One Golden Summer(27)

I still haven’t given the unicorn a ride.

When I’m changing into my bathing suit, I glance at my phone and find an unread text.

    Charlie: Did I interrupt your morning, princess?



I feel myself smiling, imagine the word princess rasping out of Charlie’s mouth, then throw my phone onto the bed.

I bring John’s binoculars down to the lake and stand at the end of the dock, scanning the shoreline. Birches sloped over the water. Towels drying on deck railings. Flags flapping in the breeze. I pass over the A-frame and then Charlie’s boat, and almost drop the binoculars as he appears in my view. He’s on the deck. No shirt. Bathing suit bottoms. I shouldn’t creep on him like this, but…

Whoa.

He walks down the hill to the water. I see when he sees me: A brilliant smile lights his face. I curse, quickly set the binoculars down, and dive into the lake.

I stay submerged as long as I can, eyes closed, letting the water fill my ears. And then I swim, from the dock and out, back and forth, back and forth. Legs fluttering. Arms arching. I don’t stop until I’m short of breath.

Without a fraction of a glance toward Charlie’s place, I dry off and attempt to board the unicorn. The thing is so massive and awkward, I can’t get my weight centered. I fall off twice to the sound of Nan laughing from the deck before I manage to spread myself between its golden wings. It’s shockingly comfortable. I close my eyes and cover my face with my arms. Seconds later, I hear the obnoxious roar of a Jet Ski whipping around the bay.

I hear it pass me once, twice, a third time, closer and closer. It slows somewhere nearby, and the engine stops.

“Lucky Pegasus.”





15




Iturn toward the voice and am unsurprised to find Charlie astride a yellow Jet Ski.

“It’s a unicorn.”

“Unicorns don’t have wings,” he says, eyeing me with a lazy smile.

“Pegasuses don’t have horns.”

He tilts his head in agreement, and then waves up at the deck. “Good afternoon, Nan.”

“Nice to see you again, Charlie.” She might as well be licking her chops.

He points to the binoculars.

“Spying on me?”

“I was bird-watching.”

Charlie smirks. “See any noteworthy species?”

The unicorn or Pegasus or whatever it is squeaks as I try to prop myself up. I can only lean awkwardly on the thing’s mane.

“Just a giant peacock.”

“Text me next time you’re nature-spotting. I’ll be sure to put on a better show.”

“I changed my mind—you’re more like an oversized pest than a peacock.”

He snorts, then holds out a spare life jacket. “Get on. Unless you’d rather keep riding that…thing.”

“This unicorn is very comfortable.”

He begins undoing his life jacket. “Is it?”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m joining you. Looks like there’s room for two.”

“There absolutely isn’t.”

“I guess we’ll find out.”

Charlie drops an anchor, and before I can compute the plethora of ridges on his chest and stomach, he dives into the water. I have no idea where he is until he surfaces right next to the unicorn. He grins up at me, and my stomach dips.

“Move over, Alice.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Charlie sets a large hand on a wing and another beside my thigh.

“You’re going to tip it over,” I say, trying to scoot away from the edge.

“Maybe that’s the point.” He wraps his hand around my calf.

“You wouldn’t,” I say, eyes wide. “You’re a grown—”

The word man is lost to my yelp as he pulls me into the lake. I get my head above water as fast as I can so I can splash him in the face.

“Oh, you don’t want to start that,” he says with a Peter Pan smile. We’re treading water. Charlie moves in a circle around me, and I follow his orbit.

“You started it.”

I splash him, and he swipes an arm through the water, drenching my face. I cough, and he moves closer.

“Are you okay? Sorry I—”

I splash him again, and he’s so shocked, I cackle, loud and ugly. But I stop when I see his expression. He’s blinking at me, brows knit.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, wiping water out of my eyes.

Charlie shakes his head. “Nothing. You just…” He clears his throat. “You have a great laugh.”

We stare at each other for a moment, and then Charlie tips his head toward the Jet Ski. “Let’s go. I’ll show you around the rest of Kamaniskeg so you don’t destroy John’s boat on another rock.”

“I—” My instinct is to say no, to stay safely onshore, but then I remember the list and that teenage Alice would have flipped if a cute guy gave her a Jet Ski ride.

So I change my mind. I do it for younger me.



* * *





We swim to the Jet Ski, and Charlie hoists himself up. He leans toward me, extending his hand, and pulls me up without any show of exertion. I straddle the seat behind him and buckle the life jacket. When the engine starts, I lock my arms around his waist. He smells sunny and gardeny and fresh, and it’s an effort not to breathe him in more deeply, to figure out what that scent is.