Chapter 28 #2
It has an upper deck with a ladder and a bright blue slide that curves down into the water. There are built-in speakers, drink holders everywhere and enough room for all eight of us without feeling crammed.
“Dibs on the slide,” Lexi says, already climbing up the ladder to check it out.
“Says the girl who didn’t want to go tubing,” Slone tosses back.
“We’ll park out in the middle of the lake, drop the anchor and just float,” Anderson confirms, taking the wheel. “Sound good? And Wes, you can just meet us at the boat once you’re done with your ride.”
Everyone agrees, and I take a seat at the back, letting the wind whip across my face as we cut across the lake. The engine hums beneath us, while white spray arcs off the hull and lands in sharp, cold bursts.
Anderson idles the boat in the middle of a wide cove. The water is mirror-smooth, catching sunlight in shards that dance across the surface. The hills rise steep and tree-covered around us, enclosing the cove like a secret kept just for those who arrive by water.
A few minutes pass in easy quiet before Wes parks the Jet Ski, looping the rope around the cleat with practiced ease.
“Alright,” Slone says, popping open a seltzer. “Who’s getting in the water?”
“Me,” Wes says, already kicking off his flip-flops and yanking off his shirt. “But I gotta grab a drink.”
Connor hands out cans of whatever people have thrown into the cooler: seltzers, beer, even a bottle of rosé that Margo somehow convinced Anderson to pack. Everyone starts stripping off their lake layers. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Rachel untying her cover-up and sliding it off.
I freeze. It’s stupid, I know that. I’ve seen Rachel a hundred times before in a swimsuit, but Jesus. I’m going to have to wait ten minutes before I can move again.
Her bikini is simple. Red. Nothing flashy, nothing designed to demand attention—but somehow that makes it worse.
It clings to her in all the right places, straps dipping over sun-warmed shoulders, the fabric catching light in a way that makes my head spin.
Her legs go on forever, her stomach taut and smooth, her hips curved in a way that makes it impossible to look anywhere else.
But what wrecks me isn’t the sight itself. It is knowing what’s underneath. What I’ve already seen. What I’ve already touched. It makes pretending I don’t want her feel damn near impossible.
I haven’t even had a sip of alcohol yet, and I feel drunk. I try to look away, but I can’t convince myself to let go of the sight. The only thing that breaks me out of it is Slone interrupting.
“You good?” Slone teases.
I clear my throat. “Yeah. Just hot out.”
She smirks. “Right.”
Rachel steps to the edge of the boat, testing the water with a toe. “Shit. That’s cold.”
“You know you do that every time.”
She glances back, lips quirking. “I do not.”
“You do,” I say calmly. “You never just jump. You need a second to feel it first.”
“Okay, fine,” she says, conceding. “Then jump with me.” She holds out her hand.
I place my hand in hers. “You know I’m always looking for an excuse to touch you.”
The water hits like a shock to the system, cold enough to knock the breath out of my chest, but it only takes a second before it feels incredible. The heat melts off me. I come up gasping and laughing, and Rachel is already pushing wet hair out of her face, grinning.
I splash toward her, just a little, and she doesn’t even flinch, only smirks.
“Oh, so we’re reverting to being childish,” she says, flicking water back at me.
“I couldn’t help myself,” I counter. “Something about this place.”
She rolls her eyes and stays next to me.
Within minutes, the rest of the group joins us.
Slone cannonballs in with a splash that makes half the lake shiver.
Lexi screams dramatically about the temperature, then laughs so hard it sounds like she is daring someone to stop her.
Wes attempts some weird backflip maneuver, earning a full minute of relentless heckling.
Lexi has already gone down the slide four times, each descent louder than the last. “I will not be stopped,” she declares, climbing the ladder again. No one is actually fighting her for the slide, but she pretends anyway.
The lily pad float drifts gently just off the back of the boat.
Connor and Wes stand at the top deck of the boat, drinks in hand, arguing about something completely inconsequential.
Margo lies on a noodle, face tilted toward the sun, while Anderson keeps a lazy hand resting on her ankle, steadying her whenever the current pulls her too far.
Connor shouts from the upper deck, “Five bucks says Wes busts his ass if he tries that again!”
“Ten says he yells ‘nailed it’ either way,” Slone adds.
Sure enough, Wes launches himself down the slide with a war cry that echoes across the lake. His splash soaks the side of the lily pad.
Rachel laughs, eyes squinting from the sun. “This is chaos.”
“My favorite kind of chaos.”
She glances at me then, a flash of something softer behind her expression. “Yeah. Me too.”
I lean back on the lily pad, half-listening to Margo and Anderson talk about how they should’ve packed frozen grapes, when Slone’s laugh cuts through the noise.
She is near the edge of the boat, stretched out on a towel, sunglasses sliding halfway down her nose. Long legs crossed, posture casual, but every line of her body seems to say she knows exactly what she is doing, and Connor is absolutely falling for it.
“You keep staring at me like I’m gonna bite,” she says, tossing her hair over her shoulder without looking up.
Connor smirks, leaning against the railing. “Knowing you, Slone, you might actually bite me.”
Her lips twitch as she lifts a brow. “Don’t tempt me with a good time, Westbrook.”
He steps closer, tilting his head slightly, letting his gaze roam. “You, Slone Rhodes, would ruin my life if I let you.”
She laughs, rolling onto her side to face him better. “Could be fun.”
He grins, tossing a bottle of sunscreen toward her. She catches it mid-air, fingers brushing the bottle just so. “You missed a spot. Unless you’re going for ‘lobster chic.’”
“Well, can you help me? I’d like to avoid ‘lobster chic’. I can pull off a lot, but I’m not sure I’d be able to pull off that.”
He leans a little, the shadow of his smile teasing. “I’ll help,” he says, voice low. “But only if you beg.”
She rolls her eyes, squeezing the sunscreen between her palms. “You should know better by now, Westbrook. I don’t beg.”
“Looks like lobster chic is what you’ll be wearing to dinner tonight, Princess. But don’t worry, Slone, I’m pretty sure you can pull anything off.”
His eyes linger on her a little longer, and I can see her swallow, fingers tightening around the bottle. Then, with a dramatic shake of his head, he hops off the boat into the water with a splash.
Back on the lily pad, Rachel shakes her head at the whole scene. “Do you think they even realize?”
“Nope, not a clue,” I respond.
Not far away, Lexi and Wes are locked in one of their ridiculous competitions. Right now, it’s a battle to see who can stay underwater the longest. Lexi pops up first, gasping, hair plastered to her face, and clings to the ladder.
“You cheated,” she snaps, though her eyes are gleaming.
Wes surfaces behind her, smirk in place. “How can you cheat at holding your breath?”
“You looked at me funny right before we went under. I inhaled too much. You sabotaged me.”
He shrugs, hands in the water, innocence plastered on his face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. But if my face was distracting, well, I can’t be held responsible for that.”
“Oh my God, that is not what I was saying,” she mutters, swatting at him, though the corner of her mouth betrays a smile. He climbs up the ladder and holds out a hand. She takes it, rolling her eyes, muttering something under her breath.
They flop onto the boat deck, dripping and laughing, settling into the sun-warmed cushions. Lexi nudges him with her knee. “Next competition, you’re going down.”
“I always am. I’m surprised even a smart girl like you hasn’t picked that up yet. I keep losing to you on purpose.”
She blinks. “Why would you be dumb enough to lose on purpose?”
Wes grins. “Because I’m not sure I like to see a losing Lex. She’s not a very gracious loser.”
“Don’t you dare make it easy for me, Wes. I’m not fragile. I can take it.” I watch as they sit so close together.
The hours tick away, the sun burning in that slow, late-afternoon way, turning the lake into a molten mirror. Rachel is stretched out nearby, arms reaching above her head, eyes closed, hair slicked back and glinting in the sunlight like something out of a dream I have no business having.
I force myself to look away, then jab at the water with a hand to break the spell. “Wanna go for a Jet Ski ride?”
Her eyes snap open, sharp and teasing. “Only if you promise not to cry when I throw your ass off.”
God help me, I love her mouth when she says shit like that.
“Oh, I’m the one who’s gonna drive,” I toss back.
And then I swim away, hoping the water cools me down.