Page 62 of Guy's Girl
Once Ginny sees that he has their board in hand, she runs ahead toward the lake. She doesn’t pause or squeal when her feettouch the waves; she plows through and dives in headfirst. When she bobs back up, her hair is slicked back. Water runs down her arms and chest.
Adrian drops the board into the waves. Ginny climbs on wordlessly and sits up front, legs crossed. Adrian stands in the back. He paddles them steadily out past the pier, where the water is smoother.
For a few minutes, they drift in silence. Then, Ginny says, “We do this back in the Soo.”
“Do what?”
“Paddleboarding. On Lake Huron. There are all these little inlets and bays where the water is calm. Flat, like this. My brothers and I bring kayaks and boards and floaties and just spend the day adrift, drinking beer on the water.” She glances over her shoulder. Then, seeming to make a decision, she spins all the way around and pats the space in front of her. “Sit.”
“Okay.” Adrian sits, letting his long legs splash into the clear water.
“Ask me anything,” she says.
“What?”
“I’m serious. Whatever you want—ask away. I’m an open book.”
Adrian pauses. He knows that she isn’t lying, that sheisan open book. It’s one of the things he likes most about her.
“With which of your brothers are you closest?”
Ginny’s eyes light up. “Tom. The eldest. Growing up, he made sure I was included in everything the boys did, whether that was video games or catch with a football or stopping Crash from blowing up our neighbor’s cat.”
“Are you still close?”
“Definitely. We have a sibling group chat, and Tom calls me every week.”
“That’s nice.” Adrian should call Beatrix more often. “Okay. Your turn.”
“Really?” Her eyes widen. She looks like a child receiving a present with a big red bow.
“Of course.”
“Okay.” She tilts her head, squinting at him. “What was your father’s name?”
Well. That was the last thing he expected.
He hesitates, then says, “Adrian. Adri, for short.”
“How did he and your mom meet?”
“That’s two questions.”
“You asked two.”
He rolls his eyes. “They were high school sweethearts.”
“Really?”
“Really. Back then, the communists were still in power, and the schools had basically no money. Students had to share textbooks, pencils, things like that. My mom and dad sat next to each other in class, so they made a habit of sharing—first books, then homework, then quality time, and, eventually, an entire life.”
“That”—Ginny blinks—“is the sweetest story I’ve ever heard.”
“A sweet story with a tragic ending.”
She nods. “It is.”
Adrian kicks his foot in and out of the waves, watching water run down his shin.
