I don't have a key to Lou's house but when I push down the front door handle with my elbow, it's unlocked. Riley waves as she drives off once I'm inside and I toe off my new running shoes by the door. It's almost two. I don't hear anything coming from the living room so Lou must be done with lessons for the day.
"Hello?" I call as I head through to the kitchen. "It's only me," I add, in case she thinks she's being burgled.
"Charlotte. There you are."
"Here I am."
Lou's sitting in the window seat, a thick book in her hands. She lets it fall shut without marking her page when she stands. She gives me a weary look and runs her hand through her hair. By the strands caught in her rings, it looks like she's been doing that for a while. "I need your number."
"Huh?" I turn my ear towards her, having only half heard what she said.
"I need your number," she says again, "so that when you leave me a note saying you're going for a quick run and then you still haven't come back more than three hours later, I can text you to make sure you're okay instead of stressing out over a hypothetical catastrophe."
I'm about to make a joke, to tease her for her worry, until I remember James. The catastrophe is not entirely hypothetical when her husband would still be alive if he hadn't hiked the same route I just ran. My face falls; I can pinpoint the moment my flush turns to pallor.
"Shit, Lou, I'm sorry. I didn't think. I bumped into Riley at the overlook and she took me shopping." I hold up my bags as evidence and let them drop to the floor. I spot the moment Lou's body deflates, when the stress leaks out of her shoulders. It's the same moment I realize I am not answerable only to myself, not while I'm staying with her. She passes me her phone, the new contact page already open; she has put my name as Charlotte. I don't change it when I add my number beneath but I do add a couple of emojis. A sparkle and a rainbow.
When I give it back to her, she smiles. My own phone buzzes in my pocket with a text from a new number. I save her to my contacts as Lou and I add the nail polish emoji to her name, an homage to her hands.
"How was your run?"
"Good. Sweaty. Hard."
"Buy anything nice?" She nods at my bags.
"I spent a lot," I admit. "I found a bunch of great running gear in the thrift stores, and Riley made me get new shoes from her boyfriend, so I'm a whole new woman. Just don't come too close." I pluck at the hem of my tank top, pull it away from my body. "I'm so hot and I bet I stink."
"Well, you know where the shower is."
"I have a better idea."
"Mmm?"
She follows me outside. I cross the garden to the dock, where I strip out of my top and pants and run into the lake in my underwear. It's been years since I cannonballed into the water, way too long since I felt that cold slap of the lake and the sting as the water goes up my nose. When I surface, Lou's standing on the edge of the dock, mid-laugh as I adjust my bra.
"I take it you didn't buy a bathing suit?"
"Oh! I did, actually. It's in one of the bags on the kitchen floor. Could you grab it for me?" I give her my best puppy dog eyes; she chuckles and disappears.
There's no-one around. I slip out of my bra and underwear and drape them over the ladder. When Lou returns with my new bikini — a cute tropical print, the cups only the slightest bit too big — she tilts her head at me and says, "Are you naked right now?"
"Only momentarily." The water is up to my shoulders and I don't think it's clear enough that she can see anything, although I do reach a bit too far to grab the bikini off her and tug it on underwater. I doggy paddle for a moment, still rendered breathless by the cold, but I slowly acclimatize and before long, I'm floating on my back, loose strings of my bathing suit floating around me. Lou is still watching me. I grin up at her. "Take a picture. It'll last longer."
YOU ARE READING
Cruel Summer | ✓
RomantizmWhen Charlie Miller loses her job the week before both her roommates move to California, she decides it's time to get out of Texas. But with her bank account embarrassingly empty and her newly divorced parents living thousands of miles apart, she do...