“You’ve got the taste buds of a five-year-old,” he said as I stared at him with wide eyes.
“You licked my ice cream.”
“Yeah . . . what’s the big deal?” He frowned.
“Like, with your tongue. You’ve got to stop doing that.”
“Why? Are you worried your boyfriend will be mad or something?” He sounded a little angry. Delilah had been the one to convince me to keep seeing Mason, saying there was no point waiting around for my Summer Boy to get a clue. But I had explained to Sam on multiple occasions that Mason was not my boyfriend, that we were dating but that it wasn’t serious. Neither Sam nor Mason seemed to understand the distinction.
“For the millionth time, Mason is not my boyfriend.”
“But you kiss him,” Sam said.
“Yeah, sure. It’s no big deal,” I replied, not sure where he was going.
He took a bite out of his cone, then squinted at me. “Would you think it was a big deal if I told you I kissed someone?”
My heart exploded into tiny particles. “You kissed someone?” I whispered.
I could tell Sam was nervous because he broke eye contact and looked out at the bay. “Yeah, Maeve O’Conor at the end-of-year dance,” he said.
I hated Maeve O’Conor. I wanted to murder Maeve O’Conor.
“Maeve is a pretty name,” I choked out.
His blue eyes met mine again, and he pushed his hair off his face. “It was no big deal.”
* * *
THE CIVIC HOLIDAY loomed large that summer. For the first time, Mom and Dad were leaving me alone at the cottage. It was also the weekend I’d chosen to swim across the lake again. My parents didn’t want to miss my now-annual feat of athleticism, but they were headed to a party in Prince Edward County, where a dean at the university had purchased a farm to turn it into a small winery. It was a must-attend event and almost all they could talk about until they waved goodbye early Saturday morning.
The air was sticky, promising a rain that probably wouldn’t fall if the first half of summer was any indication. The grass around the Floreks’ house had long ago turned brown, but Sue was determined to keep the flower beds in shape. She went into the restaurant earlier than usual to make extra batches of pierogies for the long weekend crowds, and Sam, Charlie, and I were tasked with watering all the gardens in the baking heat before we left for our shifts.
Like most evenings, we took the Banana Boat to the town dock and walked to the restaurant. I wore my usual—a dark denim skirt and a sleeveless blouse—and I was slick with sweat by the time we got there. I splashed my face with cold water in the bathroom and redid my ponytail, smoothing down the strands that had frizzed in the humidity, then applied a little mascara and pink lip gloss, the sum total of my makeup routine.
The tables were full from the moment we opened the doors, and by the time the last customers had been served, Sue was exhausted. Julien told her she looked like shit and forced her out the door while the rest of us closed up.
“I feel like I’ve been boiling in pierogi water all night,” I told Charlie and Sam when I was done, joining them outside the back door, where they always waited for me, sitting with their backs against the wall, once they had finished in the kitchen. I handed them their tip-outs.
“I’ve been standing over pierogi water all night,” Charlie said, standing to tuck the money in his pocket and pulling on his shirt to show me how damp it was. “You’ve got nothing to complain about. I’m jumping in the lake when we get home.”
He wasn’t joking. As soon as we tied up the boat, he jumped onto the dock, unbuttoned his shorts, and peeled off his shirt. Sue had left the porch light on, but it was dark at the water, the moon casting enough of a pale glow that I could just make out Charlie’s bare ass when he pulled down his briefs and jumped into the lake.
“Shit, Charlie,” Sam said when his head bobbed back up. “Give us some warning.”
“Just doing Percy a favor,” he laughed. “You kids coming in?” I’d skinny-dipped on hot-hot nights when I couldn’t fall asleep but never when anyone else was around. I smelled like cabbage and sausage, and my clothes were plastered to my body. A swim sounded amazing.
“I am,” I said, unbuttoning my blouse, ignoring the knots in my stomach. “Turn around while I get undressed.” I dropped my shirt on the dock. Charlie swam out farther, and I checked behind me, finding Sam staring at me in my white cotton bra.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, then turned away, pulling off his own T-shirt.