I can’t help but smile — a small pitiful smile, but a smile all the same. “Oh, just great. You know, hanging out.”
“Ouch!” Reeve flashes me a grin.
“Yes, well, I’m kind of distracted.” Despite my better instincts, I find myself glancing down again to the —
“Hey, hey, Jenna!” Reeve snaps my attention back. “Just keep looking at me, OK? Straight over here at me.”
“Uh-huh.” I have nothing else to do, so I follow his orders and look straight over at him.
Reeve isn’t wearing a shirt.
I must have registered this earlier, but in my terrified haze, I didn’t really pay much attention. Now I do.
“Are you feeling any calmer?” he asks, concerned.
“Umm, maybe.” I’m still gazing at his chest. Inappropriate, perhaps, but excellent distraction from my impending death. “Talk to me. I think it helps.”
“About what?”
“I don’t know, anything. How’s your mom?”
“OK.” He shifts position again, light and easy. “She’s not craving pickles anymore.”
“No?”
“Nope, now it’s hot sauce. With everything. She made lasagna last night; I nearly died.”
I manage to smile. “When’s she due?”
“December.” He pauses, looking back at the rock before adding, “It’s kind of why I’m not sure about college this year. She says she’ll be fine, but I don’t know about leaving her alone. I have two younger sisters. They’re kind of a handful already.”
“Oh. Is your dad not . . . ?” I trail off, embarrassed.
He gives me a rueful look. “Yeah, no. He’s not. He took off a few years back. And this kid’s father isn’t around, either.” Reeve lets out a long breath. “So . . . I’m kind of the only man left standing. Sorry,” he says, forcing a laugh. “I didn’t mean to lay all of this —”
“No! It’s fine.” I pause a moment, watching. “I think it’s good, what you’re doing for your mom,” I add shyly.
“Thanks.” He looks awkward. “What about your folks? You must miss them, being away all summer.”
I flex my aching fingers and sigh. “I do and I don’t.” He gives me a curious look, but even though he’s confided in me, I don’t know what to say. I’ve become so used to pushing back all the cold, scary thoughts of my parents, and the future, and everything else, that I almost can’t think about them now when I want to.
“Things, at home, I don’t know if they’ll be OK.” It’s all I manage, in a quiet voice. “Dad’s working abroad, and they say it’s just for the summer, but I don’t know. . . .” I stop. I’ve been trying not to think about it, and the way Dad keeps hinting about having to stay longer. “It’s a great opportunity here,” he said three times during our last phone call. “You’ll love it.” Like I don’t know what that means. He might not be coming back.
When I look over again, Reeve is watching me. His expression is soft, as if he understands everything I can’t say. For a moment, our eyes meet, and I forget I’m hanging precariously from a tiny ledge.
Something other than fear pulls inside me. I never noticed how his lips are —
“Hey, Jenna?”
“Uh-huh,” I murmur, the fear gripping me now making way for something else. Something light and warm and —
“You want to move your foot down, to the right?”
“OK.” I do as he says, almost without thinking.
“Great, now shift your right arm.”
Mid-reach, I wake up. “I’m moving!” I cry.
He laughs. “Yup. You want to keep going?”
“You mean up?” I gulp. “Umm . . .”
“That’s OK. You can go down the fun way.”
“There’s a fun way?”
“Sure. Just let me get back to your rope, and I’ll show you.”
I wait there, full of relief but at the same time, a little regretful that the moment is over. “Umm, Reeve?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
20
Sooner than I imagined, life in Stillwater becomes almost routine. My mom calls every few days to check on me, Olivia texts me her latest camp — and Cash — updates, Fiona keeps up her icy demeanor, and I settle into a lazy schedule of sunbathing and helping Susie out with B and B projects. The hours start to drift in that sleepy, summer way, where an afternoon sprawled out reading in the shade of the backyard trees slips past in no time at all. Adam digs me out one of their rusted bicycles, and I start cycling the wide dirt road into town most days, stopping by the gas station for Popsicles and hanging out with Ethan at the hardware store.
But I can’t stop thinking about Reeve.
It started that day we went climbing. Something shifted between us up there on the rock, as if we connected for the first time, and suddenly, I’m gone. From zero to crush in twenty minutes, it’s crazy, I know — like I’ve been gripped by some kind of temporary insanity — but I can’t help it. I find myself changing shirts three times before leaving the house, trying to get that perfectly casual look, and lingering out by the lake longer than I would just in case he comes for an after-work swim.
It was never like this with my old boyfriend, Mike, even when we were dating, but I can’t stop myself. And even though I know I’m building this out of nothing more than a few friendly words, I’ve become suddenly — painfully — aware of his every move.
“More soda?”
I flinch, startled at Reeve’s offer, and send a stack of DVD cases tumbling to the ground.
“Graceful,” Fiona informs me. She’s lying flat out on the living-room floor at the Johnsons’, emptying crumbs from a pack of cookies into her mouth. We’re nearing the end of our Kudos sci-fi marathon, with Grady sprawled on the cream carpet nearby and Ethan lounging on one of the floral print armchairs.
Reeve is sitting on the couch with me.
“Umm, no thanks,” I tell him, scrambling to pick up the mess. “I’m good.”
Good is stretching it; a wreck might be closer to the truth. All evening, I’ve been frozen in place, hyper-aware of his body and the tiny section of his jeans touching my leg. Every time he shifts for snacks or the remote, I can’t help wondering: Is he leaning closer on purpose? Did that nudge mean anything at all? Does this mean he’s comfortable around me or that he couldn’t care less? I don’t think I’ve ever focused so much on three square inches in my life.