Our Song (15 page)

But Jacob had.

My knees suddenly felt jiggly, which is inconvenient when you're on a hike. I stopped walking and leaned against a tree, pressing my icy water bottle to my neck.

Jacob stopped too and sighed with relief.

“Ugh,” he said. “I didn't want to be the first one to give up. But this heat is ridiculous. Want to turn back?”

I did.

But I also didn't. Not when Jacob had packed us a picnic. Not when we were alone out here, where it was beautiful and peaceful, if sweltering.

But what choice did I have? Continuing to trudge along a trail that felt like the first circle of hell wasn't just unromantic—it was dangerous.

I was just about to say as much when I heard something. I cocked my head and pushed myself off the scratchy tree trunk. I held up my finger to Jacob, motioning for him to follow me. Then, still listening hard, I continued along the trail. It took a sharp curve around a cluster of boulders, then tipped downhill for a stretch.

The sound got louder, and it was unmistakable now—burbling water.

After walking about fifty feet more, I finally saw what I'd heard. There was a shallow, but wide, creek about ten steps from the trail. The water's flow was mostly lazy. Only one section had any rush to it. There, the water skimmed over some slick rocks and landed in a gentle froth. That was enough to insure that the
water was clean and cool. It must have been an offshoot of the river on Sap Hill.

“Yessss,” Jacob said. “Looks like the perfect place for a picnic to me.”

“In the water?” I said.

“Sure, why not? I don't mind if my sandwich gets a little soggy.”

“But I changed out of my swimsuit,” I said, biting my lip.

“Oh,” Jacob said, sounding deflated.

Wiping my damp forehead with the back of my wrist, I lowered myself to the creek bank. I plunged my hand into the water and sucked in my breath.

“It's cold,” I told Jacob.

“Oh,” he said, sounding even more deflated.

“Aw, why not?” I declared, sitting on my backside so I could untie my shoes.

“You're getting in?” Jacob said. “In your clothes?”

“As hot as it is,” I said, “they'll dry before we get to the bottom of the mountain. Or they won't. I don't care!”

I grinned as I got back to my feet. Then, for the second time that day, I jumped into the water.

Of course, creeks are not predictable. The part that I jumped into was only a couple of feet deep. That, you could tell from the edge.

But the creek bottom that I'd thought was grippable sand? It was actually mud. Squishy, unstable,
slippery
mud.

“Whoa!” I shrieked, right before I fell into the water. I came
up laughing and sputtering, exhilarated by the sudden cold.

I stood up and wrung out the hem of my tank top, but a moment later, Jacob tumbled into the creek, drenching me all over again.

“Hey!” I squealed, kneeling down to swat a handful of water at him.

“Splash all you want. I'm wearing a swimsuit,” Jacob teased.

He scooped handful after handful of water at me.

I shrieked again and fought back. Before long, we were in a full-on water fight, complete with hysterical laughter.

But drained as we were from the heat, we quickly got tired and collapsed. I plunked myself near the edge, the better to reach our picnic. Jacob flopped down next to me. He lifted one of his bare feet and watched the mud drip off it.

“Ew,” he said, curling his lip.

“Are you kidding?” I said. “That's clay from the deep South. You could pay good money for someone to smear that stuff on your face at a spa.”

“Really?” Jacob looked thoughtful. Then he swiped a dollop of mud out of the creek and rubbed it into his cheek.

“Jacob?” I said, biting my lip to keep in my laughter. “I just made that up. That's pretty much just dirt.”

“What?!” Jacob cried while I burst out laughing.

The next thing I knew, he'd smeared a stripe of the clay down
my
cheek.

That's when I stopped laughing.

I couldn't feel his touch through the muck, but I still shivered.

Even though Jacob was wet, disheveled, and mud-caked, he looked more perfect than ever.

He'd stopped laughing too.

He shifted to his knees. It would have been the simplest thing in the world for him to lean toward me and put his mouth on mine. Water droplets trembled on his face, and I wanted to kiss them away.

I wanted this to happen.

I was pretty sure Jacob did too. He tilted his head to the side. He stared at me, and for the first time, I noticed that he'd left his glasses on dry land with his shoes and T-shirt. I could really see his eyes for the first time; could see their deep blue color, their intensity, and behind that, a sweetness, a yearning.

Jacob leaned toward me. I closed my eyes.

“Hahahahaha!”

The laughter came from somewhere nearby—very nearby. It made my eyes snap open. I stifled a gasp, turned awkwardly in the water, and peered back toward the trail.

“You are
so
in trouble for that,” a girl's voice said.

“Oh,
really?
” a boy replied before laughing along with her.

Their voices were playful and flirty, and their “fight” was clearly a wildly amusing private joke.

“Is that—” I began to whisper to Jacob.

Before I could finish my question, Annabelle appeared on the trail. Even from this distance, I could see that she looked
beautiful—dewy instead of sweaty, with her hair gathered into a charmingly messy bun on top of her head. Instead of practical shorts and sneakers like I'd worn, she was dressed in Birkenstocks and a flowy sundress.

Owen stole up behind her, put his hands around her waist, and said, “Gotcha.”

Annabelle laughed and whirled around, before matter-of-factly, almost casually, planting a kiss on his lips.

My eyelids felt like roller shades that had just been snapped open. I couldn't do anything but stare as Owen's hands moved from Annabelle's waist to encircle her back. She draped her arms luxuriously over his shoulders as they kissed again. And again. And then some more.

Only then did I remember that Jacob was right next to me. When I turned back to him, he was looking down at the water, his neck splotchy.

I felt like I should say something light and breezy, like,
Get a room, right?
If I was cool, confident, sexy Annabelle, I probably would have.

But I was just awkward, embarrassed me. So all I could do was shift uncomfortably in the water. I became very aware of my tank top clinging to my skin and the way my shorts bunched up on my legs.

I felt as clumsy as Annabelle was graceful.

“Oh my God, hi, you guys!”

That was Annabelle. She must have heard the splash from
my movement. Now she and Owen were walking toward us. They were holding hands, and their mouths still looked smeary from the kissing. But they acted like everything was as normal as could be.

“What happened here?” Owen asked with a chuckle.

I squirmed, feeling like a little kid.

“You've probably noticed that it's a little hot out,” I said, with a wan smile. “Well . . .”

I shrugged and splashed around in the water a bit.

“We were just getting ready to eat,” Jacob said, motioning to his backpack. “Do you guys . . . want to join us?”

“Really?” Annabelle said. “I'm starving!”

“Me too,” Owen said. “I didn't get any breakfast this morning.”

He stole a secret glance at Annabelle. She smiled back at him, and her eyelashes fluttered.

Clearly, they'd been together—and making out—all morning. That's why they seemed so expert at it already. Meanwhile, I was so inept at this whole courtship thing, I hadn't kissed Jacob even once in an entire week!

Maybe,
I thought miserably,
that's because it's not meant to be. It's just not going to happen.

“Yeah, have lunch with us,” I agreed, pulling myself out of the sticky mud.

After stepping onto dry land, I couldn't resist casting one sad glance back at Jacob. Then I added, “No reason why not.”

Chapter
Fifteen

F
or the next couple of
days, the heat wave never wavered.

Neither, for that matter, did Annabelle and Owen's PDA.

And me? I still felt awkward whenever I saw Jacob.

But when I wasn't around him—when I was just imagining him—it was a different story. I pictured myself watching sunsets with him and using the fresh cloak of darkness to kiss.

Or stealing into the kitchen supply closet to kiss.

Most of all, I reimagined our mud bath in the creek. Instead of being crashed by Annabelle and Owen, it ended in a kiss.
Plus
peaches and pimiento cheese sandwiches.

That was the best daydream of all.

Imagining all this kissing made me self-conscious around
the
actual
Jacob. I was so full of nervous energy, he probably couldn't have kissed me if he tried.

But at least I wasn't too freaked to hang out with him. We still sat near each other at nightly sing-alongs. We went on daily lake swims with other heat-weary Camdenites. And, of course, we continued to chat our way through meals.

After breakfast on day three of the heat wave, Jacob and I emerged from the dining hall, where the air-conditioning had been blasting. We both gasped at the ovenlike heat.

“This is cruel and inhumane,” Jacob said, squinting at the sun. “It's only nine o'clock!”

“Ugh, it's like all the air's been replaced by steam,” I said, lifting the back of my hair and fanning my neck with my palm.

“Have you been okay in the barn?” Jacob said. “What with that forge blasting on top of everything?”

I moved my hand to my forehead so I could shield my eyes while I squinted at him. His face was cutely scrunched up with concern.

“We've got a pump right outside,” I assured him. “I just splash water on my face regularly. I wish I could douse my whole head, but I think my hair is crazy enough as it is.”

Jacob reached over and
touched my hair
. He didn't flick at it, the way he had on our hike. This was almost a caress, one that sent tingles shooting down my spine.

It was definitely not the sort of torrid embrace I'd been imagining. But it was
something
.

Wasn't it?

Whatever Jacob's intentions, I felt that touch down to my toes. I had to look down at my feet so he couldn't see my face go all melty and quivery.

I also avoided his gaze because this was
so
not the right time or place for a first kiss. As usual, we were right out in the open, in full view of all the Camdenites slamming out of the dining hall and complaining loudly about the heat. To top it all off, my breath probably smelled like coffee and facon.

So I kept my eyes on the ground. Even when Jacob said, “I like your hair like that.”

Even when he subtly but clearly took a tiny step closer to me.

Maybe if I look up at him,
I thought,
he'll kiss me anyway, despite everything. Maybe he'll finally kiss me.

But before I could work up the courage, the dining hall door swung open again. Along with a weak gust of air-conditioning came a familiar voice—

“Well, isn't
this
refreshing?”

I sighed quietly, then turned to the door. “Oh, hi, Nanny.”

My grandmother walked over to us, smiling as she fanned herself with a piece of sheet music.

“Now, living in the South my entire life, you know I've seen some heat waves,” she said.

“I know, I know,” I said. “And this isn't anything compared to the great sizzler of '67 or something like that, right?”

“Oh no, this is right up there with the worst of 'em,” Nanny
said. “But I have good news and bad news about that.”

“Oh?” I said. I wondered if class was canceled so we could all spend the day swimming.

“The heat's supposed to break tonight,” Nanny said.

“Finally!” I cried.

“What's the bad news?” Jacob asked, mopping at his sweaty forehead with the sleeve of his T-shirt.

“It's going to break by way of a big, bad thunderstorm,” Nanny said. “At least, that's what the weatherman says.”

“Ooh, I like a good storm,” I said, at the exact same time that Jacob said, “Ugh, I hate thunderstorms.”

“Really?” I said.

“Oh, I'm not surprised by that at all,” Nanny said.

Jacob turned red. Well, redder than he already was from the heat.

“Why do you say that?” I asked.

“This boy is a
thinker
,” Nanny said. “Thinkers can't just relax and enjoy the big bang of a storm without
also
calculating whether the conditions are right for a tornado. They wonder if today's the day a sinkhole is going to swallow up half the neighborhood. At the very least, they're certain they left a favorite pair of shoes in the backyard.”