Page 94 of One More Made Up Love Song
“Better hurry, then,” I say. Then I kick off my shorts and run to the edge of the rock, hurling myself into the water below.
The cold mountain water steals my breath just like I warned Freddie it would, so I’m gasping when I reach thesurface, pushing my hair away from my face. I let out awhoopbecause I can’tnot—it really is that cold—and I look up to where Freddie is still standing on the rock.
He’s stripped down to his boxer briefs, and I relish the chance to study him so openly, to take in the sight of his long, lean frame. I reallydolove his tattoos—every single one of them.
“Having second thoughts?” I yell up at him, treading water to keep myself afloat.
“It looks cold,” he calls back.
“Itiscold. Now get in!”
I will never forget the scream Freddie lets out when he hits the water, or the way he’s smiling when he pops back up through the surface.
I laugh and flick a little water into his face. “I think you found your soprano notes,” I say playfully.
He swims over to me, wrapping his arms around my middle and tugs me down until we’re both under the water. We both come up laughing and splashing, water dripping off our eyelashes and down the ends of our noses.
“Okay, you’re right,” Freddie says. “It does feel good.”
“See?” I say. “I told you it would.”
We’re maybe two feet apart, both of us treading water, just staring at each other.
There are so many things I want to say to Freddie. Things I need to tell him. But for right now, it feels good to just be with him. To relax without having to talk about anything big.
I turn and swim toward an enormous boulder on the other side of the river. It’s wide and flat, with a low lip that makes it easy to climb on.
I push myself up and onto the edge, turning so I can sitwith my legs still dangling, my feet and calves fully submerged in the water.
Freddie swims over and hooks his hands onto the rock on either side of my knees so I’m sitting inside the circle of his arms. I amnotunhappy with this development, with how easy he’s making it to be close to him.
“You’re a good swimmer,” he says. Water beads up on his eyelashes, and I’m struck by how impossibly long they look. His eyes are the same mossy green as the river.
“East Tennessee regional champ,” I say. “Two-hundred-meter freestyle.”
“Really? How did I not know that?”
I shrug. “It’s a very small claim to fame.”
“There is no such thing,” he says. “Tell me something else.”
“Like what?”
“Anything,” he says. “What were you like in high school?”
I smirk, then lean back on the flat rock, stretching my arms over my head. “You mean, when I wasn’t making out with one of the Benson brothers?”
He scowls, then ducks under the surface, but then he shoots out lightning fast, darting sideways and hoisting himself out of the water. He comes down right next to me and leans over my body, cold water dripping onto my chest and stomach. He reaches up and takes my hands, pinning them over my head, his grip firm but still gentle enough that I could tug away easily if I wanted to. Then he shakes his head like he’s a shaggy dog, sending drops of icy water all over me.
I squeal and laugh, squeezing my eyes closed until hestops. When I open them, he’s hovering over me, green eyes wide, a smile playing on his lips.
“What’s it going to take to banish all thoughts of the Benson brothers from your mind?” he asks.
A bead of water drips off the end of his hair and lands on my collarbone. “Probably…” I say, “I’m going to need to replace my old memories with new ones.”
He leans down and brushes the tip of his nose against mine. “Memories of swimming hole kisses?” he asks, mouth so close, I can almost feel the movement of his lips as he speaks.
“Mm-hmm,” I say, tilting my face up, the anticipation practically killing me.
