July

Anna—Fourteen Years Old

“Oh. My. God. Why didn’t you tell me Wes got a tattoo?” Molly stares out the window at Wes getting out of our pool in the backyard.

That tattoo. Just the mention of it makes my cheeks heat and my heart race. I lose the ability to form coherent sentences when I think about it.

“I didn’t mention it?” I feign nonchalance.

She spins and dramatically puts her hands on her hips, her blonde ponytail whipping behind her, her expression disbelieving. “Anna! You know you didn’t tell me. I would have remembered a tattoo. Wesley looks hot!”

Jealousy is an ugly, ugly feeling. It’s also swift and uncontrollable. And my poker face sucks.

“Aha! I knew it! You do have a crush on him!”

I cross my arms over my chest in defense and sit on the edge of my bed. “I do not.” I look down at my toes, noticing the big toe nail has a chip in the purple polish.

She slowly walks over and sits next to me. “Hey, it’s okay to like him. He’s completely smitten with you, too, you know. It’s about time you guys cut the just friends charade and deal with it. Come on, you’re my bestest friend in the whole world; talk to me.”

I sigh, turn to her, and spill my guts. “Okay, fine. I do. I mean, I didn’t always. And we are just friends.”

Molly’s expression softens. “Okaaay…” She motions with her hands for me to keep going.

I lie back on my bed to stare at the ceiling. “But, God, his eyes.”

“His eyes are pretty nice. I’ve never seen that color before—not blue, not gray, somehow both.”

“And his lips.”

“Full but soft and kissable for sure,” she agrees.

I go on, “And that tattoo!”

“So hot.”

“Yesss,” I agree. “He’s just so hot. And, most of the time, I can ignore that he’s gorgeous because he’s my friend, but there are these moments when I can’t stop thinking about kissing him. I see him look at my lips, and I think maybe, just maybe, he might want to kiss me, too.”

“So, nothing’s happened yet?”

I deflate. “No,” I say flatly.

“Well, I think you should just kiss him.”

“I can’t do that!” I exclaim. “What if I’m reading him wrong? What if he has no interest in me at all whatsoever and I go in for the kiss and then it becomes all awkward and weird and then I lose his friendship?”

“But what if he feels the same way and he’s relieved that you made the first move and kisses you back and you live happily ever after?” She grins, her straight white teeth blinking at me.

The thought fills me with hope and happiness.

But…

I just can’t risk our friendship.

Molly sees my smile form then fade. “I know what you should do!”

“What?”

“You need to drive him crazy, so he can’t resist you.”

I snort. “Oh, really? And how do you propose I do that?”

“Easy. Put on your bikini. Then, we go down to join them in the pool, and you flirt with him.”

I purse my lips, considering. “Flirt?” I ask doubtfully. I’m not sure I know how to flirt.

“Yeah, you know, smile at him, ask him to tell you about his tattoo, touch it, flutter your eyelashes, and make your lips look kissable.”

I crack up as she demonstrates on me, touching my biceps and leaning into me with duck lips. Her posture is so ridiculous, her back arched to make her chest look bigger, and I’m afraid she’s going to hurt herself.

“Stop. You’ll hurt your back.”

“It does kind of hurt actually.” She laughs at herself, too. “But I’m serious. You need to show him that you’re not a little girl anymore.” She puts her hands on my shoulders and walks me over to the full-length mirror in the corner of my room. “Look at you. You’re gorgeous, Anna. High school boys are going to be falling all over themselves to talk to you when school starts.”

I roll my eyes. “Shut up.”

“Look. At. Yourself.” Her voice is stern, so I obey even though I think it’s silly.

I look at my reflection. I really look. My body has changed, especially in the last year. My boobs have finally decided to start growing, my waist is more defined with curvy hips, my neck is more…slender somehow. My face is thinner and longer, and the braces, torturous as they were, worked well to straighten my teeth and make my smile that much brighter.

Huh.

Maybe I am a little bit pretty.

Not a lot pretty. Not like Molly. She’s Barbie-doll pretty with her gorgeous blue eyes and golden-blonde hair. Stunning with her slender ballerina legs and graceful movements. She’s been in dance classes forever, and she just…looks like a ballerina. Dance is not for me. I like to run. To lose myself in my feet pounding the pavement. I might try out for track this year.

But maybe I’m my own kind of pretty.

“Earth to Anna.”

I snap out of my thoughts. “Okay, let’s go swimming.” I nod.

“Yes!”

Ten minutes later, we’re dressed in our bikinis, and we join John and Wes in the backyard. I try not to fidget. It’s the first time I’ve ever worn a bikini, so even though Wes has seen me in a bathing suit a million times, he’s never seen this much of me before.

Be cool. Suck it in, but don’t look like you’re sucking it in. Just be cool.

We decide to lay out first, spraying each other’s backs with sunscreen, then bring the chaise lounge chairs next to the pool, out in the sun. John and Wes are playing basketball in the pool, both wearing only swim trunks. They work out religiously, and it shows.

But my eyes are drawn to Wes’s muscular frame. The water clings to his skin, glistening and glittering in the sunlight. Flat stomach, broad shoulders, bulging biceps, defined pecs—sheesh. His black swim trunks hang dangerously low, showing the dimples at the base of his spine. And that tattoo—a ring of barbed wire around his left bicep, positioned perfectly to make his muscles look even bigger, giving him an edge of danger—catches my eyes. I can’t stop staring. And weird things happen in my body as I look at him. My stomach churns, my pulse races, and I swear, there was saliva in my mouth a second ago, but now, I can barely swallow.

They haven’t noticed us yet, too engrossed in their one-on-one game.

“Hey, guys,” Molly greets, calling out to them.

They look over to us, surprised at our presence. I can’t help watching Wes to see if he looks at me any differently. His head turns my way mid-laugh, and seeing him relaxed and smiling makes me automatically smile, too. His movements still as he takes me in, eyes traveling from my face to my shoulders, then lower. And there it is—the reaction I was hoping for. His eyes widen, smile fading as his mouth opens ever so slightly. My bathing suit is robin-egg blue. The top is a halter-style that ties behind my neck, and the bottom is made up of two triangles that tie on either side of my hips. His eyes linger on the ties, and that makes my heart race even more.

“Anna Banana!” John shouts, throwing the ball to Wes and hitting him in the face because he’s not paying attention.

I glare at my brother. Can he just quit it with that stupid nickname already?

Molly laughs at this, so I aim my glare at her next.

She shrugs, as if to say, Sorry, but that’s funny.

Then, I remember Wes was checking me out, and my eyes don’t want to miss one second of that. When I turn back, he’s not looking at me anymore.

“Hey, you guys want to play basketball with us?” John asks.

“Sure!” Molly answers. “Girls versus boys?”

“No, we’ll kick your asses. What about me and you versus Wes and Anna?”

Molly gives me a satisfied smile. “Perfect.”

We join them in the water, and I bump Wes’s shoulder. “You ready to win?”

His blue-gray eyes meet mine, and he swallows. “Absolutely,” he says, nodding.

Playing basketball in the water involves a lot of jumping and bouncing and splashing. We’re soaked within five seconds, breathless with laughter as we try to block each other and make goals. Wes and I are winning, and I treasure each high five I get when we score.

And, when I make the winning basket, Wes spins me around and shouts a triumphant, “Yes!”

I laugh and squeal, excited for the win. But then I realize our arms are wrapped around each other, our wet bodies smashed together, and I can feel the warm, slick skin of his stomach touching the slick skin of my own. His neck and shoulders are strong under my hands, his muscles bunching and flexing as he lifts me.

Then, he sets me down and beams. “Nice work, Angel.”

If I were a cat, I’d purr at his praise.

Then, he does it. He looks at my lips. He looks at them so hard, I can almost feel it, making me lick and rub them together.

Then, John comes over to dunk me again, and when I resurface, Wes is shaking his head, as if to snap out of it. Like he caught himself thinking about kissing me and feels…guilty? Weird? I can’t read him.

Not like he would have kissed me right then in front of John and Molly.

Still, he thought about it. I know he did.

He doesn’t look at me like that again for the rest of the day.

But I keep that look close to my heart, my lips tingling with the memory.