She shuts the door quietly then turns to face me again, her arms folded over her chest. There’s a slight sway to her hips, and I laugh to myself because she’s not going to let this go.
“You get done with all of that…paperwork?” There’s a little bit of gloating to her tone, like she’s caught me. I’m sure she thinks I’ve done something bad, or screwed something up that requires the help of lawyers. I’m fine with her thinking that. It’s so much better than the truth, and if I can protect her from that, then I’ll keep playing the role of the high-profile Indiana screwup.
I bring my hands up to my face, rubbing my cheeks for feeling to mask my reaction.
“Yep,” I say. “All done.”
I keep my answer short, and she shakes her head, tsking. After a few seconds, though, her arms finally fall to her sides, and her posture warms. She’s still irritated with me, and I know this isn’t the end of her prying, but for now…I have a break.
The closer she comes, the more the dim lights from the Swim Club lobby catch her profile. She’s not wearing anything special. It’s a black sundress falling just above her knees. I’m not looking at the dress though. I’m looking at her bronzed legs, the curves proof of her discipline every day of her life for the last decade. As I stand from the ground, I take in her golden shoulders, the way her hair is swept up in a twist, her neck long and soft. The front of the dress is modest, but the line along her chest traces every curve the way I’ve dreamt of doing with my hands. I look at her shoes last, lines of strappy leather that wrap around her feet and ankles, heels tall enough to make her look closer to my height, though I know she’s not. These aren’t her normal shoes, and I know she wore them hoping I’d see them. The message they send is nothing but temptation—the greatest weakness I’ve ever had, too—wanting her.
“You look absolutely nothing like that girl I snuck into the Mill all those years ago,” I say, my steps slow as I approach her, enough of my wits with me to stop before I get too close. If I breathe any of her in, I will drown.
“Same girl,” she says through a sideways smile. I hadn’t forgotten how she sometimes talks out of one side of her mouth. I had forgotten how much I liked it.
“Taller shoes,” I say, raising my eyebrows and glancing down her legs. She turns one foot into the other.
“First chance I’ve had to wear them,” she says, laughing softly. “I’ll probably be barefoot within the hour.”
Mental pictures of her leg in my hands, my fingers unbuckling her shoe, sliding it away before my hand runs up her calf, under her knee, to her thigh. I bite the tip of my tongue and smile at her joke, stopping myself before I think too far.
“When’s the rookie showing up?”
Maddy pulls her phone from a small purse slung around her body.
“Ten minutes. I…got here early. I didn’t want her to have to wait outside,” she says.
I nod once and hold her gaze, reading her until she looks away. Did you come here early for me? I watch her profile, and the way she avoids looking at me straight on fills me with a twisted sort of hope because I shouldn’t want this, and probably even more so, neither should she.
Her head falls to the side eventually, and her mouth twists in a crooked smile while her eyes scan down to my shoes.
“Pretty much first time I’ve worn these, too,” I say, kicking the toe of the black leather into the ground.
“Does this mean you’ve changed your mind about joining us?” she asks.
I pull my lips tight and breathe in through my nose, a tiny pause to make sure I’m really going to follow through before I nod and meet her eyes again.
“Well, here’s the thing. This new me…he makes an excellent designated driver,” I say, shifting my weight, my hands pushed deep in my pockets again, my right hand gripping my keys.
We both turn when there’s a soft knock at the front door. Maddy didn’t close it all the way, so it slides open in the middle of Amber’s knock.
“That’s probably good, Will, because I’m pretty sure I’m drinking,” Maddy says, her voice quiet and her words just for me. Her shoulders are raised, and I hear her exhale as she steps away from me and reaches her arms out to hug the young girl who still looks up to her—even though she beat her today. Maddy has never been good at losing, but she’s gotten better at grace it seems. I know that’s why she invited this girl out tonight, to keep herself from turning her into an enemy, even though on some level, she has. She won’t beat Maddy again, and I bet my old friend shows up nice and early Monday just to make sure her muscles are primed and her starts are the fastest.
“I wore pants. I hope it’s okay; they’re all I have with me. But my top is nice. Does this work? Will they let me in?”