eleven

(The end of Harder Than Stone Chapter 10 is the beginning of this chapter - verbatim - as it's the point where our stories overlap before continuing on. Something we're trying out, hope you enjoy!)

_

Steven saw John on the stationary bikes, ear buds in, racing away, the same coiled tension in his shoulders that he’d been carrying for days, more prominent than ever after the morning’s workout.

A glance in the other direction revealed Meghan, intentionally out of view, playing Scrabble on her phone. She’d showered and dressed, clearly waiting for James to taking her home. Steven headed in her direction, relieved to be headed away of the tension that had been palpable since setting foot in the gym that morning.

“Discombobulate.”

Meghan looked up, her green eyes puzzled. They lit up upon seeing Steven, her mouth pulling into a grin.

“Sorry, what?”

“It means to confuse,” he explained, smiling. He pointed at her phone. “Thought it might help.”

“Oh, right.” She glanced past him. “Is James almost ready?”

Steven didn’t mention that James was still hard at work too – she must have known, either she walked right past them or she avoided it on purpose.  “No, he’s still in the gym – think he’ll be a while. Need a ride home?”

Meghan glanced at her watch – she’d been waiting twenty minutes, even after taking the time to dry her hair. After everything that had happened in the last two days, the chance to avoid James could be a welcome relief.  She nodded, reaching for her bag as she stood. Her fingers thumbed over the keys of her phone, shooting James a quick text on the way to Steven’s car.  No need to repeat the scene of leaving without telling him. Pulling out of the parking lot, Steven cut right to the chase.

“So what’s happening with you guys?” he asked.

“How are things with Kaylynn?” Meghan blurted at the same time. They burst out laughing as Steven steered into traffic and stopped at a red light.

“Okay, I’ll go first,” Meghan sighed, tucking her hair behind her ears. “You know John and I went on that date last week, right? To Fall Out Boy?”

Steven nodded, keeping his eyes on the road, noting that she’d called it a date. When it had taken James to call it one for her.

“We had a good time – no, a great time.  We went out again on Friday, to dinner and Second City in Toronto.”  The excitement in her voice matched the sparkle in her eyes. “

“Whoa,” Steven nodded, impressed. He didn’t peg Tavares for a guy who could pull off two coordinated dates in a week. “That’s awesome, Meg.”

Silence filled the Mercedes sedan. Steven looked over, saw her chew the corner of her lip nervously.  He knew instinctively what was happening, but needed to hear it from her, since he’d been on the receiving end of one-third of the issue.  “So, what’s the problem?”

“It’s a mess, really,” she glanced at Steven, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I stayed out one night last week - just at my parents' - and John told me that James freaked out about it, took it out on him at the gym.”

Steven was silent, pulling off the most thorough shoulder check of his life, avoiding her eyes.

“Steven, I talked to both of them, so don’t pretend like you don’t know,” she said quietly.

“Wait, what!  John told you?  Then you told James?  What did Neal say?” Steven whipped his head around to face her, trying to keep an eye on the road at the same time.

Meghan paused, hesitating. She hadn’t told anyone about the kiss – not Lucy, not anyone else in her life. Everyone would have whooped with joy, proclaiming “Finally!” like it was meant to be. Her own mother would have ordered wedding invitations, even if the feelings of others didn’t match the ones in Meghan’s heart. She was pretty
sure it wasn’t what James wanted, either.

At least, she hoped not.

“Meghan,” Steven repeated. “What did he say?”

“Hekissedme.”  The words came rushing out, like the moment had between them outside James’ bedroom. “After my date with John, when I came home – James… he kissed me.”

Steven regarded her for a second, eyes turning back to the road. “Shit.”

“Yeah.” They both knew the weight of James’ action, the implications of such a move – ten years of friendship, a lifetime of memories, the possibilities for a future or a disastrous implosion.

“Did James say anything to you?” she asked, knowing she walked a fine line. Steven was one of James’ best friends, loyal to a fault.

“He certainly didn't tell me he kissed you,” he replied truthfully. “I mean, we went golfing when you guys were out at the concert and he was a torn up about it – he kind of got in my face a bit about Kaylynn and everyone shacking up, but—.”

“He did what?” Meghan's tone turned defensive.

“Don’t worry about that – I can handle him,” Steven waved it away, laughing at the anger that flashed in her eyes. She was so protective of her friends. “He just doesn’t think anyone’s good enough for you.”

“That’s what he told me too,” she said softly, examining her hands.

“Before or after he kissed you?”

"Way after, not till the next morning.”  She exhaled a long breath. “He apologized.  And he said he was worried about me getting involved in something for two months then getting left behind.”

There it was again – two months. The goddamn phrase being thrown around, like some flashing number that couldn’t be changed. As if because of hockey, the guys would always be stuck in the same bachelor rut, chasing skirts and never making a go at anything serious.  As if a girl could never hope to catch up.

Steven chose his words carefully, considering the history between Meghan and James.

“Left behind by John, maybe.  But James… well, he always comes back, Meg.  You guys have known each other a long time,” he said, shrugging. She looked over at him through a fan of dark, wavy hair, falling past her shoulders. “Could it be possible he actually feels… I don’t know. I’m just saying – things change.  Even James.”

“Ugh, let’s change the subject,” Meghan grumbled. “What’s happening with you and Kaylynn?” A floaty, dreamy look came over Steven’s face, erasing any of the tension he’d felt during training.  “Well that just about explains everything,” she laughed, punching his arm. “Have you made your move yet, Stammer?”

“Jeez – you’ve been hanging around too many hockey players,” he laughed, pulling onto the driveway of Neal’s house. He followed Meghan out of the car and inside, figuring he’d hang around until James came home. “But yes – we have.”

“You stud!” she whooped. Her mouth curled into a smile. “I’m impressed she was able to hold out so long. Half of Canada could not say the same.”

Steven blushed all the way to the tips of his ears, holding up a hand.

“Yeah, yeah,” he laughed. “Just keep that quiet – you know how much these guys like to gossip around here.”

“Of course,” Meghan nodded, grabbing a Gatorade from the fridge. She leaned on the island, next to him. “So what’s next for you two lovebirds? Seems like you’re falling pretty hard.”

He took a deep breath. “She’s meeting my family this week, for dinner.” He glanced up to see Meghan’s thick eyebrows lift, eyes wide, just like Kaylynn’s had when he’d asked her.

“Whoa.”

“I know,” he laughed. His heart pounded in his chest and his voice got a little shaky. “It’s crazy, right? I keep thinking...Is it too fast? Is the whole thing bat shit insane?”

Meghan slid her hand over his, stilling him, eyes filled with concern.  “Hey, hey. You can’t stop yourself from feeling what you feel, right?”

He exhaled a long breath, running a hand through his blond hair. “I know,” Steven agreed. “And right now I’m feeling like…”

“The next two months could be the best you ever had?” Meghan offered. Blue eyes blinked back at green. He nodded. “Then don’t worry," she said.  "You two obviously have something worth figuring out – if it’s crazy, I say who cares?”

Steven reached for her, pulling Meghan into a hug. It was the advice he’d been looking forward to for days – one word to his parents and they were convinced a marriage was imminent; on the opposite side, James was a write-off on the subject of support. Even the prospect of talking to someone like Del Zotto didn’t feel quite right – he’d probably make a lewd comment or spew the same kind of logic about the season being right around the corner and tell Steven to not get too serious. Meghan understood how Steven was feeling in his heart.

He pulled back, looking down into her eyes. “Wait, you never told me what’s actually happening with you and Tavares.”

Meghan’s stomach flip-flopped at the mention of his name; she dropped her face to Steven’s chest, warm and broad as his arms encircled her.

She’d managed to avoid John, ducking into a Pilates class to miss the sight of his face, the eyes that would be watching her, the body that would have taunted her. It had only been a day but it felt like longer since she left him flat-footed, the corners of his mouth turned down in the kitchen, his perfect house getting smaller and smaller in her rearview mirror.

“I ended it,” her voice was a little unsure, a little muffled against Steven’s grey V-neck shirt.

“What?”

Lifting her head, she looked up into those sky blue eyes, tight with worry at the corners. “I ended—”

“I heard, Meghan,” he said gently. “I just… why?”

She shrugged. “Come, on, Steven. We both know what James is like when he can’t have something he wants. It’s making everyone’s life around him hell – including yours.”

He chuckled, unable to deny the truth. James had a surly side at the best of times – take away something he’d staked his claim on, right or wrong, and the results weren’t pretty.

“But more than that?” Meghan sighed, her eyes tight. “I don’t want to start something I can’t finish. For both mine and John’s sake.  I feel like he's the kind to...”  She let the thought trail off.  John was the type to do a lot of things, all of them right.  If Meghan turned out to be the kind to do the logical thing in response, two months down the road they'd be standing at the edge of a cliff.

Steven looked down at her, the words cutting quick. The summer was a race against time, a sprint session of rest, relaxation, family and friends. They both knew the consequences of their mutual situations were dangerous – the date on the calendar was circled in both their minds. For Meghan, she’d stopped something before getting too far down the line – but for Steven, he wasn’t sure he could put the brakes on this train. He knew Kaylynn worried about what Meghan worried about.  He just hoped he could convince her otherwise.  Right now it sounded a lot like Meghan was telling him one thing and doing another herself.

“So everything you just said about me and Kaylynn, not caring if it’s crazy…,” he started.

Meghan threw her empty Gatorade bottle - hard - into the recycling bin.  “Is true,” she insisted.  “I’ve never known you to give up on anything.”

“So why are you?”

The words sliced at her skin like blades; the truth had a wicked edge.  She had given John up, taken the easy way out.  And for what?  

“Because I’m a wuss.  Because James will fight me every step of the way, but John won’t.  Even when I give John up he never makes me feel like shit.  I get to do that to myself.”  

“Meg…,” Steven reached out, but Meghan stepped away.  He couldn’t remember the last time she’d refused a hug.  “Defending a lifelong friendship doesn’t make you a wuss.”

Just then, James’ car pulled into the drive.

“I’m okay,” Meghan said, moving to leave the kitchen.  Her feet slowed and she lifted her eyes back to Steven’s.  “After all, I’m not the one falling in love.”

Steven stayed in the kitchen.  Love.  Falling in love.  And also: I’m not the one.  Steven was, obviously, but was he the only one?  Her words echoed so loudly in his head he almost didn’t hear Neal come in.

“Hey, Stammer.”  James pulled up a bit, surprised to see anyone visiting.  He hadn’t exactly been the friendliest guy lately, and Meghan was avoiding him like the plague.  “You hanging out with Meghan?”

“Nah, just dropped her off.  I’m out.”  Steven needed to think and that wasn’t going to happen with Neal grousing around.

The oppressive tension was getting to James too, but he had the perfect summer remedy.  “Hey, let’s hit the lake tomorrow, eh?  Haven’t been on the boat yet.  You up for it?”

Like guys do, they forgive and forget in the blink of an eye.

“Sure man.  Sounds fun,” Steven said.  Kaylynn would be working, he could use a day of sunshine and fresh air, maybe a cheat day with a couple of beers.

James smiled to be off at least one hook.  Now about the others.  He weighed the options quickly - continue being a dick to everyone or watch Meghan and John be together all day?  Both sounded awful.  

“I’ll ask Meghan.  Do I have to, er, should I ask Tavares? ”

There was a part of Steven that wanted James to get the girl.  He needed someone like Meghan, even if he probably didn’t deserve her.  But Meghan deserved something great too and she had more options.  It wasn’t fair the way James was trying to fence her in.

“They called it off,” Steven said.

A hundred thoughts went through James’ mind all at once, like the wheels of a slot machine whirling.  Plink plink plink.  Jackpot.

“What?” he said sharply.

Steven kept a pleasant expression over the hard clench he felt in his jaw.  “Back to normal, I guess.”

James smiled.  He should have felt guilty over ending Meghan’s fun or even triumphant over winning her back but instead he just felt as if he’d been right all along.  Things were better this way - she would see.  And soon.  He set a time with Steven for the next day and headed upstairs.  

But when he finished his shower and knocked on her door, Meghan was gone.

___

Later that night, Meghan was back in her room and halfway through David Sedaris’ new book in an attempt to pull herself out of a funk.  Talking with Steven had not made her feel any better; she had still dumped John, for lack of a better term, after only two dates.  And the harshness of the word fit.  Meghan hated that the most.

John had been excited about her, and she about him.  The same way she’d been excited about the summer.  Now it seemed she had crashed two exciting things into each other and somehow cancelled them out.  Her eyes followed the same line of text for the third time.

Knock knock.

Her posture slumped.  She could not avoid James forever, but she’d been hoping for more than a day.  Still she told him to come in, because he’d probably just do it anyway.

“Hey.”

James stopped in the doorway, unsure if he was really welcome.  Meghan had been out most of the day and then closed up in her room a long time.  The last time they’d spoken he apologized for kissing her and suggested she go back to being single and flirty, the way he liked her.  The World According to James Neal.  Now she had taken the first step toward being that person again.

Meghan was sitting on a floral duvet, leaning against a pile of pillows with a slim, hardcover book in her lap.  Her little red shorts and gray tank top were just pigtails short of being a very specific fantasy James had filed away.  Her mouth was drawn though, her eyes tight.

“What’s up?” she asked.

James knew damage control when it was needed.  “We haven’t been on the boat in a while.  Wanna go tomorrow?”

Meghan could have counted the times her heart beat in the silence while she thought about the best course of action.  She could act like nothing had happened, as if a searing kiss of total surprise and a bonus round of James grinding her into the wall could be wiped from memory.  She could tell James she’d taken his advice and ended an ill-fated romance with John.  Or she could pitch her book at him like a fastball and tell him to get the fuck out of her room.

It was his room, though.  Technically.  He stood in the doorway, the way he had when their most recent fight began.  This time he was clothed but it did little to diminish his attractiveness - only his attitude could do that.  The attitude was gone for the moment, leaving behind the James she had always known.  More than anything, Meghan desperately wanted to go back to that.

“Okay,” she said, giving him a little smile.

James relaxed, his spine and shoulders softening.  It looked like his apology the other morning had worked.  Now if he could just keep himself from kissing her again.

____

On Tuesday morning, John still felt like shit.  It had nothing do with Gary Roberts currently hollering at him to move his ass through the death crawl, which only came after he’d done so many push-ups he couldn’t get up from the floor.  Arms like lead were attached to weights probably made of lead, which John pushed another foot along the ground then dragged his body behind.  What difference did it make if he went slow?  Roberts might make him start over again, but John didn’t have anywhere else to go today.

He’d lost Meghan, that much was obvious.  Through no fault of his own, John was stripped of the promise of a girl - a lively, spunky, 10 of a girl - for the summer.  All because she was scared of what came after that.  Truth be told, John was too.  It was usually the part where he went back to work and the relationship fell apart because he was the only one that cared.  Except this time, John had the distinct impression Meghan cared too.

Since she left his house Sunday afternoon, he’d been hoping Meghan would change her mind.  She’d even squeezed his bicep in goodbye, the way she used to do when they first started flirting.  But no call came.  That was Sunday and now it was Tuesday morning - Meghan wasn’t even at the gym.  If she wanted to avoid him it would be easy now.  John figured Neal would want nothing to do with him either.  He hauled his body over the edge of mat that marked the finish, then heaved himself up and headed for the core station.

Stamkos was on his back, lifting a forty pound plate overhead with each fully extended situp.  He made it look fantastically easy.  At least Neal had the decency to grunt as he cycled through plank mountain climbers at a rate of fifty per minute.  He finished as John dropped down next to him.

“Fuck,” James sighed.  “Dude, we’re going on the boat later, you coming?”

John didn’t answer.

“Hello?  Boat?”

John looked up to see who Neal was talking to.  James was looking right at him.

“Oh, um... okay,” John said.  He did a push-up to cover his stutter.  Maybe he would not be a total outcast for the next two months.  “Sure, uh, what time?”

Neal pushed himself up to sitting.  “Boat’s at Whitby Yacht Club, meet us there at noon.”

___

John was sure Meghan would be there.  Then sure she would not.  What else would she be doing?  Why did he assume she had no life?  It was a frustrating twenty minutes deciding what to wear.  In the end, John went with plain black trunks that had a white stripe down the side and a white v-neck t-shirt.  In case she was there.  He packed a towel and sunscreen, sunglasses and the new Sports Illustrated into a backpack with a bottle of water.  John dug out the cooler bag he used for golfing and decided to stop for beer on the way.

Fifty minutes later he rolled into a guest parking spot at the marina.  Neal had texted him the name of the boat - Beauty Move - and slip number.  It was a 35-foot center console fishing boat with a third engine added to it’s normal two.  Painted white with navy trim, the sleek, quick  lines of the boat seemed to fit Neal’s personality.  John dropped his backpack onto the rear seat and leaned against the dock piling to wait.

____

Meghan felt good.  She was in the back of the SUV that James never drove, preferring the sexiness of his sports car over the utility of this one.  Meghan prefered a backseat that was more than a trunk.  Steven rode shotgun, playing invisible drums along with the radio blasting.

This was summer to her.  Windows down, everybody happy, on their way to a water adventure.  Ice and beers sloshed in a full cooler behind her.  She’d pulled a bright poppy colored cover-up dress over her bikini least likely to fall off if she jumped in the water.  It was robin’s egg blue with hip-hugger bottoms that cut just high enough at the back to be a little racy.  Cheekies they were called, and with good reason.  The top was a simple halter with clasps instead of ties; it might mess up her tan lines but the sturdy shape lifted her boobs up and together like any good push-up bra would.  She’d stuffed a few towels into a canvas bag with her book, just in case the boys let her relax.

James wheeled into a spot marked “Owner” and Steven quickly fetched the cooler from the back.  He wore a light gray t-shirt and white and gray plaid swim trunks - matching even now, always stylish.  Hefting the cooler like it weighed nothing, he practically ran down the walkway.

James offered to carry Meghan’s bag.  She declined and they walked together along the small boardwalk toward the slips.  A few big yachts were docked here, but mostly it was a mix of sail and power pleasure boats owned by locals.   Just because you could cross over to the States didn’t mean people went there - it was too far from the beer.

Meghan heard the voices first.  Steven talking to someone, passing down the cooler and...

John.

His voice reached her ears as he hopped back onto the dock, reaching for another bag.  He glanced up from under shaggy hair and his dark eyes went wide.  Deer in the headlights.  Meghan slowed ever so slightly, just enough to bump into James’ arm.  That shocked her right back into action.  Be cool, be cool.  She didn’t need to see James to know he was watching her.

“John, hey,” she said with a big, almost manic grin.

John shot up to standing like a ranking officer had just appeared.  He nearly saluted.  “Hi.  Hi,” he repeated dumbly.

“You made it, man.  Thought you might kick it at the gym after today.”  James clapped John on the shoulder.  

He jumped down into the boat, leaving Meghan and John staring at each other on the elevated dock.  There was no privacy though, as much as Meghan wanted to ask what the hell was going on.  James had invited John?  Was this some kind of cruel experiment?  Or had John told everyone what she did?

John wished the planks underfoot would open and swallow him.  As much as he’d wished for Meghan to be there, he now wished to take it back.  She was so fucking beautiful.  And tan.  And slender and she smelled good and her the edges of her hair were golden in the sun, like a halo.  The worst was the look on her face - she had not expected to see him here.

“Hey Meg, hand me that bag.”  Steven tapped her leg, three feet lower in the vessel.  She locked eyes with him and he nodded once, conspiratorially, then pointed at the bag.

Fuck, she thought angrily.  Of course John didn’t tell anyone.  She had told Steven, who must’ve told James.  Now James was acting like nothing ever happened, back to the start, when they were chilling by his pool.  Except the minute they got aboard the boat they’d be trapped together for hours with nowhere to hide.  She slid the bag to Steven and casually stepped between John and the edge, her back to the boat.

“Hi,” she said softly.  His eyes darted around her face, like he was afraid of doing the wrong thing.  

“Sorry, I didn’t know you’d be here,” he whispered back.

“John,” Meghan said in exasperation.  How could he apologize when he was the only one who hadn’t done anything wrong?  So Canadian!  “No.  I’m... I’m glad you’re here.  Is this okay?  Can we hang out?”

Can I look at you all day and torture myself knowing I might have almost had that? he thought.  But he said, “Yeah.  I want to.”

I want to drown myself.  Or better yet drown James and then Steven can drive while I make all of this up to you.  Meghan knew that was wrong though - not because of murder, but because that kind of attachment to John was exactly what she was trying to avoid.  She still reached up and squeezed his strong arm.  “Me too.”

____

Meghan laid out crosswise on the front seat of the boat, near the bow.  With all three boys in the stern, kicking back on the benches and captain’s chair, she looked like the figurehead on an old ship or the hood ornament on a car.  Oh well, it was lonely and she’d been milking it for a while.

Too long.

“Hey.”

She shielded her eyes with one hand and looked at John as he took the seat right in front of the console, facing the bow.  He’d ditched his shirt and sandals.  Meghan wondered if he knew how good he looked - how strong and fit and sexy.  He handed her an unopened beer.

“Hey.”

She moved over a few inches and John put his feet up next to her, careful not to touch, and  reclined against the backstop.  He popped his own beer and took a sip.

“Was starting to look like we’re avoiding each other,” he said so only she could hear.  With the noise from the purring engines and the wind slipping past, it was almost easy to have a private conversation.

She rolled onto her side, facing John.  He was grateful for mirrored sunglasses because the twist of her waist and the way it curved up into her hip before running down the slope of her thigh made his eyes go wide.  And that didn’t even cover the cleavage up top.  He took another long drink.  Maybe it wasn’t so bad to just hang out with her.  Hell, he’d have spent the summer admiring her from a purely hands-off perspective anyway.  He could go back to that, and maybe to flirting.  Even if this time it was based on the hope that it had worked before.

“They know,” she said.  

John nodded.  Steven had quietly mentioned it while James was untying a line from a cleat.  It explained why Neal had invited him, and why he needed to be on best behavior today.  Neal hadn’t told Meghan this would be a group outing and so it was clearly a test.  He intended to pass it and keep his spot on this team.

“They know what?” he forced himself to smile.  “That you look amazing today?”

“John.”  She felt a blush rushing toward her cheeks.

He shrugged.  “It’s true.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly, the words picking her skin like needles.

John winced too.  He didn’t want to make this worse for Meghan, but neither did he want to let her forget that she ended this.  He didn’t want to.  He would have given almost anything to be laying next to her, not even touching, just thinking that he had a place over there instead of over here, on a separate bench, on the outside looking in.  At least he had a front row seat.  Her book lay closed by her painted toenails - John was checking them out, so he asked about the title.  “How’s... exploring diabetes with owls?  What?”

She laughed, happy to have the subject changed.  “It’s all short stories - they’re really funny.”

“No.  Owls are creepy.”

“They’re cute!”

John shook his head.  “They’re superior and stuffy.”

Meghan actually took off her sunglasses to that one and leaned upon an elbow.  “You have been brainwashed by Winnie the Pooh.”

John could see the relief in her eyes.  Another things he’d give her when he wanted to give her everything.  “Nothing that’s head spins around is cute.  Owls and the Exorcist.  Creepy.”

It felt so good for Meghan to talk about something with John, just talk and laugh and be silly.  Every time she tried to explain the book he cut her off, and the conversation twisted away into randomness.  He was letting her off the hook big time, rescuing what would have been a painful day.  In a way, that almost made it worse.  Does he have to be so great?  And sit there like he doesn’t know I can feel him breathing?  Meghan let him though, because he deserved to have fun too, and soon they were cracking up so much that Steven came to join them.  James cut the engine, letting the boat drift, and pushed Meghan out of the way so he could sit too.  In the sunshine and silence of the lake, their laughter echoed for miles.  Meghan put on her shades, the better to admire the half-dressed boys ranged around her like courtiers to a queen.  Maybe this summer had plenty yet to offer after all.

“This does not suck,” she said, reaching for another beer.

Steven lifted his can.  “To summer.”

“To summer.”

____

The afternoon was perfect - warm air, glassy lake.  Meghan begged off after two beers but she couldn’t help it.  Half an hour later she needed to pee.

John had moved seats.  It have him a full, agonizing view of Meghan climbing to her feet and stepping up onto the gunwhale.  She turned to face the water and he nearly fell overboard himself.  The bottoms of her bikini were scooped high, perfectly hugging the curves of her ass almost like they were painted on.  Yes she’d looked amazing laying down but he’d had no idea something better was going on out back.  

A kick landed firmly against his calf - Steven, shaking his head.  John quickly closed his slack jaw.

James should have been watching John’s reaction to the display but he was too busy watching Meghan himself.  She was hotter than most of the WAGs and at least eighty percent of the girls he met at bars.  James thought back to a girl from the Tap and Tankard a few nights before, when he’d been out with his boys from home.  She’d been so eager they’d barely made it to his car.  Just a blowjob and a fake phone number goodbye.  He reevaluated Meghan, put her at ninety percent.  She stepped off the edge and dropped into the water.  

“You guys are in charge,” he said and quickly jumped off after her.

Meghan turned around at the splash.  Quickly she counted: in the boat: one blond and one brunette.  It was John.  So somewhere around here...

She went under with a shriek.  Struggling was useless - she knew who it was and that trying to fight him off was impossible.  What had always been a funny truth between her and James now brought a flash of the moment, a few nights before, when he’d plastered her to the wall with that strength and threatened to really set it loose on her.  She thrashed and he let go.

James came up sputtering.  “You’re getting stronger!”

He’s such an... Meghan gritted her teeth to keep from retorting.  His test on the boat had all but failed; she and John were getting along and being perfectly appropriate.  Now he was out here, staking his claim.  Or was he?

“Let’s race,” he suggested.  Like they were kids again.

“I came out here to pee, James.”

He grinned at her, the megawatt smile that made girls weak but always made her think of the time, in grade 9, she’d gotten him some special video game controller for Christmas.  It was a month’s worth of allowances but she had never seen him so happy.  Then he’d locked himself in the playroom for a week until she’d threatened to take it back to the store.  Obviously James didn’t realize she was immune.

“I always knew you were kinky.”

“James!”

“I mean, I’ll let you but you’re gonna have to let me do some things too.”  He swam closer.

“Knock it off,” she said, laughing despite herself.

James stopped right in front of her.  From the boat it must look like they were holding onto each other instead of treading water.

“Why?  I hear you’re single again.”

Meghan froze.  She almost sank.  Up close James’ eyes had a dangerous gleam behind their impossible-to-identify color.  Today they were darker, kelly green or navy, picking up the dark tones of the water just below his chin.  That chin was covered with two days of stubble right up to his wicked mouth.  And she knew that if she didn’t feel it now - the little jolt of electricity, the bubbles in her blood - that she never would.  There would never be a “them,” never a moment where everyone who said they knew all along was proven right.

James watched her carefully for a hint.  A hint that she wanted him instead, or that she hated him for suggesting she end things with John.  Any piece of information James could use to his advantage.  Wrapping around her underwater, practically copping a feel in the process, had been a low-brow move.  It had been a while since James needed his high-brow game.

“Stop.”  The tone of her voice was a warning.

“Come on, Meg.  I  think you’re doing the right thing.  Plus, he’s still here, yeah?  Seems to be fine.  Maybe he’s not quite the heartbreaker I thought.”

She glared at him.  “I wasn’t worried about my heart.”

Meghan turned and swam away, underwater, and James didn’t follow.  He watched until she surfaced.  Before turning back to the boat, he said under his breath, “Or mine.”

____

It was nearly dusk when James expertly slotted the stern into the dock.  “Oh yeah, baby,” he said suggestively.

“You would talk dirty to a parking spot,” Meghan said.  She was a little miffed about his approach earlier, but at least James had put out there that he knew about her and John.  Now everyone was on the same page and life could continue as usual.  Except she was exhausted.  They hauled everything onto the dock then into the car while James hosed off the interior of the boat.

“Dinner?” Steven asked.

“I think I’m gonna head home,” John said.  He saw Meghan go rigid in surprise.  As much as he’d have liked to spend more time with her, the Neal factor had increased as the day went on.  John didn’t feel up to faking it through another few hours.  He called thanks and goodbye to James.

Meghan felt sad suddenly.  The day was over, John was even leaving early.  Not that she wanted him around, per se, but...

Ugh, I want him around.  Before the words even formed in her brain Meghan pushed them away.  She had no right to want that if she didn’t want anything else.  But she was carrying his cooler bag.

“Where are you parked?”

Empty handed, John didn’t even offer to take the bag.  They walked in silence to the nearby guest lot, out of earshot.  John beeped his remote and the trunk popped open.  Meghan swung the cooler bag right down into it - and came up almost against John’s chest.  In the fading light his eyes looked dark and very serious.  The summer air had dried his hair into a little fluffy mess; she felt a desperate urge to run her fingers through it.  A tiny current flowed between them, impossible to ignore.

John watched as Meghan bit her lip, that nervous habit revealing that he wasn’t the only one still suffering.  In a way that was a victory, in another way defeat.  She wanted him a little but it hadn’t been enough.

He resolved, in that moment, not to give up.

“Remember that time you kissed me at the gym?” he asked.

Surprised, Meghan simply said, “Yeah.”

John’s expression didn’t change.  “I was just thinking about it.”

He walked to the driver’s side door and got in.  Don’t look back, John repeated in his head.  He made it twenty feet of driving before he glanced in the rearview mirror.  Meghan was still standing there, watching him go.

____