphorically jump jump with you until I finish my ninth step, right?”
“Well, what the hell are you waiting for, then?”
He reaches over and takes my hand. “I’ve been asking myself the same thing.”
“The least you can do is literally jump with me.”
“Just not figuratively,” he laughs.
“Counting down from step nine, then.”
We smile at each other and together count off, “Nine…eight…seven…”
We’re still holding hands when we call out, “One!” and I step over the edge a split-moment before him.
Flying through space and time, we don’t let go until we’re blasted by the cool water below.
Chapter Thirteen
Driving home, I ask Hayes, “You free later?” It’s time to admit I like hanging out with him. I’m even driving along the scenic route that I almost never take back from the cliff dive just so we can be together longer.
> “Actually, I’m starting my first shift at Starbucks at four o’clock today.” He grins at me as if this is great news.
I growl. “You would embrace the one big corporation that the town sold out to.” Kat and I have many strong feelings about the superiority of the independent local businesses of New Paltz.
He shrugs. “I really like their coffee, and the Mud Puddle wasn’t hiring. I can’t spend all my time stalking you, sorry.”
I sigh. “How about tomorrow, then?”
“I still have a lot of recovery work to do.” He rubs his hand back and forth over the top of his head, ruffling his damp hair. “And I know you want to move forward with the water tower thing, but I’m seriously torn, Ro. The thought of disappointing my parents again if we get caught is really too much. It would devastate them.”
“Hey, no pressure on the tower,” I say and am surprised to realize that I actually mean it. “We can just hang out.”
He grins at me. “So, what you’re telling me is that I’ve finally officially won you over?”
I blush and feel like I’m sailing over the edge of that cliff again. “Something like that,” I say, and then I freeze because I’ve just now realized what road we’re on.
We reach a dramatic curve, and I slow down and abruptly turn down a side street on impulse.
The lions are thrilled.
“Where are we going?” Hayes asks, his voice thick with suspicion.
“You’ll see.” After passing a few culs-de-sac, we come to a row of small, two-family homes. I say, “Remember that guy who wouldn’t…stop when I told him to?”
“Yes.” Hayes sits up, grabbing the dashboard and looking out the window.
“I don’t remember much about him.” I point to a weathered brick duplex at the end of the row. “Except that his nickname is Turp, and he lives right there.”
“And now you’re finally ready to do something?” I see the flicker of rage reignite in his eyes.
I shrug. “I was thinking about what you said. I know I didn’t deserve that. Maybe a little payback will give me some closure.”
Love and Vandalism Page 15