Page 19 of Homesick

I follow him hesitantly to the pond behind the big barn. It’s still as murky as I remember and if I hadn’t swallowed so much of that water as a kid, I’d probably think it was toxic.

Lost in my daze of childhood memories, I’m completely shocked when Blake begins to strip. It’s a full-on Magic Mike show in my parent’s backyard. Well, there’s no dancing, but if I had dollar bills, they’d be flying right now.

He looks up after he takes his shirt off. I panic and childishly cover my eyes. He doesn’t say anything and all I hear is a faint laugh. I spread my fingers slightly and God, this is torture. Blake Fisher has grown up. He’s no longer the scrawny little boy I knew in high school. He’s a man.

My peep show is rudely interrupted by a huge splash when Blake jumps into the pond. He barely breaks the surface before he yells, “come on Wren! It feels great.”

I feel his eyes on me as I slowly lift my shirt. I’m shy about my body. Sharp edges have grown into soft curves over these last few years, but I have come to terms with the extra weight I put on since college. I’m confident, yet I feel like the same innocent sixteen-year-old who had let the man in front of her see her most intimate parts.

“I don’t know why you’re being so shy. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” Blake says casually from the water.

Excuse me? I say to myself. His words are completely rational, but somehow, they feel so personal and cocky. I’m not going to let this man intimidate me.

I whip off my shirt and angrily kick off my boots. I look up as I unzip my pants and catch Blake’s heated stare. I guess I’m not the only one with a staring problem.

I’m wearing a well-worn-in sports bra I’ve had since high school and yet his stare makes me feel like I’m completely naked. I peel my pants off and mentally pat myself on the back for not wearing granny panties for once.

I throw my clothes to the side and don’t hesitate before jumping into the water. I feel like a kid again as I push myself toward the surface. The cold water wraps around me like a security blanket I didn’t know I needed until now. I really missed this.

I pop my head up out of the water and awkwardly tip toe to a depth where I can stand. I turn toward Blake and his proximity instantly warms me up. I feel goosebumps prickle across my skin as I try to get my breathing under control. If I just reach my arm out . . .

“Well, I think this was a good call,” Blake says.

My eyes snap to his and I’m met with the perfect swirl of green and golden specks, my favorite color.

“No complaints here,” I smile, giddily kicking my legs in the water. I can’t remember the last time I went for a casual swim. I wait for Blake’s reply, but he just stares at me like he’s trying to guess what I’m thinking. I shoot him a confused look and he snaps out of his trance.

“I think this is the first time I’ve seen you genuinely smile since you’ve been home.”

“Correction. The first time I’ve smiled with you around.”

“Good point,” he agrees and turns to swim further away. I’m thankful for the space. I wade out a little deeper, too, still keeping my distance.

“You look good, by the way.”

“What?”

“I said you look good, Campbell. It seemed like you were hesitant earlier, but you have nothing to worry about,” Blake says, sealing his statement with a wink.

I wince at the friendly way he uses my last name. Maybe I’ve let this go on for too long, I think as I contemplate getting out. I stop myself, though. This is my pond and he’s on my turf. He doesn’t get to scare me away.

“Excuse me for not wanting to strip in front of my ex-boyfriend,” I point out, rolling my eyes. “Also, I don’t think your girlfriend would like it if she knew how hard you were checking me out just now.” That was a cheap shot, but part of me needs to know who the girl from the bar the other night was.

It takes him a second to figure out what I’m talking about, but I see it click in his head as he remembers. “Oh, Riley? She’s just a girl I hang out with here and there. Not my girlfriend.”

“Hang out with?” I boldly question.

“Well, if you really want the details, I can give them to you, but that doesn’t seem very appropriate at the moment,” he responds without taking a beat.

“Oh, I’m sure the front seat of your truck is erotic as ever. You can spare me the details,” I respond with a bite in my tone.

“That’s cute, Wren. I do remember one night in particular when you were riding me in that front seat and got so carried away you broke my door handle from grabbing it too hard,” he smirks.

My pulse starts to speed up and I can feel knots begin to form in my stomach. I fight the urge of dropping my gaze from his eyes to his mouth. I can’t let him know how much that small memory is affecting me.

I grit my teeth together and contemplate what to say next, but I’m finding it harder to concentrate as the memory of his hands on my hips seeps back into my mind. But then I think of another memory. A memory that instantly cools me off.

“I’ve got to go,” I announce before making my way back to the shore.

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