Sweaty Summer Nights

Kate

It’s just not fair.All I want to do is go see Christian, but he’s working and I have to go out on the boat with my parents and Malcom. I’m buzzing with excitement, like I’ve been overloaded with electricity, and I’m going to be forced to sit quietly while we go out for a “nice relaxing cruise,” as my mother put it this morning.

Yes, there’s nothing more relaxing than being trapped in a small space with your parents, who you’re irate with, and a man you’re being forced to marry.

“Let’s go, girls,” my dad says from the front door. “Day’s a wastin’.”

He’s doing his old-timey thing that he does when he’s trying to rush us without being impolite.

I hate it.

“Coming,” I reply, slipping my Kindle into my purse and putting my giant straw hat onto my head. It looks absolutely silly, but I bought it before we came here hoping it would serve two purposes: one, that it would block the sun from my face and keep me from burning, and two, keep Malcom’s eyes off me as much as possible. I’m fairly sure about the first—we’ll have to see about the second.

I’m trying really hard to keep myself together as my mother comes over to me with that I-have-something-to-say-to-you look in her eyes that makes me want to turn around and go up to my room and lock the door. But despite the horrific arranged marriage, this is a family vacation, and after last night, I’m an official adult; I can’t go throwing temper tantrums like a child.

So I keep walking for the door and let her slide up to me like a spy and whisper, “I heard you and Malcom had a little bit of trouble last night.”

“Nope, no trouble,” I reply with a smile as we step outside and begin to head down the slope toward the docks. I see the boat ready to take us out and scan the landscape for Christian, wishing somehow he’d pop out of nowhere to rescue me.

“You know, he is a wonderful man,” my mother says. “If you’d just give him a chance—”

“Oh, that’s what I was supposed to give him last night?” I laugh. “A chance?”

My dad’s walking ahead of us and is already at the boat, so I pick up the pace and catch up with him, leaving my mom behind.

“Malcom not coming with?” I ask as my heart jumps for a moment, not seeing him anywhere.

“Right here, babe.” And then I hear his voice behind me, and it sinks straight into my toes. I almost visibly cringe as I turn but do my best to look like everything is fine. No need to make this day worse than it’s already going to be.

Malcom is smiling, evidently not put off by how things went last night. He’s wearing an absurdly short pair of baby-blue colored shorts and a salmon-colored Lacoste polo shirt. I force what could barely pass as a smile and then turn back to my dad.

“So should we get this show on the road?”

I push past him and step onto the boat, nearly falling over myself as I do. It’s the largest boat on the lake—not a yacht or anything, but still quite large with a spot up on the front (do they call that the bow?) that I go pick out immediately.

I set up a nice chair and spread out my things, along with a small table and some kind of cooler looking thing, just to take up as much space as possible and make it quite clear that I’d like to be left alone. I can hear my parents and Malcom talking behind me as they get on board.

“Yes, we’d like to depart immediately,” my father says, most likely to whoever he’s hired to take us out for the day.

“It won’t be a rough ride, will it?” I hear my mother ask in a tone I wish she would bring down a notch.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it, Mrs. Pennington. It’s a beautiful day. Everything should be nice and smooth.”

My heart nearly stops.

My breath seizes in my chest.

That voice. I recognize it immediately, but I refuse to believe it. I spin around and look toward the back of the boat, and sure enough, standing there on the dock with a line of rope in his hand, ready to push off, smiling graciously at my mother, is Christian.

“Dad,” I say. “Who-who is that?”

It’s the dumbest question in the world. Of course I know who Christian is, but I just can’t believe he’s standing there in front of me—standing there speaking to my mother, ready to take my family and me on a boat ride for the afternoon.

“That?” my dad asks. “Oh, that’s the guy who works for the resort. Hired him to take us out for the day.”

Holy crackamoli…

Christian says something to my mom and then glances my way. Our eyes meet, my heart flutters, and I feel myself starting to blush uncontrollably. Thankfully, I’ve got my silly, massive straw hat on, and I immediately tilt my head down and look away out at the water like I’ve just seen a flying fish leap out of it or something.