“I can’t believe we’re going back to the city next weekend,” I murmured. “I don’t want to leave.”
“I don’t want you to, either.” We listened to the gurgle of the stream, swatting away mosquitoes, until Sam spoke again.
“I’ve been thinking,” he began, his voice quiet and shaky but his eyes direct.
I knew what was coming. Maybe I’d been waiting for it. I tilted my head down so my dark hair fell around my face, and studied our feet.
“About us. I’ve been thinking about us,” he said, then nudged my foot with his. I peered over at him—the humidity had made his hair curl at the ends—and smiled weakly.
“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about kissing you that night in my room.” He gave me a shy grin, and I looked toward the ground again.
“You think it was a mistake, don’t you?”
“No! That’s not it at all,” he said quickly and put his hand over mine, lacing our fingers together. “It was incredible. I know it sounds corny, but it was the best night of my life. I think about it all the time.”
“Me too,” I whispered, looking at our reflections in the pool below.
“You and me are special,” he started. “There’s no one else I’d rather spend time with than you. There’s no one else I’d rather talk to than you. And there’s no one else I’d rather kiss than you.” He paused, and my stomach swooped. “But you’re more important to me than kissing. And I’m worried that if we rush that side of things we’ll fuck up everything else.”
“So what are you saying?” I asked, looking at him. “You just want to be friends?”
He took a deep breath.
“I don’t think I’m saying this right.” He sounded frustrated with himself. “What I mean is that you’re not just any friend to me . . . you’re my best friend. But we go for months without seeing each other, and we’re really young, and I’ve never had a girlfriend before. I don’t know how to do relationships, and I don’t want to screw it up with you. I want to be everything, Percy. When we’re ready.”
I fought the stinging in my eyes. I was ready. I wanted everything now. At sixteen, Sam was it for me. I knew it then, and I think I knew it that night three years ago when Sam and I sat on my bedroom floor eating Oreos and he asked me to make him a bracelet. I moved my eyes to his wrist.
He pulled my hair back from the side of my face, and I squeezed my eyes shut. “Can you look at me, please?”
I shook my head.
“Percy,” he pleaded while I wiped a tear with my sleeve. “I don’t want to put pressure on you and me that we can’t handle. We’ve both got big plans—eleventh and twelfth grade will decide what schools we can get into and whether I can get a scholarship.” I knew how important grades were to Sam, how expensive his schooling would be, and how he was counting on an academic prize to help with tuition.
“So we just go back to being friends like nothing happened, and then what? We find other boyfriends and girlfriends?” I glanced at him. I could see the agony and worry on his face, but I was angry and embarrassed, even though, somewhere deep, I knew what he was saying made sense. I didn’t want to screw things up, either. I just figured we could handle it. Sam was the most mature boy I knew. He was perfect.
“I’m not looking for another girlfriend,” he said, which made me feel a teeny-tiny bit better. “But I realize I’d be a huge jerk if I told you I don’t think we should be together right now and then asked you not to see anyone.”
“You’re a huge jerk either way,” I said. I meant it as a joke, but it tasted like burned coffee on my tongue.
“Do you really mean that?”
I shook my head, attempting a smile. “I think you’re pretty great,” I said, my voice breaking. Sam’s arm encircled my shoulders, and he squeezed tight. He smelled like fabric softener and damp soil and rain.
“Swear on it?” he said, his words muffled by hair. I felt for his bracelet blindly and tugged.
“I think you’re pretty great, too,” he whispered. “You have no idea how much.”
11
Now
Sam and I are lying on the raft, eyes shut to the sun. I’m drifting in a haze—of his hands on my hips and his fingers on my calf and You’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known—when a shout comes from the shore.