“What’s going on?” Myles asks, joining the three of us. He’s dripping wet, barefoot and only wearing soaked swim trunks. He peers over Blake’s crouched figure as if he’s wondering what the chewed cardboard and mushed food used to represent two minutes ago.
“Bailey destroyed my aunt’s cake,” I say sullenly.
Blake howls with another bout of laughter. Myles joins in and then the two of them are snickering together, their guffaws growing louder and louder. The hilarity gets to Savannah as well, though she is at least trying to stifle her giggles. It’s infectious and I break out into laughter too.
“What am I supposed to tell Sheri?” I ask through our symphony of chuckles. I glimpse at the destroyed cake again and clutch my sides as I laugh even harder.
“Tell her we loved the cake,” Savannah says, stepping down from the porch steps. “It was so delicious we demolished it in seconds.” She can hardly stop giggling at her own joke, but then splutters, “I’ll get rid of this before Mom sees.”
Blake drags a happy-looking Bailey back around the house with Myles, still guffawing, and I stay with Savannah to clean up. We scoop up whatever is left of the splattered cake and box with a dustpan and dump it straight into the outdoor trash so that Savannah’s parents don’t find out about the delicious baked goods they’ve missed out on. With a pinky promise, Savannah and I declare that Sheri will never know quite how enthusiastically her friendly culinary offering was received.
“Would you like to stay for a while?” Savannah asks. “We’re hanging by the pool. It’s just me and those two idiots. And let me just remind you that those two idiots are my brother andBlake.” She smirks as she emphasizes his name.
“There’s nothing going on with Blake!”
“Oh, c’mon!” she says with a sigh and an eye roll. She takes my elbow and brings me with her.
We head deeper into the field and around the back of the farmhouse, where my chest expands with a wave of happiness at the sight ofwater. The Bennetts’ pool is larger than I dared hope it might be, circular and full of plastic soccer balls that bob along the water’s surface, and along its edge there’s a few scattered loungers.
“Are you joining us?” Myles calls from the opposite end of the pool. When I nod, he gives a playful wolf howl and dives headfirst into the water. A tidal wave splashes over the loungers, much to Savannah’s annoyance.
She tuts and groans as she stalks over and angrily drags them further back from the pool. Myles screws up his face and sneers at her as he emerges from the water, and she hurls one of the plastic balls at him. He ducks back into the water before it can bounce off his head.
“Please sit next to me,” Savannah says, beckoning me over. “I like to think he wouldn’t be rude enough to try and soak a guest.”
I join her, perching myself on the lounger next to hers. Heat radiates from the material and I gaze longingly at the vibrant blue, rippled water, craving more than ever to dive straight in. Savannah, who has already announced her fear of the water, has flattened herself against the lounger and returned to reading a worse-for-wear copy of a book about a certain famous bespectacled wizard.
“I love those movies!” I say avidly. “We actually went to the New York premiere of the final movie like ten years ago. It was the first premiere we ever went to.” A wistful smile spreads across my face. I was too young at the time to take much in, but somehow I possess the deeply ingrained memory of Dad exchanging hellos with Daniel Radcliffe.
Slowly, Savannah lowers the book and gapes at me. “Seriously?”
The fascination and pure disbelief in her blue eyes bring me instantly back down to earth and I regret saying anything. I wipe the smile from my face and ruefully draw my shoulders inward.
“Sorry – that – that sounded like I was bragging, didn’t it?” I mumble. Coming across to others, especially others whose everyday world is so different from mine, as a spoiled Hollywood kid is the last thing I ever intend to do.
“No! No! Tell me more!” Savannah urges, jolting upright and throwing the book off to the side. “I don’t think you’re bragging. You’re just talking about your life, and you just happen to live a super cool one. Did you meet the cast?”
“I can’t really – well, I was seven. It’s kind of a blur,” I say quickly. No matter what Savannah says, I would still rather change the subject to something other than how out-of-the-ordinary I am.
My gaze drifts over her shoulder, searching for an out, and I find Blake. He’s by a water hose, firing the water erratically into Bailey’s mouth. For the first time, I spot his truck parked on a sloped patch of grass. I wonder what I would have done if it’d been at the front of the house when I arrived with the cake – would I have made a quick getaway if I’d known he was here?
“Do you mind if I sit by the pool?” I ask Savannah hopefully. I note how childlike I sound, like a kid asking their mom with plead in their eyes if they can dash on ahead to the candy store.
Savannah retrieves her book and lays down. “Fiiiiine,” she jokingly huffs, then dismisses me with a flick of her hand.
I make my move toward the pool and kick off my Nikes, stuff my socks inside them, then sit down by the water’s edge and dip my legs in. The water is warm, but yet so blissfully refreshing and I throw my head back to the sky, closing my eyes and resisting the urge to slide my entire body into the pool. I send Sheri a quick text to let her know I’m staying at the Willowbank ranch for a while, and then, for a few minutes, I listen in peace to the sound of birds overheard and Myles splashing around in the other half of the pool.
“You aren’t coming in?”
I start at the sound. I glance up beneath the shadow of my cap and squint.
Blake towers over me, beaming me an encouraging smile. He’s wearing a pair of bright red shorts – correction, swim trunks – and a black T-shirt that clings to his chest. Now that I’m not blowing steam over Sheri’s ruined cake, my head swirls with thoughts that aren’t exactly appropriate.
“I’m not what you’d call pool-ready,” I say, gesturing down at my jean shorts and tank top.
“Just strip off,” Blake says nonchalantly, then, at my disapproving look, adds, “Kidding, Mila.”
He kicks his slide sandals off to the side and then, with a gulp, I watch as he tears his T-shirt over his head. I knew before now that Blake is impressively muscular and toned, but the view without clothes is one I can’t wrench my eyes away from. His stomach is just as defined as his chest and arms, but in a more modest way. The vague outline of a set of abs is definitely prominent, but only when he tenses, which he does now as he sits down next to me and slides into the water.
