Chapter 22 Carson
CARSON
Idon’t know which shocks me more: the wide-open expanse of the limestone quarry, or the fact that Dan is still holding my hand.
Emerging from the trees, we stop to take in the moonlight shining down on the water that fills the quarry, sending glittering ripples across the surface.
The quarry is massive, probably the size of a couple of football fields, with high limestone walls surrounding three sides.
I’ve heard about quarries like this all over central Indiana, but I’ve never seen one myself.
Decades ago, the whole place was mined for stone that would become sculptures, monuments, and buildings at the university or in downtown Indianapolis.
But now all that’s left are the even cuts in the walls and a placid swimming hole.
It’s wild that it’s just here, peaceful and quiet, among the trees and cornfields.
“How have I never heard about this place?” I ask, keeping my voice low like I used to in church when I was a kid.
“The guy who owns the property is pretty private,” Dan says. His grip tightens on my hand, sending a zing of electricity up my arm. “And squirrelly about trespassers.”
“Are we going to get in trouble?”
“Nah. I met him my junior year. He told me if he ever caught me drinking or doing drugs out here, he’d turn me in to the cops. But once he realized it was always just me and a book, he let me be.”
“Can you swim here?” I ask, then wince. I worry that he’s going to tire of my questions, but I can’t help asking them. I love pulling little bits of information out of him, mining him for gold. Every new piece of Dan lore he shares with me is precious.
“Yeah. There’s a dock over there that you can jump off. The water’s really deep, but it’s clean,” he says. “It’s not safe to swim here alone, though, so I haven’t done it very much.”
Standing here beside him, I feel like I’ve stepped outside of my life.
Summer always feels a little bit like that for me, when I’m free of the structure of the school day and the pressures that come with being responsible for a roomful of five- and six-year-olds.
But this dark, silent, beautiful place makes me feel like I’ve stepped through a portal with Dan by my side.
Already this summer has been so different from any other. I’m living on my own for the first time in my life. I joined a roller derby team. I’ve been lifting weights. I made friends with Dan McBride.
As the sounds of the water and the breeze echo off the stone walls, filling my ears with gentle white noise, I start to wonder what else I could do. How else I could step outside of who I’ve always been, past the boundaries that were set up for me—that I maybe even set up for myself.
“I want to swim,” I say, my eyes on the water.
“We can come back tomorrow,” Dan says.
“No,” I tell him. I squeeze his hand, then let go. “Now.”
“But—”
I take a few steps away and then whip around, taking a deep breath as I look directly into his eyes.
“I want to do things. New things. Take risks. I’ve spent my whole life with a list of things I couldn’t do or shouldn’t do.
But I’m learning that the can’ts and shouldn’ts are where the fun lies. I want to do things, Dan.”
And then, before any of those pesky little voices in my brain can pipe up and tell me to stop, I reach back and tug on the zipper of my dress.
Dan sucks in a breath, his lips parting as the fluttery fabric floats down my thighs, pooling in the dirt at my feet. His eyes rake over the white lace bra and matching panties I’m wearing, and I revel in it. I want him to look. I want him to see me.
When I reach back for the clasp on my bra, his eyes shoot skyward.
“What are you doing?” he asks, like he’s new to this planet and has never seen a woman get naked before.
“I’m going skinny dipping,” I tell him, the plan forming as the words come out of my mouth.
My bra hits the ground.
I hook my thumbs into the waistband of my panties, and Dan plants his heel in the dirt and spins.
“What are you doing?” I ask, laughing.
Dan clears his throat, and I watch the way his shoulders tense with probably a little too much pleasure. “I think the point of skinny dipping is the thrill that you might be seen. But the goal is not to be seen.”
I’m standing here, naked in the dirt beneath a nearly full moon, and this man is staring at the trees? Absolutely not. I’ve stripped down to nothing in the woods, and I want to be looked at, dammit.
“Then what’s the point of doing it with someone else?” I ask.
Dan clears his throat again, then blows out a long breath. “Well, uh, there are circumstances…I mean, there are scenarios where…if you and I…I mean, we said this wasn’t a real date, but—so, uh, I mean…we probably should have had a conversation before the clothes started coming off, don’t you—”
Is he…oh my god, is he babbling? Steely, controlled, one-word-and-a-grunt Dan McBride is babbling. It’s almost too much. I squeeze my thighs together, desperate want for him coursing through my body. I’m desperate for him to look.
“Turn around,” I say, interrupting his stream of half-formed thoughts.
His steady stream of interrupted sentences screeches to a halt.
“What?” he asks, his voice raking over the word like tires over gravel.
My heart feels like it might pound out of my chest, but not because I’m nervous. No, it’s because my need for him feels like sitting at the top of a roller coaster, waiting to tip over onto that first drop. I desperately want to go on this wild ride with him.
“Turn. Around,” I tell him, my voice husky with desire.
He pulls in a breath and holds it for a beat.
And then he turns.
He meets my eyes first, his jaw set, his brow furrowed, like I’m an exam he’s studying for.
Then his blue eyes, glowing in the moonlight, begin their descent.
They trace down my neck and along my collarbone, caressing my bare shoulder before sweeping across my breasts.
I breathe in, lifting them toward him. His tongue sweeps across his full lower lip, and a small sound very close to a moan escapes my throat.
His gaze continues to rove over my body, heat licking at every inch of my bare skin that he studies.
He’s probably five feet from me, too far away for me to reach out and touch him, but I feel every movement of his eyes.
It’s like he’s tasting me from afar, and from the way his teeth sink into his lip, I think he likes my flavor very much.
Being looked at by Dan McBride feels better than any sex I’ve ever had.
When his eyes retrace their journey up my body, finally meeting mine again, I nearly step back from the force of his attention. It’s almost too much.
And without a second though, I spin on my heel, sprinting for the dock. When my toes reach the end, I leap, my hair flying out behind me as I squeal into the night sky, then hit the water with an impressive splash.
When I surface, I brush the water from my lashes and look up to see that Dan has followed me down to the dock—and at quite a clip, if the way he’s breathing is any indication.
“You coming in?” I call from the inky blackness of the water.
For a moment I think he won’t. For a moment I think he won’t even say anything. For a moment I worry I’ve gone too far, that he might leave.
But then he grins and reaches for the buttons on his shirt, his strong fingers making quick work of them. He shrugs the shirt off onto the dock, and for the first time, I can see all his tattoos. Every last one.
Glowing in the moonlight, the ink Dan hides beneath his shirt swirls and cuts across his skin.
There’s a cardinal and a sunset and an abacus.
There’s a rose with thorns and a hammer and nails and a tiny string of numbers just over his heart.
There are designs that wrap around his ribs that I can’t quite make out, and there are leaves and vines and flowers winding between them all.
His chest, his shoulders, his arms, all marked.
He waits for me to finish perusing his art, but when my eyes drift down to the waistband of his shorts, a fleur-de-lis curving over the waistband, he reaches for the button.
He flicks it with his fingers, working the zipper down until the slutty little shorts drop to the dock, leaving him standing there in a pair of black boxer briefs.
I swallow.
He hooks his thumb into the waistband.
I suck in a breath, can practically feel my pupils dilate.
He tugs them to his hip bones.
And I disappear beneath the water.