The steam is denser here, so thick I hardly see my hands wading beside me. I turn again and again, not knowing which way to swim to return me to Joseph. Not knowing if I’ll swim right into Chase’s arms. Not knowing which one I prefer. I picture this is how it feels to be lost in an avalanche of snow.
“Roya,” he says again. I stiffen.
I don’t love him. The words are strong in my mind, trumping the messages from my heart. Without hesitation I bound in the opposite direction, my heart suddenly hammering in my chest. Four strokes bring me out of the thickest steam. Joseph is on the bank.
Like I’m competing in the Olympics, I race for the shore, feeling a weight start to tear into my chest. The hold my mind had on my heart wanes. Only slightly but it’s enough to make me hesitate. To consider turning back, swimming into Chase’s arms which I know with such certainty are waiting to hold me. I’m roughly twenty-five feet from Joseph. Although I’m still cutting through the water each movement is slower than the last, not filled with as much urgency.
“Joseph,” I yelp, like I’m drowning. It’s my last rational idea to avoid my heart’s wrong desires. He swivels his head around, confused concern written on his face. The moment his eyes connect with mine the spell is weakened. Looking at Joseph reminds me of who I am in my heart. Realization dawns on Joseph’s face. The concern that blankets his features next constricts my throat. He dives back into the water, making hurried strokes until he reaches me.
“Where?” he says, pushing me in front of him, paddling behind me.
“Over there,” I motion with my head.
When we reach the banks, he looks me over, like I might be hurt. “You should have known better than to go off by yourself,” he reprimands.
“I didn’t realize I had,” I say, an apology in my tone. Making him worry is the last thing I want right now. He has too much to deal with already.
Joseph gives me a measured glare, then lets out a relieved sigh. “Stay on the bank, away from the steam, would you?”
“Yeah,” I say, distracted by the three figures racing over the hill, George is in the lead. There’s a look of horror in his eyes. It’s expressed perfectly by the words that spill out in gasps as he sprints to me. “Where is he?!”
“He’s gone.” I rush forward and have to stop myself just before I throw my shaking arms around him. “It’s all right. He disappeared as soon as Joseph showed up.”
George bends over, breathing deeply.
“Damn it, Roya,” Trent says, sounding irritated and winded. “You can’t join us if I you’re going to bring your stupid stalker with you. Not that he interrupted anything of real importance,” he says, angling angry eyes at Joseph.
A mischievous smile springs to Joseph’s mouth. Trent smacks his bat into his hand. “That’s a rotten game, mate.”
“Oh, you didn’t catch any snipes? Too bad. Maybe it’s the wrong season for snipe hunting,” Joseph says, laughter in his voice.
“I suspect there’s never a good season to catch made-up creatures,” George says, standing up straight, trying to sound menacing although it isn’t effective.
“Now, now, George, just because you’re a poor hunter doesn’t mean you have to call snipes made up.” Joseph splashes water at the three of them.
“Hey,” I say, “I thought you said no splashing.”
“The Middlings left,” Joseph says, sending a wave of water in my direction.
Scanning the lagoon, I realize he’s right.
“You’re so cruel, Joseph,” Samara says. She sounds on the verge of tears as she throws her bat and bag onto the ground. “I can’t believe you brought us all out here just to play this stupid trick on us. You’re the worst.”
Joseph has been moving forward in the water as she speaks. “Oh, that’s not the only reason I brought you out here.” He bolts forward, picks her up, and throws her over his shoulder.
“No! No!” Samara screams.
“Roya,” he says again. I stiffen.
I don’t love him. The words are strong in my mind, trumping the messages from my heart. Without hesitation I bound in the opposite direction, my heart suddenly hammering in my chest. Four strokes bring me out of the thickest steam. Joseph is on the bank.
Like I’m competing in the Olympics, I race for the shore, feeling a weight start to tear into my chest. The hold my mind had on my heart wanes. Only slightly but it’s enough to make me hesitate. To consider turning back, swimming into Chase’s arms which I know with such certainty are waiting to hold me. I’m roughly twenty-five feet from Joseph. Although I’m still cutting through the water each movement is slower than the last, not filled with as much urgency.
“Joseph,” I yelp, like I’m drowning. It’s my last rational idea to avoid my heart’s wrong desires. He swivels his head around, confused concern written on his face. The moment his eyes connect with mine the spell is weakened. Looking at Joseph reminds me of who I am in my heart. Realization dawns on Joseph’s face. The concern that blankets his features next constricts my throat. He dives back into the water, making hurried strokes until he reaches me.
“Where?” he says, pushing me in front of him, paddling behind me.
“Over there,” I motion with my head.
When we reach the banks, he looks me over, like I might be hurt. “You should have known better than to go off by yourself,” he reprimands.
“I didn’t realize I had,” I say, an apology in my tone. Making him worry is the last thing I want right now. He has too much to deal with already.
Joseph gives me a measured glare, then lets out a relieved sigh. “Stay on the bank, away from the steam, would you?”
“Yeah,” I say, distracted by the three figures racing over the hill, George is in the lead. There’s a look of horror in his eyes. It’s expressed perfectly by the words that spill out in gasps as he sprints to me. “Where is he?!”
“He’s gone.” I rush forward and have to stop myself just before I throw my shaking arms around him. “It’s all right. He disappeared as soon as Joseph showed up.”
George bends over, breathing deeply.
“Damn it, Roya,” Trent says, sounding irritated and winded. “You can’t join us if I you’re going to bring your stupid stalker with you. Not that he interrupted anything of real importance,” he says, angling angry eyes at Joseph.
A mischievous smile springs to Joseph’s mouth. Trent smacks his bat into his hand. “That’s a rotten game, mate.”
“Oh, you didn’t catch any snipes? Too bad. Maybe it’s the wrong season for snipe hunting,” Joseph says, laughter in his voice.
“I suspect there’s never a good season to catch made-up creatures,” George says, standing up straight, trying to sound menacing although it isn’t effective.
“Now, now, George, just because you’re a poor hunter doesn’t mean you have to call snipes made up.” Joseph splashes water at the three of them.
“Hey,” I say, “I thought you said no splashing.”
“The Middlings left,” Joseph says, sending a wave of water in my direction.
Scanning the lagoon, I realize he’s right.
“You’re so cruel, Joseph,” Samara says. She sounds on the verge of tears as she throws her bat and bag onto the ground. “I can’t believe you brought us all out here just to play this stupid trick on us. You’re the worst.”
Joseph has been moving forward in the water as she speaks. “Oh, that’s not the only reason I brought you out here.” He bolts forward, picks her up, and throws her over his shoulder.
“No! No!” Samara screams.
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