Page 1 of Yours and Mine (Friends with Benefits)

Chapter 1

“I’ll showyou mine if you show me yours.”

Who could have known that a stupid game of skipping stones would be the beginning of a lifelong friendship? I sat on a grass patch by the shore, holding my hands behind my back, squeezing the flat rock with my fingers, praying that this was the gem I’d been searching for.

“I bet you mine is bigger,” Nick teased. “I’ll get at least ten skips.”

My curiosity spiked, and I wondered whether he did have a better stone than I had. But I wouldn’t accept defeat that easily. The flat one I’d found a half hour earlier and stuffed into my pocket was definitely a winner.

“Impossible. Not with this one.” Though I wished I could see just how big his was, though, and so I tried to see what he was hiding in his hands.

“No cheating, Jo. You know the rules.”

We’d spent the last hour walking up and down the cliffs of Hope Bay, looking for the perfect stones. The challenge to find the best one, an Olympic gold medal-winning flat rock, the one that would skip the furthest, highest, and most often, was on. We each would have one chance to skim our stones over the blue water of Stone Lake, and this sunny and windless July day couldn’t have turned out better for our little competition.

The winner would get the dibs on choosing our lookout point for the night – my roof or Nick’s roof – because the night sky was not only full of surprises but also full of falling stars you could wish upon. I had so many wishes I could barely keep them all in my head, and my rooftop was waiting for that special day when I was a winner and I could share my view of the sky with my best friend. Separated by only a few feet, his was to the west, mine to the east.

Given that I’d never won this challenge before, I figured my chances were somewhere close to those of seeing an asteroid hit the atmosphere and land on top of my head: pretty much a miracle. That was until I found the perfectly round, flat rock, without any sharp edges or flaws. I expected at least fifteen skips on this one. With good eight years of practice behind me — that’s when Nick and I began our friendly feud in grade one — and a strong arm, unless he’d found his rock on Mars and it had special anti-gravity hovering powers, my hope to win just once was renewed.

“Ladies first.”

“Are you afraid I’ll win?” I asked.

“Not a chance.”

“We’ll see. Feast your eyes on this.” I held my stone up between my fingers, displaying it as if it were gold. To me, it was way more than gold. It would give me bragging rights for the rest of the summer, at least. His eyes went wide for a moment before that calmness he was so good at carrying around him at all times returned to his face.

He gestured with his hand for me to take my place.

With my head held high, I cranked my neck to the side and stepped closer to the shore. There was no wind in Hope Bay today, as if Mother Nature knew that I needed this win. I prepped my arm, going through the motion of throwing three times before the rock left my palm, and I counted.

Five, seven, ten, twelve, fourteen…

“Did you see that? That was fifteen and a half.” I jumped, trying to outdo gravity, the way my stone had.

“A half?”

“Yes, I saw it. It was almost sixteen.”

“Like I can’t beat a half.” He rolled his eyes.

“Fifteen and a half. I just beat my record, and you haven’t hit a fifteen in… well, it’s been a while. I’m pretty sure that I’ll be the winner this time.”

I braced my hands on my hips, waiting patiently, and then Nick pulled his rock from behind his back and my mouth dropped open. If I thought that my rock was perfect, then his was flawless, crafted over thousands of years in the caressing waves of Stone Lake, until it was meant to be found by him.

I felt my heart pound in my chest.

He winked and gave me that smile full of confidence before his arm flew back like a pitcher’s, pulling all the strength from his shoulder and forcing it to his fingertips, right into the rock. The whizz of air was enough for me to doubt my perfect fifteen and a half skips.

I watched the rock glide over the calm water as if in slow motion, counting each long leap. My heart raced as the jumps lost their height and shortened, quickening their graceful journey.

Eight, ten, twelve, fourteen, sixteen… no!

“That last one was a half! It’s a tie.” I pointed toward the ripples in the water.

“Are you going to be a sore loser again, Jo?”

“I. Am not. A sore loser.”

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