I shook my head and leaned a fraction of an inch forward, clearing my throat before speaking my mind. “If we did start over, why do you even want to be friends with me? Didn’t you call me a brat earlier?”
He nodded and his arms shifted, which made his hold feel more like a hug. “Yeah, I called you a brat, because you were acting like one.”
I grunted my irritation. “I wasn’t the one who lied and I’m allowed to be angry. I don’t know,” I stopped, swallowed, and debated my next words before continuing, “I don’t know if I’m ready to forgive you.”
“I’m not asking for forgiveness. I’m not sorry.”
“You’re not sorry?” My voice sounded loud and screechy to my ears and I gritted my teeth. Despite being surrounded by frigid temperatures, my blood pressure spiked.
“Nope. Not sorry we kissed.”
I laughed again, but this time it was because I was peeved. “So you’re telling me you’re not sorry for making me think you were Beau?”
He shrugged, nuzzled my neck, warming me. My brain told me to stop him, but my body vetoed, To hell with pride, I’m freezing!
At length he said, “I never said I was Beau and you didn’t ask.”
I opened mouth and a small sound of incredulity escaped. “You’re unbelievable.”
He ignored my statement. “And I don’t want to be your friend.”
“You don’t want to be my friend? Then what are we talking about?”
“We’re talking about starting over.”
“To what purpose?”
He hesitated for just a second then he said, “Because we should see each other more often. I think we’re suited.”
I wasn’t surprised.
I was flabbergasted.
I was sure I must’ve heard him wrong.
Then I realized my mouth was wide open.
Then I realized a full minute had passed and I’d said nothing.
I blinked at the stars in the sky. “I’m sorry, I think I must misunderstand your meaning. So…what do you mean?”
“Just what I said. We’re suited for each other.”
“You think we’re suited?”
“Yes.”
“For what? Debating the color of the sky? Practical joke wars?”
“Sure, if that’s what you want to do or talk about. I’m going to take you out.”
“Out? Out where?”
“To nice restaurants, to movies, camping, for ice cream—on dates.”
“On dates?”
“We could go to Genie’s, go dancing.”
“You dance?”
“Yes, I dance, when it’s good music and I’m in the mood.”
“You would dance with me?”
“Hell yes. I’d dance with you right now if you’d let me and I wasn’t freezing my balls off.”
I laughed again, shaking my head because this entire conversation had taken a detour to Unexpectedville. I couldn’t comprehend the idea that Duane Winston thought we were suited for each other.
In what universe would he ever think such things?
And why did these things he said not sound crazy? And why did these things he said make my heart twirl with excitement?
“I don’t…I can’t….” I didn’t know what to say and I didn’t know what to think.
The evening had been too eventful and I hadn’t a spare moment to digest what had occurred. Obviously I needed time and I needed distance. I wasn’t staying in Green Valley, not more than a few years at most. Being suited with Duane Winston had the potential of being a huge confounding complication. My eyes were on the prize, namely leaving town with no debt, no regrets, or reasons to stay.
I cleared my throat and whispered, “I think it’s been fifteen minutes.”
When I pulled away he let me go. Cold water hit my lower back and thighs, replacing the warmth and protection of Duane’s body. Hugging myself I turned toward the forest and forced my stiff legs to move. This did not go well. I stumbled, slipped on a rock, and crashed sideways into the water.
The wind was knocked out of me as I hit the lake, forced from my lungs by the shock of cold. Immediately my legs straightened, pushing my head up and out. Just as I was gathering a greedy gulp of air, I felt Duane’s hands reach around my side and lift me off my feet and out of the water, cradling my front to him and carrying me with an arm around my torso and under my legs.
When I found my voice I said through chattering teeth, “Put me down.”
He didn’t respond, just continued trudging to the embankment.
“Duane Winston, put me down.” I felt breathless, confused, dizzy. Pressed together like we were, and without the chilly water keeping me sober, my body was warming to his. Our skin was slippery, my breasts against his chiseled chest, his strong arms around me. I was too exhausted to be aroused, but it felt improper.