- Gemma -
I was writing a letter to my dad when I heard a “pssst” at the open door.
“Gemma,” a familiar voice hissed.
I looked over my shoulder as the silhouette stepped into the dim cabin. “You’re not allowed to be in here,” I said, looking around to confirm that my other bunkmates were out.
“There’s something I want to show you.”
“I’m in the middle of something.”
“That can wait,” he said, gesturing for me to follow. “Come on. This is a time-sensitive matter.”
I shoved the half-written letter under my pillow. “What is it?”
“Hurry up,” he said, scuffling back outside.
“Wait up!” I said, chasing him along the woodchip-covered path. “Aren’t you supposed to be playing basketball right now? Or am I confused about what day it is again?”
“Stop asking so many questions,” he said, grabbing my hand and picking up the pace.
I let him drag me down the path towards the lake, my eyes darting over my shoulder every time he looked back. “You’re acting very suspicious,” I said, wondering what the heck he was up to and whether or not I was flattered that he dragged me along.
He offered no explanation but continued along the bank towards the narrow dock beside the boathouse, which creaked when he stepped on it.
“We’re trespassing,” I whispered, eyeing the dirty windows of the rickety shed, which looked positively haunted. Granted, I was too old to believe the stories I’d heard about the old troll who lived in the boathouse and ate toads at night, but my imagination was active enough to believe the stories must’ve been based on something… Especially since simply looking at the structure gave me the creeps.
“There’s no one here,” he said. “I’ve been casing the place for days.”
“Casing the place? Can you hear yourself?”
He pulled a worn rope until a shallow metal boat emerged from the weeds.
“If you think I’m going to—”
“Get in,” he said, taking the words right out of my mouth.
“Absolutely not.”
“Did you have something better to do?”
I thought of the letter I’d been writing. How I’d been in the middle of telling my dad camp was boring and that I didn’t want to come back next year.
“Well, don’t just stand there,” he said, hopping in and lifting the oars from the bottom. “Either get in or give me a push.”
“Where are you going?” I asked, looking over his head past the reeds. The blue lake shone in the sun and the still waters reflected the tall pines along the shore.
“It’s a lake, Gemma. Options are limited on the adventure front.”
I groaned and lowered myself down so I could sit on the creaky planks and slink into the boat carefully. When I looked up, Alex had a big smile on his face that almost made me feel better about the situation. “You know we’ll get in big trouble if we get caught.”
He ignored me and stood up, widening his stance before pressing the end of one oar against the dock to give us a steady push.
I squinted up at his silhouette in front of the bright sky and watched the lean muscles in his arms flex as he navigated through the reeds.
He didn’t sit down again until we were surrounded by sparkling lake, the warm sun beating down on our bare skin.
“Now what?” I asked, as we floated away from the shore.
“What do you mean, now what?” he asked, leaning forward and back as he pulled the wooden oars through the water.
“Is this it?”
“Jesus, you’re hard to impress.”
I squinted at him. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you were trying to impress me.”
“Why else would I rescue you from a dark dungeon and steal you away in an old troll’s boat?”
I smiled.
He flashed his eyebrows.
“Because you hate basketball?”
“I don’t hate basketball,” he said. “I hate being told what to do. I hate being told that I’m supposed to enjoy basketball between certain hours on certain days with certain people.”
“What would you rather be doing?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked. “This. With you.”
“Glad I could make your dreams come true.”
His cheeks flushed, and he tore his eyes from mine to concentrate on his rowing again. “Sometimes I feel like we’re the only people around here that make any sense.”
“I know what you mean.”
“I can’t tell if it’s because you’re special or if it’s because everyone else here just sucks so bad,” he said, his eyes on the ripples the paddles were making.
“Maybe it’s both,” I said, confused as to whether he meant that as a compliment.
He took a few more strokes before pulling the oars in and resting his elbows on his knees. “How far would you go with me?” he asked, one of his eyes in a half-squint.
My stomach dropped. “What?”
“If this weren’t a lake,” he said. “If it were a river that stretched for miles and miles, how far would you go with me?”
“As far as you wanted to,” I said, meaning it more than he knew.
“And if I wanted to go to the very end?” he asked. “Just to see what was there?”
I shrugged. “I wouldn’t want you to go on your own.”
“You wouldn’t want me to go on my own or you wouldn’t want me to go without you?”
I furrowed my brow. “What’s the difference?”
“Well, in one case you want to be there.”
I stared at him. “What’s gotten into you?”
He scratched the back of his head and looked at his feet. “I don’t know.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, suddenly more worried about Alex than the fact that our boat had drifted so far from shore I couldn’t see the buoys that marked the safe zone anymore.
“I guess I’ve been thinking about regret.”
I cocked my head. “You’re too young to have regrets.”
He looked up at me. “You don’t believe that.”
“No.” I blinked at him. “It just seemed like the kind of bullshit thing an adult would say.”
A half-smile lifted his cheek.
“What do you feel regret about?”
“Nothing yet,” he said. “I’m just afraid I will. You know, in the future.”
“Over what?”
He swallowed, and his eyes dropped to my lips for a second. “Never mind. It’s stupid.”
“No,” I said too quickly. “What is it? What are you afraid you’ll regret?”
He sighed. “Promise you won’t laugh?”
I nodded.
He raised his brows.
“I promise.”
“I’m worried I’ll regret it if I don’t kiss you,” he said. “I’m worried if I leave this summer without at least trying… I’m worried I’ll always wonder if you would’ve kissed me back.”
I swallowed.
“Told you it was stupid,” he said, reaching for the oars.
“That’s not stupid,” I said, leaning forward to put my hand over his.
He looked at my hand and then my face.
“It’s sweet.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’ll take you back.”
“But then you’ll never know,” I blurted. “You’ll never know if I would’ve kissed you back.”
He scooted forward on his bench so our knees were almost touching.
“And I’ll never know either.” My mind was a mess of thoughts all of a sudden, the loudest being that I didn’t know the first thing about kissing someone back.
“So I’d almost be doing you a favor?”
“Well, I’d be doing you a favor, too,” I said. “Because you won’t have to live with regret.”
He leaned forward. “Okay.”
I stopped breathing and my voice fell to a whisper. “Okay, what?”
He looked at my lips again and then searched my eyes. “I’m going to do it.”
I closed my eyes and waited for what felt like an eternity.
But moments later, I felt the boat rock gently right before his lips touched mine.
At first he just held them there, but right when I thought I might die of breathlessness, he put a hand on my cheek and parted my lips with his. I gasped at his warm breath and smiled as his tongue slipped around mine, gently at first, and then playfully.
And I remember thinking two thoughts at once. One, that it was pretty obvious neither of us knew what we were doing, and, two, that it was the most wonderful feeling in the world.