“Midnight swim,” she says, stretching her arms out to her sides.
“At ten?” I quirk my brow, and she giggles, twisting back around on the sofa and getting to her feet.
“No, at midnight. That gives us time to make a few phone calls,” she says, her eyes squinting while her lip curls on one side.
I hold her stare for a second, but give in to her crazy idea quickly, shrugging my shoulder and raising my brow. “Okay,” I say. I think that’s part of being so smitten—no idea of hers is ever going to be too crazy for me to do again.
Midnight swim was Maddy’s invention. It started the first year we all met, when she insisted that Evan and I stay with her in the clubhouse for a sleepover. Her mother stayed, too, and we all snuck downstairs at midnight to swim without her knowing. The rules were you had to whisper, and no clothes were allowed. That summer, we had maybe a dozen sleepovers and midnight swims, sometimes with the other kids from the club. The midnight swims stopped the next year—when bodies began to change.
I don’t think the whisper rule still needs to be in effect, but I’m curious how Maddy plans on handling that second one. I’m kind of rooting to keep it in play.
“Who are you texting?” I ask, sliding my hands around her hips and resting my chin on her shoulder to watch her thumbs move rapidly.
“Holly,” she says, “and Amber, and that sweet boy she’s been hanging out with at practice. Maybe she can ask some of the other swimmers, too.”
“Another boy, huh?” I tease, and she twists to face me quickly, glaring with one brow higher than the other.
“I’m not surrounding you with a bunch of hot women, Will Hollister,” she says.
My eyes dance around hers, and I hold my smirk at bay.
“Because of the second rule?” My eyebrow ticks up to match hers.
She never responds, but her eyes haze over the brief seconds she stares at me before returning her attention back to her phone.
For the next hour and a half, I think of nothing but how erect I am and how I’m going to handle skinny dipping in front of others with Maddy Woodsen pressed against my side.
In my shit life, there have been a handful of major things that I have been, and continue to be, thankful for. Beyond surviving—twice—I’m thankful for my talent. I’m among a few elite swimmers, and given my personal circumstances, I know that innate talent is maybe the only reason I’m in the position I am today. Second, I’m thankful for my hair. It sounds vain, but that’s not my reasoning. I’m grateful because it’s just the right length, texture and thickness to require absolutely no effort on my part to look decent at all times. Evan used to spend minutes, sometimes nearly thirty, sculpting with gel and product. I put on a hat, and like magic, my hair dries and I’m done.
There are maybe a dozen other things—some big, some small—that make up this list, but tonight I add a new one. I think maybe it goes on top.
I am thankful that the Shore Club pool is dark enough on the far end that if a man were to tread water in it, anyone standing farther away than ten feet can’t tell if he’s naked. This wins because I am naked. Maddy? Not so much. Amber? Nope. Holly? She has her phone camera rolling video.
“Will, come on…you have to laugh. It’s kinda funny?”
“Nope, still not funny,” I yell toward the deck where the girl I love stands, perfectly dressed in a suit and perfectly dry with our guests.
Maddy pranked me, letting me strip down to nothing just before everyone arrived by daring me to cannonball into the center of the pool. There are a few things that make even the most mature man turn into a teenager again, doing dumb shit because his cock tells him to. Naked in a pool with Maddy Woodsen? That’s one of those things.
“Come on, Will. So far my viral video is hella boring,” Holly shouts, following it up with a whistle and a cat call. I give her the finger, and she tells me to fuck off.
“You saw that?” I lower my hands to camouflage my parts, my legs treading furiously, and my muscles growing tired.
“Yeah, well your middle finger must be bigger than…other things,” she deadpans.
I flip her off again.
“I never said we were all skinny dipping, Will,” Maddy giggles.
“You kinda alluded to it,” I say, resting my limbs and sinking under the water.
“Come on, everyone will turn around, and I’ll hand you a towel. I’m starting to feel bad,” she says, but the laughter still sneaks through her words.