Truth or Beard(22)

I huffed. “Don’t tell me to shut up.”

“Sorry—I’m sorry, you’re right. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just I’m so cold I think I’m losing my mind.”

If my teeth weren’t chattering so hard I think I would have smiled. “F-f-fine. Go ahead.”

“Jess.” His fingers dug into my skin and his arms tightened on my body. “Tina and I aren’t together anymore. I ended things with her for good months ago.”

I nodded stiffly, not wanting to acknowledge, even to myself, that these words pleased me.

He continued, “Now, you and I, we’ve known each other since we were kids.”

I leaned into him, and admitted inwardly that I was very glad he’d decided to hold me.

When he spoke next, his words were rushed and they sounded rehearsed. “You’ve never liked me much and I get why, I do. But we’re not kids anymore. You’ve been gone for four years, off to college, and now you’re back, doing good work at the school. You’re different, you’ve changed, and I’m different now too, a business owner. I think it’s time we call a truce and start over.”

I blinked into the darkness, trying to process his words, and noticing suddenly—now that we were motionless—how the stars were reflected back at the sky by the surface of the lake. If we held perfectly still, it was like being in the center of space, stars above, stars below. I tilted my head backward unthinkingly and it fell against Duane’s shoulder, resting there as I gazed at the heavens.

It took him about a half minute, but then he dipped his head and pressed his cheek against mine.

“I’m glad you agree,” he whispered into the silence, apparently taking my small action as agreement. His lips moved against me as he spoke, his beard tickling the sensitive skin of my neck.

Despite myself I laughed lightly, because even though I was freezing, I could appreciate the bizarreness of the situation. Here I was, standing in a near-freezing lake with Duane Winston, oddly enjoying myself. The last time we’d been alone together in a body of water, it was the river behind his house over the summer of my fourteenth year. I’d de-panted him and thrown his swimsuit in a tree. Now we were both de-panted and freezing.

Nothing about it made any sense. I needed it to make sense, so I asked him to explain it to me.

“Duane, you remember when we were kids? And we used to argue about everything? I mean, it didn’t matter what it was. If I said the sky was blue you would say it was purple.”

“Sometimes the sky is purple. Right now it’s indigo, almost black. You can’t just make a unilateral statement that the sky is blue.”

“See? This is what I’m talking about. I don’t know if we can call a truce. All we know how to do is argue.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Jessica,” he whispered, “arguing with you is one of my favorite things to do.”

My heart set off at a gallop and my breath caught in my throat. It wasn’t his words so much as how he said them, all soft and sincere. I had to blink several times to keep from melting against him. How it was possible for me to melt when I was surrounded on three sides by near-freezing water made me again question my mental fitness.

I cleared my throat and endeavored to stay focused. “One of your favorite things to do? You mean like playing practical jokes on me? I think you’re trying to rewrite the past.”

Again, I felt his small smile on my skin. “You liked playing jokes on me, too. Don’t deny it.”

Without really meaning to I found myself grinning and reminiscing. “I liked your reaction to the jokes, like that time I switched out the cake part of your strawberry shortcake with a sponge and you took a bite.”

“Or how about the time you tricked me into thinking you were eating flies?”

I giggled. “That’s right, I’d forgotten about that. Best use of raisins ever. And you were so grossed out, I thought you were going to throw up.”

We were quiet for stretch, perhaps both lost to our memories of each other. It occurred to me that maybe he wasn’t trying to rewrite the past. Maybe he was encouraging me to see our shared history in a new light.

I was speaking my thoughts before I realized words had left my mouth. “I loved how you’d lose your temper and threaten me with retribution.”

“Exactly. And I always kept my promises.”

“Yes, you did…”

We were quiet again, the sound of gently lapping water against the embankment our only companion. But then his hands slid lower, grazing my hips, and providing just the right amount of sobriety.