We showered and got dressed. Evan wore jeans and his nicest shirt—one of the newer t-shirts he’d bought at the second-hand store in Oklahoma. It was the same pale blue as his eyes, and it stretched over his chest and arms rather nicely.
I put on the lavender dress I bought back in Oklahoma too, and brushed out my hair until it shone. I had no makeup of any kind—I left it all behind in Dolores. I was conscious of my scar and how it interrupted my face. But the way Evan looked at me when I stepped out of the bathroom, butterflies took flight in my stomach.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmured.
We left Snowball to rest and walked down Franklin’s tiny Main Street. We found a diner called Smokey Joe’s, a throwback to the drive-thrus of the 1950’s. Lots of red paint and white faux leather seats. Old electric guitars and record LPs hung on the wall, along with scenes from movies like American Graffiti and Grease. A jukebox stood in one corner, Elvis crooning about his blue suede shoes. The scents of grilled burgers, coffee and ice cream hung in the air, and I felt like we’d stepped backward in time.
It felt safe here.
We ordered burgers, onion rings and chocolate shakes, spending more money than we probably should have. But Evan was right: this was the date we never had. We talked and laughed with our feet tangled together under the table and our hands locked on top.
“Dance with me,” Evan said.
“Here?” I glanced around. The restaurant was half-full of diners—families and regulars taking advantage of a beautiful clear, summer night.
“Right here.”
Evan went to the jukebox in the corner and a moment later, Patsy Cline’s hauntingly beautiful voice filled the room, singing ‘Crazy.’
He grinned and held out his hand. We danced in the narrow aisle next to our table, while a few patrons turned to watch. I knew it wasn’t wise being that conspicuous, but right then, with my head against Evan’s chest and our bodies swaying together, strangers smiling on us, everything bad and scary retreated.
Back at the motel, Evan was pulling the room key from his pocket when I stilled his hand. If this was a date, I’d do it right.
“I had a good time tonight,” I said, leaning against the door. “Thanks for dinner. And the dance.”
“You’re welcome,” Evan said, catching on. “I had a good time, too.”
He bent and softly brushed my lips with his. A first date’s goodnight kiss, sweet and perfect. I could taste a little chocolate milkshake on his mouth.
“Would you like to come in?” I asked.
“I would,” he whispered. His next kiss wasn’t gentlemanly. It sent ripples of heat through me.
I managed to get the key in the lock and draw Evan inside. He shut the door and then I was in his arms, his mouth moving over mine with delicious intention.
Our kiss stayed unbroken as we shed our clothing. The only sounds our rasping breaths, his belt buckle jingling, clothing rustling and falling away. Evan laid me down on the bed, his body wondrously heavy over mine. He kissed me everywhere, touched me a thousand times until I was lost in him and he in me.
When I slept, my dreams were only of him.
I woke in the deepest part of the night. Evan was untangling his limbs from mine and folding back the covers.
“What is it?” I whispered.
He kissed me softly. “I’m going to the pool.”
“Why?” But I knew why.
“Stay here,” he said. “Sleep. I’ll be back soon.”
The door clicked shut behind him. I lay down and tried to fall back asleep but couldn’t. He needed someone to time him. He couldn’t count seconds under water, it would ruin his concentration.
The alarm clock on the side table was one of those old fashioned kind with the two little bells on the top and a winding key on the back. It was practically an antique. Hank and Mary Ellen must put a lot of faith in their guests. I vowed to take special care of it as I padded down to the pool.
The night was hot without a breath of wind. The hotel made an L shape and the pool was a kidney bean within its courtyard. All the windows facing the pool were dark. I hoped they’d stay that way.
Evan was in the water, his face in profile to me, his expression serene. He only glanced at me as I came to sit on the edge.
“You ready?” I asked.
“I am.”
He began to take short, shallow breaths, huffing oxygen deeper and deeper into his lungs. One final, deep breath without an exhale and he went under.
I stared at the little face of the alarm clock and watched the seconds add up. Then the minutes.
Five minutes. Six minutes.
Seven…
I gnawed my lip almost until it bled.
Eight minutes. Through the rippling water, lit from within, I could see Evan’s arms moving. He was having to fight to stay under now.
Nine minutes, and I started to shake.
Nine and half minutes, and Evan broke the surface, gasping and clutching his chest.