"Where are the others going?" I mumble.
"Carrying on with the trip. I told them to drop us off here at the base. They'll arrive later."
I look around me, wondering what exactly he calls the base, since, except for the wooden bench and table, there's nothing but pines everywhere. A pathway stretches between the trees, and I wonder if the base is at the end of it, and if there's anyone there. I can't allow myself to stay alone for too long with James.
"Serena, are you hurt?" he repeats.
"No, I don't think so." But as I say the words, a spasm runs through my right thigh and I gasp.
"Let me take a look at it."
"It's nothing, really."
"Don't be silly. Let's get you out of this wetsuit."
And though I know there's no way he and I can check my thigh without me taking off my suit, I still consider that option for a few seconds. Grudgingly, I stand up and peel the suit off me, until I'm all but naked in front of him; my cheeks feel so warm I'm pretty sure they're the same bright red as the tiny bikini I'm wearing.
"I always hated these crappy suits." He takes off his suit as well, standing before me in a pair of green shorts. I look away, my breath quickening. If I could just pretend we're sunbathing on a beach, maybe I wouldn't feel this naked. The sun most certainly burns hot enough for me to uphold the illusion.
"I'm so sorry about this," James says, eyeing my thigh as I slump back on the bench. One long scratch runs all the way to my knee.
"I'm an idiot, I should've held on tighter to the raft."
"It's my fault for pressuring you to come with us."
"I made the decision to come, James. It was my choice."
"At least you're not bleeding," he says with a shudder.
"You're afraid of blood?" I ask, biting my lip to keep from laughing.
"Not exactly afraid," he says, the corner of his mouth lifting up in half a smile. "I just don't like it much."
He trails his fingers along the scratch, my skin prickling, goose bumps forming on my thigh, and then on my entire body. James bites his lower lip.
"I guess you won't be able to wear any short skirts while searching for an apartment in New York."
"No problem. I'm not going to New York to seduce the real estate agent, but to find a decent place to live."
"Really? I was under the impression you were going to New York to run away from me."
I prepare to contradict him in the most categorical way, but then he blinks up at me with wide, expectant eyes. Saddened eyes. "Why are you doing this?"
The truth rolls out of my mouth before I can stop myself. "Because I can't stand the thought of being apart from you, knowing you're just a few miles away."
He sits himself up on the bench next to me, his eyes never leaving mine. "We don't have to be apart, Serena. I don't want us to be apart. These have been the worst weeks of my life. I can't sleep, or do any fucking thing right. I worked twenty hours a day just to exhaust myself so I won't think about you all the time." He pauses for a few seconds. "I miss you."
I catch my breath. I had almost forgotten how alike we are, he and I. Addicted to movies and exhaustion. Addicted to each other.
He cups my face in his hands, pulling me closer to him. "I don't want us to be apart, Serena. You chose that way. And the worst part is I don't completely understand why."
Of course he doesn't. And that is what will always keep us apart. All the ways in which we are not the same. He needs constant excitement and risk. I need safety and reassurance. A reassurance he can't offer me. Not now, and perhaps not ever. I am not prepared to find out.
"Talk to me Serena, please." He presses his forehead to mine, closing his eyes. I close mine too, and find unexpected comfort in the darkness.
There is no way to make this sound better, so I say it in the simplest way possible. "I want you to love me. I need to hear you say it. But I know I can't make you love me. No matter how much I want it. So I have to be as far away from you as I can."
"I need time, Serena," he whispers. "Give me a little time, that's all I ask."