Our knees brush again. This time I don’t move away, but the connection only lasts for a second. I feel somewhat deflated when it passes.
I wonder what he feels. Probably not as confused about what he wants as I am.
“What’s your reason for being secretive?” he asks.
I think about that for a moment. “I guess I’ve never had anyone I wanted to tell anything to.”
There’s an understanding in his eyes. He says, “Same,” but it’s almost a whisper. He sinks under the water and disappears. I hear him come up for air behind me a few seconds later. I spin around and he’s even closer to me now. Our legs are definitely touching, but neither of us pulls away.
I’m not sure I’ve ever felt this—like my blood is zipping through my veins. My interactions with guys have always left me wanting more space between the guy and me. I’m not used to wishing there was no space between me and another person.
“Ask me some questions,” he says. “I probably won’t answer most of them, but I want to know what you want to know about me.”
“Probably more than you’ll give me.”
“Try me.”
“Are you an only child?”
He nods.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty.”
“Where did you grow up?”
He shakes his head, refusing to answer that one.
“That wasn’t even an intrusive question,” I say.
“If you knew the answer, you’d realize it was.”
He’s right. This is going to be a challenge. But I don’t think he realizes how competitive I can be. I did earn a full ride to Penn State thanks to my commitment to winning.
“Sara said you’re going into the Air Force Academy?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It’s a family tradition.”
“Ah,” I say. “A morsel. So your father was in the Air Force?”
“Yes. And my grandfather.”
“How is your family so rich? The military doesn’t pay that well.”
“Some people go into the military for the esteem. Not the pay.”
“Do you want to go to the Air Force or are you doing it because it’s expected of you?”
“I want to go.”
“That’s good.”
I don’t know if it’s him or the current, but he’s even closer now. One of my legs is between his knees and my thigh occasionally brushes his. I might be doing it on purpose, which surprises me. Maybe he is too.
“What’s your favorite animal?” I ask.
“Whale.”
“Favorite food?”
“Seafood.”
“Favorite thing to do?”
“Swim.”
I laugh. “These are typical beach rat answers. I’ll never get anywhere.”
“Ask better questions,” he says pointedly.
Another challenge. We stare at each other with heaviness while I think of a question I really want an answer to. “Sara said you don’t do relationships—that you only date girls who are here on vacations. Why is that?”
He doesn’t answer. Another question that’s off limits, I guess. “Okay, too private. I’ll think of an easier question.”
“No, I’m going to answer that one,” he says. “I’m just trying to figure out how.” He lowers himself until the water is level with his chin. I do the same. I like that all we can focus on right now are each other’s eyes. Although his aren’t very telling.
“I don’t trust easily.”
I wasn’t expecting that answer. I was expecting him to say he likes being single, or something equally stereotypical.
“Why? Did you get your heart broken?”
He presses his lips together while he ponders that question. “Yeah,” he says flatly. “Crushed me. Her name was Darya.”
The fact that he said her name out loud causes an unexpected, tiny sliver of jealousy to poke at me from the inside. I want to ask him what happened, but I don’t really want the answer.
“What’s it like?” I ask him.
“Having my heart broken?”
I nod.
He pushes a floating piece of seaweed away from us. “Have you never been in love?”
I laugh. “No. Not even close. I’ve never loved anyone, nor have I ever been loved by anyone.”
“Yes you have,” he says. “Family counts.”
I shake my head again, because even if family counted, my answer would remain the same. My father barely knows me. My mother wasn’t capable of loving me.