“Turtle.”
“Oh, where?” He carefully shifts to my side of the canoe and leans over the side.
“I think it’s gone.”
He moves closer to the water, and I cringe at the thought of him falling in. Only when I go to grab his shirt to steady him, he jerks at my sudden movement, the canoe gives a sharp rock, and then he topples overboard. I only just manage to stay upright.
“Fuck,Orson.”
The splash is loud, and ripples are cratering the surface of the water, making it impossible to see where he’s gone. Every second I’m expecting him to pop up passes longer and longer until— Shit. I don’t think he’s coming up.
Heart pounding, I prepare to jump in after him when a shadow stirs beneath me, and I see him a moment too late to react.
Orson bursts out of the water, wraps his arms around my shoulders, and pulls me in after him. Cool water rushes up all around me, and for one suspended second, it’s bliss.
Then my head breaks the surface.
Orson is chuckling as he swims after the canoe to stop it from drifting away.
“You’re a dick,” I call after him.
“You pushed me.”
“I was trying to grab you to stop you from falling overboard.”
He makes a skeptical noise. “The falling overboard part I believe.”
Water is running down my face, sticking my hair to my forehead, drenching through my shorts, and even though I’d been reluctant about falling in at first, this is nice. Thank fuck we left our phones and wallets in the car.
I take my time catching up with him, and then I hold the canoe steady so Orson can climb in, and he helps pull me up after.
We’re both soaked through, gripping each other, slightly out of breath and … so much for that quiet moment.
I laugh, and he joins in.
“I’m getting you back for that,” I say, trying and failing to be grumpy when I’m feeling so good.
“It was your fault.”
“Youleaned over too far.”
“And I was fine untilyouscared the life out of me.”
We break into laughter again, the kind that makes me feel lighter, carefree, and when it drifts away into a happy smile, Orson and I meet eyes again. His are shining in the late-afternoon sun, and it’s easy to believe he’s as happy as I am.
“Should we go back?” I ask, not wanting to break the moment but knowing we can’t kneel here clutching each other all day.
His eyes drop, cheeks reddening above his stubble. “Yeah. But …” He gestures to his dripping clothes.
I take my seat and grab the paddle. “My place is only ten minutes from here. We can change there.”
“Good plan.”
It takes us twice as long to get back as it took to get out there. We’re too busy horsing around and splashing each other, and he keeps leaning forward to snake his arm around and pinch my piercing whenever he thinks I’m not ready for it.
What he doesn’t realize is he’s now made it my mission to find something to use against him. Maybe he’s ticklish. Or has some secret fetish.
By the time we get back, we have to drain the puddle of water out of the bottom of the canoe, and Orson’s shoulders have gotten red. I press my forefinger to his skin and watch the pale mark bloom.