Chapter 17 #3
“Thanks,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave.
I swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of how close he was standing, how he smelled like cut grass and sandalwood, and how the soft summer breeze ruffled his perfectly messy hair and how my fingers itched to brush it off his face.
I took a quick sip of my cold Gatorade just to give my hands something to do.
“We should get going,” I said, my voice coming out a little breathless. “Before traffic gets worse.”
“Right,” Rhys said, though he didn’t move for another three seconds, his green eyes locked on mine. Then he snapped back into motion, tossing the bag of snacks through the open window onto the seat and hopping back into the driver’s side.
Only twenty minutes later, we turned off the main highway onto the winding, two-lane backroads that led toward Carling Beach.
The atmosphere shifted instantly. The thick forest closed in on either side of the pavement, creating a canopy of vibrant green leaves that dappled the sunlight bouncing off the windshield.
Every few miles, a flash of bright, sparkling blue water peeked through the trees as we passed the hundreds of lakes that made up the cottage country.
Rhys drove faster here, leaning into the tight turns with a casual confidence that made my stomach drop on the steep hills.
Rhys hit the power window buttons, sending both front windows sliding all the way down.
Immediately, a rush of hot, rushing air slammed into the cab, whipping my loose brown hair wild around my face.
The noise of the engine, the wind, and the heavy bass from the speakers filled the space between us until it felt like we were floating in our own little fast-moving bubble.
“Hair tie!” I yelled over the roar of the wind, trying to haul my hair back out of my eyes.
Rhys didn’t even turn his head. He reached into his cupholder with one hand, pulled out a black hair elastic, and flipped it into my lap.
“Why do you have this?” I asked suspiciously, wrapping my hair into a messy bun at the crown of my head.
“You left it in here after the gym last week.”
“And you just… kept it in here?”
“Yeah. In case you needed it.” He glanced over. “Told you I can be boyfriend material.”
Then he reached over and cranked the volume dial until the speakers vibrated against the door panels.
He let out a loud, wild laugh, leaning his head back toward the open window, the wind catching his hair.
He grabbed my hand where it rested on my thigh, and pulled it up, wrapping my fingers around his as he held our joined hands up over the center console, keeping beat with the music.
My heart did a terrifying vault in my chest. There was no one here to watch us. There were no cars behind us, no spectators on the side of the empty country road, no one around for miles except the pine trees and the shimmering gray granite.
“Rhys,” I said, my voice lost beneath the roar of the wind and the music.
“What?” he called out, glancing at me with bright, laughing eyes.
I shook my head, squeezing his hand back before he could notice the sudden panic in my chest. “Nothing, just don’t wreck the car!”
“Never.”
He finally released my hand to grip the wheel as we hit a steep incline, but the warmth of his palm stayed imprinted on my skin long after he let go.
Ten minutes later, we passed the wooden sign carved with gold lettering: WELCOME TO CARLING BEACH.
The small cottage town was buzzing. Main Street was lined with old wooden storefronts, a bustling marina packed with expensive wooden boats and sleek modern speedboats, and an ice cream parlor with a line wrapping all the way down the boardwalk.
Teenagers in wet swim trunks were walking barefoot down the gravel shoulders, carrying towels over their shoulders.
“Almost there,” Rhys said. We blew all the way through the town, then five minutes past it, turned down a narrow, bumpy dirt lane framed by towering white pines. The SUV bounced over the roots and gravel, the tires crunching loudly in the quiet woods.
Through the trees, I caught my first glimpse of the lake—a vast, mirror-like expanse of deep blue, dotted with trees and boathouses.
My chest tightened with a mixture of anticipation and dread. The easy, carefree bubble of the car was about to pop. Beyond the next bend was the cottage, and waiting inside were his dad, his step-family, and the ex-girlfriend he was trying to make jealous.
Rhys slowed the car as a massive, dark-timbered cottage came into view at the end of the point, perched right over the water with a wide wrap-around dock.
He pulled into the gravel driveway and turned off the ignition.
The engine turned off, leaving us in a sudden quiet broken only by the gentle lapping of the lake against the shore and the distant call of a bird.
Rhys didn’t get out right away. He rested his hands on the top of the steering wheel and turned to look at me. “Ready for this?”
I looked down at my sandals, then back up at his searching eyes. I reached out and lightly touched his arm, feeling the tight wire of tension in his muscles.
“I’m ready,” I said, trying to sound braver than I felt.
Rhys stared at me for a long moment, his eyes dropping to my lips before rising back to meet my gaze. Then he opened his door and stepped out into the cool evening air. I took a deep breath, grabbed my duffel bag, and opened mine, stepping out into the sunset to play my part.