Chapter Eleven Georgia #2
more natural. “Wait, I have an idea,” I start, thinking fast. “Let’s have a party this weekend. I’ll bring the guy I want
you to meet. We can . . . see how it goes.”
“Ooh, a party! Yes!” Eden says, clapping her hands. “Now you’re starting to make sense!”
“Fine, but Mateo has to come, too,” Daisy says.
“Fine, of course!” I tell her. “Rhys will want him there anyway.” I turn to face Eden. “And Eden, you’re inviting Leo.”
“What? No way.”
“Yes way.”
“Is it Georgia’s-the-Boss Day? Because you’re really leaning in,” Eden says.
“I’m going to force that guy to apologize to you if it’s the last thing I do,” I tell her. “He needs to do the right thing.
And if he doesn’t, I promise I’ll kick him out. Deal?”
“Well, what if he says no?”
“He won’t, trust me. He’ll come. And if he doesn’t, he’s a dick.”
“He is a dick, though,” Eden grumbles . . . but doesn’t refuse, so I can tell she doesn’t hate my plan as much as she insists.
I know the girl better than she’d like to admit.
I know how heartbroken she was over Leo.
And I also remember how in love with him she was.
I know it’ll be healing to have this conversation.
She needs it. Her parents kind of left her in my charge this summer—I mean, in Mom’s charge, but basically in mine—because they felt like she needed a reset.
It’s more than just country air Eden needs. She needs to get over her past.
Pleased with my new plan, I start packing up our stuff, eager to get home and shower and help Mom with dinner. I’m starving
after a full day of training—and I need to keep moving before the girls try to change my mind.
Friday morning, I wake early—even for me—feeling reinvigorated. After I drove home from the beach with the girls, we had a
cozy night. It started raining softly, so we had tacos inside while Dave told us a story about how he’d gotten reprimanded
at the Laurel library—for the great sin of humming to himself while working on his paper. I found this whole anecdote wildly
embarrassing, but Mom seemed to think it was the absolute most adorable tale a man could tell. Later we put on a movie no
one really liked; we mostly just talked and laughed and fell into bed exhausted. I had a quick sleepy call with Rhys and told
him about the party idea. He loved it, which made me happy. Daisy would meet Benny, and Mateo would get the hint, and Leo
would apologize to Eden, and Rhys and I would hold hands, be a unit again, and it would all be perfect. I fell asleep sure
of that.
Last night’s rain left a lingering humidity; the sun’s only partly out as I slip out of the house at six fifteen in my first bathing suit of the day—a white bikini and matching visor, along with a pair of navy striped shorts.
With all the fans whirring and air conditioner units buzzing, no one hears my car as I pull out of the driveway.
I’m not sneaking out, exactly. I’ve just been coming and going in the early mornings before anyone else is awake because that’s
the best time to meet with Benny. Before it gets too hot, and before I’m too busy with training. The beach opens to the public
Saturday, and then I’ll be on duty most days, though our shifts will trade off a bit, with two of us working at any given
time. Anyway, I like this hour. The lake is quiet, and we aren’t disturbing anyone. I’ve been getting home by seven forty-five,
in time to trade my wet bathing suit for a clean one-piece and come down for breakfast with everyone else a little after eight.
It’s requiring a serious amount of bathing suit switches, but otherwise the system works fine, and no one’s the wiser. Not
that I care if anyone knows. It’s just easier this way, like I said. I know how cranky this family gets when they don’t have
enough sleep.
I love pulling into the empty beach parking lot. My first glimpse of the still water, with no one else around. It’s serene,
meditative.
This morning, Benny’s here first. He greets me with a huge smile and a wave before I’m even out of the car. I have to say,
it’s a great way to start the day. At home I’m rarely greeted with smiles of enthusiasm—usually it’s Mom tearing the house
apart looking for something she lost, or Daisy grumbling about homework she forgot to do or, if it’s a weekend, pissed that
someone woke her up.
“Hi, Benny.” I get out of the car and slam the door shut with my hip, tightening my ponytail. I keep it high on my head and mostly avoid getting my hair wet during these sessions. Makes the transition into outfit number two easier.
“Hey, Georgia,” he says, walking over. He’s already wet, lake water dripping down his bare chest, his necklaces glinting in
the early light. “Got a few laps in already to warm up.”
“Nice,” I say, impressed. “Okay, let’s get to that sidestroke, then.”
We grab the rescue tube from the shack and walk down the dock, and I sit on the edge with my stopwatch while he hops into
the water.
“Okay, left side now. You need to be agile.”
“If I rescue someone, won’t I just use my stronger side?”
“You could get a cramp,” I tell him. “Or an injury. Better to be prepared for anything.”
He switches to his left side, powering through the water. It’s very pleasant, sitting here with my feet dangling in the water,
watching his body ripple through the lake, strong and certain. He’s been taking my feedback, and I’m satisfied to see real
improvement after only a few days.
“Form is more important than speed on this stroke,” I remind him when he makes his way back to me. “Remember, you’re using
sidestroke because you’ve got a person in your other arm. Speed is for getting to them, steadiness and endurance for the return.”
“It would be easier if I could practice with a person,” he says, squinting up at me from the water.
“What, like me?”
He shrugs. “No, I was thinking Mr. Bailey, when he gets here.”
I sigh. “I’ll get in, but please don’t get my hair too wet.”
“Why not? That’s crazy. Your hair is wet all day.”
I splash my feet a little. “Not before breakfast, it isn’t.”
“Georgia. Are you keeping these practice sessions a secret?”
“No! Why would I do that?”
“I don’t know, you tell me.”
“I’m not!”
“So who knows?”
I pause. “Me . . . and you. But that doesn’t make it a secret. Plenty of things happen that no one else knows about, and they
aren’t secrets. Like that,” I say, pointing to a hawk flying high over the distant shore. “If no one sees the hawk, does that
mean its flight pattern is being kept a secret?”
“Wow,” he says with a laugh. “So philosophical.”
“Oh, come on,” I say, standing up. I toss him the rescue tube, then shimmy my shorts down my hips and kick them off, aware
that Benny is staring at me. It is one of my best bikinis, after all, and I can’t exactly wear it for work, so I figured I
might as well wear it for this. I splash off the dock and into the water beside him. “Stop being annoying and start saving
my life.”
I breaststroke out about forty yards or so into the deeper part of the lake, keeping my head above water, and turn back, treading
water. I wave my arms in a fake signal of panic, and then, still treading water, I set my stopwatch.
Benny’s fast, but I’m still a little out of breath by the time he gets to me. It drives home just how easy it would be for
a lesser swimmer to drown this far out. Alertness and speed are everything in this job.
When he gets to me, he approaches from behind like he’s been taught, grabbing my hand and speedily turning me so I’m facing up, while hefting me backward onto the rescue tube. I feel it squeak below my shoulder blades.
“Lower,” I instruct him.
“Hey, who’s saving who,” he grunts, repositioning it down below my lower back.
“I guess we’ll see, won’t we? And it’s whom. Who’s saving whom.”
He laughs, out of breath. “Don’t crack jokes, or you really will be the one saving me.”
“Grammar’s not a joke to me,” I tease.
“Stop!” he laughs again, spitting out lake water.
I feel his arm tighten strongly around me as he begins to pull me back in toward the dock.
My ponytail is definitely getting wet, but I have to admit, I feel . . . safe. Secure. Like he knows what he’s doing.
And that makes me feel proud too, because in such a short time, while I’m still going through training myself, I’ve taught
him these skills.
I relax, going limp, as someone exhausted from nearly drowning might do, and allow him to pull me all the way in, feeling
the cool water stream along my body.
Benny’s fully out of breath by the time we reach the side of the dock in waist-deep water.
He lets go of me, his hand grazing accidentally along my stomach. I’m not sure he noticed—he definitely didn’t do it on purpose—but I inhale reflexively, unused to being touched by anyone who isn’t Rhys. I recall his hand on my leg on the gondola and blink the memory away.
“Not bad,” I tell him, standing up.
“Thanks,” he pants.
“But your endurance definitely needs work. We should do some running drills for that.” He groans, and I laugh. “Not right
now. I’ve got to get home.”
He smiles. “Same time tomorrow?”
“Oh—I don’t know if I can do weekends,” I explain. “I’m starting work for real tomorrow.”
“Ah,” he says. “Monday at dawn, then?”
“Absolutely.”
“Georgia, would you be open to meeting up later today? I . . . have something I want to show you.”
“I—” I’m tempted to ask him what it is, but then remember it’s Friday. “I’m sorry, Benny. My boyfriend is coming up later
today. We’ll probably want to spend every free second we have together.”
He nods. “Would your boyfriend have a problem with you training me? Is that why you’re keeping it a secret?”
“No! He’s not possessive at all. Rhys is the most confident guy I know. And I told you, this isn’t a secret.”
“Okay . . .”
“What?”
He shrugs. “I mean, if I were him, I wouldn’t love it.”
“That’s kind of sexist,” I inform him. “But good to know.”
“I’m just saying, you’re a very special human, Georgia, and if I were your boyfriend I’d be constantly sweating losing you.”
“Well, Rhys isn’t ‘sweating’ anything, so don’t worry. He knows he won’t lose me.”
“Okay. I guess that’s good. I mean, if it’s good for you, then it’s good.”
I’m finding this conversation annoying, but then remember something. “Hey! We’re throwing a little party at my place on Saturday.
You should come to that! And you can finally meet Daisy.” I add a wink, regretting it instantly.
He laughs. “Has anyone ever told you your wink looks more like a flinch?”
“Ha. Yeah, I could feel that.”
He laughs again. “Party sounds great. What’s the address?”
“I’ll text it to you,” I say.
He smiles. “I actually don’t have a phone.”
“Oh!” I tell him the address, and he nods.
“I’ll remember that. Thanks for inviting me.”
I smile. “Of course!” I say, feeling charitable. Because while I don’t think I’ve done anything to lead him on, I know that
I’m one of his only friends at the lake so far, and he’s probably just bored and lonely and can’t think of anyone else to
hang out with on a Friday night.
But tonight is for me and Rhys.
“Bye, Benny,” I say with a wave. “Keep up the good work.”
It isn’t until I’m taking my lunch break in the shade of the beach shack that I get the text from Rhys.
Rhys:
So, so sorry to do this baby but I can’t come up to the lake this weekend.
My heart plummets like a broken elevator. Bubbles appear on my screen, and then:
Rhys:
It’s my first weekend here, and all the other interns are doing this network party. Gotta show face. Hope you understand.
Can’t wait to see you and kiss you soon.
Next weekend, for 4th of July.
Sorry again.
My hand hovers shakily over the screen but I’m too shocked to write back.
He didn’t even call, only texted. I can’t explain why it stings this much.
After all, it’s not like we haven’t weathered canceled plans before.
And he’s probably texting from work—he probably can’t make a personal call but wanted to tell me right away.
He’s trying to do the respectful thing. That’s Rhys.
He’s always trying to do the right thing, and I know that.
But it still feels like an insult, a rejection.
His fun internship in the city is more important than spending time with me.
Without meaning to, I remember what Benny said that morning, about Rhys not being afraid of losing me. This tiny voice in
my head adds: because he takes you for granted.
I try to swallow that thought away.
Does he even remember I’m throwing a party this weekend? That he’s supposed to come to?
I hover my fingers over the screen again, trying to figure out what to say back. A wild impulse takes over, and I almost want
to text Benny instead, to tell him I’m free tonight after all, but remember I don’t have a way to reach him. A hotness tingles
my fingers, a feeling of anger and defiance.
But then I scroll back to Rhys’s text. And write: Oh no. I’m so sad. I miss you and can’t wait to see you next weekend instead. I’ll be thinking about you all weekend. Love
you.
Because that is the mature thing to do.
Because that is the right thing to do.