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The sun is low in the sky as you gaze out through the kitchen window toward the back patio. The horizon is starting to shift from light hues of blue to a blend of yellows and reds. The view is beautiful, but you’re instead focused on the figure sitting at the pool edge.
It wasn’t out of the ordinary for you to see Conrad sitting out there, somewhere on the edge of the pool, but for some reason you had the urge to join him this time. Fortunately for you, you weren’t involved in any of the conversations going on in the kitchen where you were all sitting or standing around. So you slip your way past the kitchen archway, over to the patio doors then out the back.
You pad your way down the steps toward Conrad, trying to at least make some noise with your bare feet so you don’t startle him. You sit down next to him, keeping a decent space between you both in case he really doesn’t want to be bothered right now. As close as the two of you are, it’s still difficult sometimes to see the signs of whether he actually wants to be alone. When you’ve sat —your knees tucked to your chest and your hands wrapped around them— he doesn’t shift or make any attempt to move away, a good sign.
“What are you doing out here?” he asks, not yet looking at you, his eyes set on the pool water as he lifts a joint to his mouth.
“Managed to escape like you did,” you reply and rub your shins absentmindedly to induce some heat. Shorts and a tank top had worked well for the daytime temperatures, but as the sun left the sky, a light chilly breeze came in. He doesn’t respond, instead he simply holds out the rolled-up piece of paper, you take the joint, put it to your lips and breathe in, letting the smoke ruminate a moment before you breathe it out. “Too many conversations at once,” you add on then hand it back to him. You enjoyed the company but there were too many voices, some too loud for you. Leaving the house not only gave you a chance to indulge your curiosity about Conrad but it let you calm your anxiety.
“Oh and here I was thinking you came out to see me,” he teases, “I’m offended,” he sets a hand on his heart.
You can’t help but roll your eyes, “I did come out here to see you, dork, getting away was just an added plus,”
“Yeah, I’ll buy that for now,” he takes another hit of the joint, but when it's your turn and you reach for the joint, he leans back on one hand and uses the other to hold the cigarette far from you.
“What- hey, I thought we were sharing now,” you question as you reach for it.
“After you just called me dork?” his eyebrows scrunch slightly.
“Oh come on,” as you reach for the joint, he’s leaned back, and you’ve turned your body to face him as you lean over him slightly. He just puffs smoke at your face in response, that smug look on his face returning. You sigh in defeat and sit back beside him once again, inches closer this time.
“Seems like I’m a bad influence, especially if you’re willing to try and fight me for my own weed,” he turns to finally look at you. He knows that the one goal you have this summer is to socialize more, yet here you are.
“The worst,” you reply as you take the joint when he finally holds it out to you again.
“What were they talking about?” He's curious, you know he needs the space but you’re also aware that missing out on conversations can still bug him sometimes.
You think back to the kitchen, “One was about something funny that happened at Jeremiah’s job today and another was about Laurel’s new love interest,” you smile at those last words. You’ve been friends with Belly for years now and have subsequently been to the vacation house quite a few times in the past few summers. Over the time you’ve known Belly you’ve gotten to know her family amongst others in her circle, which is how you got to know the Fishers.
“Cleveland,” he says knowingly.
“Mhm”
“Does it seem serious? It’s been a while since she’s seemed interested in anyone like that,”
“I’d say so,” you nod with a slight shrug of the shoulders. “They definitely like each other at least,” you add.
You sit there quietly for a few beats. Simply passing the joint back and forth. He’s caught you rubbing your arms for warmth this time and within a few seconds his sweater is off and he’s holding the maroon fabric towards you.
You know he won’t take it back despite being left in only a shirt, wordlessly you take it and slip it on over your shoulders. Your senses are doused by the smell of his cologne mixed with the salty water of the nearby beach. You do your best to not purposely inhale more and try to focus on simply adjusting the collar.
“So,” he finally breaks the silence, “Do you have any love interests?” he mocks the tone you’d used earlier.
Yes, you think, but instead you ask, “Do you?”
“You’re avoiding the question,” he tilts his head at you slightly with a raise of his brows.
“I plead the fifth,” you decide.
“Seriously? I'm just asking, you’re not under arrest,” he chuckles.
“So if I try to run you won’t stop me?” you ask.
He smiles and lets out a breathy laugh as he shakes his head at your evasions.
You’re unsure what to say. You do have a crush, however, said crush is sitting right next to you, completely unaware of your dilemma. You aren’t sure if you are ready to tell him. Tell him that you’ve been crushing on him ever since that pool party during your second summer in Cousins, that your best friend technically had dibs. For the longest time you’d decided to bury that infatuation for Belly’s sake. She’d grown up with the boy, confided in you when she was swooning for him with no clear sign of requited love. You did your best to be there for her.
Now, however, she’s infatuated with a new boy. Cameron. She has been for a while now and it doesn’t seem like there’s any sign of it going away soon. Belly had even gone along with Taylor’s comments about you and Conrad, a good sign, yet you still didn’t trust it.
“Fine,” you concede. “I’ll only tell you, if you tell me who you have your sights set on,” you attempt.
“Deal,” you held up your pinky finger and he intertwined his own with yours. “There’s this boy…,” you begin as your hands fall away, and you can swear you see Conrad’s shoulder fall slightly. You decide to focus on the water instead. “He’s hmm…,” you try to choose your words carefully. “He’s… thoughtful, puts himself before other people, kind of broody sometimes, funny… oh and he’s taller than me,” your final comment earns a chuckle from the boy.
“Does every crush of yours need to be taller than you?” he questions, “Both Alex and Bailey were,” he adds to prove his point.
You give him a push on the shoulder, “Coincidences,” you state.
“Anyways, your turn,” you turn to look at him.
He runs a hand against the back of his neck. “Okay, so they’re really sweet, smart, doesn’t take any of my shit…, oh and they are shorter than me,” he mimics the excitement you’d used earlier when giving that last detail.
“You didn’t tell me their name,” you point out.
“Neither did you,”
“Touché,” you sigh. Something stirs in your gut, a mix of butterflies and nausea because you’d just confessed your feelings about Conrad to himself and he seems to be crushing on someone else. “Have they shown any signs of liking you back?” you ask as casually as you can, ready to offer advice if that’s what he’s been searching for.
“I’m not sure, they think I’m a dork apparently… so it’s hard to tell,” he chuckles lightly but it’s leaning more towards nervous laughter than full on amusement.
“Sounds like-,” your laugh is cut short by your thoughts, you wanted to say that she sounds like someone you’d get along well with but then it dawns on you. “Oh,” you slowly turn your head towards him. He’s looking at you with that smug smile on his face, unlike you, he is way better at hiding his nerves. Your cheeks are already heating up and you can feel that nausea settle in.
“Took you long enough…,” you want to kiss smack that smug look right off his face.
“Blame the weed…?” you smile nervously.
Those few inches left between you are crossed as he pulls you closer to him by your waist. You turn to face him properly, propping yourself with an arm. The smell of weed lingers in the air, but the joint has been put out for a while now.
“I was talking about you, in case that wasn’t obvious…,” you almost stutter over your words.
“You were?” he asks but you can hear the sarcasm as plain as day.
You nudge his shoulder with your palm, “Shut up,”
“Why don’t you make me,” he quips back. Then the distance between your lips is covered as you bring your mouth to his, resting a hand on his shoulder to support yourself. Luckily, at this point the patio is shrouded in darkness, and one would really have to squint to see your silhouettes. “This okay?” you ask, and he nods before kissing you again.