I blink, and puzzle pieces fit together in my mind. The guy on the left, with the blonde atop him—that’s Landon!
I can barely breathe as I watch the fight. Someone produces those thick, Styrofoam noodle-looking things that people use to float in pools, and the girls start whacking each other with them. Laughter and cheers ring through the night. One guy holds a giant lawn spotlight on the battle. Someone else starts pelting the couples with fruit that I think came from hunch punch.
The air smells like hot grass, pond water, and liquor.
Finally, not nearly soon enough, Landon’s girl gets knocked into the water. I watch him scoop her up and carry her a few steps to the shore. He sets her gently in the sand, then rubs a hand back through his own wet hair, and pulls his soaking shirt off. All around, girls whistle. Landon’s eyes go wide, as if he didn’t realize that would happen. He runs his hand back through his hair again, looking nervous, before he grins and gives a thumbs-up.
Perfect.
Makayla’s eyes are on my face as Landon walks around the shoreline, up toward the tents.
“What is this, Ancient Rome?” I mutter.
Makayla nudges my arm. I elbow her in reply. Inside, I’m seething, and I hate myself for it.
“He’s so drunk.”
I blink, then turn to face her. “What?”
“He seemed like…really drunk.” She gives me wide eyes, as if to say, C’mon, you know I’m right.
“Was he?”
“He was staggering,” Makayla says.
“I think he just walks that way.”
She shakes her head.
“I agree,” Tia says. “I saw him with the beer funnel.”
I frown, shaking my head. That doesn’t seem like Landon.
After a few more minutes standing with my friends, the pull is just too great: I head into the grassy median that runs between the two ponds, scanning the crowd around the tents for someone tall and shirtless. I crest the slight hill in time to see Landon emerge from one of the tents. He’s still shirtless, wearing just his flip-flops and his dripping khakis.
I pause underneath a small willow and watch him as he glances around, then walks behind the tent and sits down by the less-trafficked pond on the left. Then he tries to stand back up. I realize that my friends are right—he’s drunk—by how much time it takes him to get to his feet.
He looks around again before he starts around the far side of the left pond, down a trail that runs between the pond’s beach and the dark woods.
I watch for a few moments before following.
It’s dark outside, but not completely dark. There’s moonlight streaming through the shifting clouds, down onto the pond—and Landon’s bare back.
I don’t need to see the trail. I know it well. As I follow, I hang back to keep some space between us…and I watch him.
The pond isn’t that big. We clear it before long, and Landon follows the foot-worn path into the field. It’s really more like a large grove in the middle of the forest. Two giant rocks rest at odd spots in the tall grass. I look up; the clouds have parted, showing me a blanket of stars.
Landon reaches the first boulder and slows. Then he proceeds to the second one. I watch him sit right at its base, resting his back against the stone and stretching out his legs into the tall grass. He leans his head back slightly, and I start to close the space between us.
My footsteps with my boot aren’t exactly discreet, though. He looks up as I approach, the moonlight showing me his face. His brows draw together in confusion. Then his face relaxes. “Evie…”
“Yeah.” It’s whispered, even though we’re all alone. I move still closer to him, crouching down in front of him as Landon blinks at me. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
He shrugs, a sloppy motion. “Just wanted to see…the stars.”
Even his tone is different. His eyes look half-shut, his shoulders slouching. He tips his head back, looking at the starry sky, and I step closer, sinking slowly to sit directly in front of him.
I look at his beautiful bare body, warmed at just the sight of it. “Are you cold without your shirt on?”
His gaze meets mine. “It’s in the seventies.”
That’s true, I guess. I nod. Still, he rubs his hands along his triceps.
I can’t resist; I say, “I saw you in the water.”
His face tightens. “Yeah?”
I nod. “And in the kitchen, too.”
His face darkens when I say that.
“What?” I say. “Who was that?”
I open my mouth to explain the guy I’m referencing, but Landon sneers. “No one.” The words sound bitter.
“Meaning, not no one.”
“Just some little fuck I used to live with.”
Whoa. I blink, and wait for him to say more. When he doesn’t, just frowns at the grass in front of him, I say, “Like an old foster brother?”
He looks up at me, then back down, extending his arm toward me. He turns it over, so his palm is up and his scar shines dully in the moonlight. “He was my ‘brother’ when this happened. Didn’t last long.”
I swallow hard, then reach out to close my hands around his wrist. “What do you mean?”
He shakes his head. “They didn’t get me after that.”
“After what?” I whisper, scooting slightly closer to him.
“I broke it, but they didn’t take me in. It didn’t look broken, I guess?” He shrugs, like we’re talking about weather. “It healed wrong, had to be re-broken with the surgery.” His eyelids are heavy, the words a little slurred. “I guess it made them…change their minds.” He flexes those fingers. His face is solemn, and his eyes look lost.
“Did they get in trouble, for not taking you to the hospital soon enough?”
He shrugs. “I never saw that kid again,” he says in a tone that’s almost wistful. “’Til right now. Tonight. That kid at the refrigerator?” he asks, looking at me like he’s just remembered that I’m here. “He was six. And I was seven. He didn’t remember me…just now. He asked how he knew me.”
I stroke his arm with my fingers, and then I scoot so that I’m right beside him, our backs up against the rock. I intertwine my arm with his, and bring his hand up to my lips, so I can kiss the side of it.
He swallows heavily, his shoulders rising, falling. “People forget, you know? When you’re just passing through…”
“I bet they don’t all forget,” I whisper.
“Trust me.” He gives me a sideways smile that’s devastating because it’s so sad. “I know the way this goes.”
“I think the way it goes sounds like it sucks.” I lean against him, pressing his knuckles against the warmth of my cheek. His eyes hold mine for one long moment before he nuzzles my head with his chin.
“Why are you here?” he murmurs.
I lean closer to him. “I want to be where you are. Always.”
“Why, though, Evie?”
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “I just feel like everything is…right when we’re together. Do you feel that too?”
He looks at me. His eyes are steel gray, solemn and perceptive in the moonlight that streams through the clouds. “Yeah.”
My fingers tighten around his. “What are we going to do?” I whisper.
He shakes his head. A gentle wind blows, tipping blades of grass around us. Landon’s eyes are molten now.