here. There are no leftovers from the previous weekend’s booze fest or sexual exploits. For once, I don’t mind ditching the civilian lifestyle.
Micah looks over at me and smiles. He doesn’t have to say anything. I know we’re at the real destination to cross the Fish Horse off our list. He kicks off his flip-flops and leaves them in the truck. I follow him through the sand to the water’s edge.
Micah wastes no time stripping off everything but his green swim trunks. I feel like a creepy stalker in a movie hiding outside someone’s bedroom window watching them undress. He tosses his belt onto the sand and drops his shorts next to it. Then he pulls his shirt over his head, and I notice all the little things about his body that I should never even think about, like how his ribs poke out when he inhales or how his skin tone is perfectly evened out all over his body although he spends a lot of time in the sun.
“You going to swim in your clothes?” he calls out to me.
My face flushes, and I hope he doesn’t realize that I was examining every inch of his being. I’m sure he knows. He likes guys, and he probably knows all the tricks and secrets by now. He doesn’t ever call me out on anything, though, and that’s a blessing. I strip down to the black swim trunks I borrowed from him. Who’d have guessed I would’ve needed mine for a summer of basketball camp?
Micah’s already in the water by the time I take my shirt off. He obviously has no problem swimming with the fish or river fungus or whatever else is lurking in that water. If he wasn’t so engrossed in what he’s doing, I’d question man-eating alligators or life-sucking currents, but I don’t even feel like entertaining all of my crazy scenarios today.
I shiver as my body wades through the water toward Micah.
“You’ll get used to it,” he assures me. His wet hair falls in strands around his face, and he seems all too relaxed. He points up to the bridge. “Ever jumped off one?”
“Are you crazy?” I ask. I listen to the clink-clunk sound of the bridge as a blue truck drives overhead. That’s how a robot’s heartbeat would sound.
“Maybe a little,” he says with an Abby smile. “It’s fun, though.”
I glance up at the bridge and try to imagine what it would feel like to jump from there, falling aimlessly into the water.
“No, I haven’t,” I say. “And I don’t plan on it.”
“It’s an adrenaline rush,” Micah continues. “The first time is kind of scary, but it’s really awesome. It like, liberates you, or something.”
Falling from the sky is the last form of liberation I need. I silently curse that stupid pop song from the crappy shoe store. I needed that rabbit’s foot before I ever went in there so I might’ve been lucky enough to miss that song and not constantly wonder all summer what I’d really do if I was falling from the sky.
I turn back around and look at Micah. “What would you do if you were falling from the sky?”
He bends his eyebrows. “Reach for my parachute?” He seems unsure of his answer, but I think he’s also unsure of my question.
I don’t say anything. A shiver rushes over my body.
“C’mon. You’re cold,” he says. I’ve adjusted to the water by now, but Micah doesn’t know it. He puts a hand on my shoulder and tries to gently push me from the spot in the water where I’m standing. “Ridge?”
My eyes meet his, and he looks concerned, almost scared. I just nod and follow him back to the sand. The sun is warm against my skin. I let it sink into my pores. I tell Micah I’m good and don’t need a towel, but he brings back a large beach towel from his truck and wraps it around my shoulders.
He’s starting to know me too well, and it scares me. He rubs his hands up and down my upper arms, over the towel, and I partially think it’s because he knows I’m going to remove it from my body the second he moves away from me. But part of me really thinks he cares and wants to
Micah looks over at me and smiles. He doesn’t have to say anything. I know we’re at the real destination to cross the Fish Horse off our list. He kicks off his flip-flops and leaves them in the truck. I follow him through the sand to the water’s edge.
Micah wastes no time stripping off everything but his green swim trunks. I feel like a creepy stalker in a movie hiding outside someone’s bedroom window watching them undress. He tosses his belt onto the sand and drops his shorts next to it. Then he pulls his shirt over his head, and I notice all the little things about his body that I should never even think about, like how his ribs poke out when he inhales or how his skin tone is perfectly evened out all over his body although he spends a lot of time in the sun.
“You going to swim in your clothes?” he calls out to me.
My face flushes, and I hope he doesn’t realize that I was examining every inch of his being. I’m sure he knows. He likes guys, and he probably knows all the tricks and secrets by now. He doesn’t ever call me out on anything, though, and that’s a blessing. I strip down to the black swim trunks I borrowed from him. Who’d have guessed I would’ve needed mine for a summer of basketball camp?
Micah’s already in the water by the time I take my shirt off. He obviously has no problem swimming with the fish or river fungus or whatever else is lurking in that water. If he wasn’t so engrossed in what he’s doing, I’d question man-eating alligators or life-sucking currents, but I don’t even feel like entertaining all of my crazy scenarios today.
I shiver as my body wades through the water toward Micah.
“You’ll get used to it,” he assures me. His wet hair falls in strands around his face, and he seems all too relaxed. He points up to the bridge. “Ever jumped off one?”
“Are you crazy?” I ask. I listen to the clink-clunk sound of the bridge as a blue truck drives overhead. That’s how a robot’s heartbeat would sound.
“Maybe a little,” he says with an Abby smile. “It’s fun, though.”
I glance up at the bridge and try to imagine what it would feel like to jump from there, falling aimlessly into the water.
“No, I haven’t,” I say. “And I don’t plan on it.”
“It’s an adrenaline rush,” Micah continues. “The first time is kind of scary, but it’s really awesome. It like, liberates you, or something.”
Falling from the sky is the last form of liberation I need. I silently curse that stupid pop song from the crappy shoe store. I needed that rabbit’s foot before I ever went in there so I might’ve been lucky enough to miss that song and not constantly wonder all summer what I’d really do if I was falling from the sky.
I turn back around and look at Micah. “What would you do if you were falling from the sky?”
He bends his eyebrows. “Reach for my parachute?” He seems unsure of his answer, but I think he’s also unsure of my question.
I don’t say anything. A shiver rushes over my body.
“C’mon. You’re cold,” he says. I’ve adjusted to the water by now, but Micah doesn’t know it. He puts a hand on my shoulder and tries to gently push me from the spot in the water where I’m standing. “Ridge?”
My eyes meet his, and he looks concerned, almost scared. I just nod and follow him back to the sand. The sun is warm against my skin. I let it sink into my pores. I tell Micah I’m good and don’t need a towel, but he brings back a large beach towel from his truck and wraps it around my shoulders.
He’s starting to know me too well, and it scares me. He rubs his hands up and down my upper arms, over the towel, and I partially think it’s because he knows I’m going to remove it from my body the second he moves away from me. But part of me really thinks he cares and wants to
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