As I Am

Chapter Eighteen

Dedicated to Flower because she's an amazing friend, writer, and also gave me the sweetest dedication (: Check out her stories guys!

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Eighteen

          “Come on,” I giggle as I race down towards the water. Evan struggles behind me, only moving from my tugging on his hand. I trip as we near the water, almost doing a face plant before he grabs my waist and straightens me.

            “Bam, let’s go back.” He doesn’t sound the least bit happy.

            “Evan,” I whine, turning around to face him. My chin is tilted up and my mouth is pointed down as I beg him. “Please, please, please come swimming with me!”

            “Bam, you’re drunk.”

            “You’re drunk,” I snap.

            Evan rolls his eyes and pries his fingers from mine. “Wow, great comeback, Bam.”

            I fold my arms across my chest. “Fine, if you won’t come swimming with me, I’ll go on my own.”

            I storm off towards the water and hear him sigh from behind me. A grin plasters itself to my face as my bare feet tip toe in the cool water. I hug my sides as I wade in, briefly turning around to see if my plan worked.

            Evan’s facing the opposite way, pulling his shirt over his head. My expression grows blank as I stare, watching him throw it on the ground and tie his dark shorts a little tighter. When he starts to turn around I quickly spin back to the water, feeling my cheeks flush.

            I start to go in further, not waiting for him. I start to wonder what happened to Hadley as the water wets the bottom of my sweater.

            “Where’s Hadley?” I ask to no one in particular.

            I get no answer.

            I look down to see my sweater turning a darker shade of pink and stare at in shock. “It’s going to bleed,” I slur. “The colour is going to come out!”

            “Bam,” Evan says through clenched teeth. Like I am, he’s hugging his sides, obviously cold. I hadn’t realized that the water was this bad before, but now I feel like its freezing and my sweater is absorbing all of the cold.

            “My sweater is going to bleed,” I repeat.

            Evan sighs again, this time quieter than the repetitive sound that’s been leaving his mouth ever since I started to talk to him. “Then take it off,” he says simply. “You can bring it back to shore.”

            I life my arms up, watching as the water pours out from the seams. The fabric sags downward, making me feel heavier than usual. I feel like the sweater is going to drown me, as if it’s weighing me down; pulling me underneath the water.

            “I don’t want to get out of the water,” I state. I pull at the drooping fabric, feeling Evan’s eyes on me the entire time.

            “It’s cold,” he replies. When I don’t look up, he wades over to me and reaches out his hand with his palm facing upwards. “Then hand it to me. I’ll take it to shore.”

            Without thinking, I grab the ends of the fabric and pull the sweater up, up, up and over my head. It’s a struggle to get the sopping thing out of my face and mess of hair, but once it’s gone I’m able to wipe the water out of my eyes and see again.