“Psst, Cal.”
Calum had the screen popped from its frame within seconds of Rett saying his name. She beamed at him in the moonlight then turned as Tiffany emerged from around the corner of the house. The trio ambled silently toward the end of the street where a large group stood. Calum fell back while his cousin joined the cluster. The closer they grew to the woods, the more Calum slowed. Rett frowned, pulling him to a stop.
“You don’t wanna do this, do you?”
“I do.”
Her silver eyes darkened with something he couldn’t understand, and she ran a hand through her hair. “Cal—”
“I promise, Rett. I… I wanna see what this is all about.”
“Then I guess we should catch up,” she murmured before holding out a hand. He took it without a word, and she grinned and dragged him along behind her.
Her skin was rough yet soft, the hands of someone who worked with and cared for them, and he laced their fingers more securely as she led him down the path. Loud music filled the air—a driving beat under a thick drawling voice—and multiple someones sang along. His grip tightened around her hand whenshe stumbled in the dark. Had she already been drinking? No, he hadn’t smelled alcohol when she tapped on his window. When he clambered out onto solid ground and stood within inches of her. She’d smelled only of coconut and nighttime air. She squeezed his hand as she steadied herself, a silent reassurance that she was okay, then he followed where she took him.
He knew then he would follow her anywhere.
It was nothing like any movie he’d ever seen. He expected wild. He expected dirty dancing that had no place in decent public or for the others to have broken into groups to make out and more. Instead, what he saw were thirty teenagers at the edge of the river with torches planted in the dirt. A truck had been backed into the area, its speakers letting loose some country song. Even the dancing was tame.
Calum expected something vastly different, but he was thankful that was what he got.
True to Rett’s word, he could see shadows moving in the woods—adults checking in on the kids, making sure those who were drinking were being careful. Making sure they were all safe. If he was home, his mother would have the cops after him for being out in the middle of the night, for drinking three years too young. Though he’d only seen two since he arrived, Calum had to wonder why none of the officers had the same qualms about underage drinking that most of the country did.
The thoughts all disappeared when he looked back at Rett. There in the firelight, she was more beautiful than he’d ever seen. Her navy tank-top exposed her shoulders, and the glow from the flames highlighted her freckles and a sliver of a scar. He wondered where it came from. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head in a sloppy bun, and she danced with Kellie Marie to a song about speeding down back roads with cops in hot pursuit. Calum watched Rett for a long minute; something warm settled in his chest at the sight of her smile, the way she closed her eyesand swayed to the music. The jolt in his veins as she met his gaze and held out a hand for him to join her.
He hadn’t danced since his junior formal the year before, but he danced with her that night.
A week later, Rett’s fingers wrapped around his wrist, and she tugged him to a stop. “I wanna show you somethin’. C’mon.”
“Where are we going?” he asked even as he followed her out of the school.
“Just hush up,” was all she said in response.
“Why are you so mean to me?”
She grinned but didn’t say a word. Calum let her lead him around the side of the building, ducking down when they reached classroom windows, then her fingers laced with his. Her footsteps quickened as they crossed the baseball diamond, and he jogged behind her until they reached the tree-line. She slowed then, squeezing his hand before releasing him. His hand grew cold despite the heat.
Sunlight dappled the ground through the canopies, and birds squawked as the pair made their way down the trail. Twigs cracked beneath their feet, but Rett stayed quiet while she pushed through the brush. As she walked with surety to wherever she wanted to show him. Calum couldn’t help but wonder what it was.
There wasn’t much she’d kept secret so far—he even knew of her dreams of getting out of the town. “Not for long,” she’d said two weeks ago when he stared at her in surprise. She would always come back; she just wanted something more to prove she could do it. He’d asked if anyone else knew. She didn’t respond to his question. He still hadn’t received an answer, so he took it as a secret of their own.
They shared plenty of them. More nights than not, he sat outside her bedroom window, and they talked under the spotlight of the moon. Georgie never spoke of his sneaking out,but Charles made sure he was on the front porch by the time Calum came home.
Home.
He wasn’t sure when he started considering the tiny house a home. Probably around the time Rett changed his mind about Oak Creek, when he realized perhaps it wasn’t as awful as he’d feared. Just like she had said he would, he started enjoying the quiet of a town so small. He liked the people in it and the slowness of everything. Most of all, he liked that it was only a three-minute walk from his window to Rett’s.
“We’re here,” Rett announced as she came to a stop nearly two hours later. They must have walked all the way back to Oak Creek.
The river stretched before them, trickling in the thick September heat. There hadn’t been any rain despite the promising thunderheads that lingered at the edges of the sky. The water reached the banks but just barely. On the other side was more forest. Calum could see nothing beyond the trees there, only darkness between the trunks.
He stepped closer to the river and stared down at the fish swimming lazily by. Their lives were so simple—just keep swimming and lay eggs to continue their lineage. The only thing they had to worry about was not being eaten by bears. Were there even bears in Oak Creek?
Rett nudged him with an elbow, gesturing with her chin toward an enormous oak standing tall above them. He watched her approach the tree, dropping her bag to the ground, then she scaled up the trunk as if she’d done it every day of her life. Her sneakers scraped against the rough bark, and Calum’s heart leaped into his throat when she lost her footing. But then she was perched on a wide, thick branch hanging over the river. He gazed up at her, and she beamed down at him with a brow raised.
“Gonna join or stay down there like a chicken?”
Despite himself—despite his better judgment—he grinned and let his backpack fall to the dirt beside hers. He wasn’t nearly as skilled as she was, but he managed to reach the branch without killing himself or falling. She carefully shifted so she was facing him, sitting astride the branch. He mirrored her stance and ignored the way his heart raced in his chest. The ground looked so far away.
