Page 2 of A Little Twist

Swallowing a breath, I take a step closer, behind the black trunk of a massive live oak tree to get a better look, and what I see almost knocks me on my ass.

The most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen is floating on her back in the clear water. Her eyes are closed, and her dark hair floats around her like a mermaid. Only, she doesn’t have any clam shells, and my teenage dick jumps to life at the sight of tight, pink nipples.Shit.

Reaching down, I try to calm my erection. It’s been happening at all kinds of unexpected and embarrassing times these days. I avert my eyes, forcing my brain to think of tobacco juice, stepping on a nail, failing algebra—anything to make my boner go away.

Ishould go away, but she’s still singing the song I sort of recognize, and I can’t seem to move.

“I believe in angels…” Her voice goes perfectly high, and it’s so pure, I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience.

I’m not at the little lagoon, I’m in freakin’ heaven. Glancing to the side, I don’t see Pop anywhere, so maybe it’s more of a teenage fantasy. I’ve found a beautiful, naked angel in the water singing like a siren.

A splash draws my eyes involuntarily to the inlet. She’s on her stomach now, and her hands part the water in front of her as she swims. I can’t see her body anymore, thank God, and I’m doing my best to forget the sight of her perfectly small breasts and tight nipples.

Dammit. I’ll never get rid of my woody this way, but I’m scared if I move, she’ll see me. Still, I’ve got to get out of here.

I take one step, and of course, it’s the wrong one. The ground gives way with the sharp crack of branches, and I slide around the oak tree I’d been hugging, splashing into the shallow water at the base.

The girl behind me screams, and I squeeze my eyes shut, not moving from where my stomach is pressed to the tree. My feet are in the water, and I listen as she scampers into the brush.

“Who’s there?” Her voice is sharp. “What are you, some kind of Peeping Tom?”

Busted. I release the tree and take a careful step backwards, doing my best not to fall. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were here.”

When I hear her stomping in my direction, I turn carefully. Thankfully, she’s clothed now, but the dress she pulled on clings to her wet body in a way that makes my stomach tight. Her wet hair hangs in thick locks over her chest, and when our eyes meet, it’s a punch to the stomach.

Cass Dixon moved to Eureka to live with her aunt Carol at the beginning of the summer. I noticed her the first day she arrived at the Pak-n-Save, and she stopped me in my tracks.

She’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen with long, dark hair and almond-shaped blue eyes. She’s tall for a girl, but she has an easy way of moving, like a dancer.

“Hey, Cass.” I’m doing my best to be casual, but it’s the first time we’ve ever spoken.

“What are you doing out here, Alex Stone?” Her hands go to her hips, and she’s sassy. She tilts her head to the side. “Aren’t you supposed to be at a funeral?”

“I ran away.”

“How come?”

Shrugging, I look down, shame and guilt twisting together into a knot in my stomach. “I didn’t want to be there anymore. I wanted to remember my grandpa like he always was. Not like… that.”

Her full lips press together, and she nods, walking over to sit on a log moldering away at the water’s edge. “I get that.”

Her feet are in the water, and I walk over to sit beside her. “You do?”

We’re not looking at each other. We’re just sitting side by side, watching the tiny ripples of water rolling in and around the cove.

Her shoulders move up and down. “I’ve never lost anybody I can remember, but I think if I did, I wouldn’t want to see them dead.”

The word stings a little, but she’s right. “It was all wrong. The flowers and the music, even his clothes—it wasn’t anything he would’ve liked.”

Our feet move like white fish in the currents. The soft ripple of water surrounds us, and insect noises fill the air. It’s a comforting place, and being here feels safe, familiar. Sitting beside Cass feels familiar, even if we’ve never talked before. She’s easy, like an old soul I’ve always known.

“What was he like?” Her voice is gentle.

My hands are in my lap, and I think about the old man. “He liked to fish and tell stories. He built houses and made whiskey. He asked me what I thought about things, and he really listened.”

It sounds dumb, but with Aiden being the oldest, he always talks to Dad. Adam is the youngest, and everybody talks to him. Pop was the one who made a point of talking to me, like it was important to him to know how I felt about things.

A slim hand covers mine, and my eyes flash to where she’s touching me. “I’m sorry he died.”

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