Page 142 of Deep End

“The butterfly thing. That stroke feels like lots of unnecessary work.”

He pushes my hair back and picks me up. I respond instinctively, letting my legs wrap around his waist, holding tight onto his neck as he moves us to the balcony. The sun just finished setting, the air is chilly, but he wraps a blanket around me as we stare at the pretty skyline. It feels like something out of a fairy tale.

“Doesn’t butterfly make you want to just flutter kick your legs?” I ask lazily.

“It’s illegal.”

“Would they arrest you?”

“Execute me.”

“Intense.” I burrow into him. “What’s your favorite stroke?”

“Free.” On the back of his hand there are remnants of the models I’ve been drawing every morning, soft kisses and hushedtrolls whispered low into my hair before we make our way to the pools. He strokes patterns on my arm, and I nuzzle my nose against his neck. “You can’t mess free up. You can get to the end of the race however you want.”

“Really? What about sculling?”

“That’s fine.”

“Windshield wiping?”

“It’ll take a while, but yeah.”

“What if I break into backstroke?”

“Fine.”

“I just wait for the currents to drag me.”

“Also fine.”

“Doggy paddle?”

“Sure.”

“Can I do it naked?”

“I’d enjoy it.”

I smile into his neck. “See? I just do.”

“What?”

“Have fun. With you.” His arms tighten around me, just a little, just a second. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Sure. You already know all of mine.”

“It’s . . . I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’m not going to turn into a stalker or anything like that, so don’t worry.”

His laughter is quiet. “Scarlett . . . you have no idea.”

It’s encouraging. So I make myself blurt it out: “Sometimes I think that it would be nice, if you and I ended up in med school together.”

He says nothing. Just leans back to catch my eyes, and in the light that seeps through the balcony doors, he seems so . . . so intense and present and focused on what I just said, I almost want to take it back.

But I power through. “We’d make a good team. For study groups and stuff. I’m not even talking about . . .”Sex, I cannot bring myself to say.

Although . . . why not? He and I go so well together, in so many ways. Would Pen even care? She’s with Theo. Lukas likes me, maybe even as much as I like him. Yes, we agreed onjust sex, but things have obviously evolved. He talked aboutdating. Is there any reason for us not to continue on together? The prospect of him disappearing from my life tears through me with such violence, the only person who could sew me back together is . . .

---