Chapter 8 #2
Bower put his hands up like he didn’t care.
I took it as an open invitation to dive in.
I was somewhat of an expert at s’mores. It was one of the few talents I possessed.
The marshmallow had to be perfectly goldened the whole way around.
Puffy but not burned. A burned marshmallow was a tragedy.
The chocolate and graham cracker had to be premade, ready to envelope the hot marshmallow on both sides.
It was the only way the chocolate melted to a perfect soft consistency that wasn’t too runny.
I laid out the crackers and chocolate atop one of the free coolers near the fire and set off to roast the most perfect marshmallows.
It wasn’t hard. The fire had been burning for a few hours at this point in the night, and the flames had created pockets of embers that were perfect for marshmallow roasting.
Warm but away from direct flames that would burn it.
One at a time, I cooked the marshmallows, squeezing them between the crackers and chocolate as I pulled them off the long metal fork I’d cooked them on.
I gave my first creation to Dean, my second to Bower, and saved the last for myself. Then I squeezed myself next to Bower on a cooler, biting into my s’more, making sure to keep my fingertips on the graham cracker and away from the marshmallow.
It was perfect.
“These are fucking delicious, Mia,” Dean mumbled with a full mouth.
Bower nodded, looking at me with a twinkle in his eye before he took another bite.
This entire night was perfect.
I was in my favorite place with my favorite person. The sky was clearer up here. There was no light pollution like in the Cities. Every star shone brighter, and the night seemed darker. I exhaled, letting my breath join the night air.
I sat back and enjoyed my dessert, but I enjoyed watching Bower eat his even more. He did so much for me during my week up here; it felt good to do something for him too, even if it was as small as making a s’more.
Bower took his last bite and crushed his beer can.
“Going slow tonight?” Dean asked.
“What do you mean?” He tossed his crushed can into a garbage bag next to one of the coolers.
“That’s only your third beer. Usually you’re five deep by now.”
Bower rubbed his palms on his pants, glancing over at me.
I kept my lips closed, squeezing the s’more between my fingers. I hadn’t drank before, let alone been drunk. How many beers was a lot? Did he normally drink a lot? Bower seemed fine to me.
“Fuck off, Dean.”
Dean smiled as he raised both of his hands above his shoulders, stood up, and walked away from the fire. I watched as he jogged down to the beach, greeting a pontoon full of people that’d just showed up.
Bower turned to face me. “This is my favorite week of the summer.”
I finished my s’more, leaving my sticky fingers extended away from my body. The only failure of the perfect dessert. “Yeah, I bet it’s nice to have your grandma off your back.”
Bower gave his head a quick shake. “It’s—”
“Incoming!”
He looked up, and his forearm hit me across my chest, pushing me back. I instinctively shriveled up as a full beer came flying toward us, flipping end over end. Bower caught it in the palm of his hand right before it would’ve hit me square in the face.
Someone from across the party cheered at his catch. Bower raised the beer in thanks and set it on the ground next to his chair unopened.
I sat there stunned for a moment, not even able to get out the words thank you.
“Yeah…because of my grandma,” Bower said quickly, filling the silence.
I unfolded myself from my chair, keeping my sticky fingers in front of me so they wouldn’t touch my clothes or hair. My teeth were starting to hurt.
“Do you want to—” Bower motioned to the lake after glancing at my fingers covered with sticky marshmallow fluff.
“Yeah, sure,” I said, standing up.
He followed me down to the lake. I waded a little bit into the water, the yellow rain boots once again protecting my feet. I bent down and rinsed my fingers off.
The lake was warm. I made ripples in the water with my fingertips, sending the reflection of the stars above bouncing along the waves.
Bower stood by my side, his sandaled feet welcoming the lake water brushing against his skin.
Another reminder that I was different. I was wearing tall yellow rain boots to a party where most girls wore sandals or just went barefoot.
No one had said anything, probably because Bower had been glued to my side all night.
I finished cleaning my hands and brought them to my tank top to pat them dry. The lake water wasn’t the cleanest and I could feel a film already forming on my fingers, but it was the best I could do right now.
Bower grabbed my arm, his fingers circling the entirety of my wrist. The veins in his forearm pulsed under his skin as he pulled my hand close.
With his other hand he lifted his own shirt by the hem, bringing the fabric up.
I watched as he guided my wrist, tucking my hand beneath his shirt, covering it—drying each finger individually with his free hand.
“You shouldn’t put lake water on your clothes—the fabric is going to dry funny, and it’ll rub against your skin…”
I kept my hand limp as I held my breath. He was holding my hand beneath his shirt. If I flexed my fingers, I’d be touching his bare skin.
I looked up at Bower, the left side of his face illuminated by fire and the lights of the party, the right side lit by the moonlight’s reflection on the lake. The ripples of the waves made moving patterns on his skin.
He paused.
My hand twitched, the pads of my fingers finding his warm skin. I felt goose bumps pop up beneath my touch, his stomach drawing in as his breath caught.
Slowly, beneath his shirt, he guided my hand from his sternum down his abdomen.
My senses were amplified when it came to Bower.
I could feel all the ridges of his stomach as he held my hand against his body, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.
My finger hit the waistband of his shorts, my knuckles instinctively buckling and my fingertips dipping beneath the elastic.
He let go of my wrist, my hand dropping before I pulled it back.
I watched my hand float between us. That had felt natural, easy, like it hadn’t been the first time. I blinked, the break in my stare breaking the spell between us.
Quickly, I pulled my hand to my chest, holding it in my other hand, willing it not to shake. I looked up at Bower. His eyes were wide as they bore into mine.
We had never touched like that before—I had never touched anyone like that before.
There was something illicit about it that made my heart beat faster in my chest. Nothing about the touch had felt wrong or dirty like health class had made it seem.
It’d felt natural, right, like my hand was meant to be there, touching his chest—feeling his warmth against me.
It already felt different between us. Not a bad different, just different. For once, I didn’t know what to say to Bower. What could I even say? At the end of the week, I would leave and not see him again for an entire year. A lot could happen in a year.
It took a moment for the both of us to realize that the music had stopped playing.
Girls in bikinis and jean shorts ran past us toward the dock and into the water, jumping onto boats.
Guys followed behind them, yelling about cops and telling everyone to leave.
I froze, looking to Bower for direction.
This was my first serious party, complete with underage drinking and other debauchery.
I hadn’t had more than one sip of beer. Was it still in my bloodstream?
Would a cop know I had had one sip? It was just a sip, and it had been gross.
I shouldn’t have even tried it. Sweat pooled under my arms.
“Hey! I need that ride home now.” Ruby’s face was flush, but there was a twinkle in her eye. This wasn’t her first busted-party rodeo.
“Sure.” Bower leapt into action, wrapping his arm around my waist, guiding me toward my sister.
Dean trotted up behind Ruby.
“Take the keys, man.” Bower tossed the boat keys to him, which he caught by the red spongy flotation keychain attached to them. “Get the boat started, and I’ll push us off.”
“Hey! Freeze!” The voices were close. Lights from flashlights circled the beach, blinding me if I looked away from the water. Police lights flashed from the front of the mansion, casting a red-and-blue glow around the house.
We ran down the beach, Ruby glancing behind her to make sure I was following, the water splashing around our feet. Dean led the way, hurling himself onto the boat Bower and I had taken to the party. Ruby lifted herself up and over the bow, rolling onto the boat. Yep, she’d done this before.
“Stop right there!” A flashlight shone brightly in my eyes. They were so close.
The boat’s engine roared to life. “Come on!” Dean yelled from on board.
Bower swept me off my feet, his arms cradling my body, holding me along my shoulder blades and under my knees. He tossed me up into the boat. It wasn’t a graceful throw, but it got me inside the boat. I landed on the seats in the bow.
“We’ve got to go right now!” Dean yelled.
“Go!” Bower yelled.
Dean threw the boat into reverse and hit the gas. I sat up, ready to help Bower into the boat. Branches snapped, and the rope he’d anchored the boat with pulled a tree from the shore.
Bower stood knee deep in the water, watching our boat back away, bent over from having just pushed it out into the lake. Cops splashed into the water to apprehend him. He kept his eyes on me as they wrestled his hands behind his back.
“No!” I shouted. He wasn’t fighting them. They didn’t need to be so rough.
Dean backed the boat up ninety degrees before he flipped the boat into forward and hit the gas.
I ran along the length of the boat to the back, kneeling on the seats, watching Bower being pulled out of the water that was littered with floating beer cans.
The officers had him in cuffs, the red-and-blue lights still flashing.