Henry
We head toward the pool, the place we met three years ago.
This is where I first noticed how pretty she is.
Where I first decided I wanted to know her.
I kick off my shoes and sit on the deck, sinking my feet into the cool water.
She does the same, trying not to flash me as she maneuvers in her dress.
I study the stars until she’s settled, and then I focus on her.
“How’s your dad?” she asks.
“Okay. He went to bed early. Been a long day.”
“For you too, I bet.”
“I watched him pour a half rack of beers and a dozen bottles of booze down the drain, so it hasn’t been all bad.”
She smiles.
I expect her to ask about Whitney, or my hand, which aches. Instead, she says, “Henry, I shouldn’t have left you at Hudson’s. That was awful of me. But when you went inside, I read this text on your phone, and then Damon… I just had to get out of there.”
How is she so poised and steady-voiced after what she went through at Hudson’s?
She says, “If you’re mad, I understand. I betrayed your privacy by looking at your phone, and then I ditched you. If you don’t want to see me anymore, I get it. I would hate that, though, and I was coming to tell you as much.”
She lets me weave my fingers through hers.
“I was coming to tell you the same thing. Well, not the same thing, exactly. I was coming to tell you that last night sucked and I want to make it right. That text you saw…it was from Whitney?”
“Yes. I was confused. I am confused. I thought—”
“It was a miscommunication. A mistake on my part. I set it straight. I’m staying in Florida, Piper. As long as my dad’s sober, I’m staying. Whitney’s part of my past. That’s all.”
She looks at our joined hands. Gently, she runs a fingertip over my bruised knuckles.
“Do you believe me?” I ask.
She lifts her gaze, nodding. No more tears.
“Is there something else?”
She nods again.
I trail a hand up her arm, then down again. It comes to rest against her wrist, her pulse beating under my palm. “Piper, what?”
“When you saw me with Damon,” she says, whisper-soft, “you knew I didn’t want anything to do with him, right?”
“Yeah. Shit—of course I knew.”
“Your face, though. When you came around the corner. It seemed like you weren’t sure.”
My cheeks catch fire. How—how—could I have put that idea in her head?
I wrestle for a comprehensible explanation.
“I’d just talked to Gabi. She’d told me what Damon did to you.
Seeing you with him, knowing the backstory, knowing what he put you through…
I’ve never felt so out of control. This instinct kicked in, and Jesus, I wanted to choke the life out of him.
It lasted a heartbeat before I remembered that you were a thousand times more important than retribution.
Then all I wanted was to be sure you were okay. ”
“I am okay.”
“I know. You’re tougher than I’ll ever be.”
She raises her eyebrows. “I’m not the one who drilled my fist into someone’s face.”
I shrug. “You should’ve seen me at the hospital last night. I was half a second from weeping on your sister’s shoulder.”
She sits quietly, swirling her toes through the pool’s illuminated water before she voices a question. “Henry, do you think we’re defined by our mistakes?”
I ponder that for a minute. “Shaped, maybe, but not defined. At least, I’m trying not to let hard stuff from my past shit all over the good stuff in my present.”
She smiles up at me. “I like that.”
“Yeah, I can be pretty philosophical.”
She laughs. There’s forgiveness in her eyes, and her palm is warm against mine. She leans into my arm, her weight and her presence a grounding wire. As much as I’ve come to care about her this summer, I’ve fallen flat-on-my-back in love with her in the last five minutes.
I lift a hand to touch her cheek, and she presses back against my palm. I swear to god my heart blasts skyward.
“Can we kiss now?” she whispers. “Or do you have more deep things to say?”
“I’m definitely done talking.”
She slips a hand around the back of my neck, drawing me closer.
She kisses me, tentatively, like it’s our first time all over again.
I cradle her face, urging her vanilla lips open.
She smiles against my mouth. We build from a warm-up jog to an all-out sprint to a leisurely cooldown that lasts until we’ve reclaimed the breaths we lost to each other.
“Want to go swimming?” she asks.
I arch an eyebrow. “I’m not wearing—”
She tips into the pool, water splashing up behind her.
When she surfaces, I’m laughing. “I’m having déjà vu.”
She pushes her wet hair off her face. “That was intentional—not like last time.”
“It was equally graceful, though.”
She shoots a stream of water at me, soaking my shorts. “Now you have no excuse.”
“Oh, I’m coming in.” I lose my hat, pull my shirt over my head, leave my phone and key ring in the bundle.
Then I hop into the pool, dipping to submerge my shoulders.
I grab her hand and reel her in. She drapes her arms around my neck, hooking her ankles behind me.
There’s a glint of mischief in her eyes.
“I’m cool with swimming,” I tell her, linking my hands at the small of her back. “But I wasn’t done kissing you.”
“Good,” she says, leaning in.