Chapter 11 Ours to Name #4
Kit leaned against my right side with her head on my shoulder.
Bristol held my left hand in both of hers.
Poppy sat on the counter between Luna and Jessa, swinging her legs and stealing chips from Vina's bowl.
Lucy stood across from us, listening while Jessa explained why a pontoon full of Kappa women should never be trusted with washable paint.
Vina had claimed the other end of the counter and kept feeding Poppy chips just so she could complain about the theft.
Luna rested one hand on Jessa's knee whenever she laughed hard enough to tip sideways.
Kit occasionally reached behind me to touch Bristol's shoulder, and Bristol answered by squeezing Kit's fingers before returning both hands to mine.
Jessa kept bumping Poppy's hip whenever she reached for Vina's bowl, and Poppy kept refusing to move.
The first photograph had made one shape honest. The scene around the unfinished bar made another just as visible: Jessa belonged in their noise, and she looked lighter now that nobody had to pretend about why.
"The phrase washable was legally inaccurate," Jessa said.
"It came off eventually," Luna replied.
"So does a tattoo if you're committed enough."
Vina pointed a chip at her. "That logic is why I respect you."
Poppy's phone kept vibrating against the counter. She put the chip bowl on top of it.
"Problem solved."
Nobody discussed numbers, comments, or whether the lake approved. Kit stayed warm against me. Poppy rested one foot on Luna's thigh and the other against Jessa's hip. Vina traded insults with both of them. Bristol lifted our joined hands and kissed my knuckles.
Lucy watched anyway.
She wasn't watching Bristol with envy. She tracked the small, unguarded things: the way Bristol reached for me without checking who noticed, the way Kit made room without withdrawing, the way Poppy spread herself across half the group and somehow left everyone warmer.
Lucy had spent the whole day helping decide where people stood.
Now she looked at me with the concentration of a woman making one last decision for herself.
Kit followed my attention. She brushed her mouth against my jaw and murmured, "Ace has been waiting for you to catch up."
"I caught up."
"Then go listen."
Kit squeezed my shoulder once, then reached behind me for Bristol's hand. She'd recognized Lucy's moment and made sure I did too.
Her gaze met mine. She tipped her head toward the darker end of the deck.
I followed.
We stayed inside the pool of Brewster Bay's working path lights, but the unfinished bar and the others fell far enough behind us for their voices to blur. Lucy sat on the low bench beside the railing and waited until I joined her.
Then she took my hand and placed it on her thigh, just above her knee.
Her skin was warm beneath my palm. Her hand covered mine and kept it exactly where she'd chosen.
She wore denim shorts, and the inside seam stopped several inches above my hand.
Lucy could've rested my palm anywhere. She chose bare skin, then slid my thumb once across the inside of her thigh before settling it again.
The touch was controlled and unmistakable.
My body answered it, but she didn't turn the moment into a tease or pretend not to notice.
"I want you thinking about me when you plan it," she said.
"I already am."
Her eyes warmed. "Good."
"Friday," she said.
"Yours."
"The whole day."
"The whole day."
"Morning through whatever time we stop pretending the day has rules."
"You won't hear me complain."
"I don't want to fit between a shift and somebody else's plans. I don't want a few hours that feel borrowed." Her fingers pressed mine more firmly to her thigh. "I want to know what we're like when there's room for the day to change us."
She studied my face. Public Lucy would've smiled already. Ace would've turned the moment into a clean decision and moved on. The woman beside me let the silence stay long enough to show what the request cost her.
"You're not going to ask why?"
"You'll tell me what I need to know."
Her thumb moved across the back of my hand.
"You're getting better at this."
"At what?"
"Steady." Her mouth softened. "You used to think careful was the same thing."
"A smart woman corrected me."
"She sounds exhausting."
"Championship level."
Lucy laughed under her breath and shifted closer until our hips touched.
"Careful Lucy makes the schedule," she said. "She picks the music, checks the weather, counts heads, and notices who's having a bad time before they say it. I like her. She's useful."
"But?"
"But she never gets surprised."
I turned my palm beneath hers until I could hold her thigh instead of merely resting on it. "You want me to surprise you."
"I want you to choose the day." Her gaze stayed on mine. "And I want to trust it without checking your work."
That was bigger than choosing somewhere pretty. Lucy was handing me the part of herself that always stayed one step ahead and asking me not to waste it.
"Everywhere I go on this lake, somebody already knows Lucy Lyons," she said. "Cheer captain. Delta girl. Ace. One of Nash's Girls now. I chose every piece of that. I'm proud of it."
Her fingers tightened over mine.
"But I want one day where nobody has decided who I am before I walk through the door. I don't want a crowd or a camera. I don't want the version of me who knows where every person should stand."
"Who do you want to be?"
She looked toward the lake, then back at me. "I don't know yet. That's the point. Maybe I'm quiet. Maybe I'm terrible at something. Maybe I laugh too loud because no one expects the captain to pull the room back into line." Her thumb traced my knuckle. "I want to find out with you."
"What do you want?"
Lucy leaned close enough that her breath warmed my jaw. Her voice dropped beneath the lake sounds and the distant laughter behind us.
"Take me somewhere nobody knows me."
I turned my hand beneath hers and linked our fingers.
"Friday's yours, Ace."