"Seriously, what are the odds you do it?" I call up at Nick from my float in the river. He's been hemming and hawing with the idea of sending the rope swing we found on the shore. It's kinda sketchy, doesn't have the best run up for bare feet and definitely could be tied better around the limb it hangs from, but it's doable, proven by Clay, who sent up a splash big enough that George was yelling about his hair getting wet. It was a dumb decision, seeing as Clay dunked him into the river as soon as he got close enough, but it's funny.
"Now, next to none, but talk to me after I feel this." He's been posted on the shore in a shitty camping chair since we got here, back to the same river we met at last weekend. Seemingly out of nowhere, he's got a dab pen and is taking a long hit, smiling as he exhales. Since we met the boys they've been with us almost every waking moment, laughing and drinking and getting up to something at every turn. 'Why spend summer in Texas if you aren't hanging out with hot girls?' As Clay so eloquently put it earlier. Me, Ellen, and Trina aren't complaining, especially since our plans before this were to do the same shit just the three of us. The more the merrier.
Speaking of Clay, he's clambering out of the water to hit whatever Nick has, wild grin on his face. He's definitely kind of perfect to match with Ellen, equally crazy and reckless, endlessly lucky. It's kind of funny, how well our two little groups mesh.
Downriver from the island, it's easier to float. We don't run the risk of ending up anywhere other than the bend we're swimming in. I've got a full body mat that I claimed from the closet by the front door of the apartment as a second thought, Ellen and Trina both rocking with the tubes that we normally take, George under a shade tree with five dollar tree pool noodles arranged to hold his head and his knees up, slathered in sunscreen and drinking something out of a yeti cup he claimed from our kitchen.
"If you stopped being a pussy, you wouldn't need weed! Play the game right, gimme odds!" He rolls his eyes, but he packs the pen back into the pocket of his bag while he shakes his head.
"Fuck'n, fine, one in five."
"If you do one in two, she's gotta do it if you don't." Ellen supplies from behind me.
"Alright, one in two."
Ellen counts down from three, and then I yell two at the same time Nick does, laughing when he groans.
"Nick, if you do it, I will too." I coo, blowing him a kiss and giggling.
"Bet." And then he's pulling his Texas tech t-shirt over his head and setting his ballcap in his seat. "I hate you for this, you know."
"Stop being a pussy so I can show you up." He shakes his head as he wades in to where the rope hangs, pauses when he gets to it, looking at me. "What're you staring at, chop chop."
"Just trying to gauge how far I gotta get to knock you off that damn raft."
"You can't, too scared." Another roll of his eyes, but he makes his way back up the bank, nearly eating shit as the mud slides out from under him. He goes as far back as the rope will let him, sprinting towards the last solid bit of the bank before he jumps, swings out until he starts losing speed, letting go and tucking his legs before he hits the water. Nice, easy, solid.
And then he comes up out of the water and oh lord. Please, just let me play this image behind my eyelids till the day I die. Water drips down the solid muscle of his arms as his hands come up to run through his hair, head turning to look at me with a wicked smile played on his lips.
"You gonna call me a pussy again, darlin'?" Oh god. That's what does me in. I am getting this boy in my bed again tonight. And yet, ever the brat, I just laugh.
"Nah, but I'll show you up." I peel myself off the raft, send it off in his direction, and finish the can I've been nursing for the last fifteen minutes. I throw it at him, but it falls short and he laughs.
"You sure about that, sweetheart?"
"Sure as sunrise." I chirp back, matching the smile he's got on.
It starts with grabbling the rope, using that to help me get up the bank without falling like Nick did. And then I get a good distance back, book it as fast as I can, bare feet digging into the loose dirt underneath me and pushing all the power I can into pushing off when solid ground ends, swinging my legs up and letting go of the rope when they make it above my head. I finish the flip and tuck my legs, landing in the deep well of the river with a splash.
I swim up, treading and throwing my head back to get the hair out of my face. Nick is looking at me with his mouth open in an 'o' of surprise.
"Yeah, you fuckin' win with that shit."
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910 words n its cute :)
