Where to Find Me | Tyrus

Part 7

Cyrus' POV

"See, Andi?" Buffy says. "Too personal."

"I'm sorry," Andi responds. "I didn't think it was a big deal."

"Okay, then who would you date in this group?"

"Uh . . ." Andi gets flustered, her eyes glancing to the ground, then to Amber, then back to Buffy.

"See," Buffy says.

I look in the direction TJ left, then to Buffy.

"Go talk to him," she says, waving at me to go.

I nod and stand up. My chest is tight as I walk down the path, through the trees. Does he even want to talk to me? I find him sitting on the edge of the dock by our cabin. The lake is quiet in this area, without guests nearby to make noise. Orange sunset sparkles off the water. The fading light casts a shadow on TJ's back, reducing his shape to a silhouette, one I recognize easily from my dreams. Buffy was right. I do like him. I think that's the scariest part of approaching him—knowing that my heart is in his hands, and he has the power to tear it at any moment.

"Hey," I say.

He glances back at me, then returns his eyes to the horizon, which is hidden behind the trees on the other side of the lake. "Hey."

"What's up?" I ask gently, sitting down next to him.

His eyes flicker to where our knees touch, but doesn't move.

"Not a fan of truth or dare," he says, then he changes the subject. "I bet you can see the stars pretty good out here." He lies back on the dock, his legs dangling over the edge.

I lie on my back beside him, both of us staring up at the colourful sky. It looks like a watercolour painting, not the real world.

"No ambient light," I say.

"That was my favourite part about going camping as a kid. You can see everything."

Everything except what you're thinking. The irony kills me.

We lie in silence. I listen to the sound of his steady breathing, as though he's trying so hard to control it at a constant tempo.

Suddenly, he stands up. Immediately I think he's about to leave again, but instead I twist around to see him tugging off his shoes and socks and tossing them onto the dock. Then he pulls his shirt over his head, so he's left in just his jeans. I watch as he jets to the end of the pier and leaps off, shattering the surface of the lake with a splash that sprays my clothes.

"Get in here!" he shouts, a smile on his face.

"Aren't you freezing?" I ask.

"Nah, it's nice."

I stand up to remove my shirt and shoes, dropping them beside TJ's. Rather than jumping right in, I dip my toes in the water first, then let gravity do the work of pulling me into the water. I don't know what's wrong with TJ's sense of heat; the lake is certainly cold. Still, it's tolerable.

TJ smiles at me before stroking out away from the dock. I paddle after him, observing the way his wet hair flings water droplets around with his movement, and how the light gleams off the muscles in his arms. The sun is now at an angle that sends a glow across the water and us, colouring everything gold and shimmering on the ripples we make in the water. TJ stops and stretches out his arms so that he's floating on his back.

"Do you ever wonder how much more there is out there?" he says softly.

"All the time," I reply, staring up at the blush-coloured clouds.