Girls in Pants - Ann Brashares [41]
If it hadn’t been a no-flirt zone, Bridget would have batted her eyes and said, “Well, why are they here, do you think?” But she didn’t.
“Why are you scaring the campers away?” Bridget asked. The sun made her yawn.
“Because I don’t want to work. I want to sit on my ass.”
Bridget smiled at that. She knew how he killed himself on the soccer field. But sitting around was mostly what they did from two-thirty to five. It was shaping up to be a beautiful rhythm—drive yourself and your team relentlessly in the morning and laze about in the sunshine with the guy you loved all afternoon.
She got to her feet. She’d scrupulously worn her least sexy Speedo one-piece for the last few days, but it was dirty. Besides, today was not just any day. It was a Traveling Pants day. She had brought them back with her from her weekend at home, and their presence now lent a particular sweetness to the air even stronger than the wafting smell of honeysuckle. Today she wore them over her best green bikini. Anyway, Eric probably didn’t even notice or care. (Did he?) Why did she bother to think about it?
When she got too hot, she carefully peeled off the Pants, folded them, and put them on the dock. She shook her hair out of its braid. For her pleasure alone she did a high, arcing dive off the dock and into the lake. She plunged down deep, not stopping herself until she touched the pebbly bottom. She took her time getting back up. She had always had good lung capacity. When she surfaced, Eric was watching for her.
“What? Are you, like, a whale?”
She pretended to be offended as she bobbed there. “Thanks a lot. Eric, girls don’t mostly like to be called whales. Ask your girlfriend if you are unsure.”
“Humans aren’t supposed to stay under that long.”
“Speak for yourself.” She swam over to the row of plastic kayaks. “Hey, you want to try one of these things?”
This was a novel idea. “Sure. We might as well look like we know what we’re doing.”
She pulled a double one loose from the rocky shoreline and into the shallow water. She sat herself down in the front and put her oars into place. He followed her into the water.
As he climbed aboard he made a point of jostling the boat as much as possible, which got her laughing again. He settled in.
“I think you forgot something,” she said.
He looked around. He shrugged.
“A paddle?”
“Oh, that.” He sat back, tipping his face to the sun. “Are those really so important?” He was trying not to smile.
“I’m not sure it counts as kayaking if you just float around,” she said. But she put her paddle inside the boat and lay back herself. They floated for a while.
Even in just a week, there had been so much downtime spent together that Bridget was relaxed with him. They talked about things. It was weird to be killing time with someone about whom you felt passionate.
She’d plucked up the courage to mention Kaya, casually, at least once or twice every day. She wanted him to know she understood. She wanted him to know she respected that he had a girlfriend and she wouldn’t try to get in the way.
He lifted his head. “Bee,” he said.
“Yeah?”
“Bee!”
She looked up. He sounded sort of urgent.
“What?”
“No, bee!”
He pointed, and she suddenly felt a buzzing around her ear. She yelped and swatted it away and it went to her other ear. She hopped up to her feet. The kayak teetered violently.
The bee went from her to him. It flew into his hair. He jumped up to his feet and caused an even greater disturbance.
She screeched, laughing. She rocked the boat, trying to stay on her feet. He shouted and rocked back. She crashed into the water first. She heard his splash soon after. When they came up they were both laughing even harder.
She sputtered and coughed the water out of her nose. “I think we really look like we know what we’re doing.”
Lena approached Annik before class. She was sweaty and sticky from the restaurant, and her feet hurt and her shirt was filthy, but she was pretty pleased with herself nonetheless. “The woman at the financial