Page 107 of The Long Way Home
“You’re not even good at cooking,” Margo calls after him, floating on her back.
“I’m an ideas man!”
“You’re twenty-four, Josh, not twelve. It’s time you learn to cook,” Rachel shouts back at him.
I swim near Rachel, as Margo and Josh are close together, arguing over who will make it to the rope swing the fastest.
Rachel is already up to her shoulders in water, hair piled in a messy bun. The smile on her face is easy. “This feels rigged,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“It always is,” I say, drifting near her.
She looks over, smirking. “So what, you just accept your fate?”
“Yes, personally, I’d like to not catch food poisoning this year. And if Josh is cooking, then my odds increase.”
That earns a quiet laugh from her. She ducks under the water for a moment, then comes back up, blinking against the sun. “Clever.”
Josh has reached the swing and is now standing on the little dock like he was on stage. “Margo! Watch this one. I’m about to secure my legacy.”
“Your legacy is three failed attempts at grilled chicken and a backwards ‘Will You Marry Me’ banner,” she calls, reminding him of how he proposed.
I laugh. “You forgot the time he tried to fix your garbage disposal and blew the fuse in the whole house.”
“Oh my God,” Rachel says, grinning. “That washim?”
“It was a heroic attempt,” Josh shouts before swinging out and letting go. He hits the water with a splash so big it sends ripples to shore.
Rachel raises a brow. “How have you survived him this long?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
Margo swims over to Rachel, splashing her gently. “He’s not so bad. Once you get past the chaos.”
Rachel snorts. “You’re in love. Your judgment is impaired.”
Josh surfaces. “I feel personally attacked, in case any of you cared!”
“No, no,” Margo says sweetly. “We love you. We just don’t trust you with tools or small appliances.”
He flips water at her, and she shrieks, paddling away.
Rachel drifts closer, cutting through the water until she is just within arm’s reach. Sunlight catches on her shoulders, droplets tracing slow paths back into the lake.
“Hey,” she says, voice easy. “I missed you at trivia on Tuesday.”
“You had Margo and Josh,” I toss back, sculling to keep us level. “I’m sure you survived.”
She tilts her head, water lapping against her collarbone. “You know they’re not why I go to trivia.”
The way she says it pulls my attention too sharply. It’s she is testing the distance between us. When I don’t answer fast enough, she fills the silence before I can.
“It was the last one before I go back to campus,” she adds, softer now. “It would’ve been nice to have one last group trivia night.”
I drift closer without meaning to. I see the tightness at the corner of her mouth. The nerves she is pretending not to have about moving back to campus to start her Doctorate program.
“Hey,” I say, keeping my voice low. “If you just wanted an excuse to talk so you’re not spiraling about this next chapter, I’m always around.”
“I’m not anxious,” she says quickly.
