Page 49 of Just the Tipsy
I watch her head back to shore and step out of the water, squeezing water from her curls. Her long, shapely frame looks even better now that she’s all wet, her suit clinging to her body in a way it wasn’t before.
Someone taps on the back of my head, pulling my eyes away. It’s my aunt Nadine on a float.
“Sweetheart, did your um, girlfriend forget the rest of her swimsuit?” Aunt Nadine asks in that annoying ‘oh bless her heart’ tone. Nadine is one of my mom’s four sisters, and is by far my least favorite.
“Nope.” I peel my eyes off Bianca. She’s not even in a tiny string bikini. It’s just a swimsuit that shows some skin. Like a fucking swimsuit in the modern era.
But I hold my tongue. Starting shit with Aunt Nadine usually leads to more bullshit but I get the feeling that she’ll keep going.
“We aren’t in LA.” She tsks.
“You’re right. We aren’t. And it doesn’t matter where we are. She’s wearing a swimsuit at the lake.”
Aunt Nadine’s eyes narrow at my tone. I’ve kept it light, but I’m probably pushing it.
“We’ll see how much she fits in with the family over the trip, then. Why did she move to Jepsen? Isn’t she a model? What kind of modeling?”
“Clothes and stuff like that.” I don’t know what the name of the modeling is but I know she looks good doing it. I’ve spent a little too much time looking through her Instagram.
I start to swim toward the shore just slowly enough so she won’t call me out for being rude.
“Does she do risqué photos?” Nadine follows me, of course.
“Depends on your definition of it,” I say. We’ve drifted close enough to the point where Bianca might be able to hear us. She’s standing at the shore, trying to pull a piece of a plant out of her hair.
“Does she want a family and children?” Nadine asks. ”What would they think if they knew she did that?”
“What’s the point of all these questions?” I ask, my tone sharp. Nadine’s eyes widen in surprise — as much as she’s annoyed me over the years, I’ve always been as polite as possible. “Because it doesn’t feel like you’re asking to actually get to know Bianca. You’re asking because you want to start something.”
Aunt Nadine blinks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, honey.”
“I don’t want to be rude, but yeah, you do,” I say. “And I’m not putting up with it.”
Nadine gapes at me. “I’m just trying to —”
I swim toward the shore before she starts spouting off some dumb excuses for the shit she said. Aunt Nadine and I drifted closer to the shore than I thought, so it doesn’t take me long to reach Bianca. She’s sitting in the sun, where it’s noticeably warmer than it was just a little further away. Her expression is the same calm it usually is, but she nibbles on her bottom lip.
“Hey,” I say. “Did you overhear any of that?”
“Bits and pieces, but I can kind of sense when people are talking about me.” She shrugs, like this is a normal thing. I hate that it is.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “She’s just kind of like that but I know she’ll back off a little now that I’ve called her out.”
“Thank you,” she says softly, squeezing my hand. “You didn’t have to do anything.”
“I had to.” I squeeze her hand back. “Even if you’re not my actual girlfriend, I’m not letting anyone try to shame you.”
She looks at me with a softness in her eyes that I rarely ever see. I want to hold onto the moment for as long as I can, but she looks away.
“Waylon, Waylon, Waylon,” she says with a soft sigh, leaning against me a little.
I’m not entirely sure what she means by that, but will I read into it entirely too much? Probably.
And it’s going to be a problem.
FOURTEEN
WAYLON
