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“You should be in movies,” Rose murmurs, doggy-paddling slowly towards Svetlana’s moon-drenched silhouette. “How are you this beautiful?”
Svetlana’s arms break out in goosebumps as their wet bodies press together. The night is blessedly cool after a hot, sun-baked day. Across the dock, Shane and Ilya splash at each other like toddlers, their laughter a calming coo in the dark.
Rose brushes back Svetlana’s dripping curls. Later, she’ll help her dry her hair and braid it, tuck it into a bonnet before they fall into an exhausted heap in the cottage guest suite. The rhythm of their two-week vacation has settled into something comforting and predictable, so different from all their busy lifestyles. Rose finally gets why Shane waits all year for this, this little nook of peace that smells like pine needles and wet earth and barbecue smoke, filled with sunburned noses and afternoon naps and lazy kisses in hammocks.
“You look like a mermaid princess,” Svetlana says, pressing a kiss to Rose’s bare shoulder, sweeping her wet hair back. “Let’s play.”
Rose grins. She loves this young, silly, sweet part of her girlfriend, the part that maybe only Ilya saw then they were kids. She loves being naked under the moonlight with her favorite people. She wonders how she’ll ever go back, or why.
“I want a pink tail this time,” Rose says, floating back in the water, letting Svetlana chase her, eyes cat-like and sparkling.
“Anything, printsessa,” Svetlana says, ducking under the silky surface of the lake.