Undeclared(51)

The pool area was empty and quiet. A large fence and barrier of trees on either side of the property shielded us from the neighbors.

“Just drop your stuff on a lounger. You can change in the pool house,” Noah directed.

“I’ve got my suit on already,” I told him. “I thought you were against water.” I had once asked Noah what his greatest fear was, after sharing that mine was spiders. He had told me it was water, but that the Marines worked that out of him.

“I overcame that fear, remember.”

He took off his shirt and jumped into the deep end. When he surfaced, he gestured for me to join him. It felt like a thousand degrees, and I was eager to cool off. I dropped my bag on the lounger, disposed of my cover up, and jumped in right next to Noah. It wasn’t the most elegant of jumps, but I didn’t care. I wanted to have fun today.

Noah and I played catch with a Nerf football and challenged each other to see who could make the biggest splash. Apparently the games inside were so bad that Finn, the serial killer, came out and challenged Noah to a race. I played the flag girl, which meant I sat at the end of the pool and yelled go and then lied about who won. Noah won every time, but I said Finn did.

After the very exhausting effort of watching two fine male specimens swim, I decided to go lie on one of the loungers. It was, I decided, one of the better afternoons of my life.

Later, Mal came out and fired up the grill that apparently worked amidst all the rubble. Adam emerged from whatever part of the house he had hidden in, and we all enjoyed steaks and beer. Bo was conspicuously absent, but I refused to let that dampen my enjoyment. Noah and I made a grocery run for s’mores fixings. I was nearly comatose after all the food.

“Can you just wheel me home and dump me on the porch? I’ll sleep there. It’ll be cooler, and I won’t have to walk up stairs,” I asked Noah, who sat next to me on an outdoor loveseat. I wanted to just pull up my feet and lay my head in his lap. I wanted to stay on this love seat replete from chocolate and marshmallows and the heat of his large body next to mine.

“You can’t expect me to drive you home,” Noah protested. “I’m at least four s’mores over the driving limit.”

I made a halfhearted slap at him and reminded him that of all of us, he ate the least and had only one s’more. “I’d hit you harder, but I’m going into a sugar coma and am losing control of my limbs.” Inwardly I was hugging myself. Noah wanted me to stay. Any nervousness I had before had been eroded by the sun, swimming, food, and company.

“We’d better get you to a safe place before that happens,” Noah said, standing up. Then he bent over and picked me up in his arms. “Get the door, Finn.”

“Yessir,” Finn slurred. He’d had many beers with his s’mores. He claimed he hated chocolate and was only able to eat it with copious amounts of alcohol. I wasn’t sure if he was serious.

“I was only kidding about the carrying business,” I said to Noah’s chest.

“You’re my guest. I don’t want you getting injured. I’m not sure we’re current on our homeowner’s insurance,” Noah joked. I could feel the rumble of his voice through his chest. If I had eaten or drunk less, I’d have protested more, but right now I felt too satiated and happy to argue. If he wanted to carry me out to his truck, I was okay with that. Only he didn’t proceed out the kitchen to the driveway. Instead, he started up the stairs.

“Are you trying to work off your s’more?” I asked.

“Nope, I’m putting you to bed.”

I started to struggle weakly. “I can’t stay here.” My protests were half-hearted, though, and Noah merely ignored them.

He carried me down the hall like I weighed no more than a marshmallow and took me into a room on the right. The room was dark and the walls seemed to be painted gray or white. I couldn’t tell in the dimness.

A large bed was positioned between two windows. Noah walked straight to the bed and laid me down on top of the gray striped comforter. He went over to a dresser and pulled out a T-shirt that had the letters USMC. “You can sleep in this,” he said, tossing the shirt to me.

I took the shirt and held it up to my face. It was cool and smelled clean. I wished it was the shirt Noah was wearing so I could be wrapped up in his scent and surrounded by the warmth of his body.

When I didn’t move, Noah said, “Should I help you? You mentioned something about non-functioning limbs.”

The offer was a joke, but an invitation lurked underneath. I wasn’t ready for that yet. “No, I think I can manage but, um, are you sure I can’t just call a cab?”