That Summer (Completed)

Chapter 11

I fell into the water with a loud splash and heard Jake hoot happily. I looked up at him with narrowed eyes as he composed himself.

"This water is disgusting," I screeched, pulling wet hair off my face.

He rolled his eyes and held out a hand to help me up. Oh, that was it. I grabbed it and yanked him forward. I heard him curse as he fell in.

I snorted at his miserable expression when he finally sat up. "You had that coming."

I looked down at the murky water and shoved him hard. He grabbed my calf and pulled me down again. I felt the air rush out of my lungs, and it wasn't because of the water.

I looked away, breaking the gaze. "Jake!" I exclaimed, "I don't have extra clothes, you moron!"

"Oh you'll live," he said in a patronizing tone. I huffed and splashed him immaturely. He chuckled as I got up and out of the water.

I folded my arms across my chest self consciously when he got out. My tank top that had once been flowy and cute, now clung to me uncomfortably and my bralette left little to the imagination. Jake immediately realized I was uncomfortable by my frigid stance. He walked over to where we left our stuff and threw a grey crewneck sweater my way.

"Change," he ordered, turning around.

"No," I sputtered out. I was not going to change knowing he was right there.

"I promise I won't peek," he said solemnly.

After a brief moment of me wanting to flee, I quickly took off my wet top.

"I had my fingers crossed," I heard Jake say.

"Don't you dare!" I yelled, covering myself.

He laughed, still turned around. "Kidding, kidding."

I yanked the sweater over my head and rightened it.

It smelled just like him, I noted happily.

It came down to the bottom of my butt and made it look like I wasn't wearing any bottoms. I shoved the front of it in my shorts and tried not to think how ridiculous I must've looked.

I pulled my sopping hair out of the ponytail it was in and cleared my throat. "Ok, I'm good now. Thanks."

He turned around to look at me, his gaze reaching my muddy feet, and I resisted the urge to fidget. Jake looked like he was fighting a smile, which made me look at him questioningly.

He walked over and put his baseball cap on my head. "You totally would've worn this outfit in sixth grade."

I looked down at my clothes in surprise and realized he was right. I definitely had worn a replica of this a lot in grade six. It was my tomboy phase. Which was soon after followed by my everything black phase.

"I can't believe you remember," I said, laughing. "The boys section in Target was heaven for me."

"Oh the good old days," he teased, grabbing our stuff.

We walked back to the motorcycle laughing and talking about middle school. Jake took his wet shirt off before he got on the motorcycle and I pretended not to notice. I hopped on behind him and resisted the urge to cuddle against his warm skin. He still had a faint scar below his shoulder blade from falling off his bike when we were kids.

I held on to the back of the bike as we drove back home, not wanting to hold onto him. I couldn't trust my feelings.

Michael came to mind and I instantly felt guilty and awful about the butterflies in my stomach. This was wrong. And I hated how right it felt.