Chapter 13

Noah snatches his hand away from me.

"I was adjusting, uh…" He gestures toward my top, looking comically distressed.

For a moment we're still. His eyes locked on mine. Dark gray blue. He's so close his breath tickles my skin. Holding my breath, I slide my foot against his. He closes his eyes and lets out a little sigh that almost sounds like a whimper.

A knock comes again. Wood. Fuck. Noah throws the covers off and pads to the door.

Wood's voice is muffled through the door. "Sorry to wake you. Do you know where Noah is? I can't find him?—"

Noah opens the door, Wood is standing there, fist in the air as if he's about to knock again, mouth open.

"I'm right here," Noah growls.

Wood blinks, his eye shifting to me lying in Noah's bed.

"It's not what it looks like," I say.

Wood puts both palms up and takes a step back. "None of my business. I won't say anything."

"There's nothing going on." Noah's morning voice is husky and rough.

"Exactly." Wood does an exaggerated wink.

Noah sighs.

Wood claps his hands, smiling. He's wearing swim trunks and a white T-shirt, his blond hair poking out of a backward baseball cap. "Well, now that you're no longer missing. It's time to start packing up so we can hit the road. I got snacks!"

Wood's family lake house is on the south side of Lake Chelan. Noah and I ride with Wood while Bex and Macy follow behind with Spencer and his brother.

It's a three-hour drive on twisting highways along riverways surrounded by thickening forests and misty mountains in the distance.

Wood sings his heart out the whole drive.

We turn off the main highway to a dirt road hidden past a moss-covered pine tree. It winds through trees so tall and dense the sun can barely poke through the canopy.

Then the trees clear and Wood turns onto a large, circular paved drive and up to the house. I guess I was expecting a smallish cabin tucked away somewhere. Not this.

It's a three-story mansion with giant stone steps, a wraparound porch, arched windows, and large eaves. The east side is dripping with purple wisteria, and the cedar shingles are grayed and weathered, adding texture and character.

We hop out of Wood's black SUV. It's humid and warm, the cloud cover threatening rain. Noah carries my bag as well as his own and we walk up the stone walkway lined with white hydrangea bushes to the house.

Noah holds the door for me as I step inside the wide, tiled entry with an elegant staircase with carved wooden spindles. A family portrait with a young Wood, even more blond and tan than now, hangs on the wall.

"Make yourself at home," Wood says as he passes with the cooler. I follow him to the kitchen where he starts unloading beers into the fridge. "The bedroom down that hall is my parents' but you can choose from any of the other seven rooms."

"Seven?"

He nods, popping open a bottle. "You get first pick ‘cause you're the coolest."

I barely have time to marvel at the crisp white kitchen with a marble island large enough to sleep four before I look out past the family room. The entire back of the house is a wall of windows, and the view is spectacular.

Eagerly, I go to the glass. Past the expansive wood deck are steps down to a sandy beach with a massive fire pit surrounded by Adirondack chairs and a private dock jutting out into the lake. The water is sapphire blue and smooth, stretching to the horizon. We appear to be tucked into a little cove of the lake, surrounded by woods and mountains without another house in sight.

"Hey." Noah's voice catches me off guard, and I almost yelp at his sudden presence by my side. "The best view is from one of the bedrooms on the third floor. Come up with me."

He directs me to go up first, following closely behind, one tattooed hand on the railing, the other softly at my back.

"That one," he says when we reach the landing.

The room is large and bright with white walls, buttery wood floors and a plush, ornate rug. In the center there's a four-poster bed with a fluffy cream duvet and a light blue quilt. The ceiling slopes down toward the floor on one side with a dormer of arched windows across from the bed. The view stretches for miles, the clouds starting to break to show bright blue sky and streaks of sunlight hitting the trees and sparkling on the lake.

"This is beautiful," I say.

Noah is next to me. He looks out of place in this pretty room—dressed all in black, skin covered in ink.

"You take this room. I'll stay in the one next door."

"Okay. Thank you." I nudge his arm with my elbow. But I don't step away after. I let it linger there, our arms brushing. He doesn't move away to break the contact either.

I want this. I want him. I've wanted him for so long, and it always seemed impossible, a little girl's stupid dream. But not now. He's here and he's real and he's looking at me like he wants me, too.

And I try not to think about how last night we were in the same bed. Or how I dreamt about him all night. About us doing more than sleeping in that bed.

His gaze drops to my mouth for a second. Instinctually, I arch toward him.

For an instant, I think he's going to lean in, too.

"I'll go get our bags," he says as he steps back and turns to leave.

After taking in the view for a few more minutes, I head back downstairs, too, right as the others are pulling up to the house in Spencer's fancy car. Spencer steps out in Dockers and a Polo shirt, Rayban sunglasses on his head.

Macy gets out of the car in a yellow sundress, followed closely by Bex, her blonde hair flowing in the breeze. She's wearing cutoff jean shorts and a loose tank top, her red string bikini showing underneath. "I need to pee and then a margarita, stat."

Spencer squints up at the house. "My parents' place is much nicer than this. It's not too late to go back. We can drink champagne while we have the perfect view of the fireworks over Puget Sound."

"It'll be nice to do something different this year," Macy says.

Spencer hmphs.

I can only assume the man who steps out of the passenger seat in shorts and boat shoes is his brother, Jake. He looks just like Spencer, but a little younger with broader shoulders and a squarer jaw.

"Howdy!" Wood calls out from the open double doors. "Margaritas are mixed up and the hot tub is ready," he says as Bex and Macy run inside with flushed cheeks.

"Woodall," Spencer says, opening the trunk.

Wood tips his beer to him. "Hayes."

"Still have a talent for drinking at noon, I see."

"I have many talents. Just ask your mom." Wood gives him a big smile with lots of white teeth.

"Charming."

"She thinks so."

"Livvy!" Bex squeezes me around the middle, sandals clacking on the tile. "Happy birthday weekend! Woo! Booze and bathing suits for the next three days, let's go!"

Macy leans in and whispers, "She already started the booze part. She had three spiked lemonades on the way here."

With the party underway, I change into my bathing suit in my room. It's a black one piece that's backless with a low-cut scoop neck in front. Out the window, Wood and Noah are taking turns jumping off the dock. Macy is sitting on the side with her feet in the water, lathering sunscreen on her pale skin, wearing a giant, floppy hat. Bex is laid out next to her in the sun, all tan skin under her barely-there bikini.

I opt to keep my jean shorts on over my swimsuit and head out to join them.

Spencer and Jake are debating something as I pass them on the patio and stroll down the beach. Wood rushes out of the lake, water droplets coming off his hair and beading on his rippling chest. He looks every bit the all-American swimmer, polo-player, and rowing captain the trophies lining the shelves in the den have touted him to be.

Maybe Bex was right when she said I should consider Wood. But then Noah follows after, dark hair dripping, skin covered in ink, his trunks riding low on his hips, showing that delicious shelf of muscle shaped in a V leading right to his?—

"Beer or margarita, girlfriend?" Wood asks.

"Oh! Margarita, please. But you don't have to serve me, I can get it."

"Nah, I was getting out anyway to fire up the grill."

He makes me a huge lime margarita with a salted rim, and the afternoon slips into evening before I know it.

Many margaritas and hot dogs later, we're sitting around the bonfire under a clear sky full of stars. There's a slight chill in the air, but the fire is hot, embers crackling in the night. It smells of woodsmoke and beer. There's conversation and laughter and Wood telling stories.

The night's a bit hazy after the fifth margarita.

I remember the fire and laughing and Noah taking my hand and leading me upstairs. I remember peeling off my swimsuit as soon as I got in my room and him putting me to bed. I remember asking him to stay with me. His warm body sliding in next to me. The scent of him. The soft sounds of breathing as we fell asleep.

Waking up on my birthday with a hangover is less than ideal.

Rolling over to Noah lying next to me, shirtless, and realizing I'm not wearing any clothes is…interesting.

His eyes are open, and he's propped up on an elbow, but he hasn't noticed I'm awake yet.

I lick my lips, but just before sound comes out, he picks up his phone. I pause. He's texting someone. Who would he be texting right now?

My stomach drops. I know it's a girl, even though I have no evidence he's seeing anyone right now. Not even a mention of a situationship.

I shift to my side, and he immediately drops his phone face down on his chest, hiding his screen.

That confirms it.

"Morning. Happy birthday."

"Morning."

It doesn't matter that he's in bed with you half naked, he's not for you. He's your sister's ex. He's your boss. He's your friend. And most importantly—he doesn't see you like that, anyway. Move. The. Fuck. On.

He smiles and gets out of bed, careful to keep the covers in place. "I'll, uh, let you get dressed. See you downstairs."

I try not to stare at the conspicuous bulge in his black boxer briefs as he leaves. It's not like I had anything to do with it. It's probably morning wood. Or maybe whoever he was talking to gave it to him.

I glance at my phone before I get up. I wasn't expecting any messages since I'd told him I was going to be out of town this weekend, but there's a notification from the app.

2Horned:

Hey, I need to talk

Seems ominous. Okay.

ANG3L:

Yeah, sure. What's up?

2Horned:

So I know I was the one who originally brought up meeting, but I don't think we should anymore

Oh.

ANG3L:

Oh?

2Horned:

Yeah, I'm sorry. I met someone a little while ago and I've been thinking I want to try and start something with her, see how it goes. And I don't think it would be fair to her or a new relationship to meet each other

…considering what we've chatted about

ANG3L:

That makes sense. I'm really happy for you

And I am. Really. I could always tell he was deeply lonely, and this is good. Good for him. Good for us. I wanted to make a clean break with this app anyway. This works out.

But then why am I so sad?

Happy fucking birthday to me.

2Horned:

But I'm still here for you. You've been an big part of my life the last year and I'd like to stay friends

ANG3L:

Thank you. I really appreciate you being open and honest with me

2Horned:

I'll always be honest with you

I send him a heart emoji. I really do appreciate him and the honesty. But I can't come up with any more words right now.

I put my phone down, needing to be done with this conversation. It's my birthday. No sad feelings today.

I'm going to shower, and do my hair cute in loose waves, and put on mascara and my new sundress and enjoy my day. The dress is a pretty soft lilac with straps that tie in little bows. I can't wear a bra with it, but I've got a cute thong with tiny white flowers on it.

Looking in the mirror, I tell myself it's my sexy, confident, hot girl era—not my sad girl, pining over boys who aren't obsessed with me era. I am not sexting with them, and I am definitely not asking them to share a bed with me. That's over.

Done.

Everyone's already sitting around the breakfast table when I come downstairs. Sunlight glitters off the lake and reflects in through the windows.

"Perfect timing," Wood says, stacking three fluffy pancakes onto a plate. "They're blueberry." Then he ladles a heap of glossy strawberries over the stack before covering them with a swirl of fresh whipped cream. "Red, white, and blue pancakes." He smiles proudly. "Happy Fourth of July."

"Festive." I nod as I take the plate.

His eyes widen. "Oh, hold on." He stoops down below the counter then pops back up and places two white candles in my pancakes with one hand and lights them with a lighter in the other. "Also, happy birthday!"

"Thanks."

"Make a wish!" Macy calls from the table.

Fuck. Can I just wish for my headache to go away? I close my eyes and blow out the candles.

Noah catches my eye as I walk up to the breakfast table. There's an empty seat next to him and one other one next to Bex. The corner of his mouth turns up, his lips parting just enough to see the edges of his teeth.

Hot girl era, notlead yourself on and hurt your own feelings era.

I sit next to Bex.

Do I take pleasure when Noah's smile disappears almost instantly as I sit? No.

Okay, maybe a little.

"Coffee?" Bex asks.

"You're my favorite sister."

"Remember that when I'm pouring your birthday shots later." She smiles sweetly.

And my sister, the bartender, is, indeed, pouring shots by two in the afternoon.

We spend the day mostly lounging around in the sun on beach towels, snacking and chatting. We're perfumed by coconut sunscreen and pina coladas.

Spencer and Jake decide to take the kayaks out around the lake. Bex raises her bottle of vodka at them in salute as they go.

Wood entertains us by doing dives and cannon balls off the dock, splashing us every time he walks by.

Noah walks up the beach toward us after his swim, eyes on me. He grabs a towel and Bex offers him a beer. I look away.

Know your worth era.

He goes to sit under one of the patio umbrellas instead. Brooding in the shade alone.

By late afternoon, Macy has sunburnt shoulders, Bex is napping, her skin getting golden brown, and Wood decides to fire up the grill for burgers.

My buzz has mostly worn off by the time it's dark and we're sitting on blankets around the dying fire to watch the fireworks over the lake.

"Can I sit here?" Noah leans over, offering me a watermelon hard seltzer from the cooler.

"Sure." I take the drink and scoot over.

He sits closer than he needs to on the blanket. As I take my first sip, he looks over to where Bex and Macy are huddled on the other side of me. He leans in like he wants to say something without them hearing, but then the high-pitched scream of the first firework cuts through the quiet and he sits back.

Bright, shimmery streaks of gold shoot through the ink-colored sky then explode with a pop, flashing and sparkling, each one bigger and louder and more mesmerizing than the last.

After the last firework lights up the sky and finally fizzles out and dissolves into nothingness, Spencer stands and clears his throat, looking down at Macy.

"It's still early," she says.

He doesn't move, say anything, or change his expression.

She puts her half empty drink down and looks around at us, her mouth downturned. "Night, guys."

After they leave, Bex points her drink at Jake. "Question. Was your brother born with a stick up his ass or did he acquire it later?"

Jake, who had just taken a sip of his beer, almost spits it up, his coughs turning to laughter. He raises an eyebrow at my sister.

She shrugs. "It's a valid question. Maybe I'll ask Macy if she's ever seen it. It's got to be huge. Oh! I know what we should do!" Bex downs the rest of her drink then grins, the flickering flames of the fire reflecting in her eyes. "We should go skinny dipping."

What? My stomach plummets with that sickening sinking feeling.

"Let's go." Wood pumps his fist in the air, standing, already loosening his shorts.

Wait—

"I'm in," Jake says.

Bex jumps up and runs toward the lake. "Come on, Livvy!"

She leaves a trail of clothes along the dock—her white tank top and little cut off shorts, Jake and Wood close behind her, bare-assed in the moonlight. They disappear into the darkness and then there are screams and loud splashes.

Noah looks at me, the tip of his tongue running along his lower lip and stands. "Do you want to?" He holds his hand out to me. I take it and he helps me up.

"I don't know," I say.

"Okay." He pulls his shirt off and tosses it to the sand next to our blanket. Eyes still on me, he undoes the button of his shorts.

Oh.

Sexy, confident girl era, remember? What would Angel do? She'd have been the first one stripping down and jumping in.

"Okay," I say. I pull the ties on the straps of my dress, and it falls off, crumpling in a pile at my feet. I'm keenly aware my breasts are bare and nipples be nippling. I leave my thong on. "But I don't want to jump off the dock," I say. I don't know how deep the water is there.

"We'll just walk in, then." He drops his shorts. Boxers, too and I avert my eyes out to the water and then back to his face.

Don't look down.

We run toward the lake, through the sand and down to where it gets rocky near the water's edge. He takes my hand and holds me steady as I step over the larger stones and rounded pebbles shifting underfoot.

The water makes my toes curl. It's cold even though the temperature was almost a hundred degrees today. But Noah still has my hand, and he leads me farther in without slowing.

"Don't overthink it," he says.

So I go with him, the water prickling at my legs, and then it's up to my waist. Deeper. I step out until it's at my chest, the pressure of the water constricting my lungs.

Noah lies back, extending his arms and kicking out away from me. Farther.

I want to go out there, too. I want to join them and have fun, but I know the next step I take, the bottom will drop out from below me and I'll have to swim.

I can swim. Kind of.

It will be okay. It's a lake, not an ocean. There isn't a current that's going to pull me out or under. I'll be fine. It's like a big swimming pool. A big, dark, cold, scary swimming pool that I can't see the bottom of and is surely full of little creatures and slimy plants. It's cool. I'm fine.

I take the step out and suck in a breath, filling my chest with air and kicking my feet.

Keeping my arms moving, I wade out closer to Noah. The other three aren't much farther out, but their heads are barely visible above the water and only lit by the stars.

See, I can do this. I'm wading. I can tread water.

But I do wish they would come back in, just a little bit. There's really no reason to be out so far. How long does a skinny dip last, anyway? I mean, we've dipped.

Noah had been right by me, but now I'm not feeling the ripples from his kicks in the water anymore. I look around and go to call out his name, but the water at my chin is suddenly to my nose and when I open my mouth, I take it in.

I bob back up, spitting out water and getting a breath.

But now I've lost them. I can't see anyone.

I want to go back.

I turn to go back the way I came, but it's not right. The beach should be there. The fire. The lights from the back of the house—I don't see them. The moon has gone behind the clouds and all there is around me is darkness, water somehow turning into trees. There's no horizon. No beach. No land. No friends. No sister. No Noah.

I keep spinning around to see the house. I don't know which way is in or out. My arms are cold, and my legs are getting tired.

"Noah!"

"Livvy, over here!" He sounds far away.

I don't want to swim out there. I want to go back.

I open my mouth to call to him again, but I slip under for a second. Water fills my nose and my eyes. I come back up, coughing. My side has a cramp and my legs feel stiff.

I can't stay up.

I can't stay up.

Water overtakes me again.

I'm flailing.

I go under and I can't tell which direction is up.

Kicking with all the strength I have, I burst to the surface again, splashing and waving and I scream for help.

I inhale and water rushes in. I can't breathe.

And then I go under. Sinking. I kick. But I can't get back up.