by A. J. Wynter
“You’ve got to—” I jogged beside her to tell her how the piece attached.
“I don’t need you to mansplain it to me.”
“Mansplain?” I raised my hands and took a couple of steps backward. “I’ve done it before. There’s a—”
“Stop.” She pulled the elastic from her hair. “I’m in university. I can figure out how to affix a goddamn waterline.”
“Fine.” I was going to tell her the trick, but if she wasn’t going to listen, watching her struggle was going to be fun. “Suit yourself.”
I stood beside Stan as Brianna pulled off her sweatshirt revealing exactly the kind of bathing suit I expected from her. A sporty one piece. The part that I wasn’t expecting was her body.
When did that happen?
I cleared my throat and trained my gaze on the pipe that bobbed on the surface of the water, then the horizon, then the boat droning by in the distance, anything that wasn’t the hot body Brianna Corbett seemed to have stolen from a supermodel. She wasn’t tall, I’m six foot three and she’s almost a foot shorter than me, but as she kicked off her baggy sweatpants, her legs seemed impossibly long, her thighs muscular, her hamstrings rounded and powerful.
“She’s changed,” Stan muttered.
Oh god. Was I about to have the most awkward conversation of all time with my boss? The last thing I wanted to discuss with anyone was Brianna’s body, let alone her father.
“The attitude,” he continued.
I laughed under my breath. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”
“I mean, I’m proud of her,” Stan said. “But she needs to learn the difference between confidence and arrogance.”
I would’ve used different words. Like she needed to learn the difference between being a bitch and being a fucking bitch. I nodded silently beside Stan, knowing better than to respond. Attitude and all, she was still his flesh and blood.
She dove into the waves and in a few powerful strokes was at the end of the waterline.
“Did you tell her about the—”
“I tried.”
Stan crossed his arms across his worn plaid shirt and squinted at the lake. “She’s going to have a hard time then, isn’t she?”
“Unless she’s Paul Bunyan, there’s no way she’s going to be able to get it on there.”
Stan chuckled. “I guess she’s going to learn an important lesson about listening today.”
I laughed and shrugged. “You said it, I didn’t.” I followed Stan’s gaze and watched as Brianna trod water on the surface. She piked her body, her ass cheeks reaching for the sky first, then her pointed toes, before she disappeared into the inky water. I liked it better when Brianna was a pudgy girl, she was easier to ignore. The silhouette of the confident mermaid in front of me was doing things to my body that my brain didn’t approve of. As the blood rushed to my cock, I willed myself to think about something not hot. I took a step away from her father, hoping that the fabric of my shorts was substantial enough to hide the half chub that I couldn’t will away. But every time the pulsing subsided, she would surface, and I’d have to start all over again.
“I should help her.”
“You should help her.”
Stan and I both spoke at the same time. I was grateful for the excuse to get into the cold water and rid myself of this unwelcome desire for this woman of firsts. She was the first woman to break my heart, and she was the first that I ever truly hated to my core. Hate isn’t even a strong enough word, I loathed Brianna Corbett and everything about her. Goddamn her for going away to University and coming back hot. My brain hadn’t forgotten what she had done to me, but parts of my body seemed ready to forgive.
“Never,” I muttered to myself. Then I reveled in the moment when my balls hit the lake water and all of my desire for the mermaid’s ass fizzled away, or more accurately, shrank away.
She was breathing hard by the time I got to her.
“I can’t seem to get the clasp to shut.”
I trod water beside her. Her eyelashes were clumped together like stars, and the sun glinted off her green eyes that matched the pine trees behind her.
“If you would’ve listened. I was going to tell you—”
“Enough with the lectures.” She interrupted. “What do I have to do?”
Instead of telling her the trick, I grabbed the line, took a deep breath, and swam to the bottom of the lake. It was easy. I could do it with my eyes shut. Luckily, Lake Casper was the clearest lake in Laketown, and I could see right away that the clamp had shifted and it looked like the pipe had been cut shorter. I tugged at the line, trying to maneuver everything into place. My lungs were starting to burn, but I continued exerting myself on the sandy bottom. It was almost in, I just had to... I twisted the pipe and the clamp, but they just wouldn’t catch.
Something jabbed my shoulder and I let out an underwater yelp. Even though it was a freshwater lake, there were some monster pike that could do some damage to your toes if they were hungry enough. The jab came again, but this time, I felt thin fingers grasping at my forearm, urging me toward the surface. I tried to pull away, but Brianna’s tiny fingers were clamped on my arm like a vise. We burst through the surface of the lake. I gasped loudly and hungrily gulped the air. When I could form a sentence, I pulled my arm from her grip and growled, “What did you do that for?”
She narrowed her lips. “Two minutes Brodie. That’s how long you can stay under.”
I managed to both tread water and massage my forearm. “That’s going to leave a bruise.”
“And you were going to pass out down there to prove a point.” She fanned her arms aggressively and put a few feet between our bodies.
“I was not.” I totally was. “I can do two twenty now.” I pointed to an invisible watch on my arm.
“I highly doubt that,” she shook her head. “You always came up just before two.”
Brianna and I had spent hours at the public beach, first splashing around in water wings, then bobbing at the end of the buoyant red and white rope having breath-holding competitions while our moms sat gossiping on the shoreline with the other Laketownie moms. She was always better than me. No matter how hard I tried, how much I let my lungs burn, I always clawed for the surface before she did. She smiled every time she beat me, bubbles of air slipping from her lips and clinging to her long lashes.
“The clasp won’t turn.” I shook the green eyes of the girl I had known from my mind and faced the angry ones in front of me that day.
“Should we get the boat and some rope?” she asked. “Maybe that would make it easier?” She had been treading water for at least twenty minutes and there wasn’t a hint of breathiness in her words.
Mine, on the other hand, was starting to show signs of an increased heart rate. “No... I... can do it.”
I swore her eyes softened, but only momentarily. “Brodie. This isn’t a contest. We need to get the water running. I think we can get it looped and clamped if we work together.”
Nodding, I hooked the end of the rope attached to the surface buoy around the loop on my boardshorts. “I’ll turn the pipe; you loop the clamp and I’ll screw the nut.” I laughed as I said the word nut. The guys on the team would have had a field day with the entire sentence, but Brianna rolled her eyes.
“Let’s just get this done.”
“Fine. On three?” I said. “One, two.”
She dove down. “Fine. Three.” I shook my head, took a preparatory breath, exhaled, and then followed her to the bottom. We affixed the pipe to the cinder block like a couple of pros. I hooked the buoy to the line and we simultaneously gave each other the thumbs up.
We were done. I waited for her to rise to the surface, but instead, she hooked her monkey toes around the buoy line and crossed her arms, staring at me.
She had gone down first; I had the advantage. I held onto the rope and listened to the blood whooshing in my ears with every pump of my heart. In the light current, Brianna’s hair floated above her, waving
like seagrass. She looked like a badass mermaid, at home at the bottom of the lake. I knew that she would’ve been counting, knowing how much capacity was left in her lungs. I had no idea, but I knew my tank was close to empty.
I was going to lose. And by the contemptuous smirk on her lips, she knew it too. I gave her the middle finger and then pushed off from the cinder block towards the sunbeams that shone through the surface. She followed behind me, surfacing seconds after.
The buoy bobbed between us. “That wasn’t even two minutes, Bishop. You’re slipping.” I was too oxygen-starved and breathing heavily to come up with any kind of good retort before she swam to shore.
I stayed out in the water for an extra few minute, wishing that I didn’t hate Brianna. I had loved her once, and I guess they say that you never forget your first love. I thought that she was the perfect girl for me, and she proved me wrong. I had to remember that, because the woman that she had become – well, I would’ve thought she was fucking perfect.
Chapter 5 - Brianna
THE WATER DRIPPING from my bathing suit fell loudly on the wooden porch boards. I could’ve stayed on the bottom for another thirty seconds, easily. It was a stupid game to play as kids, but it was downright irresponsible to do it as anger-fuelled adults.
I wrapped my towel tighter around my naked body and glanced over towards Cabin Three. Brodie had stayed to help my dad turn on the ultraviolet water purifying system and there was no sign of him.
The doorknob jiggled loosely in my hand as I stepped back into the cabin. Working with Brodie all summer was going to royally suck, but I hated to admit it, my parents needed as much help as they could get. As I dressed, I tried to formulate a plan, a solution that would get things done around the cabins and minimize the amount of time Brodie and I would have to be in the same room, or breathe the same damn air. Seeing him brought back all the insecurities that I thought were long gone. I was angry at myself. It turns out those insecurities weren’t gone at all—they were just buried down deep – and seeing Brodie had unearthed them.
I was physically sixty pounds lighter than the last time I’d lived in Laketown but being back in town I’d never felt heavier emotionally.
My hair was soaking wet and as I squeezed it out over the claw foot bathtub I was interrupted by a knock on the door.
“One second.” I grabbed another towel and wound my hair up into a knot on the top of my head. I pulled the door open, ready to throw some insults, but instead of a stocky hockey player, my mom was on my doorstep.
“Hi, sweetie,” she smiled. “I heard that you got the water intake all sorted out.”
“Yeah, we did.” I unwound the towel and rubbed vigorously at my hair. “Dad’s working on the UV system right now.”
My mom sat down on the plaid sofa. “With Brodie.”
“Yeah, with Brodie.” I started to untangle my hair with a wide-toothed comb, looking at my mom in the mirror.
“Bree. Are you okay with him working here this summer?” My mom rubbed the quilt on the back of the sofa with her hand.
“Of course, mom.” I didn’t meet her eyes in the mirror. “We need the help.”
“It’s just...” she paused. “Well, I thought that you two were friends.”
I set down the comb and turned to face her, leaning against the sink. “Mom, I haven’t seen him in two years. We were friends when we were kids.” I avoided the comment. Both of those statements were true, I just left out the part where we went from childhood friends to high school enemies. And that was years ago.
Mom stood up and ran her hands down her favorite linen skirt, the one with the big pockets. “If something happened between you two that you need to talk about, you know that I’m here. Okay?”
“Mom.” I tried to keep my voice even. “Nothing happened between Brodie and me. Nothing.”
Her shoulders seemed to lower from her ears, and I could see the tension leaving her body. “That’s good. I was just picking up on a weird vibe between you two. You know I wouldn’t have him around if he ever hurt you.”
I could lie my way out of this one too. “Brodie has never hurt me.” Physically, I added in my mind to make it a true statement. “We just drifted apart, you know, it happens.” I smiled and added a half-hearted shrug. “No big deal.”
She grabbed the tea towel that was slung over her shoulder and folded it in her hands. She looked me up and down as if trying to decide if she believed me or not. “That’s good to hear. Now, come and get some lunch. I’ve got a pot of lentil stew all ready to go.”
“Of course, you do,” I smiled. “It’s only ninety degrees outside, why not make a hearty stew?”
My mom took the tea towel and lightly whipped it at me. “Don’t be a smart-ass.” She laughed and then coughed. “Don’t let it get cold.” She cleared her throat and then padded off down the trail in her bare feet.
“MMMM SMELLS LIKE LENTILS.”
I was already sitting at the dining room table in the main cabin when Brodie and my dad burst in, letting the screen door slam behind them with a bang.
“With curry, your favorite.” My mom and dad kissed like there was no one else in the room. Growing up with a couple of hippie parents, I was used to their open affection for each other, but it still embarrassed me. I glanced over at Brodie who was examining the floorboards with extreme interest.
Clearing my throat, I scraped one of the chairs and sat down at the table. Brodie followed suit, taking the seat across from me. I caught his eyes and nudged my head towards my parents and rolled my eyes. He smirked and grabbed a fresh-baked roll from the wicker basket on the table.
“Smells good, mom,” I scooped a ladle full of her stew into my bowl. “It’s supposed to hit one hundred degrees tomorrow. What do you say we bake a pot pie, or roast a turkey?”
“Don’t you get sassy, Bree,” Mom smiled and unfolded one of the black and white checked napkins onto her lap. “We let you eat ice cream in the winter when you were kids. Both of you.” She took Brodie’s bowl and served him a giant portion of the lumpy stew.
Brodie dunked his biscuit into the stew and took a bite. “It’s delicious, Bonnie.”
“Thank you, Brodie.” My mom’s eyes sparkled as she smiled. Would they sparkle the same way if she knew about the terrible things he’d said about me? The terrible things he’d said to me. Probably not.
“Yes, the stew is good, mom.” I decided she didn’t need to know. They needed Brodie around more than they needed to know how mean he’d been to me.
We discussed the water system and the seemingly unending list of stuff that needed to get done before the weekend. Out of the ten cabins, only three were booked for a couple of weekends in August. It didn’t take a genius to see that the Casper Cove Cabins were in trouble.
“What about the regatta weekend?” I asked. The Regatta was one of the biggest events of the summer, after the artisan craft show, and the antique boat flotilla.
“It’s a few weeks away still,” Mom said.
“Have you ever thought about advertising?” I asked.
Mom and Dad glanced at each other. “I’m sure we will get walk-in traffic.”
This time I glanced at Brodie. He shook his head, almost imperceptibly, and I dropped the subject.
“Bree. Did you know that Brodie made the Otters?”
“I didn’t know that,” I said into my stew. I wanted to add that I didn’t care. The Otters were a big deal if you were into hockey, which, unlike everyone else in Laketown, I wasn’t.
“And Bree is on her university rowing team,” Dad added.
Brodie tilted his head. “I didn’t know that. Although it makes sense, she always was good at rowing.”
“I’m sitting right here,” I said and ripped a biscuit in half.
“Bree.” My dad cut his eyes to me.
Brodie looked directly at me. “You always were good at rowing.”
“I had a lot of practice.”
Brodie grunted and took a bite of his biscuit
. He and I both knew that my longest row had taken me all night after he left me on Outlaw island.
“More stew?” Mom asked redundantly as she filled both of our bowls.
She wasn’t an idiot. She knew that something was amiss between us.
“What position are you playing?” I asked, pretending to care.
“I’m a forward, second line.”
I nodded with my lips pursed. He was speaking a totally different language. “Is that good?”
Both he and my dad laughed. “It’s alright,” he smiled, and my dad smiled back at him.
“It’s summer.” I scraped up the last bites of my second bowl of stew. “There’s hockey in the summer?”
“It’s camp,” Brodie said. “We have exhibition games, lots of practices, drills, you know, getting ready for the season.”
“I see,” I said, not really paying attention.
“Brodie is going to go to be a pro player.” Dad pushed back from the table and beamed with pride as if Brodie were his son.
I dabbed at my mouth with my napkin. “Don’t you have to go to college for that?”
“No,” Brodie scoffed. “That’s only one way to get there. A lot of guys get drafted right from the Otters.”
“Oh, so it’s the dumb guys’ way to go pro?”
“Bree.” My dad shouted. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Sorry, dad. I think I’m just tired. I’ve had a long day.”
My dad pointed at Brodie. “It’s not me that you have to apologize to.”
My blood boiled in my veins. I wanted to scream. I looked down at my lap and took in a deep breath. Instead of shouting, I bit my lip. “Brodie. I’m...” Sorry was on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t do it.
“The Otters. That’s a big deal. Congratulations.” My voice was flat. I tilted my head at my father and raised my eyebrows in a ‘is that good enough’ look.
My mom stood and started to clear the table. “Let me help you,” I said.
“I’ve got it.” My mom swatted at my hand. “Why don’t you go get some studying done.”