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Chapter FOURTEEN

The water is clear and cold, but not icy, and I swim with glee for ages, diving down to look at trout with long tails, then floating on my back and doing lazy laps. The sun overhead is bright and hot. Tyler sheds his shirt at the edge of the lake, and dives in, too, swimming with a clean long stroke that shows how strong he is. I stand in waist-deep water and admire the powerful muscles in his back. He grins when he sees me watching him.

After a while we climb out. Tyler grabs his shirt and pulls it on over his head before we fall down on a blanket he's spread over the grass. I lie on my back, letting the sun blaze down on my body and dry me. The air smells of pine and freshness. Tyler lies next to me, eating cookies, one knee propped up. He's brought the book out with him. "Shall I read you a poem now?"

"Yes." I turn my head, feeling my heart rise. Has anyone, ever, read me a poem?

He thumbs through the pages. "'The Summer Day.'" He reads it silently first, and I roll onto my side and take one of the cookies out of the bag, waiting.

The poem is about a grasshopper. Tyler's voice is resonant and deep, his pauses theatrical, practiced. I watch his mouth move, and the way his eyelashes dip when he blinks. His lower lip is a little chapped, and I want to go inside and get my chapstick for him. As the poem gathers speed, I am no longer looking at Tyler, only imagining this ordinary bug, washing its face. By the time he delivers the last line-"What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?"-emotion has risen like sap inside me. Again tears fill my throat, and one falls before I can stop it. I blink, and a cascade of them slide down my face.

"Sorry," I whisper, embarrassed, trying to wipe them away with my thumb.

"Don't be. It's a poem worth crying over."

"Do you cry over poems?"

He gives me a sideways smile. "Not really. I'm a guy." He lifts one shoulder apologetically. But-" He lifts his right arm, pulls up his shirt and shows me the tattoo written on his ribs. It's the whole poem he just read. "-I know that one."

"That's beautiful. What are all the others?"

He tugs the shirt down, that half-smile teasing me. "One at a time."

I pick up the book and flip through it. "Did you study this in college?"

He nods. "You could, too."

I shake my head slightly. "I don't even know where to start, Tyler. I mean, in theory I get it-they have grants and things like that, but..." I meet his eyes. "It seems pretty overwhelming."

"It's just one step at a time, like anything else. I can help you, if you want."

"We'll see." I hand back the book.

He puts it aside and scoots forward. His finger trails down my shin. "Are you hungry yet?"

I shake my head, meeting his eyes. "Not really. You?

"Not for food."

"Beep," I say with a laugh. "Bad line."

He smiles but keeps edging nearer, until his lips are close to mine. I can smell chocolate on his breath. So close to him like this, I can see the jeweled lights in his irises, yellow diamonds and emerald rectangles. I think of the Arabian nights, of treasure hidden away in a secret place. In those eyes, I see secrets and light, and a million possibilities. It makes my heart squeeze, hard. I can't think of anything to say, any way to bring him closer, but it turns out I don't have to.

"You are so mysterious," he whispers, then closes the gap between us, his lips covering mine. He tastes of chocolate and lake. His tongue is slippery and hot as it slides between my lips, teasing the tip of my tongue into a dance. His hands are on my bare legs, still, but very hot.