Chapter 19
SUIT YOURSELF, SLIM
Sera
Early the next morning, I climb down from my squeaky bunk and search around with my cell phone flashlight for my flip flops.
I slide silently under Thane’s bottom bunk to reach my left shoe, but when I worm my way back out, I come face to face with his wide-open eyes.
I barely hold in a scream as he puts his finger to my lips.
“Hi,” he whispers.
“Good morning,” I whisper in reply.
“Is today the day?”
A grin stretches across my face and I nod. “Today is the day. You wanna go?”
“Always,” Thane says, throwing off his blanket and rolling out of bed.
“Should we wake the others?” I ask. “We don’t want to break Rule Number Three.”
“I’m going to invoke Rule Number One here and say, can I be selfish and just have it be us? For old time’s sake?” Thane asks.
I smile, because deep down, I always hated sharing our first-morning ritual with everyone else.
Once they all caught on to what we were doing, more and more people joined in.
It took something we did to be spontaneous and turned it into a family affair.
Which is fine. But the years Thane and I did it by ourselves are some of my favorite.
“Of course, let’s go before everyone else wakes up.”
“You should probably leave the loudest shoes on the planet up here if you’re trying not to wake everyone,” Thane says, gesturing to my flip flops.
I look down at my feet. “Good thinking.”
We rush downstairs, quietly giggling, and slip out the back door just as the sun is coming up.
The whole sky is lit up in sunshine, and the birds sing their happy morning songs high above us in the trees.
The lake is still and silent. The waves lie asleep under a layer of thin glass sparkling like liquid gold.
I take a deep breath in and let the scent of pine fill my memory bank with one of my favorite smells in the whole world.
Then, we run!
Thane gives me a three-second head start, but still manages to beat me to the end of the dock.
He passes me and grabs my hand just as we launch ourselves into the cool, calm water—fully clothed in our pajamas.
My oversized T-shirt immediately floats toward my head, and I pull down on the hem before I surface.
Thane is treading water when I come up for air, and for a moment we are transported back to a time when we were us.
He splashes me and I laugh as I wipe the water from my eyes.
My stringy hair hangs in my eyes and drips lake water all over my face.
But with Thane, I don’t worry about what I look like.
I’m too busy living in the moment to be concerned with insecurities or the pressures of life.
We are thirteen and fourteen years old again, without a care in the world—and we laugh like it.
I snag a rogue twig floating past and tickle Thane’s leg with it, and he screams like a girl because he thinks it’s a snake.
Then, when he realizes what I’ve done, he dunks me under playfully.
We laugh and splash, and try as I might, there’s no way I can get his six-foot-three body to go under the water.
I swear he can almost reach the bottom now, but back then, it was a long way down for both of us.
I let myself belly-laugh long and loud, like it’s the medicine I need to be whole again. When a grumpy old fisherman scolds us for “scaring the fish,” we giggle under our breaths, but don’t get out of the water.
“I’ve missed this,” I say, picking a leaf from Thane’s hair.
“Me too,” he replies, almost in a whisper.
“You’re too hard to dunk now, though.”
“You’re not!” He laughs and pushes me under again.
When I pop back up I yell, “Flag on the play! Unnecessary roughness!”
Thane doesn’t laugh.
I turn to see where his eyes are fixed, and there stands Bradley, holding a suitcase.
“Bradley. Wh-what are you doing here?” I stammer.
“The better question here is, what are you doing, Serafina? And who is this?”
I’m in shock at the sight of my ex on the dock above me. My tongue feels too big for my mouth, and I suddenly forget how to tread water.
“Bradley, this is Thane Donnelly. He is…” I’m not sure how to finish that sentence, so I settle on “…an old family friend. Our two families do this vacation every year, remember?”
“No, I don’t remember. And need I remind you that we had a flight to Bimini to catch yesterday, that you totally missed? I waited for you at the airport for hours!”
“How did you know I was here?” I demand.
“My laptop still showed your location. So I booked the first flight I could. You can apologize later for ghosting me at the airport, but right now, you need to quit acting like a child and get out of the water.”
I hang my head. I never realized how much he spoke down to me until after I dumped him.
I’m not sure what to do. He’s not my boyfriend anymore, but I don’t want to make a scene, so I shamefully swim to the dock.
Thane waits in the water right behind me, and squeezes my hand in solidarity just before I climb onto the ladder.
I need it more than I realize and a lump grows in my throat.
I toss Thane a towel from our communal towel bin. “I’m going to jump in the shower. Leave your wet clothes in the laundry room and I’ll wash them with mine later,” I say to him, avoiding eye contact.
Bradley puts a towel around my shoulders and leads me toward the lake house.
Before I duck through the door, I look back at Thane.
His stiff shoulders and clenched fists are indicative of exactly how he feels about Bradley.
When Thane meets my eyes, his expression shifts into despondence and a sad smile replaces the joy we had minutes earlier.
Although we are almost a hundred feet apart, I feel his hurt in my chest. His eyes say a million things that never pass his lips, yet I hear them.
They sink deep in my soul and my eyes begin to sting.
I have to get upstairs and away from prying eyes so I can pull myself together.
“Hey, can you make me a cup of coffee?” I ask Bradley as I rush through the kitchen. “Everything is set to go, you just have to push the button. Creamer is in the fridge and sugar is on the table. We’ll talk after I’m done showering, okay?”
“Fine,” he says curtly, and I high-tail it up the stairs.
The moment the water hits my skin, I start to bawl.
Yes, the humiliation from the way Bradley acted weighs heavy on my shoulders.
But I’m used to his outbursts and immature ways.
The look on Thane’s face is what burned like fire, though.
He exposed so much of what I’ve faked a smile through by witnessing firsthand how I allowed Bradley to treat me.
Being treated poorly is one thing, but knowing in my heart that I disappointed Thane, I don’t know how to process it all.
When the hot water starts to run out, I shut off the faucet, get dressed, and pull my wet hair into a messy bun.
We never know when the urge to jump into the lake will strike, and there’s no sense in spending a lot of time on my hair and makeup.
That’s one of the things I love about our time here: low-maintenance primping.
I barely slap on a coat of mascara before heading downstairs.
Thane and Bradley stand in silence on opposite sides of the kitchen, staring at each other like a duel is about to ensue. I feel more like a side character in the movie Tombstone than I do a pastry chef on vacation.
“Hi,” I say, trying to cut the tension.
“I made you some coffee,” Bradley says stiffly, handing me a cup. “Black. Perfect for staying in ketosis.”
I take it from him and inhale a deep breath of courage.
“Thank you. But I’m not staying in ketosis while on vacation.
” When his stare levels me to a pile of rubble, I finish it off with, “Is that okay?” I’m not sure why I even asked; I never needed his permission to eat or drink anything I wanted—though he shared his opinion on the subject plenty.
Thane’s eyebrows shoot up at my request, and shame washes over me.
“Never mind. I’m just going to get some sug—“ Thane interrupts my thought by handing me the sugar bowl and a spoon, “and a bit of—“ then he hands me the creamer from the fridge.
The final blow comes when he grabs the vanilla syrup from the pantry and puts a pump in my cup.
I stare at the transformation of bitter black coffee into a caramel-colored delight.
My eyes ask him, You remember?
And his whisper in return: I’d never forget.
He pats my arm and says, “The hammock is set up outside for you, and your book is on the stump. Enjoy your morning, Fina.” He passes behind me and heads upstairs to shower.
I clutch my coffee mug and fight to swallow the lump rising up in my throat.
He remembers everything.
Bradley doesn’t say anything about my calorie-loaded breakfast drink, but he looks at the nutrition facts on the creamer and syrup, then frowns. He doesn’t have to say anything with his lips; it’s written all over his face that he’s silently judging me.
Him following me down to Amethyst Lake has quickly turned into a nightmare, and has exacerbated his criticisms of me. He is about as subtle as a sledgehammer when it comes to his expectations of me, and I seldom met them when we dated.
I sigh heavily, and Bradley turns to make eye contact. “Hey. I want to talk about what happened at the restaurant. I think there’s been a misunderstanding. Let’s go for a run. We could both use the exercise.” When his eyes flick down to my coffee, my blood begins to boil.
“Actually, before you arrived, I made plans to read in the hammock outside before it gets too hot,” I say, trying to hide my frustration. “But we can talk for a few minutes on the patio while we drink our coffees.”