The Boy With The Motorcycle

0.2

June 11, 2015

I slam the screen door behind me excitedly, as I dash towards the dock behind the cottage. Last night I slept like I was dead, and now I am so ready to swim. The ground is a mix of sand, moss, rocks, and dirt. The rocks hurt my bare feet as I run, but I don't care as long as I get to dive off the rickety dock. I pass an ancient tree, with vines hanging from the enormous branches. Normally I would take time to admire it, but right now I am sweating so much I need the cold water.

My feet pound against the ground, and when I reach the dock, I feel a significant difference between the two. It feels almost too unstable, but not quite. I sprint ahead faster, running along the dock. I probably shouldn't considering how unstable this dock feels, but I decide I don't care and do a front handspring---ten years of gymnastics---then put my hands up to dive into the water. I don't hesitate when I get to the edge, and make a perfect dive outwards. And even though it all happened so fast, I know that I was smiling.

I kick my legs strong, not wanting to surface until I absolutely have to. About seventy yards away is a raft, drifting directly across the dock. I aim my body in its direction, and swim towards it. My arm comes up, and pierces the surface as it sinks back in. I tilt my head to the right, just slightly managing to catch a breath.

Unfortunately I underestimate my power, because in a few seconds I feel my head bang onto something metal. I scream underwater, and surface. I hit the ladder on the raft head on. I stand up on the raft, and yell, "Ouch!" I didn't quite predict correctly, how loud voices are when I'm on the water. My scream probably wakes every deep sleeper on the lake. I cover my mouth in embarrassment, and adjust my bikini top. The suit is striped with black and white, and has a red anchor in the middle of the top.

"What's up?" I hear a loud voice, coming from nearby. And I recognize it all too well. I whip around, and see him. Patrick is in the water, climbing up on my raft. He needs to stay on his own raft! His abs stand out when he takes a step towards me.

That same dark brown hair, those same blue eyes you could fall into, that perfect model nose, and that big forehead. It's definitely Patrick .

"Ugh." I sigh. "What do you want?" I turn away from him, looking longingly at the beach about 300 yards away. I could dive off right now, and swim there. But he would catch me, he is incredibly strong, and super persistent.

"Want to go the boardwalk?" he asks, shrugging his shoulders.

"Boardwalk?" I ask, confused.

"It's at the beach, behind those trees there is a boardwalk. Don't tell me you don't know what a boardwalk is...You know, with games and small rides and swimming and fireworks and that crap."

"I know what a boardwalk is, dummy." I remind him, sharply. He tenses a moment at my tone, but then comes back full on 'Patrick '.

"So I'll meet you outside your cabin in a half hour." he wiggles his eyebrows, teasingly. I roll my eyes, but I can feel a tug upwards at the corners of my lips.

"Fine," I smile at him, crossing my arms. Without another word, I dive into the water and swim towards the cabin, my mind flooded with thoughts about spending the afternoon and evening with Patrick Warner. But a small part of me is excited.