Page 33 of Romantic

As we get closer, the cool mist of the waterfall envelops us. The sunshine refracts off the water droplets, creating dozens of rainbows.

Annie looks over at me and asks, “Ready?” I nod.

“Annie!” Jack calls from under the falls. “Get your cute self over here.”

Jack’s voice brings me back to reality. I let go of Pepper’s hand, hanging back while Annie and Pepper, still holding hands, step under a fall together, the two of them shrieking as the white water splashes over them. I savor the sight. Pepper and Annie smiling, their wet faces lit by the sun. For the millionth time, I wish I had asked Annie out months ago. Now all I can do is hope that Jack proves to be as flighty as I believe him to be and that Annie finds out before he breaks her heart.

“Daddy! You have to try this!” Pepper calls to me.

“Coming,” I say, swiftly crossing the remaining few feet to the falls. I step under the closest one. The moment the icy water hits my head, I let out an involuntary gasp. It’s so cold, my brain hurts a little, but it’s also wonderful. In a matter of minutes my hair and shirt are soaked through. I step out of the water and stand just at the edge of the falls. Jack cups his hands, filling them with cold, clear water and then sips.

“Jack!” Annie calls over the surge of rushing water. “What are you doing?”

“Sipping the nectar of the gods!”

“The water’s not clean,” she says.

It’s totally safe when you’re drinking straight from the source of fast-moving water,” he says to Annie. “Don’t worry, I grew up hiking and drinking from streams all the time and have never had any problems.”

“Then you’ve been extremely lucky. There’s no guarantee that water is safe to drink,” I say, knowing full well that I’m cementing my reputation as uptight. Annie gives me a look of reprimand. She wants me to be quiet and leave her boyfriend alone. Why must I be the peacemaker when he’s so clearly in the wrong?

“Water this sublime is worth the risk.” Jack steps under the closest, thinnest stream of water, opens his mouth and lets it pour right in. Annie watches him with a look of disbelief. She turns toward the shore, carefully stepping from one rock to another. Pepper has given up on keeping her shoes dry and is splashing through the ankle-deep water. Annie leaps to the muddy bank, but her feet slip from under her, and she starts to fall. I jump forward and catch her before she hits the ground.

“You okay?” I ask, standing behind her with my hands on her waist.

“I am,” she answers unsteadily. “It hurts but . . .”

“Did you hurt your ankle?” She turns around and now she’s unbelievably close. Her hair is wet and curly, her face glistening with water droplets.

“Maybe a little,” she answers, a little breathless. “But it’s not that bad. I just need to sit for a minute.”

“Alright, there’s a bench just over there. Should I carry you?”

“I’ve got this,” Jack says appearing beside us. I didn’t even notice him approaching. The nearness of Annie has completely distracted me, and from the surprised look on her face, the same is true for her. Jack places a hand on her waist, pulling her close to his side. I let go immediately and watch her hobble ahead with him. And think to myself, Nothing gold can stay.

She watched his eyes. —Sense and Sensibility

10

Annie

“How did the hike go?” my mom asks. “Other than you twisting your ankle again. . . .” She places a package of frozen peas wrapped in a dishcloth on my swollen ankle, which is resting on the ottoman. Jack left to pick up some dinner for us. I said we could just have cheese and crackers, but I think he wants a real dinner.

“I didn’t twist my ankle. I maybe rolled it a little.” The whole hike back I did my best to pretend my ankle was fine. But Brandon told my mom he thought I rolled it, and she’s been hovering.

“It was surprisingly fun.”

“Did those two play nicely?”

“They did for the most part, except Brandon lectured Jack when he said it was fine to drink straight from the waterfall.”

“Did Jack actually drink straight from the waterfall?” my mom asks, concerned. “I hope he doesn’t get sick. You know, your dad used to always do that . . . and then—”

“He got Giardia,” I finish. “I remember. I had to help clean the bathroom.”

“He never drank straight from a mountain stream again,” my mom laughs to herself.

“Who is more like Dad?” I ask. “Jack or Brandon?”