Page 62 of The Summer List

Only it’s not just her sound. It’s mine too. It bubbles up from some boxed up part of me I buried long before I met her.

I’m kissing a girl. I’m kissing a girl who knows this moment is more than a joke or some booze-fuelled misadventure we’ll laugh off and try to forget.

I’m kissing a girl who isn’t afraid to show me she wants to kiss me back.

She wants me.

This girl is one of the kindest, smartest, most amazing people I’ve ever met, and she wants to be kissing me.

My whole body goes weak at the thought.

Which, of course, makes my feet slip.

We both yelp and pull away from each other as the raft inches forward. I dig my heels in as hard as I can, but the water has regained too much of a hold on us now.

“Hold on!” I yell just before I drop my legs.

We scream as we shoot forwards and get plunged into complete darkness, but we’re laughing hysterically within a few seconds.

Even when we’re whipping along so fast the air gets sucked out of my lungs and my face gets dashed with water splashing up from the sides of the raft, I can still feel the ghost of Naomi’s lips on mine. I have to fight not to let go of the handle and risk dumping myself out of the tube just to brush my fingertips over my mouth.

My body is still vibrating with that pitch-perfect note. I don’t know what it means. I don’t know what’s happening here, and I sure as hell don’t know how to stop it, but for now, I just do what I told Naomi to do.

I hold on.

CHAPTER 16

Naomi

I’m going on a date.

A real, live date.

With a real, live girl.

A girl with whom I have already shared a real, live kiss.

With all the literary descriptions of kisses I’ve read, I should be able to come up with a better description of what happened in the water slide yesterday than ‘real’ and ‘live’, but I’m learning that when it comes to Andrea King, words often fail me.

I stand in front of the full-length mirror propped in a corner of my guest bedroom and triple-check my outfit for tonight: a pale blue sundress with spaghetti straps and a swishy skirt that flares out from my waist, paired with a pair of brown sandals. The only other time I’ve worn this dress was to high school graduation. It’s not exactly formal, but it’s fancy enough that I don’t know why I brought it with me to the mansion.

It’s not like I expected to be going on the first date of my life when I showed up at this house.

I consider swapping my sandals for some shiny black ballet flats, the only somewhat fancy pair of shoes I have here, but I still don’t even know if this is a fancy date. Andrea came down while I was feeding the cats this morning and said she was taking me out tonight but refused to give any details on the location.

I didn’t really mind the secrecy when it was paired with the thrill that zinged through me when she said the words, ‘I’m taking you out.’

Bijoux hops down off my bed where he’s been cuddled up with Aurora Rose and struts over to twine himself around my legs while he mewls for scratches. I bend over to rub behind his ears and ask if he thinks Andrea will like my dress.

He just head-butts my hand and meows even louder.

“Yeah, I don’t know why I expected you to have an opinion on that,” I tell him. “Your taste probably aligns more with Sandy’s than with Andrea’s.”

Thinking about Sandy gets me thinking about how I’m officially having a summer fling with my dad’s boss’s daughter—if you can even call a summer fling official. Whatever I’m doing with Andrea has made me realize dating has even more unspoken social nuances to it than I realized.

I straighten up despite the protests from Bijoux and smooth the dress down before tucking my hair behind my ears. I drop my arms to my sides and stare at my reflection for a few long moments.

I’m not sure who the girl staring back at me is.

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