Page 54 of Rachel Weiss's Group Chat
Owen nodded. “Just now, on our way back from our run. He was outside one of the other cabins.”
“But—I—” I didn’t understand what was happening to me. A cold mixture of dread and excitement was spreading across my skin. I was half-annoyed, half-jubilant. Stirrings of highly inappropriate feelings hadn’t yet cleared my system after my lust-fueled pirate dream, and my body was reacting to the idea of Christopher Butkus as it would to the idea of any handsome male in the heat of the moment. I shook out my hands, itching to slap some sense back into myself.
“Ugh.”
“I know.” Jane shook her head sympathetically. “So annoying. But I doubt we’ll run into him again, so don’t worry.”
“Ha.” Jane didn’t know about my habit of running into Christopher Butkus anywhere and everywhere. “Who was he with?” A traitorous and slutty voice in my head was hoping against hope that it wasn’t an Andrea or a Xio.
“His parents and a few other older people. Looked like a family trip. They were on a nature walk.”
“Ew.” I stood, suddenly feeling much more myself. I had been half-asleep, that was all. And now the idea of the Butkuses on a brisk early-morning walk, pointing out leaves and squirrel poowith delight, made me feel appropriately bored with the whole idea.
“Don’t worry, they didn’t see us,” Jane said.
“Good. Let’s not mention this to Mom?”
“Agreed.” She left to take a shower. Owen went downstairs, muttering something about breakfast, but no doubt secretly wanting to be seen by Mom and Dad the whole time Jane was in the shower so no one would have any funny ideas.
After lunch, Jane, Owen, the twins, and I piled into the car and drove to the float place. It was a beautiful day. Perfect weather. We rented life jackets and inner tubes and hopped on the Leavenworth Outdoor Center shuttle. The staff took us to the drop-off point and told us the float would take about four hours and to stay hydrated and not drink alcohol. And off we went. The water was almost painfully cold, but the sun was hot, and floating gently along the river felt heavenly.
There were hordes of people on the river. We were only five, and we’d clipped our tubes together so we wouldn’t lose each other, but there were groups of twelve or more with music blaring, causing traffic jams for the tubes behind them. Almost every group had a cooler from which they passed around icy cans of La Croix and beer—the no-alcohol rule was always blatantly ignored. There were a couple people with those novelty floaties instead of heavy-duty tubes—a flamingo and a shark—posing for pictures like the river was one long photo shoot. (We saw them a couple hours later, drenched and shivering on their friends’ tubes, dragging their punctured floaties behind them.)
“Beautiful day for it.” Owen leaned back with his arms behind his head, aviator sunglasses glinting.
“Mm-hmm.” Jane twined one long leg over his, trailing her fingers in the water.
“Yes indeed.” The twins stifled laughter as they knocked their Gatorade bottles together in a toast. After they swilled some back, they sucked their teeth and grimaced.
“Something wrong with your Gatorade?” I asked.
“Nope!” They went about unzipping their life jackets and taking videos of each other.
“You’re so going to drop those phones in the river.” I settled back, sighing as the sun warmed my face and neck.
“Hey!” Jane snapped. “You keep those life jackets on.” I looked around to see the twins baring their itty-bitty bikinis, trying to hide the life jackets under their bums.
“But they look dumb—”
“I’m trying to get a tan.”
“Keep them on. The river gets choppy, you know that. Safety first,” Jane said.
“Yes, Mom,” they grumbled, sticking their arms back in the life jackets.
When Ollie’s tube knocked against mine, I caught a distinct whiff of alcohol. I cracked one lazy eye open and saw that, sure enough, they were steadily growing sillier and sillier. I closed my eyes again, choosing not to say anything, because Jane was in such a responsible mood, I wouldn’t have put it past her to make them dump out the contents of their Gatorade bottles—and I thought I might want some later. Four hours is a long time.
“Hi, Jane!”
We all looked around to see a smiling woman in a Mariners cap waving as she floated away.
“Hi, Ellen!” Jane called after her, waving. “That was Ellen from work,” she told us. “Funny how we always see someone we know on the river. Remember last year it was the twins’ friends?”
“Thank God this year it was your coworker and not—” I began,and then stopped, the words dying in my throat. There, drifting along not far behind us, was Christopher Butkus. He had his back to us and was chatting animatedly to his mom and another older woman. His hair was wet and tousled, shining bronze in the sunlight, and the back of his neck looked tan, and—oh my God, why was I noticing any of this?
“Hide me,” I hissed, paddling my hands in the water, trying to steer my tube behind Jane and Owen.
“What—oh.” Jane followed my gaze toward the Butkuses. “You don’t need to hide, don’t be silly. It’s fine.”
