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The lake is broad and the night is hot. Their fire tints everything orange.
“Wanna swim?” He asks and she lifts her head from his shoulder. Their windproof jackets slide together like plastic, protecting them from wind that isn’t there.
They don’t have swimsuits or towels. “Okay,” she says, curling her toes in her boots. There’s marshmallow stuck in her back teeth.
He stands, arches his back and dusts his hands on his dirty jeans before extending one to help her up. His hand is warm and sticky. Earlier, she’d watched him lick melted marshmallow from his fingers
They shuffle towards the lake, her boots sinking into the soft, sandy mud. He bends to untie her laces and she squeezes his shoulder in thanks, stroking the cowlick in his hair.
They take off their jackets in sync, starting a shared pile for their clothes.
“Don’t look,” she murmurs, her fingers curling under the rim of her shirt.
He leans down and brushes his lips over her hairline, “I won’t look,” he promises. Her bestest friend.
“I won’t either,” she vows.
“I know,” he cups and squeezes her elbow, his eyes black as the sky. They could be the only two people left in the world.
They turn their backs on one another. She pulls her shirt over her head and holds out her arms for balance to toe off her boots. She’s unbuttoning her jeans when his foot brushes her calf before he steps away. The night air is warm against her blushing skin and her bra and panties fit atop his folded black boxers.
Muddy sand sinks between her toes and she waits a moment for the sound of him wading through the water to grow further away before turning.
She could watch his back for eternity, the strong muscles beneath his skin rippling like the water. He swirls his hands in lazy arcs, fingers trailing through water so still it’s like the world has been turned the wrong side up. It’s as though he’s disturbing a second sky.
She follows the path he took, stepping in the footprints he’s left. The first touch of water is cool around her ankles and she shivers, adjusting. The lake is clean and clear and she can see herself, blurry like cream under the surface.
She comes to stop behind him, the water up to her shoulders but not nearly so high on him, and presses her front against the hot thrum of his back. Sliding her hands around his waist. A little thrill shoots down her spine and she shivers again when her fingers encounter the little valleys of his abdominals. Because the lake floor slopes down, when she rocks up on her tip toes she’s able to nuzzle the soft hair at the nap of his neck. He smells devine, like woodsmoke and wet earth and himself after a long day. She bites her tongue to keep it inside her mouth.
He sinks into the water, her bare breasts sliding across his back and she feels the hitch in his breathing, his stomach tensing beneath her fingers. His hands find hers and guide them up to clasp under his chin.
He turns his face to the side and she smiles against his neck. His face so close it’s blurry. He returns her smile and nudges his nose against hers, nuzzling her cheek like a lazy lion.
He holds her to him and pushes off the bottom of the lake, sending them gently floating through the water and the stars part for them. She clings to his back like a child and allows him to lead them where he pleases.
He squeezes her fingers in warning and she breathes in deep before he dives beneath the surface. She closes her eyes and listens to water rush past her ears.
They break the surface and she says, “don’t you dare-“ but he’s already shaking his hair out like a dog and she splutters.
“You’re already wet,” he says with his play with me, Scully tone.
She huffs and pushes off his back to dive beneath the surface on her own. She kicks and freestyles as hard as she can but he catches her ankle with ease.
She resurfaces with a gasp, a little out of breath, it’s been a long time since she’s swam. When she wipes the lake water from her eyes, he’s smiling at her.
“What?” She sinks deeper into the water, toeing around to see if she can touch, but she can’t. He’s taken them out to the middle of the lake and she’s glad for their fire, like a little lighthouse, it’s the only difference between all the other sides of the lake.
“Curly,” he touches a lock of hair that’s fallen into her eyes.
“Oh,” she touches it too, the audacious traitor.
“I like it,” he says, twining it around his finger.
“Don’t make it curl more ,” she admonishes, pushing his hand away. He sticks his lip out.
“Here,” he says and puts his hands on her hips, lifting her a little and taking her weight so she can have a break from trading water. She holds his shoulder. He still hasn’t looked, she knows with absolute certainty, he hasn’t needed to, his hands like magnets when it comes to her waist and the small of her back.
“Thanks,” she mouths, her hand slipping around to the nap of his neck. The short hairs there are standing on end and she plays idly with them while he walks them around. His hair is plastered to his forehead, she ruffles it so it sticks up all spikey.
He’s stepping them through a dance she realises.
Her whole universe contained briefly, safely, in the circumference of this lake. Him and the stars.
She touches her thumb between his brows and he, as always, shares the weight of this moment with her. She can see it in his eyes, soft like sleep and creased around the edges, he hears her even though she’s said nothing at all.
She lays her head on his chest and feels the scar she gave him against her temple. He rests his chin atop her head.
They have not yet kissed. She has felt that they will, sometime soon. He begins to lead them back to shore and she is not afraid.