He shakes his dark head. “What are you?”
My smile slips. What are you?
The question might be harmless, but it resonates deep inside me—scares me. Makes me wonder what I’m doing pretending that I belong in this world with this boy. I’m not like him. I’m not like any of them. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have raced him. Shouldn’t have won. I was showing off. Plain and simple.
He lowers on the towel beside me. “No one has beaten me since freshman year.”
I shrug. “What can I say? I’m a swimmer, too.”
“Evidently. What schools are you looking at? They must be beating down your door.”
I slip my tank top on over my head, looking around uneasily. “Um. I’m not sure.” I should have known I couldn’t pretend forever. Conversation. Questions. All of it leads to lies because I can’t tell the truth. And I don’t want to lie to him. “I better go. My parents don’t know I’m gone.”
“I’ll walk you.”
“You don’t need—”
“Yes. I do. C’mon.” He reaches inside his Jeep window and grabs his shirt as we pass. “Lead the way.”
We leave the party and cut through the woods. A warm breeze quickly dries the water from my skin, but walking beside him I still shiver. It’s darker among the press of trees and bushes. Even trembling from his closeness, his presence beside me is comforting—safe. Immediately, I feel better knowing the others are behind us. And it’s just the two of us.
“So … what kind of name is Az?”
“It’s short for Azure.”
“As in blue?”
“Yes.”
I slide him a look, catching him staring at me, his gaze assessing my hair and body.
“That’s pretty. Fitting, too.”
If he only knew …
At birth no one could have guessed I would become a water draki. We manifest at puberty—if at all. There are some in the pride who don’t. Ever. Mom likes to claim she had a sense of what I would become, but it was just coincidence that she named me Azure.
“My mother said I had these really big blue eyes right away when I was first born.”
“You still do. They’re beautiful,” he murmurs.
My cheeks warm at his words. I don’t think anyone has ever noted my eyes … well, since I was first born anyway. Certainly no boys ever said anything like that to me.
I stop at the dock outside our rental house. My parents are probably asleep, but I don’t want to take any chances. The porch light glows in the night. Mom likes to leave it on.
“Thanks.” I chafe my hands over my bare arms.
He nods toward the house. “Nice place. A month, huh?”
“Yeah.”
He doesn’t make any movement to leave, and I don’t turn to go either. His brown eyes gleam down at me and I suddenly can’t remember why I said I had to go home. “Why don’t you come over tomorrow? You can meet Anna.”
I moisten my lips. “I appreciate the offer, but … I’m only here a few weeks …” My voice fades.
He arches an eyebrow, waiting. The rhythmic sound of water slapping against the embankment fills the silence. In the distance, a boat buzzes somewhere on the dark lake.
I grope for the words, feeling silly. Saying I don’t want to get involved with him when I’m only going to be here for a short duration makes me sound egotistical. Why should I even think he wants to get involved with me? He hasn’t really made a move. Maybe he just wants me to meet his sister so she can thank me in person.
I look back at the house. “My parents really expect me to spend time with them on this vacation.”
“What about in the evening? C’mon. I doubt they expect you to be with them every moment.”
No. They didn’t. But me developing a crush on a human. No. That would pretty much be Mom’s worst nightmare. And she would know. She’s always been able to read me so well. And after one look at him it wouldn’t be hard to guess that my feelings aren’t precisely platonic.
“My parents are a little overprotective.”
“Look,” he says. “I’ll be right here at eight o’clock tomorrow night. If you can come out, great; if not …” He shrugs like it’s not a big deal. “No pressure.”
I nod even though I know he’s going to be standing here for nothing tomorrow night.
I can’t see him again. I can’t go with him to meet his sister. I can’t keep pretending. Not with the way my skin pulls and tightens around him. There’s too much at risk.
He angles his head, studying me like he’s trying to figure something out. “You’re not going to be here, are you?”
My face warms. What? He reads minds? “I didn’t say that.”
He’s too intuitive. He buries his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “That’s okay. I’ll be here anyway.” He steps away, walking backward, his gaze still fixed on me. “Hope you change your mind.”
Then he turns and leaves me standing there.
My skin relaxes, ceases to snap and swim with heat. Suddenly the night feels cold.
6
The next day Mom is good on her word and Dad joins us in the lake. We tease him relentlessly. To say he’s a poor swimmer wouldn’t be fair. As a draki, he has above-average coordination. Still, Mom and I swim laps around him and torture him in a game of Marco Polo.
“All right, you two. You’ve had your fun. Let’s head back and start dinner.”
I look from my parents to the distant dock, and beyond that to the narrow, two-story house. “I think I’ll swim a little bit longer.”
Mom and Dad exchange looks, communicating silently about whether they should allow this or not.
Mom faces me again, her gaze narrow and piercing. Not just in an intense, concerned motherly way, either. She’s a draki at her core, too. A species that has evolved through cunning and sharp instincts. Just like me.
“All right. Don’t be long.”
“I won’t.”
“And watch out for the boats.” She motions up and down the lake. “They drive too fast through here.”
I angle my head and give her a look that says, You really think I’m going to get hit by a boat? Me?
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t be cocky. And don’t …” The rest of her words fade, the warning implicit. Don’t manifest.
I nod and give a small wave as they head for shore.
Alone, I swim in place, my legs and arms barely moving in order to keep me afloat. It’s a mindless effort. Like blinking.
I rotate in a small circle, arching my neck, feeling the delicious drag of current through my long hair. My fingers sift through the water as I spin. I pause, eying the random boats cutting down the center of the lake. The opposite shore beckons. It doesn’t look too far.
With a quick glance around me, I dive under, telling myself that I’m not disobeying Mom exactly. My gills always appear when I’m in the water. I can’t control that. I haven’t manifested.
I block out what my mother would reply to that and glide under the water’s surface, my arms stroking wide and slow, my pores contracting, skin luxuriating in the slick taste.
Fish avoid me, their dark, gleaming shapes darting away as I approach. Water pulses in and out of my gills beneath my swimsuit. A boat roars above me, churning the water into white foam, and I know I have to be about midlake by now.
Scanning the surface, I ascend, making sure I’m not going to pop up in the midst of any swimmers or boats.
I break the surface slowly, eyes first, then the rest of my face, nose, lips, chin. I swim toward the opposite shore, my movements languid. I pause as something moves in the lake ahead of me. Another swimmer. Right in my path. As he comes closer, I make out that it’s a guy. His face and shoulders cut above the water, arms flying out over his head in hard strokes.
As he nears, his face comes into focus. Even though he’s wearing goggles, I recognize him. My stomach dips and spins like I’m caught up in a tidal pool. I debate sinking down into deep waters again and letting him pass, but I hesitate, and then he sees me. Too late.
In the back of my mind I wonder if maybe I didn’t want it to be too late. If I didn’t want him to see me.
He slides his swim goggles up onto his head. “Az?” A slow smile curves his lips.
“What are you doing out here?” I blurt.
“Practicing. Got keep in shape in the summer.”
That’s right. He’s the swim champ.
I nod. Water sloshes up my chin. “You cross the lake?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s far.”
“I’m used to it. What about you?” His points to our dock, a tiny speck in the distance now. “Did you swim all the way from there?”
“Yeah.”
He whistles and winks.
“I can swim well.” I turn and start for home.
He glides alongside of me. “Yeah. I know that.” Water-coated and bathed in the fading sunlight, he’s even better looking than I remembered. His arms and shoulders tantalize me and I struggle to keep my gaze forward, not wanting him to catch me ogling. “It’s just that this time of day visibility is tricky … and boats really fly through here fast sometimes.”
He’s lecturing me? I’m both annoyed and flattered. I already get this from my parents.
“I’ll be okay.”
“I’ll just swim with you the rest of the way.”
I shrug. Together we fall into an easy rhythm crossing the lake.
“So why swimming?” I hear myself ask. “Why not football?”
“I guess it’s because of my mom. She loved to swim. When she was alive, we always went to the beach. At least once a year.” As he talks I notice he reaches up to stroke a small shark tooth necklace, almost as if to make sure it’s still there.
“Did she give you that?” I nod at it.
“It was hers. When she was a little girl, she actually found the tooth on the beach, when she was making a sandcastle. What are the odds, right? She always said it was a good-luck charm guiding her through life. She was a great swimmer, too. She wanted to go professional.”
“What happened?”
He shrugs. “She did all right. Swam in high school. Taught little kids to swim at the Y for a while after she graduated, before she married Dad. She liked teaching the little kids. My sister. Me.”
She wasn’t good enough to make it. He doesn’t say it, but I hear it just the same.
“She must have been proud of you.”
His hand brushes the shark tooth again. The gesture is so tender … as though by touching it he is connecting to his lost mother … as though she’s still with him. My heart squeezes a little for this boy. I only just met him, but I’ve shared more with him than any boy back home. It’s wrong, but undeniable.
Looking up, I see we’re almost to my dock.
“So. We’re still on for tonight?”
“I didn’t say yes.”
“But you want to.”
I shake my head. “Now you’re just arrogant.”
“No, I’m perceptive.”
I splash him with some water, and he catches my hand, pulling me so that we tread water directly in front of each other. I feel the imprint of his hand on my water-slick skin.
We’re so close I can examine every glistening bead of water on his olive-hued flesh. The urge to lean forward and taste the water dotting his jaw overwhelms me. Longing eddies through me, pooling in my belly.
Mortified at the impulse, I start to swim away only to be pulled back by that hand on my arm.
His gaze sinks into me. “I really want to see you again.”
The water surrounding us feels suddenly hotter, thicker. Ripples of current swell around us and I know this is me. My emotions … my desire manipulating the water.