Rusty turned to me. “You good with hanging out here awhile?”
“You’re kidding, right? I could stay here for days.”
I looked across the creek to where the rocks rose a good fifteen feet above the water, and my eyes found the best part of the whole place. Strung from the branch of a leaning tree, long enough to take you sailing right out into the deepest part of the water, was a rope swing. I wondered for a second if his choice of spot had anything to do with what I’d said in the car about his and Finn’s old rope swing. Like maybe this was a small, sweet gesture on his part. Either way, it was the perfect place to waste a day away.
Rusty motioned up at them and the swing. “You feelin’ brave today, H?”
“You mean the swing? It’s not that high.” I gave it another look. “People go off it, don’t they?”
“Sure.” He shrugged. “Just looks a helluva lot higher from the top, is all.” He threw me one of those smiles of his that I knew was actually a challenge.
I smiled it right back at him. “Let’s go.”
“You sure? It’s pretty damn high. . . .”
“I think I can handle it. I’m all grown up now, remember?” Oh my god, I did not just say that.
I walked over to a little area of smooth red rock that sloped gently down into the creek, kicked off my sandals, and shook my hair out behind me. Then, just like I’d done the day before, only a little slower and a lot more to the point, I slid my shorts down my legs and pulled my tank top over my head. At least I was in an actual bikini this time. A cute little black one with pink trim that I was kinda proud to show off.
Rusty shook his head, his smile turning into a laugh.
“What?” I asked, immediately on alert. Was I untied? Showing something I shouldn’t be? What?
“Nothin’,” he said, crossing his arms. Then he shook his head again. “I just keep forgetting.”
“Forgetting what?” I asked. My attempt at sassiness was crumbling into self-consciousness by the second, but I did my best to hang on to it. Or come up with something else to say that didn’t sound like such a lame come-on.
His eyes ran over me quick then leaped out to the water. “That you’re all grown up,” he said. “Guess I just keep for-getting.”
I didn’t know whether to be happy I’d reminded him or mad he kept forgetting, but we’d be coming up on an awfully awkward moment if I just stood there any longer. I motioned at the water. “You getting in, or am I going alone?”
Rusty raised an eyebrow, then kicked his sandals off and pulled his T-shirt over his head, revealing the same broad shoulders that had so impressed me the day before. I hadn’t forgotten about those and how grown up he seemed. “After you,” he said like a gentleman, sweeping a tan arm out toward the water.
I held his eyes for just a second. Long enough, I hoped, to say something. No matter that I didn’t know what. Then I took a two-step running start off the edge of the creek and dove right into the middle of it, through the sun-warmed surface, and down into the cool quiet of its deepest part, where water flowed silently over rock like it probably had for years and years.
I heard Rusty splash into the water next to me, felt the bubbles rush by and then the brush of his skin across my legs, just quick enough to send sparks right up them. I came up first, my breath stolen a bit by the coolness of the water or the warmth of his skin, or both. Rusty popped up right next to me, close, and we treaded water for a few seconds without saying anything.
“So,” he asked finally. “You wanna try it out?”
I blinked water out of my eyes. “Yeah. Sure.” It sounded way more sure than I actually was. “It does look a little taller from down here, though. How high is it?”
“I don’t know,” Rusty said, swimming by me. “Maybe twenty feet . . . twenty-five. You’ll be fine. C’mon.” In about four strokes, he was on the other side of the creek, pulling himself up the steep side of the rock. I hesitated a second before following him, not entirely sure this was something I wanted to do but feeling like I might’ve gotten myself in too far to back out now. When I got to the edge, Rusty reached a hand down and pulled me up to my feet all in one motion, like it was nothing.
“We go up right here.” He pointed at another rope strung down the side of the rock. It was knotted every couple of feet so that you could hold on to it while you climbed up the faint footholds worn into the side. Rusty led the way up, grabbing each knot and using it to pull himself up. I did the same, but with a growing feeling of dread every few feet. When I finally pulled myself up that last step, to the top of the rock, a cloud of butterflies took flight in my stomach, swirling around each other in a wild swarm.
We were high. Nauseatingly high. Way higher than it’d looked from the other side of the creek. High enough to make me wish I’d never opened my mouth about it, because I was not about to throw myself off this rock to prove anything to anybody. Even if he was all dripping wet and tan and strong.
Rusty grabbed a stick, then walked over to the edge of the rock and hooked the rope with it. Once he had the rope, he looked up and gave it a few good, firm tugs before turning to me with a smile the size of Texas. Like he knew I was having a heart attack about this. “It’s good to go.”
I swallowed and straightened up my shoulders. “Okay. Are you sure?”
“Yep. This thing’s been here forever.”