One of the Guys (32 page)

Together, we walk down the dock. I jog a little to keep up with his long strides. We still don't talk, but there's a rhythm to our actions. The dock knows our footsteps.

I don't have any of my usual gear. No snacks. No camera. Just me. And Micah. All I need. The lake water shivers against the dock, and the pontoon boat bobs and sways in the water like it's drunk. Micah climbs aboard first and holds out his hand to help me on. This gesture startles me. It's new, but I go with it. I slide my hand into his, immediately jolted with heat from his touch. After I settle into my usual spot—so light-headed I might float away—I shove my hands into my pockets. The skin where he touched me aches in the most wonderful of ways.

Micah settles behind the steering wheel with ease. It's where he's most at home. I watch him. His strong jaw. His dark hair. His thick whiskers. His searching and romantic eyes. The sky darkens and a faint clap of thunder rolls in the distance. Micah examines the sky, frowning.

“Do you want to head back?” he asks. His voice. Deep and smooth. Kind and gentle. Familiar and new.

I shake my head and swallow the lump in my throat. “I think you're right,” I tell him. “Something magical might happen tonight. We don't want to miss it.”

He smiles softly and starts the engine. As the boat plugs along, the wind whips my hair in every direction. The sky grays. We pass sandy shores and tucked-away bays until it feels like it's just us on this lonely, mysterious planet.

“You hungry?” he asks.

“Always.” I force a smile, but my stomach is a giant knot.

“Take the wheel?” He stands, and I go over and take the wheel, glancing at him. He avoids eye contact before moving to the back of the boat. It hurts, his distance, but I'm not sure what to do about it. So I turn my focus to the lake. Choppy waves grow bigger and meaner. The wind howls and threatens. I love storms, but I'm not thrilled at the idea of being smack in the middle of one on Lake Champlain. Maybe we
should
turn back.

I glance over my shoulder to suggest this, but I can't get the words out. I don't want this to end. He pulls a cooler out from beneath a seat. As he unzips it, he looks lost in thought, troubled, his expression grave and serious.

“Here,” he says, tossing me a Mountain Dew. One hand on the wheel, I reach out to catch it, but the can slips from my fingers, clamoring onto the floor.

“Sorry,” I stammer.

“No big deal,” he says, picking up the can.

“What about the noise?” I ask. “We'll scare Champ away.”

He stands next to me as I steer the boat, but he looks out at the water. I wish he'd look at me. “Oh. Champ. Right,” he says, like he's completely forgotten about the mission.

He scratches his chin and bounces a little, like he's gathering courage before a big fight. He wants to say something. I wish he would say it. Unless he wants to have some kind of Our-Friendship-Is-Ruined-Forever Talk. Then he can keep quiet because that would devastate me.

He cuts the engine, and I move back to my seat. He sits in the driver's seat, but he's turned a little to face me. For a few minutes, we just glide and sip our drinks. I'm not sure how much longer I can stand the silence, but I'm afraid words will take us back home. And I don't want to go home.

After I finish my Mountain Dew—in record time—Micah reveals a container of whoopie pies. He grins as he hands me one. “Not the healthiest meal,” he says with a nervous laugh.

I take a huge bite. Sweet. Lovely. Heaven. “Where'd you get these?” I ask, my mouth full.

“Brian.”

I pick a hair from my black jacket. “You asked Brian for these?”

He shrugs. “They're
that
good.”

I laugh. So true. After I inhale a second pie, Micah wipes a crumb from the corner of his mouth and says, “So…”

“So…” I mimic. The sky is almost completely black now. He flips on the pale boat lights, which dance across the water.

“Do you think he's listening to us?” Micah asks, his voice soft, like he's telling a secret. “Champ, I mean.”

I hesitate for a moment. I feel safer, calmer, in the dim light. “I like to think he listens.”

He stares down at the cartoon drawing on his shoes. The drawing we created together. “What do you think he'd say about us?”

I freeze, a half-eaten whoopie pie in my right hand. Is he really asking what
I
think about us?

“Us?” I gulp.

“You. Me.” He looks up. Shadows play across his lovely face. I almost gasp. This is it. The time hidden feelings bubble to the surface. I'm terrified of saying the wrong thing. I like that it's just me and him out here, two old friends on the verge of discovery.

He fidgets with his snow cap. “Do you think Champ exists? Or do you think we imagined the whole thing?”

Okay. Maybe he's not asking about us. Maybe I'm reading too much into this.

“It's the not knowing that kills me,” I say with a shrug.

“I know he exists.” Micah moves to sit beside me. His knee touches my knee. His eyes light up. I drop the half-eaten whoopie pie. A second rumble of thunder sounds, louder this time.

Okay. Maybe he
is
talking about us.
Kiss me again
.

He meets my gaze. “Toni. I—”

BOOM! A gigantic roar of thunder interrupts, followed by cold fat drops of rain. The boat rocks. He tears his stare from mine and sighs, wiping water from his stubble.

“Wait. What were you going to say?” I shout over the wind. A little thunderstorm shouldn't stop him from saying that he loves me. If that is, indeed, what he was going to say.

“Damn it!” He yells. He hurries back to the wheel. I'm crushed. Stupid thunder. The wind sends the rain in sideways, straight into my face. I hunch over, shivering.

Micah squints and turns the boat back toward the dock. Another blast of thunder sounds. I stand and move in next to him, aching to be near him.

“What are you doing?” he shouts over the wind. “Sit down!”

“I want to know what you were going to say!” I shout back.

“What are you talking about?” Drops of rain stick to his thick eyelashes.

“You wanted to say something before the rain!” I sound desperate, but it's too early to give up now.

“Just sit, please?” he begs. Water stings my eyes. As the boat rocks, I hang on to the back of his seat for balance, but I can't pry myself away from him. Not when we're so close to discovering something.

BOOM! Another roll of thunder. The sky lights up with a slit of lightning.

“Okay, Toni. This isn't funny,” Micah says. “Sit before you fall overboard.”

“Not until you say what you were going to say.” My teeth are chattering and my fingertips are numb from the cold. When the boat rocks again, I stumble. Micah grabs my arm, keeping me upright.

“I love you, okay?” he shouts. “Now will you sit down?”

I stare at him. His expression is a blur through the rain, but I'm flooded with relief. I'm not alone in this thing. Or is he just saying that to shut me up? He isn't trying to kiss me right now. He glares.

BOOM! Another roll of thunder. Slowly, I take a seat, soaked, freezing, rewinding the words Micah Garry said to me in my head. His warm, lovely words. Words I never thought I'd hear from him. My best friend. The boy who's always been there.

It's an odd feeling. Entirely new. And I'm not quite sure how to process the mix of happiness and confusion and newness running wild through my heart. I tremble. I feel like I need to examine his words, to hold them up to a bright light to see where they might lead. Does this mean we're together? Is this our beginning? Or is this our bittersweet ending before we start our separate lives?

We're at the dock.

Micah cuts the engine and goes to tie up the boat. He looks over his shoulder at me and asks, “A little help?”

I'm still frozen in place. I swallow the lump in my throat and nod.
Get it together, Toni
. I'd love to kiss the rain from his lips. I'd love to bury my face in his chest and begin the next stage of our relationship. Right this second. The best stage. Instead, I tie the back end of the boat to the dock while he secures the front end. His movements are harsh, jagged, like he's mad. Why is he mad?

I hop onto the dock and crouch down to secure the rope, but I keep looking up at him. His end of the boat is tied so he grabs the cooler, mumbling something underneath his breath, and climbs onto the dock. I try to will him to look my way, but he won't. Panic hits me. Everything's different now. What if it's ruined?

Absently, I tie the rope but my head spins. This wasn't how I pictured this going. Loch and I should be kissing. Shouldn't we? Proclamations of love have been made.

A gust of wind knocks me off-balance. I fall forward, headed straight for the water. I scream until he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me back, into him. “You're okay,” he whispers in my ear. “I got you.”

He keeps his hands on my hips as I stand and turn around. I press my hands to his chest. The rain falls hard and fast. Another boom of thunder. Not nearly as loud as my heart right now.

“You're always doing that,” I say.

“Doing what?” He brushes a wet strand of hair from my cheek.

I look up at him. “Catching me.”

He clears his throat and looks away. “Did you hear what I said on the boat?”

I smile. “That you loved me?”

“You did hear.” He sighs and frowns. My gut jerks as he lowers his hands from my hips and scratches his stubble. He steps away.

“Did you not want me to hear?” I ask, heart pounding. Oh my God. He regrets saying it. This has all been a huge mistake. A lump lodges in my throat, but I try to pretend that I'm not on the verge of tears.

“Let's pretend it didn't happen,” he says with a wave of a hand. Like he can magically erase everything with a flick of his wrist. “It was dumb. I don't know what I was thinking.”

It's like I've been kicked in the stomach. Hard. Breathless, I look down at the names carved in the wooden dock for I don't know how long.

Micah touches my shoulder. “We should get back, Toni. We're soaked. And it doesn't look like it's gonna clear up anytime soon.” He tries to lead me forward, but I jerk away from his grasp.

“Did you even mean it?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Of course I meant it!”

“Why take it back then?” I scoff. “Why pretend it didn't happen?”

His voice lowers. “You didn't say anything back.”

I blink water from my eyes. “I didn't?”

Micah shakes his head. I process this bit of information. I'm a total idiot. Hadn't I responded to his intimate confession?

A loud splash startles us. I spin around to face the lake. Through the thick rain, there appears to be a black mass cutting through the water. There's definitely
something
out there. Something alive. Something legendary.

“Micah! Look!” I point at the thing moving through the violent waves. It's huge, elegant, breathing. A long tail rises above the choppy waters and splashes down.

I look over my shoulder, gripped with fear and excitement. He must be filming this, but he's just looking at me, not at the water, his expression full of longing.

“I'm going to say it one more time.” He takes a deep breath. “If you don't feel the same way, that's something I will have to live with. I love you, Toni. I'm sorry if that screws everything up but—”

“I love you too,” I blurt out. His mouth hangs open. I've stunned the poor guy. “Sorry,” I continue, facing him again. “I just wanted to say it before I forgot to say it. I've said it so many times in my head that I guess I thought you knew. I love you. I love you, Micah.”

When he takes my hands, his skin is cold, rough, the hands of an explorer. He touches my neck. My ear. My cheek. The space between us shrinks until I have to crane my neck up to look into his eyes, but I don't mind. Don't mind at all.

“This is like one of Ollie's romantic movies.” Micah grins. “Here we are. Professing our love in the rain.”

I laugh. “Don't worry. Our love story has a monster in it. Look at the water.”

He looks out at the water, squinting, searching. “I don't see anything.”

“Don't worry.” I whisper in his ear. “He's been there all along. Like you said.”

He pulls me closer. I step into this moment, and his lips find mine again. We're tangled with each other. This kiss is different from the others. This one is no longer an experiment but a certainty. I forget about the past. I forget about the future. I forget about the monster in the lake.

Here we are. We're the legend.

acknowledgments

My deep gratitude and appreciation goes to my editor, Danielle Ellison, for loving Toni as much I did. Your phone call was a dream come true. Thank you to my other editors Lauren Meinhardt and Traci Inzitari for both discovering the manuscript. I've had such a blast working with all three of you.