Page 30 of Stony Point Summer
“That’s right.” Jason squints out the water-covered windshield. Puddles pool in the parking lot. “Really close.”
Lightning continues to strike around them. The thunder begins rolling from one clap into another, too, with no pause.
“Do you think you can drive me to Eva’s now?” Maris asks, arms still crossed.
Jason looks at her and shakes his head. “I can’t evenseethrough this rain. And with that wind? Power lines might be down. It’s safer to wait it out.”
“Fine.”
“Hey, it’s not my fault. If you didn’t pull all that, back there in the water—”
“Pull all what?”
“Staying in the water too long. We could’ve long been outta here otherwise.”
“So this is allmyfault?” Maris swipes a wet strand of hair from her face.
“Well,” Jason informs her with a sidelong glance, “after you threw yourself on me.”
“There was a crab!”
“If you say so.”
“Ooh.” She pauses with a sharp breath, then hisses, “Jason Barlow, you make mesomad!”
“Didn’t seem that way ten minutes ago.” He looks her straight on now. “When you kissed me.”
Maris tugs up the halter strap of her wet bathing suit top. “Youtotallykissed me first!”
“No. No, I remember very clearly. Your lips brushed against mine, after I lifted you out of that crab’s way.”
“That’s because of the angle you were holding me. It … It just happened.”
“So you had no control?” he asks, his voice low. “Couldn’t resist?”
Quickly, Maris turns toward the passenger window. She also grips the door handle—ready to bolt as she tensely sits there in her wet bathing suit.
“I said don’t touch that!” Jason reminds her.
So she folds her hands in her lap, but still looks out her window. When her body trembles, he reaches behind her seat and pulls out a folded black sweatshirt.
“Here.” He sets the sweatshirt in her lap. “You’re cold. Put this on.”
Maris slips into the large sweatshirt, half zips it and folds back the sleeves. “Don’t you dare tellanyonewhat just happened in the water,” she says while zipping it. “Not your brother.” She looks long at Jason then. “Not Shane.”
Jason watches her without answering. Instead, he reaches for a pack of cigarettes on the dash, taps one out and lights it.
This time, Maris doesn’t seem to care. As if sayingLightning strikes be damned, she goes ahead andopensher window. After a few quiet, smoky moments, she also reaches across the seat, pulls the cigarette from Jason’s fingers and takes a drag herself. More quiet falls between them when she takes another drag and exhales a plume of smoke out through the open window. Rainwater splatters in; the storm wind blows, too.
“And if youdotell anyone about what happened, you know, whenyoukissedme, I swear,” she says when she hands him back his half-smoked cigarette.
“Swear what, Maris?”
“That I’ll kill you.”
“Huh. I’m guessingthoseodds are a little more likely than me getting struck by lightning?” He barely winks at her, then raises the cigarette to his mouth.
Maris says nothing. She looks at him, though. That too-large sweatshirt hangs low off one of her shoulders so that her blue floral-print swimsuit top shows. But suddenly, she looks away.
