Page 60
Story: The Summer List
We all decide that seems like a good idea. I watch Shal sling an arm around Priya’s shoulders as they head off towards the food court and then look back to see Naomi staring at them all misty-eyed.
“It’s probably good for them to get some time alone,” she says, wiping the wistful look off her face once she notices me watching her. “I know they said they talked before those people with the tire kit showed up, but they can’t have had very long together.”
I nod. “If you want time with Priya too, no worries. I know today has been pretty…intense for you two.”
She chuckles as we finally shuffle another couple feet up the line.
“Yeah, that’s one way to put it. I’m sure we’ll talk more soon, but it feels good to be okay for now.” She takes a deep breath and lets her shoulders slump with relief. “I really thought I was going to lose her, you know? I’m not really good at the whole knowing what to say thing, which is ironic considering all I do is read books, and people always know what to say in books. You’d think it would have helped me, and…and now I’m rambling. I…”
I step closer to her, and she trails off into silence. A fresh wave of heat crests over my skin.
“You know, I think you underestimate yourself, Naomi.” I pause for a moment, savoring the thrill I get from saying her name.
It hits me then that I never thought twice about the hundreds of times I called Nick by name, but every time Naomi’s name is on my tongue, it tastes like magic.
I shake my head to clear it before I can start considering what that might mean and how it’s definitely not the way you’re supposed to feel about a temporary summer fling.
“You might not think you’re good at knowing what to say, but you did smooth talk your way into saving a friendship and scoring a date in less than half an hour. Even I can’t say I’ve ever managed a feat like that.”
I’ve moved even closer now, close enough to notice the way her breathing quickens.
“I don’t think anyone would call me a smooth talker,” she murmurs, “but if I’d known running blindly into a corn field would result in you asking me out, I would have done it a lot sooner.”
I raise my eyebrows and bump my shoulder against hers. “You see? That’s the smooth talking I’m talking about. I think you’re secretly a sly fox, Naomi.”
She lets out a full-on donkey snort and then clamps her hand over her mouth. It’s maybe the cutest thing I’ve ever heard, and I’m about to tell her that when a scuffle of movement up ahead interrupts me.
A group of about twenty kids and adult chaperones from what I assume is a summer camp have all stepped out of line. The kids moan complaints about having to take a lunch break as the adults march them past us. The rest of the line rushes to fill the empty space, and Naomi and I get bumped all the way up to the base of the staircase leading to the top of the slide.
It’s one of the slides you ride an inflatable raft down, and a guy in a staff t-shirt who looks about our age is handing them out from a pile at the bottom of the steps.
“You ladies want a two-seater?” he asks.
I glance at Naomi for confirmation and then nod. The guy hauls down a black raft with two hollows for seats and two sets of plastics handles lining the sides.
“Have fun!” he says once I’ve grabbed one of the handles and shifted the raft up onto the stairs.
I watch Naomi as she cranes her neck to stare up at the top of the slide. The ride is a long, black and orange tube with more loops and bends than I can count. It’s not the steepest slide in the park, but the sign at the foot of the staircase says it’s officially the longest.
“You ready for the ride of your life?” I joke as a flare of adrenaline shoots through me when a particularly loud scream echoes from high above our heads.
Naomi shivers. “Let’s hope so.”
It takes another fifteen minutes for us to get all the way to the top of the stairs. There’s another staff guy getting people prepared at the entrance to the slide. He guides the pair of kids in front of us into their two-seater raft and grips the backrest to hold the raft in place as he watches the pool of water way down at the very bottom of the slide. Once the previous raft comes shooting out, he tells the kids it’s time to go and shoves their raft through the mouth of the tube.
They shriek so loud I wince. I turn to see Naomi’s eyes tracing the twists and turns of the slide as she grimaces.
“Come on,” I say. “We’ve got this.”
Excitement is shooting through my veins and making me jitter and bounce on the balls of my feet. I haul our raft over to lay it down in the flat section at the start of the ride. The staff guy holds it in place while I ask Naomi if she wants the front or the back.
“Definitely the back,” she answers, her steps a little wobbly as she comes over to join me.
We get ourselves settled in the seat hollows, and my heart pounds even harder when I realize how close we are. Her legs are basically slung over my shoulders. If I sat up a little straighter, she could probably wrap them around my chest.
I look behind me and see she’s gone from looking grim to queasy. Her face is pale, and she’s gripping the handles so hard her knuckles are turning bright white.
I release one of my handles to squeeze her leg.
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