"Shh. Christ!" I shoved her into my room and shut the door, careful not to slam it. I haven't slammed one since Papaw made me open and close my bedroom door a hundred times after an awful bout of hormones at thirteen. No matter how mad I got, I didn't have any plans of standing in front of my door for an hour opening and closing it.

Ana laughed and flung her hat on the bed, shaking out her curls. "Please, no one heard me." She wriggled her brows. "But you're not right in the head if you think I'm the only person who sees how you look at her. What is it about that girl? Her buck teeth or her stringy hair?"

The one subject I always avoided was this one. I blamed a pilfered half a fifth of Jack Daniels last summer for letting Ana know anything. Damn whiskey. Truth serum, more like. "I ain't gonna talk about it with you." I flung her hat on the floor. "And she don't have buck teeth."

All that accomplished was another peel of cackling laughter. Sometimes I couldn't stand my best friend on the planet.

"Shut up, and get out so I can get dressed. I'll be down in a minute."

She picked her hat off the floor littered with dirty clothes and charcoal sketches and went to the door. "Whatever. Just hurry up. You wouldn't want little miss feminist to get lonely."

The closing door met with one of my heels. Papaw said no slamming doors. He never mentioned flying shoes.

∞ ∞ ∞

Once we made it to the covered bridge, the big tourist trap crossing the Middle Fork of the Little Pigeon, three quads were waiting for us. Jeb and Rachel managed to wrangle up a couple other friends, Bubba and Jackson. They also managed to find a case of beer, which Jackson had strapped to the back of his bike.

Christ, they were stupid. All it'd take was one state boy driving around or one of the camera-bedecked tourists complaining and our summer would be over.

The need to inform them about their stupidity was a task I was more than willing to perform.

I ripped off my helmet and climbed from the back of Ana's quad. "Jackson Robert Miller! Does your daddy know you took some of his stash?"

Pimply faced and skinnier than a praying mantis, Jackson's cheeks got bright red, making the purple and white acne stick out worse. "Jeez, Macy! Keep your voice down." His brown eyes scanned the few people checking out our bikes, taking pictures.

Yeah, they took pictures. Like driving something other than a Lexus or a minivan was a practice only foreigners had.

"I ain't about to get the blame for a case of Budweiser. You're fixing to get all of us in trouble."

"Ah, come on, darlin'. It's just a little beer." Jeb's voice rose over the echoing motor of his bike. He pulled off his helmet and gave that crooked smile that always had the girls at school act like giggling fools.

It didn't work on me. "I ain't going. No way. Y'all can just go without me." I turned to Ana. "Take me home."

Unfortunately, Rachel's soft voice did work to change my mind. "It'll be all right, Macy. Let these dumb shits get drunk. We'll leave 'em on the bank if they get too annoying."

Damn.

I closed my eyes and breathed in slow before opening them on the exhale. All I saw was Ana's smirk. "Shut up," I said, my voice loud enough for only her to hear.

She held up her hands. "Hey, I didn't say nothing, sugar."

Rolling my eyes, I glanced over toward Jeb's bike. "Fine, but I'm holding you responsible for your friend."

"I ain't your friend, Macy?" Jackson sounded hurt, making me feel guilty. The boy only had us, seeing as how his acne scars and awkwardness put off most people. Not to mention how much he sweat for such a skinny boy.

I glanced over to catch Jeb's smile and Rachel's sympathy-filled look at Jackson. Crap. "Of course you are. That's why I get so mad when you're always doing dumb stuff."

"I ain't always doing dumb stuff." His eyes shifted to his feet, his bony fingers holding onto the handlebars so tight his knuckles turned white.

Double damn.

I went over and gave him a hug. "Sorry, Jackie. Just...don't drink too much. I don't feel like fishing you out of the river tonight."

He smiled, his face now deep red, and shoved his helmet back on. "That only happened once."

"Once was enough."

"All right, y'all. Let's go before we lose the rest of the day. Mama wants us home for supper." Jeb plopped his helmet on and took off, making a few of the camera-carriers jump.

Before I put on my helmet, I gave a woman clutching her toddler a smile. "Sorry, ma'am."

She held her boy so tight I swore he had trouble breathing. "Those things are dangerous, young lady. Whatever happened to riding bicycles?"

Ah, a Yankee, and if I'm guessing right, she was a Yankee from a city way bigger than Sevierville or Gatlinburg.

Ana laughed and started the motor. "Ma'am, I haven't ridden anything without a motor since I was five." When I straddled the seat behind her, she continued, "Unless you count George." She shrugged off the woman's mortified expression, and we followed Bubba across the bridge.

Honestly, she didn't mean to be shocking. George was her horse. Unfortunately, we didn't stick around for her to explain.

By the time we reached the rocky bank–our spot, we liked to call it–Jackson had his lawn chair unstrapped from the back of his bike and his feet propped on his pilfered stash. Rachel got busy with spreading a quilt her mama made on a large boulder while Jeb and Bubba worked on getting the fire pit ready for the hotdogs and marshmallows Ana brought. Ana...well, Ana did like raw hotdogs. She stuffed one in her mouth while instructing the boys on the proper way to build a fire.

I took the moment to help Rachel with that blanket.

With a smile I had trouble turning down, I grabbed my sketchpad and pencils and headed over. "Hey, you want some help with that?"

Rachel smoothed the final corner over the rock. "Already done."

"Well then, you want some company?" I held up my pad and pencils. "I could sketch you."

She blushed, tucking her bangs behind her ear. "Why you wanna draw me for?"

I hopped on the rock and tilted my head to the right in an invitation. "Why not?" I had a drawer full of sketches with her face as the main attraction, but I'd never let her know it.

She shrugged, glancing toward the bickering Bubba and Jeb and eye-rolling Ana. "Yeah, okay. Sure."

Once she sat, I took the opportunity to lift her chin and brush her blond hair out of her eyes. I didn't know what Ana was talking about. Her hair ain't stringy. It was soft, just like her skin. I cleared my throat, willing my face not to turn red. "Good, just like that."

She shook her head. "I feel stupid."

"You don't look stupid." I tilted her chin back to where I had it. "And quit moving."

"Well I feel it."

I smiled and began scratching on the page. "Well, stop it."

We sat there in silence for ten minutes while I tried to copy all the beauty I saw every time she smiled–yelled, frowned...whatever. She kept that soft smile on her face, her hand fidgeting. She had a hard time not covering her mouth. A habit she picked up after too many years of getting crap for her overbite. Those three years in braces helped, but...hey, I liked the overbite.

I stopped drawing and covered her hand. "Relax, Rachel. You're beautiful."

Her pink blush caused my breath to hitch.

"Says the prettiest girl in Pittman Center," she said, snorting.

I froze. I hadn't the faintest idea what to say to that. In the rational part of my mind, I knew she didn't mean it in the way I hoped she meant it. The way I dreamed about her saying it. I dropped my eyes and focused on the page. "Umm, I'm not."

Stupid thing to say, but the alternative would've shown my hand. Papaw always stressed how important it was to keep your cards close. For the past year, I found every excuse to be around her, trying not to come off as weird. She'd never seemed to mind my company, but I always kept those cards smashed against my chest.

She laughed. "Oh, don't get all modest, Macy Mae. You have to notice how Jeb is always sniffing after you. When you gonna cut him a break?"

Never. Unfortunately, the stolen extra time I had with Rachel in the past year usually involved Jeb. I couldn't help but wonder if that contributed to his crush. I loved the guy, but I'd have liked a few more private moments with his sister. "He'll find another target as soon as he's away at college. I'm just convenient right now."

Her eyes shifted for a second, and if I didn't know any better, a bit of sadness dimmed the blue. "Nope. He's had a fire for you since last summer." She snatched the pad out of my hands, forcing me to look at her. "Stop being so humble."

"I'm not. Um...Rach? Can I tell you something?" All right, don't do it. Don't say nothing stupid. But the last thing I wanted to talk about was her brother. "You know how Papaw and I go deep sea fishing every year? Near the gulf?"

Oh, damn. Too late.

She tilted her head as I held out my hand for the notepad. After another second of hesitation, she plopped it into my hands. "Yeah?"

I adjusted her back into the original pose and continued to draw. "Well, every year, when we're sitting on that boat in the middle of nowhere, I spend more time trying to get the right color blue on my pad than I do fishing." I kept my eyes on the drawing, my fingers shaking a bit. "You can't imagine how blue that water is. So clear, so deep...inviting. It takes all I got not to jump overboard and let it close over me. It's like a Siren. You know, how the Sirens sung those sailors to their death?"

I looked up long enough to watch her nod. Her fingers weren't twitching to cover her mouth anymore.

"Anyway, it's so perfect, the blue? Like nothing else I've ever seen." Here it comes, the nail in the coffin. "Except when I look in your eyes. That water's got nothing on your eyes, Rachel."

I became hyperaware. I heard the boys fighting and Ana calling them names. Listened to Jackson burp and give his opinion on starting fires, too. I also heard Rachel's screaming silence. Nothing was as loud as that silence.

The sun got hotter on my back and sweat beaded on my forehead. The pencil grew slippery in my hand and some of my lines weren't as straight as I'd have liked them to be. With snakes slithering in my stomach, I braved a glance at her. What I saw caused my heart to explode and breathing wasn't as important anymore. Good thing, 'cause I had a hard time remembering how.

Those eyes, as blue as the Pacific, had tears hovering, making them shine like arctic diamonds. Her smile was just as wide as the ocean. She reached over to squeeze my leg. "How do you do that?"

I swallowed, tapping my pencil on the sketch that would now need to be scrapped and started over. My skin burned where her hand rested. "Do what?"

"Make me feel like I could fly."

My whole body tingled. At that moment, I could've flown right beside her.