His mouth so close I could almost convince myself we’d kissed.
I already felt myself changing. Inside the sleeping bag, I touched my outer thigh. My stomach. My breasts. I was more aware of my body than I’d ever been. Flannel was smooth over the top of my hand. The polyester sleeping bag crinkled. My heart beat steadily in my chest, but if I held still, I felt my pulse all over.
Was it wrong, what we hadn’t even done? Manning would’ve said so, even if he didn’t think it. He couldn’t tell me we’d be together one day, but he had to know the truth.
You can’t move the stars.
Manning and I were inevitable.
22
Lake
I woke up before anyone else, even Hannah, and sat up in bed. My hair had dried but was tangled from my midnight swim. And from Manning’s hands. The memory, only six hours fresh, made my stomach tighten. So this was what all the fuss was about. This was why Tiffany was always flirting with boys. Mouths. Hands. Hardness and softness. Adrenaline. We’d almost gotten caught. We’d almost gone too far. Getting wrapped up in Manning, belonging to him—I didn’t see how it could ever be far enough.
Early morning light made shadows around the cabin, on the sleeping girls. It was our last morning, and I never wanted it to end, but still, I smiled.
“Hey,” Hannah whispered, her eyes puffy as she grinned back at me. “Did you go somewhere last night?”
“No,” I said immediately. “Why?”
“I woke up and you weren’t here. At least, I thought you weren’t.” She laughed. “Maybe I was seeing things. Or not seeing things.”
“I was here. I went to the bathroom, but that’s it.”
She sighed. “It’s so peaceful right now. Do we have to wake them?”
“Only if we want to send them home with what they brought. Gary wants us to start packing before breakfast.” Some of the girls stirred. “Then again, it’s our last day. What’s he going to do? Send us home?”
I threw open my sleeping bag. Hannah sat up, piling her mass of hair on top of her head, watching me move around the cabin. I put on the soundtrack to The Bodyguard and belted out “I’m Every Woman.” Some of the girls giggled. They woke up confused but smiling, the way Hannah and I had.
Hannah got up, too. In just drawstring pants and t-shirts, we ran outside and started shaking our hips. “Are you guys seriously going to make us dance alone?” I called.
Girls crawled from their beds and hurried outside like ants from a hill. Someone turned up the music. Another cabin yelled at us to be quiet, but we went on dancing. It was a beautiful morning, and I was filled up by the memory of last night. Brimming with the possibilities of what was to come. For the first time since Manning and I had met, my feelings felt validated. Maybe Manning couldn’t say how he felt, but it’d been there in his eyes, his touch.
Once we’d worn the girls out, Hannah and I walked them to Reflection. We hit the path to the clearing at the same time as cabin nine. Manning’s hair stuck up in every direction. He had dark circles under eyes, like I probably did. We fell into step beside each other and slowed, lagging behind. “Your hair’s a mess,” he told me.
“I haven’t washed it yet.”
“Aren’t you afraid something’s growing in there?”
I giggled softly. “I wouldn’t mind if it was. A souvenir.”
Manning gave me a look I recognized. He was going to scold me. I mimed zipping my lips shut, and he seemed satisfied.
“Oh, before I forget.” I dug into my pocket. “I made you something in arts and crafts.”
“Me?” he asked.
I showed him a brown, orange, and forest green wax bracelet I’d woven earlier in the week.
He plucked it out of my palm, twisting it between his fingers. “What is it?”
“A friendship bracelet. But I gave it some thought this morning, and . . . I don’t think it should be that for us.”
Manning raised his eyes to mine slowly, looking at me from under his dark, long lashes. “Lake . . .”
“Every time you crave a cigarette, look at the bracelet.”
“And?”
“And think of me. You seem to be really good at not smoking in front me, so just pretend I’m there. You still want to quit, right?”
Manning inspected the bracelet, swallowing. “Nobody ever gives me anything,” he said. “Especially not jewelry.”
“I tried to pick manly colors. They made me think of you.” I smiled. “But you don’t have to wear it. Just keep it in your pocket or something.”
He scratched his jaw. “And when I feel like a smoke, I just pull it out and look at it?”
I nodded. “And think of me.”
He seemed to consider it. “It looks small.”
I stopped walking and took the bracelet. The clasp was adjustable, so I pulled it as wide as it would go. Manning held out his hand, and I put it on him.