I dive into the lake and swim hard. I squeeze my breath inside me and swim far and fast. Not sure why I wanted Marion out in this water with me. Maybe to appease Conner. Maybe to get my fix of blond hair and soft legs.
My hands pull me through the water, but it takes more effort than running. My skin can’t breathe. There’s water all around me. More pressure. No air. And I can’t shake that image of Marion staring back at me. Saying nothing, like she’s okay with it. Like she’s not going to ask. Other girls, they talk right through that, but this Marion girl—she shakes your hand like she’s got the world figured out and she can stand in it. Like she’s not afraid of the ash.
I swim till my lungs threaten to split. And then I swim farther.
Breaking the surface feels like fire, and my body throbs, almost too dizzy to breathe. I buzz. Drink air. Kick myself afloat and turn to see if she’s followed.
My stomach drops and I tell myself I’m wrong about her. That maybe she’s not solid. That maybe she is one of those soft, wispy girls waiting for the world to save her. Only no one’s going to do that. Especially not me.
But then there’s a splash and her head breaks the surface thirty yards away. She spits and pulls hair from her eyes, and I can’t help but smile and swim to her. The water’s freezing and ridiculous, and if I hadn’t asked her to swim out here with me, she wouldn’t have.
“Does it get warmer?” she asks when I reach her. Teeth chattering. Arms pumping through the water.
“Just keep moving,” I say, treading beside her. “Your body gets used to it and the cold wears off.”
“Okay.” She nods, watching me. Waiting. My shorts cling to my legs, awkward in all this wet, and I realize, I got her out here, so it’s my move.
Only, I haven’t got one.
Her lip trembles and I want to put my mouth on it. Kissing her would be easier than talking. That was the whole point of getting her out here anyway, wasn’t it? To avoid talking. But something about her eyes and the way her arms cut through the water won’t let me.
I like that they won’t.
She’s not like Vanessa. Vanessa would never swim in this water. She’d care too much about her hair or looking stupid or whatever. Marion wipes her nose, and lipstick comes off on her hand. I like it on her hand more than her mouth. It suits her better.
“I haven’t seen you at one of these parties before,” I say, inching closer.
“I’ve been to a few,” she says. “With Lilith.”
“I’ve seen Lilith. She comes to these all the time, but you . . .” I trail off, wondering why I haven’t noticed her before.
“I know.” She laughs. “It’s hard to miss Lilith.”
“I guess.” I shrug, realizing it’s her hair. I’m used to seeing it up, not down and spread out over the lake.
“No, she’s . . .” Marion’s voice gets low. “Well . . . she’s Lilith.”
I don’t know what that means, but she stops treading water and the lake swallows her up to her chin.
“You’re cuter than Lilith,” I say, but she eyes me suspiciously. I meant it to be nice. But now that it’s out there, I don’t know what to do with the way she’s staring at me. Like she isn’t interested in the charm and the bullshit. Like she wants me to be something else.
I rack my brain for a joke, but it’s freezing, and my balls tighten as we circle each other. Yeah, this was a real genius idea. I adjust my shorts, thinking about how much they’re going to cling when we get out of this water, and how little they’re going to show.
“You feeling warmer?” I ask, and her bottom lip distracts me, bobbing in and out of the water.
“Sure,” she says, but it’s a lie.
“It’s fucking cold,” I say, and she breaks into a smile. “I’m an asshole.”
“Okay, a little,” she says, and I can feel the pulse of the water beneath us. “I mean the cold part,” she says, her teeth chattering. “You’re only half an ass.”
“Oh? Only half?” My hand finds the wet of her shirt, where she’s soft under this water.
“Yeah, it—”
But she stiffens at my touch. Making me not sure. Like I should remove it. Like maybe I shouldn’t be thinking about that bobbing lip and my mouth on it, or underwater skin. But I like the wet feel of her, and the cold buzz of the lake. Only, I can’t read her. She strips me with that look, like she’s waiting for something and I should know what it is.
“This was your idea,” she breathes, her fingers fluttering against the surface. I want them. Her. I want the ripple, and this uncertain feeling, and her mouth in the water tasting of tin and sticks.
Smack!
Her foot whacks against my leg, and I grunt, surprised.
“Shit! Sorry!” she yelps, her arms cutting away from me. “Are you—?”
“It’s fine,” I say, reaching out.
“No. You just startled me—”
“Marion. It’s fine.” I find her under the water. Find her waist. “The guys kick me at practice every day.”
I squeeze her side, but that doesn’t comfort her.
“It’s no big thing,” I say.
“Right, of course they do.”
“They do.”
“I know.”
The ripples calm, and my hand is a rock against her hip.
“I, uh . . . ,” I begin, but she’s so quiet. Eyes on me, and I’m at a loss for what to say. Her skirt floats up against the back of my hand like the tentacle of a jellyfish, like it wants to wrap around me and pull me down. “It’s um . . .” I look to the shore and keep my eyes off her blond hair snaked out over the surface. “We should . . .”
Only I fill my lungs with air and duck under the water without finishing. She mumbles something I don’t hear because I’m already underwater. Swimming away from her.
Headed back to shore.