by Anna Michels
“I am so happy to meet you,” Killian says, holding out his hand. I go to shake it, but he folds his fingers into a fist and bumps it against mine, giving me a goofy grin that reveals a small space between his front teeth.
“Um, yeah. Me too,” I say, shaking my head in bewilderment.
Mr. Flaherty hurries past, a clipboard held in the crook of his elbow. “People are lining up. Mel, get to the life jacket shed. You two”—he wiggles his fingers at me and Killian—“down to the water.”
Killian nods. “Yes, sir.” As Mr. Flaherty turns away, he winks at me. “Looks like it’s crunch time,” Killian says, taking off his baseball cap and setting it backward on his head. “Ready to get wet?”
“Heads up, Vee!”
A black inner tube rolls down the steep riverbank and slams into my chest, nearly knocking me over. I catch my balance and grab for the tube before it floats away.
“Okay,” I say, gesturing to three tween-age girls in tiny bikinis. “You’re next.” They pick their way over to me, squealing every time a weed brushes their feet, taking pictures with iPhones sealed inside Ziploc bags. They sit gingerly in their inner tubes, and I shove them out toward the middle of the river, wincing as one of the girls shrieks right in my ear.
“Have a good float,” I mutter as the current catches them. I pause for a second, hands on my hips, and try to figure out how many more people could possibly be waiting in line up by the life jacket station. It feels like I have seen nearly everyone from Butterfield in their bathing suits today—not necessarily a good thing.
“Vee!” Killian stands on the shore, shirtless. A hint of sunburn is starting to spread across his shoulders. “Sorry about that last one. My muscles got the best of me.”
“Whatever.” I kick some water at him. “Those girls might have been impressed, but I don’t go for gym rats.”
Killian pulls a ridiculous pose, his muscles popping in a way you generally don’t see on teenage guys. “Would you believe me if I told you I’ve never lifted weights in my life? I’m too lazy for that nonsense.”
“So how do you explain that?” I point at his bulging bicep.
Killian shrugs. “Genes. Luck. The fact that I grew six inches this year and am apparently turning into the Hulk.” He taps his chest. “Trust me, I’m a scrawny little pipsqueak at heart.”
I have to admit, he looks good—and not at all scrawny. But after a full afternoon of tossing sticky inner tubes at each other and trading good-natured insults, I think it’s safe to say I’ll probably never be able to set eyes on Killian without flashing back to the uniquely sickening smell of hot rubber and sunscreen. Mel can have him.
A couple of teenage guys jog over and splash into the river. “Killian Hughes! Dude, what’s up?” One of them holds out his hand for a high five but then pulls it away just before Killian’s palm meets his. “Gotcha.”
“Good one, Drew,” Killian says, his voice patient and measured. He pulls a couple inner tubes down from the rack and hands them to Drew and his friend. “Have fun.”
The other guy, a beanpole whose swim trunks are barely clinging to his bony hips, flashes a braces-filled grin. “Sweet gig, Kill. Getting to see who’s out and about in Butterfield? Any hot chicks?” He raises his eyebrows.
“Sure.” Killian turns his back on them and crosses his arms, squinting back toward the life jacket shed. “See you guys.”
Drew elbows his buddy in the ribs, and they toss their inner tubes into the river, hurling themselves on top of them and sending a spray of water over my shirt.
“Friends of yours?” I ask once they’ve floated out of earshot.
Killian snorts. “Just a couple of Trawley lowlifes.” He sighs and takes off his baseball cap, bending down to cup some river water into his hand and splashing it over his hair. “I don’t see anyone else coming. Want a break?”
“Yes, please.” I slosh my way over to the bank and flop onto the thick carpet of pine needles.
Killian joins me, slipping in the mud and splashing water everywhere as he tries to sit down.
I raise one eyebrow. “You’re like an elephant.”
“Nah.” He pushes his hair out of his eyes. “Elephants are more graceful.”
I close my eyes and try to ignore the shrieks and laughter from the people out floating on the river, concentrating on the birds in the trees and the branches rustling in the light wind. My body relaxes as a cool breeze caresses my face. This isn’t so bad.
“So, Mel said you guys are going to be seniors?” Killian busts my Zen moment wide open.
I take a breath and sit up. “Yeah. You?”
Killian nods. “Same. Me and the twenty others in my graduating class.”
“Wow, small school. Is that how you know those two?” I gesture toward the river.
Killian nods. “Unfortunately. And, if you can believe it, there are more just like them. That’s why I decided to get out for the summer and work in Butterfield.”
“I hate to break it to you, but I think there are guys like that everywhere.”
“Trust me.” Killian’s startlingly blue eyes lock on me. “Anywhere has got to be better than Trawley.” He looks away again and cracks his knuckles. “It’s total backwoods. Everyone only listens to country music. We don’t even have a movie theater.”
Ugh. Another reminder that I’m fresh out of a job for the summer. “I used to work at the Butterfield Big 6.”
“Oh yeah?” Killian leans back on his hands. “So you like movies?”
I stare out over the river, embarrassed to admit I only applied there because of my then-boyfriend, who turned out not to be that into me in the end. “Sure. You?”
“Totally. I’m in the drama club at Trawley. Not that that’s saying much, but . . . acting, plays, movies, improv, debate. It’s all awesome.”
I shoot him a look. “You do debate?”
“Is the sky blue?”
I pause, a little stunned. “Answering my question with another question—and one that requires an objective answer. Classic,” I say. “I’m on debate too.” I wrack my brain, trying to remember if I’ve ever seen him at a competition before. I would not have pegged Killian as a debater, but knowing he must be at least a little bit of a nerd automatically puts me at ease. I’m not like Mel, who can strike up a conversation with virtually anyone about anything and turn on her charm so that fifteen minutes later they’re best friends for life. But give me a topic to investigate, an argument to make, and I will run with it until I prove my point or die trying. That’s what I love so much about debate—it’s black-and-white. There’s a right side (the one you’re arguing for) and a wrong side (your opponents’). Not like real life, where everything is so much more complicated.
Killian laughs. “No way. Is the debate team as nerdtastic at Butterfield as it is at Trawley?”
I smirk at him. “That depends. Has your team ever thrown you a Constitution-themed birthday party?”
“Is this a cross-examination?”
“Are we only speaking in questions?” I smile, and Killian kicks some water at me. “Seriously, it’s a total nerd alert over at Butterfield. We’re always collecting obscure facts we can use in our cases. You would not believe the stuff that comes in handy—like, we were once debating whether Santa Claus is real, and I won the argument because of something I remembered from science class about the Arctic’s polarity.”
Killian looks at me and raises his eyebrows. “You proved Santa Claus exists? You are officially my hero.”
I duck my head. “It was probably my best argument to date. Too bad it took place in the library during practice after school instead of during a competition.”
“So, do you want to be an actor or a lawyer?” he asks. “Seems like everyone who’s into this kind of stuff is either one or the other.”
“Lawyer.” I swish my feet through the water. Looking up information and arguing about it for a living . . . What could be better?
“Then I’ll be sure to add
ress you with proper respect, counselor.” He dips his head toward me in a mock bow.
“Stop it. What about you?”
“Both,” Killian says, deadpan. “I want to be an actor who plays a lawyer on Law & Order.”
Before I can respond, a shrill whistle rises up from behind us, and I turn to see Bob, Melinda’s dad, waving at us, his face almost as red as his hair. A lifeguard whistle dangles from a string around his neck. “You guys are done!” he shouts. “Slowing down up here.”
“Thank God,” I groan, wiggling my toes inside Mel’s sneakers. My feet feel bloated and cold, and I try not to think about all the things that could potentially be in the river water that’s soaked into my skin over the past few hours.
Killian clasps my hand and hauls me to my feet with one swift tug. We struggle up the riverbank, our tennis shoes making disgusting squishing noises as we walk. Mel stands over by the life jacket shed, outfitting a few late-coming floaters. I can’t help but feel a little resentful—she’s completely dry, all popped-collar polo shirt and untied Converse, while I look like I just crawled out of a mud pit.
“Wow, I’m really glad I learned how to use the stupid credit card machine,” Mel says as she comes over to us, dusting her hands off on her spotless shorts. “You’re definitely going to need to shower before tonight, Vee.”
“What’s happening tonight?” I wring some water out of my T-shirt.
Mel holds up her phone. “Brianna and Landon want to hang out. And Seth’s free. We should all do something.” She flashes a smile at Killian. “Want to?”
“Sure,” he says, pulling his T-shirt back over his head and interrupting Mel’s not-so-covert inspection of his abs.
Mel grabs our arms and pulls us closer. “Awesome. I have the best idea.” She peers over my shoulder and whispers, “Let’s come back here tonight, when it gets dark. We can watch the fireworks from the dock.”
“Mel! What are you trying to do, get us arrested?”
“Chill out, Vee. It’s my dad’s place; it’s not like we’d be trespassing.”
It’s all I can do to suppress my inner attorney. “Uh, actually, it totally would be trespassing if—”
Mel grabs my hand and squeezes hard, silencing me. “Are you in, Killian?”
He shifts his weight from foot to foot. “I don’t know. . . .”
“Oh, come on.” She sighs impatiently. “What’s with you two? Relax. It’ll be fun.” She crosses her arms and waits.
Killian looks at me, his eyebrows raised in a silent question. I hesitate for a second and then nod.
“Okay,” he says finally, taking his baseball cap off and running a hand through his hair. “I’m in.”
CHAPTER THREE
“This is a bad idea,” I say. Mel and I are back in the Buick, lurking in the corner of the Float & Boat parking lot, waiting for everyone else to arrive, and I can barely breathe through the cloud of perfume wafting off her body. The sun is just about to go down, and clouds are racing in from the west to cover the stars. Soon the sky will be pitch-black—perfect for watching fireworks.
“Shhh,” she says. “It’ll be fine. You’ll have fun—maybe even meet someone.”
“What? Who am I going to meet?”
She turns to me, her brown eyes huge in the dark. “You need a guy this summer, Vee. So I invited a few.”
I stare at her in disbelief.
Mel shrugs and looks away. “What? I took initiative. And it’s not like a setup; it’s just hanging out with some guys, and if you hit it off, great. If you don’t, you can continue to mourn Mark.”
I slam back against the passenger seat, shocked at the magnitude by which Mel has misjudged where I’m at mentally in the whole breakup process. “You invited Seth, Killian, and Landon. Landon is dating Brianna, you’ve already staked your claim on Killian, and Seth is . . . Seth. Who am I supposedly going to hook up with?”
“First of all, I have not staked my claim on Killian. I’m perfectly happy for you to jump his ripped bod this summer. But I also invited Vince and Adam. They’re both single. And hot.”
Vince and Adam. I flip through the pages of the yearbook in my mind, trying to put faces with those names. The only people I really hung out with over the past couple of years were Mark’s cross-country friends and my teammates during the debate season—and Mel and Seth, of course, when I could find the time. But Mel seems to know everyone at Butterfield High—especially the guys, despite the fact that she has never been in a real relationship.
I rub my temples. “Mel, I am so, so not ready to think about moving on. I’m barely functioning as it is. I still cry every morning when I wake up. I don’t have a job. I do not need a guy this summer.”
She sighs. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way. I know you think you’re totally devastated about Mark—”
I snort.
“But let’s face it, Vee: you don’t even know what it would be like to date someone else.”
I’m tempted to get out of the car and hitch a ride home rather than walk into what is apparently just a weird three-way blind date. “Yeah, yeah,” I say. “I’ve only slept with one guy—”
“You’ve only kissed one guy.”
I glare at her. Hearing it out loud makes it sound more pathetic than it actually is, and it’s not like she has that much more experience than I do. I’ve only kissed one guy because once Mark came along, I didn’t need anyone else, not because I’m a prude or challenged in the art of seduction. And anyway, Seth would have kissed me if I had let him—but that was all a million years ago, and Mel certainly doesn’t need to know about it. Especially now.
Mel grabs my hand as headlights wash over us. “Someone’s here.”
We watch as a dark pickup truck pulls into the gravel lot, followed quickly by an old white Jeep. We climb out and gather with Killian, Brianna, and Landon.
Mel gives Brianna and Landon huge hugs, carrying on as if she hasn’t seen them in years rather than just the couple of weeks since school got out. I wave awkwardly and try to think of something to say so they won’t ask me about Mark.
Killian nudges me. “What are the chances of us getting caught?” he whispers.
“Slim to none. No one comes down this road at night, and I told Mel we were absolutely not having a bonfire, so I don’t think anyone will see us.”
“Good. I really don’t want to get fired in my first week.”
I glance up at him. Mel sure seems to have gotten her claws into him quickly. “So why did you come?”
“I’m dying to hear you prove that Santa Claus exists. I’ve been thinking about it all day.” He knocks my shoulder lightly with his fist. Alarm bells go off in my head. Is Killian flirting with me?
I’m saved from having to respond by Brianna shoving a can of bug spray into my hands. I spray myself down—always necessary in the Michigan woods at night—as more cars pull into the parking lot. Vince and Adam arrive only a few seconds apart, as if they coordinated when they would leave, and are wearing comically similar outfits—baggy khaki shorts and tight T-shirts, baseball caps perched on top of carefully gelled hair. Mel introduces us, beaming over me like a proud mother.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, regretting the words as soon as they’re out of my mouth. We’ve been going to school together for three years—we must have met at some point, and I just didn’t bother to remember.
Seth is the last to arrive, dressed in his customary outfit of black clothes and outrageous, eye-catching shoes. Tonight he’s wearing his go-to, everyday red high-top Converse. He steps out of his mom’s minivan and jogs over to us, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet. I’m surprised he actually showed up; he doesn’t go to a lot of parties. Not because people don’t want him there—everyone is fascinated by Seth—but because he finds them boring and predictable, and would rather be home practicing the piano like the antisocial musical genius he is. At least, that’s the explanation he gives.
“Hey, Vee.” He touches my elbow softly an
d turns to Mel. “Let’s get this over with.”
Mel leads us through the woods, past the life jacket shed, and down to the dock. It’s not too hot out, but the nighttime humidity is starting to set in, making my whole body feel sticky. I trip over a tree root, and Adam catches my arm, leaning in close to help me up.
“Careful,” he says, his teeth flashing white in the dark, his hand hot on my elbow.
“Thanks.” I pull away as soon as I find my footing.
Landon and Vince are carrying a big cooler between them, and they start handing out beers as we settle onto the dock. I take one, steeling myself for an hour of pretending to enjoy the foul liquid, and immediately wish I hadn’t when Seth coolly turns his down.
Brianna and Landon wander off to the end of the dock, hand in hand. Mel leans over to Killian. “Isn’t it gorgeous out here?” The last rays of sun are just visible on the horizon, pink and orange among the clouds. It’s a typical Lake Michigan sunset, the kind I watched a million times while snuggling with Mark. I take a giant swig of my beer.
“Absolutely.” Killian hands Mel a can. “When do the fireworks start?”
Mel checks her phone. “Ten minutes.”
Seth slaps at a mosquito on his arm and scowls. “We’re going to get eaten alive. I don’t think the bug spray is working.”
Mel lays a hand on his arm. “Poor baby. A little mosquito bite isn’t going to kill you.”
Seth pulls away and crosses his arms.
“Okay.” Mel sighs. “Seth, if you didn’t want to have fun tonight, you should have just stayed home.” She cracks her knuckles and turns to Killian. “Want to go sit down there? We’ll be able to see better.” She motions to the end of the dock, where Brianna and Landon are already making out.
“Uh . . .” Killian glances over at me, and I pull my phone out of my pocket, pretending to read a text. “Sure,” he says, following her.