“Your dad was seeing things?”
“Yes. He made the whole thing up.” I clipped the stems on a batch of roses and shoved them in an iridescent vase. My mom’s skeptical side-eye didn’t go unnoticed. “I blame his old age,” I continued. “Short-term memory is the first to go.”
“He’s only a year older than me,” she replied.
“Then I guess you’re up next.”
I carried the vase across the room and sat it next to the others. My mom’s blue eyes followed me as I walked.
“Sure your memory isn’t the problem?” she asked, occupying herself with ribbon.
“It was an ice pack and a have a good night,” I answered. “Pretty hard to mix that up.”
“Then why were you standing by the ice machine with your faces pushed together?”
“They weren’t pushed together!” I threw my hands up and scowled. “You know what? Never mind. I need to head out before I’m late.”
“Right,” she agreed. “Go join Adam at the lake. Try not to kiss him again.”
“Mom.” I rubbed my temples and willed her nosiness away. “Can I borrow some money?”
She leaned across the counter, amused. “First you refuse to give me the details. Then you use me for money?”
“No one said parenting would be easy.”
She grinned and motioned to her brown leather bag. “Fine, go enjoy your day in the sun. I’ll be here, trying to practice on these without losing all feeling in my fingers. I’ve stabbed myself so many times I’ve lost count.”
I glanced at the ribbons sprawled across the counter. A few were pinned together, but none of it looked organized. “What are those?” I asked, grabbing her purse.
“Ribbons,” she answered. “I started getting preorder calls for Homecoming. Had no clue what they were talking about, so I asked around. There’s this tradition called pinning. Big deal, from what I’m told.”
“Interesting,” I said, retrieving a twenty.
“Yep.” She snipped the end of a ribbon, watching me as I returned her purse. “You should ask Adam if he wants me to make you one. I’ll give him the family discount.”
“Bye now.”
“We can do customized!”
“Bye!” I repeated.
The blue Cruze Case and I shared was parked in the lot. When I opened its door, heat fled from inside. A vanilla air freshener hung from the rearview mirror, faded by the sun that hammered it each day. It whipped in the air-conditioning as I put the car in drive.
Halfway to the lake, my phone rang. I hit a button on the steering wheel and glanced at the clock. Riley echoed what I already knew.
“You’re late.”
“I know,” I answered. “Driving there as we speak.” Music played in the background and mixed with Adam’s and Tate’s deep drawls. “Are you already on the boat?”
“The guys just got it unloaded,” she replied. “No biggie. We’ll wait until you get here.”
“It is a biggie,” Adam argued. “By the time we get to our spot, all the good fish will be gone!” I heard a substantial smack. “I’m kidding!” he said. “Hands to yourself, or I’ll toss you overboard.”
“Toss her overboard, and you’ll be sitting on the dock, watching us sail away,” Tate answered.
“Traitor.”
“The map says ten minutes,” I said, passing Steele Creek. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Okay.”
I hit the END CALL button and changed lanes. Twelve minutes later, I passed the blue WELCOME TO SOUTH CAROLINA sign. The marina wasn’t far. Adam’s black truck stuck out like a sore thumb in a mostly empty parking lot. I parked beside it, shrugged a tote over my shoulder, and closed the door.
Sitting at the dock, rocking against murky blue waves that moved with the wind, was a medium-sized pontoon boat. Riley stood behind its radio, waving at me as I closed the distance.
“Glad you found it,” she said, extending a hand for my bag.
“Same.”
I handed her the tote as Tate leaned across the side and pulled the boat flush against the dock. My hand wrapped around the metal siding, and I stepped on board, wobbling momentarily before I adjusted to the water.
The scent of sunblock combined with the smell of the lake, carrying summertime memories that I quickly pushed away. Today would be a good one, no matter what.
“Look who finally showed up,” Adam said, earning my attention.
He wore sunglasses and a black cap. His biceps glistened in the sun, tan with undertones of pink. Lean muscles rippled over his abdomen. Scars littered his chest like nicks in armor—pale slices that marred his skin. The largest scar carved a jagged line above his swim trunks and extended to his left hip.
He snapped his fingers in my face. “Hey. Eyes up here.”
I cleared my throat and tried to cover my embarrassment by busying myself with my bag. It didn’t matter. Adam caught me red-handed, and he knew it.
He chuckled and adjusted his hat before plopping into a chair at the front. “Can we go?” he asked. “Or is someone else running fifteen minutes late?”
“You hush,” Riley scolded.
She sashayed over to me, her head bobbing with the pop music that played through the speakers. Her pink-and-white bikini was a stark contrast from my black two-piece. She was Beach Barbie, and I was Wednesday Addams.
She pulled a large sun hat from the seat and dropped beside me. “I’m ready for the water,” she commented. “Bring on the tan.”
“Have fun,” I answered. I pulled a pocket folder from my tote and flashed it her way. “I’m working on scholarship essays. Yay, college.”
“We have a whole afternoon on the lake,” she said. “Wait until we get back, and I’ll help you fill them out.”
“Can’t. They have to be completed by me.”
“They have to be dictated by you,” she corrected. “Think of me as your personal scribe.” She motioned for the folder, but I clung to it. “It’s for your own good. Give me the folder.”
“No.”
“Give her the folder,” Adam said.
I glared at him. He was sprawled across his chair, the sun beating down on his bare chest and his long legs extended so his ankles rested on the side of the boat. He looked so hot, he put the sun to shame.
“Not everyone has football to rely on,” I answered.
He tilted his face from its upward position and stared at me. “What does that mean?”
“It means you might have a football scholarship waiting on you, but I don’t. I have to get these done, and I have to get them done today. The folder stays with me.”
“Downer.”
“Meathead.”
He chuckled and looked at the sky. “Fine. Fill out your papers. Riley, go bug Tate instead.”
“Don’t tell her to bug me!” Tate said.
Adam only laughed louder.
We passed miles of pebbled beach, but Tate didn’t stop the boat until we entered a secluded cove. Trees skimmed the banks, and their leaves rippled murky water where turtles bobbed through the surface. For the day, this was our own little slice of the world. It grew quiet as Tate and Adam anchored the boat and busied themselves with fishing rods.
“Tate,” Riley said, opening the door to a compartment in the back. “Do you know where the rafts are?”
“They’re in the other one,” he replied.
She padded barefoot across the boat’s gray floor and returned to Tate with a pair of deflated inner tubes. Tate looked at her, pouted at his fishing reel, and handed it to Adam. Ten minutes later, both tubes were inflated and tied to the boat. They floated on the water like two neon doughnuts in a pool of muddy blue.
“You coming?” she asked me, arching an eyebrow as she moved toward the boat’s metal steps.
“Scholarships,” I answered, waving the folder back and forth.
She frowned and pointed at the floats. I frowned and pointed at the folder.
“Make Tate go,” Adam said, tugging his cap lower on his brow. Tate looked at him wide-eyed, and he grinned. “You heard me. Go spend quality time with your girlfriend. You can fish after.”
“Yeah, Tate!” Riley said. “Come with me!”
“There’s no way I’m getting in that water,” Tate answered.
“Wuss,” Adam replied.
Tate scowled and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“We won’t be back at the lake until next year,” Riley said. “Even then, it won’t be often. Come on. Come float with me while you still can.”
“I don’t want to,” he said.
“Please, Tate.”
He sighed and nodded. “I’ll float with you for ten minutes, but if one turtle bites my butt, I’m done.”
“Yes!”
The boat shook as they moved toward the stern. I waited for things to mellow, then rested the folder against my lap and sifted through various Auburn scholarship applications. Adam took one from the stack and wore a neutral expression as he scanned the words.
“Between this, the magnets in your locker, and that bracelet around your wrist, I assume you want to go to Alabama.”
“Give it back,” I answered. “It’s rude to take other people’s stuff.”
“Sorry, manners police.” He handed me the paper and crossed his arms. “Why do you want to go to Alabama? Family alma mater?”
“It isn’t Alabama, it’s Auburn, and it’s none of your business.”
“Auburn is in Alabama. Therefore, you want to go to Alabama.” He shifted his weight. “Also, do you remember the conversation we had last night? The one where I said I was trying to get to know you? That’s what this is. Answer. Please.”
“Remember when I told you I don’t want to talk about personal things? This falls under that category.” I resumed my attention to the application, but he took a seat beside me and put his hand over the form. “If I can’t see the words, I can’t write a response,” I groaned. “Move your hand.”
“Talk to me and I will.” I narrowed my eyes at him, and he smiled. “At least let me address you almost kissing me last night. I feel like we left on an awkward note, and it’s bugging the hell out of me.”
I knocked his hand out of the way but maintained my stare. “It was an almost kiss,” I answered. “Had it been more than that, a conversation would be needed.”
“Good. Glad we’re in agreement.”
He relaxed into the seat and played with his cap. I couldn’t see his eyes, but they burned holes in my face.
“Anything else you need?” I asked. “I can’t work on these when you’re looking at me like that.”
“Yeah,” he answered. “We need to talk about one more thing, and you may not like what I have to say.”
“Try me.”
“Okay.” He nodded and exhaled. “We’ve got a good thing going,” he started, motioning at Tate and Riley. “The three of us get along, have fun, and have each other’s backs. Last night, I almost screwed that up. This can’t happen. You and I can’t happen. I’ve got too much to do this year, and I don’t have time for a girlfriend. It’s too much drama.”
I closed my folder before the papers blew away. “So, I’m a threat to your busy year because I’m full of drama?” I asked, cocking my head to the side. “Or because you aren’t interested, but you think I am?”
He leaned forward and clasped his hands together. “I don’t know if you’re interested or not, but it doesn’t matter. We graduate in nine months. I need to focus on football. College scouts, recruiting trips, a full ride to the school of my choice—those are the important things. I won’t waste my senior year on a relationship that has no future, and I won’t jeopardize football for a girl. I’m not that kind of guy. It’s that simple, and it has nothing to do with you. Don’t think you did anything wrong.”
“How honorable,” I grumbled.
It was the same type of bull Seth gave me when he ended our relationship, and it shouldn’t have pissed me off, but it did. Everything always came down to excuses. At least Adam was honest now instead of later. I guess I could respect him for that.
“Let’s keep this simple,” Adam said. “We can do the friend thing, but don’t overcomplicate it. It’s easier this way.”
“I can keep it simple,” I agreed, shifting my eyes to the folder.
“Good,” he answered. “We’ll keep it simple.”