I sat quietly with my revelation as he nodded along to Delilah’s description of the resort pool, large hands wrapped around his knees, thighs squished against hers.
“You cold?” he asked her.
“A bit,” she admitted. She was shivering, I could see that, but when Sam unzipped his black hoodie and passed it to her, it felt like a blade had been plunged into my belly.
It struck me like a bus: I had no idea how much time Sam spent with other girls during the year. I didn’t think he had a girlfriend, but then again, the topic hadn’t come up. And Sam was cute. And smart. And thoughtful.
“You okay, Percy?” he asked, catching me staring wide-eyed. Delilah shot me a funny look.
“Uh-huh!” It came out of my mouth as an odd squeak. I needed a diversion. “Hey, Evan? I wouldn’t mind a sip of that,” I said, pointing to his beer.
“Yeah, sure.” He passed me the can, and nope! I did not like beer. I gave Evan a smile after my first gulp, then forced back two more before handing it back. Sam leaned toward me, his lips pinched together.
“You drink beer?” he asked with clear disbelief.
“Love it,” I lied.
He frowned. “Swear on it?” He held up his wrist.
“Not a chance.” He shook his head and laughed, and the sound brought a smile to my face.
Delilah’s gaze ping-ponged between us, and when the fireworks started, booms echoing around the bay, she moved onto the seat beside me, linked her arm through mine, and whispered in my ear, “Your secret’s safe with me.”
* * *
THE WEATHER HAD been perfect for Delilah’s visit: clear skies, not a drop of rain, hot but not muggy, as if Mother Nature had known Delilah was coming, and put on her most impressive outfit. To Delilah’s great disappointment, Charlie wasn’t as cooperative, spending most of his time working at the Tavern or hanging out at Arti’s house in town.
Her last day at the lake was what Dad called a scorcher, and when we could no longer walk on the dock without burning our feet, we headed to the Floreks’ basement.
“What’s Charlie up to?” Delilah asked as the three of us trudged down the stairs with sodas and a bag of salt-and-vinegar chips.
“Sleeping, probably,” said Sam, grabbing the remote. “What do you feel like watching?” He and I took our usual spots at the opposite ends of the couch.
“I’ve got a better idea,” Delilah said with a toss of red hair. “Let’s play truth or dare.”
Sam groaned.
“I don’t know . . .” I hesitated, feeling uneasy. “I’m not sure we have enough people to play.”
“Of course we do! You can play with just two people and there are one, two, three of us.” Sam eyed Delilah like she was a poisonous snake. “C’mon! It’s my last day. Let’s do something fun.”
“Just for a little while?” I directed my question at Sam.
“Okay, sure,” he sighed heavily.
Delilah clapped her hands and positioned us in a circle on the sisal carpeting. “We don’t have a bottle, so let’s just spin the remote to see who goes first. Whoever the top end is facing starts,” she directed. “Sam, why don’t you go for it?”
“If I must,” he said from under a swoop of tawny hair. He spun the remote, which pointed vaguely in Delilah’s direction.
“Delilah: truth or dare?” Sam asked with the enthusiasm of a dead trout.
“Truth!”
Sam locked his blue eyes on her like a missile: “Have you ever bullied anyone?” I shot him a warning glance, but Delilah was oblivious.
“That’s a weird question,” she said, her bubblegum lips in a twist. “But, no, I haven’t.” Sam raised one eyebrow, but let it slide.
“Okay, my turn to ask one,” she said and rubbed her hands together. “Sam: Do you have a girlfriend?”
“I do not,” he replied, sounding utterly bored and a bit condescending. I fought back a smile that started in my fingertips, and let out the breath I’d been holding since the night of the fireworks.
After fifteen otherwise dull minutes of answering truth questions, Sam rubbed his face and moaned, “Can we put an end to this if I choose dare?”
Delilah considered this until a look of evil victory fell across her creamy face. “Great idea, Sam.” She pretended to think, her index finger on her chin. Then she narrowed her eyes at him. “I dare you to kiss Percy.”
My jaw slowly dropped. I’d been trying to figure out how I felt about Sam for days. But the glare he was giving Delilah, like he wanted to chop her up in itty-bitty pieces, was a flashing billboard that read I would only kiss Percy Fraser if she were the last girl in the galaxy, and maybe not even then. My stomach lurched.