Left Drowning

“Hi,” he prompts me.

Oh. I am staring. And not into his eyes. His arms have the most beautiful definition that I’ve ever seen.

“Sorry. Um … Hi.” I am fumbling for words, pathetically so, and it only gets worse when I look up. He pushes his hair from his face. His green eyes, framed by strong dark eyebrows, nearly cause my knees to buckle. This is ridiculous. He is just another human being. I take a deep breath and try to look at him critically. After another minute of staring at him, I’m relieved to see that he probably isn’t every girl’s idea of perfection. He’s a little too ski

“Hi,” he says again, looking slightly amused.

“I saw you skipping stones,” I blurt out. “You’re really good.”

“Years of practice.”

I squirm, curling my toes in my sneakers, wishing yet again that I had just kept my distance. I don’t know what I’m doing. “I’ve … I’ve never been good at that. I used to try as a kid, but my stones always just ca

“I’ve done that plenty of times. You’ve got to send it off with enough force. But also enough care.”

I nod. “Well, sorry to bother you. Just wanted to tell you it was nice to watch.” I pause and brazenly reword what I have said. “You, I mean. You were nice to watch.” I turn to leave, appalled at what I have put out there.

“Hey,” he says stopping me. “Do you want me to help you? I could give you a few tips if you like.”

I spin around, aware that trying to resist would be really fucking futile.

“If you don’t mind, that would be … cool.” I ca

“I’m Christopher Shepherd, by the way. Chris. Whatever you like.”

“What do you like?”

“Whatever you like.” He smiles. “And you are… .?”

“I’m Blythe McGuire.”

“It’s nice to meet a fellow enthusiast.” He smiles softly, and I am entranced by how one side of his smile lifts higher than the other. It makes me both u

“Okay.”

Chris gestures to the left. “Should we try this way?”

“Yes. If you think so.”

“I’m just going to grab my shirt. I’ll catch up with you.” He backs up.

Under the guise of looking for good stones, I keep my head down as I start to walk because otherwise my eyes will follow him. I find him … I don’t know. Something. I don’t know exactly what, but I do know that I wish I were wearing something besides a shitty sweatshirt, although I have no idea what I could have resurrected from my closet.

I feel him next to me. “What are you doing here so early in the morning?” he asks.

“Sleep issues. What about you?”

“Who’d want to miss this?” He waves his hand in the direction of the lake sparkling in the sun. “Damn spectacular.”

I glance to the side. He’s put on a faded black T-shirt. “Aren’t you cold?”

“I like it. Refreshing. Before you got here, I’d been considering stripping down and diving in.”

“You were not.” I look up. He towers over my five feet four inches.

“I most certainly was.” He is gri

“Now you’re risking that I’ll brand you an exhibitionist.”

Chris kneels down for a moment, picks up a stone, and slips it into his pocket. “What’s a little risk now and then, huh?” He rushes past me and turns so that he is walking backward, facing me as he talks. “It makes you feel alive. It brings you crashing into the here and now. Keeps you alert and grounded.”

“I have more here and now than I can handle, thank you very much, without ski

“Technically it wouldn’t have been ski

An image of Chris in nothing but snug boxer briefs flashes into my head, and it takes me a moment to recover. I try to walk nonchalantly, following the backward path he is making.

“Are you a student?” he asks.

I nod.

“Where?”

“I’m a senior at Matthews.”

He stops and I nearly crash into him. “Me, too. Why don’t I know you?”

It’s bad enough that I’ve had this conversation once already today, but to have it with Chris feels worse.

“I transferred in as a junior,” he continues, “but I don’t think we’ve ever met. What, do you take all independent studies classes and never leave your dorm room?”

I don’t say anything.

“Oh my God, you don’t actually do that, do you? I’m sorry. I feel horrible. I was just making a joke.”

“What? No! I take real classes. Of course I do.” He steps aside as I keep walking, moving past him. This is so embarrassing. Have I really become invisible unless I’m fu

Maybe I don’t want that anymore.

Chris bounces ahead of me again. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I move a mile a minute and miss things. Miss people.”

“Maybe there will be some good stones up toward the grass.” I move up the slight incline from where we are standing. “I’ll go check.”

“Oh. Okay.” I know he is staring at me. “I’ll look in the shallow water.”

We spend a few minutes silently collecting stones, and I wonder what sort of excuse I can come up with to leave. Clearly I have botched our entire exchange. It’s one that I never should have started in the first place, considering that I’m idiotically out of practice when it comes to basic social interaction. I try to give myself a pep talk. Perhaps this will be like riding the proverbial bike? If I keep going, maybe I’ll remember how to behave like a normal person again? I used to be good at this.

“Hey, Blythe,” he calls out. “I found a bunch of good ones. Come down and we’ll get more, and you can show me what you’ve got.” His voice is deep, masculine, yet I hear compassion and humanity in each word he says. Hearing him relaxes me and undoes my self-consciousness in a way that nothing else has been able to since that one night four years ago.

Four years. Jesus, I have been like this for four fucking years? I start to wonder what I have missed out on. Who I have missed out on. I am momentarily furious.

But then I look to the water, to Chris, and his infectious grin meets me. This boy makes it impossible for me to be pulled under. I smile back at him with a real smile. “Yeah? You found more? Okay.” I step over the overgrown grass and the half-buried rocks to reach him.

“Shoes off!” he commands.

“What?”

“Shoes off and pants rolled up! We’re going to get you in tune with the lake. Good stone skipping is not just about the stone. It’s about the water, and it’s about you. So, off with your shoes!”

“It’s cold!” I protest.

“Baby,” he teases as he starts removing his shoes.

“Am not. I’m showing a measure of sanity.” The irony that I am saying this is not lost on me.

“There’s nothing good to be said about sanity. It’s dull. Live a little. Come on.”

I try not to smile back as he arches his dark eyebrows playfully.

“Fine,” I say, kicking off my sneakers and rolling up my jeans. “To prove I’m not a baby.”

“In we go.” Chris wades a few feet into the water and turns back to me. “It’s really not cold. Promise.” He holds out his hand. “Really.”

I step forward into the cool water, and the soles of my feet sink into the grainy sand. It’s a striking feeling, one I’ve stayed away from on purpose for the past four years. Without really thinking, I place my hand into his. My eyes close, and I feel him tighten his fingers around mine. The dark world in my head begins to break into pieces, and flashes of old, forgotten memories break through. I find that I am taking quick, shallow breaths. Stop it. Stop it! I instruct myself. I focus on my hand in his, feeling his steady and solid grip. The flashes burst apart as I open my eyes and speak too quickly, hoping to recover from the moment, hoping to cover up my lapse. “You’re right. The water isn’t so bad.”