by Jacob Chance
Drawing back first, my eyes open, locking with her dreamy gaze. “No more kissing until we’re on dry land.”
“Then maybe we should head back to the dock,” she says, revealing how much she enjoys our kisses.
“All in good time.” I wink, sinking the paddle beneath the murky water.
Chapter Nine
Maddie
Shaw waits with the door open, and I scooch over to the driver’s side. I take his outstretched hand and climb out. He closes the door without releasing hold of me.
“Shaw,” a male voice calls out.
He drops my hand like a hot potato and my upbeat mood plummets like a sinking ship. I know we’re not a couple or doing anything more than casually dating, but I don’t want him to be ashamed to be seen with me either. I’m tempted to climb right back inside the cab of his truck.
Shaw acknowledges him with a wave as he approaches.
They clap hands together in the typical teenage boy way while I stand there torn between wanting the pavement to part and suck me down inside and wanting Shaw to acknowledge me—and admit we’re here together. Although, at this point, I’d settle for him just looking my way.
“Who’s this?” The newcomer’s curious gaze lands on me.
Shaw’s head sharply swivels toward me as if he forgot I was there. Great. “This is Maddie Winters.”
“Winters?” he questions. “As in Marshall’s little sister?”
“Yeah. Maddie, this is Greg.”
I tip my head toward him. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You too. I don’t think I ever saw you at school. Do you go to a different one?”
Why am I not surprised that he doesn’t know me?
“Nope, same as you. I was a year behind you guys.”
He presses his lips together and grunts an unintelligible reply. “So, you’re playing babysitter while Marshall’s gone?” he directs his question to Shaw.
“Nah, Maddie can take care of herself.”
Greg looks at me skeptically. I’m tempted to show him how capably I can kick him in the balls.
“How’s Marshall doing at camp?”
“He’s loving life right now,” Shaw answers. “There are a lot of new female camp counselors where he is.”
There are? I didn’t know this and he’s my brother. But I’ve only received one short text from him since he left.
Greg chuckles. “Lucky dog. He’s surrounded by fresh meat.”
“Yeah,” Shaw’s reply is less than enthusiastic. “We’re going to grab some ice cream. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
“There’s a party Tuesday night. I’ll send you the details.”
“Sounds good.” Greg walks away and Shaw nudges my arm. “Do you know what flavor you’re getting?”
I see how he wants this to go. I’m supposed to pretend that wasn’t just awkward as fuck. “Salted caramel in a cup with whipped cream on top.” How fortunate for him that I’m not big on confrontation.
“I’ve never had that flavor. It sounds good.”
“It’s my favorite. I get it every time I come here.”
We wait in the line leading up to the outside window. There are tables inside, but during the warmer months it’s more convenient to order this way.
When it’s our turn, Shaw insists on paying, shaking his head when I try to hand him some money. It’s a sweet gesture, and my disappointment in him over his interaction with Greg lessens slightly.
I should probably cut him some slack. We’re not in an easy situation, and even being casually involved, there are sure to be speed bumps along the way as we try to navigate along this new territory. We went from being friends, but not particularly close ones, to sucking face and dating. The major factor that complicates our situation is Marshall.
We sit facing each other at one of the picnic tables, Shaw straddling the bench and me with one leg crooked up on the weathered wood.
I pull the scoop of ice cream from my spoon with my lips and the sweet, smooth flavor hits my tastebuds. Immediately, I take another spoonful, this one has whipped cream too. “This is delicious. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’m glad you’re enjoying it so much.”
He spoons some of his sundae into his mouth. “I’m sorry if things were awkward earlier when I saw my friend, Greg.”
“It’s fine.” I let him off easy, as is my way.
“I’m pretty sure that the word ‘fine’ means it’s anything but. That’s a favorite of my mom’s when she’s upset with my dad.”
I shrug. “It’s all good.”
He places his palm on my knee. “Maddie, it’s okay to tell me you were annoyed. I want you to be honest with me,” he encourages.
“Really, it’s okay.”
“Maddie, don’t hold back. I know how you are with your family, and I don’t want you to be that way with me.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re a pleaser and a peacekeeper. You’d rather give in on something you want than to ruffle any feathers.”
I take in his words, muddling them over, and Shaw gives me the quiet I need to do so.
Staring at his hand, so dark in contrast to my fair skin, I like the way it looks and feels—exhilarating and reassuring at the same time. I like that he wants me to be heard. He’s right, when it comes to my family and friends, I often give in.
He gently squeezes my knee, giving me the final encouragement I need to answer candidly.
“It felt like you wished I wasn’t with you.”
Dipping his chin, his warm eyes lock with mine. “Maddie, that wasn’t the case at all. I’m not going to lie and say I wasn’t hoping we wouldn’t see anyone we knew, but not because I’m worried about Marshall finding out.”
“Then why?”
“Because I wanted you to myself. I realize that probably sounds crazy to you.”
“Not really.”
“We had so much fun alone out on the river and I didn’t want reality interfering.”
“Reality is something we need to deal with, though. We’re not going to always be alone. People we know will see us together and my brother will find out.”
“I am aware of all those things.”
“Maybe we should stop hanging out,” I suggest, and then I want to kick myself, because that’s not what I want. Not in the slightest. But I’m afraid he’s going to make me fall for him, and then break my heart.
“No,” he replies sharply. “That’s not an option. I enjoy spending time together. Can’t we continue and see where this goes?” His hand leaves my leg, gesturing back and forth between us.
“Okay.”
“I don’t want you to worry about Marshall. He won’t be a problem.”
“Pfft, that’s what you think.”
“I’m a good guy. Why wouldn’t he want you dating me?”
“You’re crazy if you think it’ll be that simple. He wouldn’t even want me dating a monk. I’m his little sister and he’s always going to see me that way, no matter how old I am.”
“I don’t think you’re giving him enough credit,” Shaw states.
“I know you’re his best bud, but when it comes to me, I know him better.” Marshall is a hothead who likes his way. Which is why I’m usually the one to give it to him.
“Regardless, we have almost two weeks until he’s back. Let’s make the most of them and not think about your brother at all. This is our chance to have a break from him.” He winks.
I laugh. “You’re right. As much as I love him, he can be a giant pain in my ass.”
After Shaw dropped me at home, I took a nap. Being in the sun for so long wore me out.
I run a brush through my hair and then scrape the strands back from my face into a ponytail.
I head down the stairs, my bare feet quickly meeting each tread. At the bottom, I veer to the left, following the tempting scents of my dad cooking dinner.
“Hi, Dad.” Ambling across the cold kitchen tiles, I climb onto a ba
r stool.
“Hey, honey. How’s your day been?” He quickly peers over his shoulder, smiling before tending to the chicken stir fry in the pan.
“It was fun. I went canoeing with a friend and then took a nap.”
He turns around, glancing at me. “You got a little color in your cheeks.”
“Yeah, even with sunscreen on. The sun was so strong, I had to wear a hat.”
Dad faces the stovetop once more while I smile at the memory of Shaw tugging his B.U. cap down on my head. It’s hard not to confide in my dad about Shaw and me. I can talk to him about anything and often do. Here I am dating the guy I’ve been crushing on for most of my life and I’m acting as if it’s business as usual. But I don’t want to put him in a bad position. If he doesn’t know what’s going on, he can’t be blamed by Marshall.
“What did you do today?” I ask.
“I went to the gym and then met Uncle Rex for lunch.”
“How are he and Ruby doing?”
“Great. She’s going to some local camp for budding artists.”
“That’s awesome. I envy her talent.”
“You do?” His surprised gaze swings over to me.
“Not really. Obviously I love Ruby, she’s my cousin.”
“You can love someone and still be envious of them.”
“I’m not really. I just wish I were that talented at something.”
“Maddie, at your age you’re just beginning to discover your potential.”
“I know. But Marshall has always had hockey. Why did he get all the talent?” I joke. Kind of. It does sting that I’m not particularly good at anything.
“You don’t know what your future holds. You’re a wonderful student. You’ve been blessed with intelligence.”
“I work hard to get good grades. I study a lot.”
“Yes, you do. And that means you’ve got a great work ethic. That’s a quality that will serve you well in life.”
“Yeah,” I reply flatly.
“I know you want to hear something else, but everyone is different. Maybe you’ll be the best mother that ever lived.” I roll my eyes. “What?” he asks.
“That’s doubtful with Mom as a role model.”
“Maddie,” he cautions.
“I know. I know. Don’t speak ill of Mom. But I’m getting too old for you to keep making excuses for her, Dad. She cheated on you. How can you be okay with that?”
“Hating her would only hurt me more, Maddie. I know you don’t understand that, but someday you will. Dinner’s ready. Come help yourself.”
And as usual, that’s the end of our conversation about my mom. How can things improve if we never really discuss what’s wrong? I know my father tries to make up for her shortcomings, but he doesn’t seem to understand that having an honest conversation about her wouldn’t be betraying her. It would be nice for me to feel heard.
Feeling like my own mother doesn’t love me is a horrible thing to deal with.
“Maddie, don’t put your elbows on the table,” my mom scolds.
I place my hands in my lap, adjusting the cloth napkin. My fingers spread out the white square until it’s smooth and wrinkle free.
“Don’t slouch, dear,” she reminds me.
Pulling my shoulders back, I sit up straighter and glance around the restaurant. My gaze lands on what looks to be another mother and daughter having lunch. Conversation seems to effortlessly flow between them and is punctuated by smiles and laughter. Why can’t lunch with my own mom be enjoyable?
When she called me last night and reminded me about today, I wanted to tell her I already had plans. I didn’t want to create tension, though, for my dad’s sake. All he needs is her to call and complain to him because I didn’t jump to see her when she wanted me to.
Fortunately, I get to live in my childhood home, for the most part. Every once in a while my mom wants me to spend a night or two with her, and I always comply. Even if it means changing up my own plans. But now that I’m eighteen and about to go to college, I don’t see it being a problem anymore.
“When are you going to get rid of that atrocious pink color?” Her insult is a harsh reminder of our dysfunctional relationship.
My hand reflexively goes to my hair, twirling a strand around my finger. “What’s wrong with it? I like the pink.”
“What’s wrong with it?” she repeats my question, her lips twist mockingly. “It looks trashy.”
My forehead furrows. “Trashy? Really?” I fire back, but her insult hurts.
“You have beautiful natural blonde hair, what possessed you to change it to pink?”
“It’s my favorite color.” And I like how it looks.
“Blue is my favorite color but you don’t see me changing my hair.”
“Maybe you should give it a shot.” I study her elegant bone structure and brown eyes. “I bet it would look great.”
Mom visibly shudders. “It’ll never happen.”
Nope, it won’t. Just like you’ll never stop being judgemental and harsh with me. Of course I don’t voice my thoughts, because she’s never wrong. And I don’t want to give her any more things to dislike about me. I know she loves me in her own way—not that she hardly ever utters those words.
Whenever I spend time with her, I walk away feeling worse about myself. Aren’t mothers supposed to encourage their daughters and try to boost their self-esteem?
She’s different with Marshall. Admitting this is a bitter pill for me to swallow, but it doesn’t make it less true.
Our waitress appears with our salads, placing them in front of us. “Can I bring you anything else?” she asks.
Yeah, the bacon cheeseburger that I wanted before my mother gave me the stink eye when I went to order it. I open my mouth, tempted to order nachos.
“That’s all for now,” my mother replies with a smile, thwarting my plans as usual. The waitress walks away and my mom’s eyes pin me in place. “Maddie, you must make good decisions about what foods you fuel your body with.”
“Okay, Mom. Can we skip the lecture?” I hold up my fork with a piece of lettuce speared on it. “It’s a salad.”
“Hmmph.” Her skeptical grunt lets me know I didn’t fool her one bit.
Chapter Ten
Shaw
Working today was miserable with the high temperatures and humidity. Landscaping is considered physical labor for a reason.
I spent most of the afternoon digging holes and planting shrubs. My achy arms are a scratched up mess.
And now, after a quick nap, a bite to eat, and a shower, I’m at a party being thrown by one of my old high school hockey teammates. Apparently, Chad’s parents don’t mind if he has fifty people over because they’re here and not saying a word.
Chad nudges my arm with his. “What have you been up to, man? I haven’t seen you around.”
“I’ve been working for a landscaper and that’s been keeping me busy.” I can’t very well admit that Maddie’s the real reason I’ve been occupied. Chad wouldn’t agree with me spending time with her either. Guilt assails me as I think about the many ways I’m being a horrible friend to Marshall. I know I shouldn’t be pursuing anything with Maddie, but I really like her.
“Here.” Chad hands me a beer. “Cheers.” He taps the neck of his bottle against mine.
I take a sip of the cold brew and sigh. “Sometimes beer tastes so good and other times it tastes like shit.”
“My dad always said it’s an acquired taste, so I’m working on acquiring it,” Chad explains with a quick shrug.
“Ha. I can’t believe your parents don’t care if you have a party, never mind one with alcohol.”
“Dude, who do you think supplied the booze?” he asks.
I shake my head. “My mind is blown. My parents would ground me for the rest of the summer if they even knew I was here.”
“Where do they think you are?” Chad raises the bottle to his lips.
“At a friend’s house.”
He smiles. �
��Technically you didn’t lie. You are at a friend’s house.”
“Exactly. It’s all about sticking as close to the truth as possible.” I don’t like omitting details in conversations with my parents, but sometimes it’s necessary. Glancing at my watch, I notice it’s almost nine. Maddie will be getting out of work in two more hours. I haven’t spoken to her since I dropped her home yesterday. I’m surprised by how many times she’s popped into my thoughts since.
What’s changed to make me finally pursue her?
We’re both the same people we’ve always been.
In the past, I’d always viewed Maddie as so much younger than myself, when in reality there’s only ten months in age separating us. It took me until recently to realize this and remind myself that she’s eighteen now.
Every time I’ve seen her this past year she’s looked more mature. I feel like I’m trying to justify my feelings for her but I don’t need to. I’ve been fighting them for too long already.
And though I keep reminding myself that she’s off limits, the warning doesn’t stick in my head for long, because I’m happy whenever I’m with her.
All it takes to forget is for me to picture her angelic face. Or to remember her soft, pliant lips yielding to my kiss. I can still feel the hesitant stroke of her tongue seeking mine before it grew bolder. I know she mentioned that she’d kissed four other guys, which made me jealous as all get out, but I still don’t think she’s had much experience. But experience or not, that was the best kiss of my life so far.
Fuck. I’m getting excited just thinking about it. Tipping the bottle back, I draw in a deep pull, swallowing it down. I glance at the bottle, noticing I’ve drunk half the beer already. I’m only going to allow myself this one drink, since I have to drive home.
“Hey, guys,” Mindy, one of the cheerleaders from my class sidles up between us.
“Hi.” I nod at her, my fingers tightening around the bottle. Mindy and I dated when we were both sophomores, but she broke up with me to date the captain of the football team.
