Page 5 of Crazy for this Girl

I don’t miss the way Cal’s eyes widen before he quickly corrects himself. The only serious relationship I’ve ever been in is with Hannah.

And I don’t mean romantically.

Her neediness and necessity for my attention make it seem like we’re dating. I hold her bags when she shops and mostly spot her lunch when we’re out. I’m on the phone with her every night, and the only reason she doesn’t call up to the cabin, like she does at home on a daily basis, is because my mom would throw a fit.

“Awesome.” He clears his throat and, for the first time in the less than twenty-four hours that I’ve known him, it appears like he doesn’t quite know what to say. “What was she like?”

“Mysterious and…” Demanding. “Cool.”

“Why you’d break up?”

I wiggle in my chair, not wanting to continue on with this weird lie of mine. I just don’t want him trying to hit on me all summer, because, honestly, I don’t want to be self-conscious of everything I do.

“Left town.”

“Damn...that sucks.” I bob my head in agreement because if it was true, it would. “Well, according to this stupid quiz, you don’t have a type.”

I contently cross my legs and lean back in my padded rocking chair while he stares aimlessly at the quiz as if it may have given him the wrong answer. “Sweet. Make sure you read the section on makeup. I’m looking for this season’s best mascara and eyeliner.”

Cal rolls his eyes, but I see the remnants of a smirk play along the edges of his mouth.

Meanwhile…I’m just grateful he stops with the stupid and prying questions.

“How many people fit on this thing?” Cal warily looks around the floating docks we’re currently standing on in the middle of Clear Lake. Several of them are tied together for the annual Fourth of July party, and it doesn’t appear like the safest thing to do. Still, the neighbors only add on to it every few summers with more chairs, grills, a few more coolers, and more people.

This thing is going to sink one day.

They all get together on their boats, jet skis, and floating devices, partying until all hours of the night. The firework displays are amazing; it’s probably one of my favorite nights here, even though I mostly play with the little kids and not ones my own age.

“I dunno,” I reply. “I never asked.” Grabbing two Coke cans out of a random cooler, I hand one over to Cal.

He cracks the top and takes a giant sip, remnants of carbonated soda trailing down his chin as he quickly drinks it. That’s one thing I like about Cal; during these weeks we’ve hung out every day, he doesn’t care. “This thing ever tip?”

“Almost did once. Too many people,” I fib, aimlessly glancing at the dozens of people around us talking amongst themselves as if I’m accessing the situation. “Kinda like now.”

Cal gently nudges me with his elbow. “You wouldn’t be on this if it did.”

“Why? I know how to swim.” I lift a challenging, yet innocent brow. “Do you?”

“Yeah.”

I smile widely. “Let’s see.” Without warning, I shove Cal off the edge of the floating surface and watch him crash into the calm water below.

For the record, I’ve seen Cal swim.

He breeches the top within seconds, Coke can still in hand and thankfully a shirt on. I saw him two weeks ago without one, and I don’t like how my breathing caught so abruptly. I had to subtly turn away because the immediate blush that crept on my cheeks wasn’t something I wanted noticed or talked about.

His green eyes immediately slit up at me as he rakes his fingers through his thick dark hair, but he doesn’t look that upset with what I’ve done. It’s scorching hot today, and the sun has been unforgiving with the way its rays have blasted down on us for the last few days.

“Cheap shot, Laynee,” Cal scolds, swimming to the edge of the dock. “You gotta help me up now.”

I shake my head and tsk because I’m not an idiot. “Ladder’s over there.” I point a few feet down to it and grin. “Nice try, though.”

Cal mumbles something under his breath but heads over to get back up.

I sit down to give him less of a chance to return the favor, just as Bootylicious by Destiny’s Child suddenly comes on over someone’s CD player. My brows knit—because, hello, parents are around—before I look over my shoulder to see who put that song on, but Cal’s frame bumps mine as he takes a seat next to me. Then he grosses me out when he lifts his Coke and starts chugging the watered-down beverage.

“Ew, Cal, stop. You have lake water in there.” I hand him over mine. “Here, weirdo.”

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