Page 42 of It Started at the Lake

Her fingers play with the strands of my hair at the base of my neck. Ants are crawling on me. This sensation is having the opposite effect of what she’s intending.

Breathe, man. Just breathe.

“I’m only here for a week,” she purrs. “No time for strings.” She blinks coyly at me.

She’s forward, I’ll give her that.

Dropping my hands from her waist, I step back. “I’m still getting over a relationship. It was nice to meet you, Faith. I hope you enjoy your time in Stokesley.” I walk back to the table Evie and Eric are sitting at. Plopping onto the bench, I grab someone’s drink and take a deep swig.

“That bad?” Eric asks.

I set the cup down. Has Evie told him about Jen? “I’m rusty is all.”

Evie gives me a sympathetic smile. “I’m proud of you for trying.”

I rub my forehead, willing the blossoming headache to go away. “Thanks.” Two more women. If I can push through two more, I can go home and spend the rest of the night on my rock.

I steal another sip of liquid courage. “I’m going to try again.”

“I’m here if you need me,” Evie says.

As much as she wants me to date and not just dance, I know if I tell her I’m done, she’ll stop. Evie’s a pusher, but not controlling.

Across the dance floor is a blonde woman who looks closer to my age than Faith. Taking a few minutes to study her without flat-out staring, I conclude that she’s not here with a man.

Shaking out my hands under the table, I stand and cross the dance floor. Concentrating on my breathing, I snake around couples until I reach her table. “Hey,” I say, standing in front of her. “Would you like to dance?”

Before Jen, my moves were smoother. I’d compliment a woman, flirt a little, then ask her to join me on the dance floor. This bluntness is new. Heck, everything I’m doing is new.

“No pick-up lines?” she asks.

I shrug. “I’m all out of those.”

She laughs. It’s pleasant, but doesn’t strike a desire to do whatever I can to hear it again.

“I can’t tell you how refreshing that is.” She stands, following me.

We face one another. Dancing isn’t my thing. It’s ridiculous I’m doing this. Everyone is probably watching, laughing at the old guy trying to be young. Another scorching round of heat burns my neck and chest. It’s a good thing it’s hot in here and the sweat beading down my back can be blamed on the temperature. “I’m Bennett,” I say, trying to take my mind off what I’m doing for a second time.

“Vivian.”

Her navy dress is tight at the top, but flares out around her thighs. It sways as she moves. “Where are you from?” I ask.

“Pennsylvania. This is my first time at Lake Lloyd. A friend of mine came here last year with her husband and told me how charming it was. My sister and I came to check it out.”

I like how she keeps her distance and speaks in a normal tone, unlike Faith who clearly was interested in a different kind of dance. This is nice, but I’m not experiencing any urgency to be around her again.

I’m zero for two. “My grandparents own a house here. I’ve come every summer since I was born.”

“Oh, I love that! I wish I had someplace to go every year.”

“I can’t imagine not being here.” Even growing up with sports and camps, the majority of my summers were on Lake Lloyd.

“I’m loving it so far.”

The song changes to another slow dance. I’m not enjoying myself, but I’m also not as panicked as I was with Faith. My arms go to her waist, but I barely rest (rather graze) my palms on her sides. I don’t want to give Vivian any ideas. “What have you done while you’ve been here?”

Vivian doesn’t inch closer, touch my hair, or do anything else but answer my question. “I went hiking and kayaking, but that’s it. What hidden treasures should we go see?”

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