"I miss flying."
Wendy had surfaced for air after rinsing the suds from her hair when Peter's voice drifted from high above. He balanced precariously on his back, at the fork of a giant limb over the small lake. Lacking both shoes and shirt, he was every bit a Lost Boy. His left hand wrapped around a smaller branch, while the right pulled off leaves, one by one, and let them flutter to the water below.
"Is it really so hard?" Wendy stared at his bare back, the way his muscles flexed and the crease of his spine. She wanted to run her fingers through the shock of dark red hair bouncing in the tree, messy and in need of a trim. It would be lovely to stare into the canopy beside him—perfectly scandalous without her corset and hair loosened.
Something scratched against her ear. A twig? Her body steadily rose from the water and she scrambled to grab a vine near the soap, snaking from the nearby tree into the water. It pulled from the dirt as Wendy frantically tried to stop floating higher.
Soap! She focused on the cream colored chunk and slid back into the water, legs flailing.
It really wasn't that hard to fly if your mind was happily occupied.
"Are you okay down there?" Peter tilted his head to the side, but kept his eyes away from Wendy.
She sunk to her neck in the water, wishing the boys would return with her towel. "Yes. I…I just grabbed at a vine and it came loose, that's all." She refused to look up again, no desire to fly half-naked through the trees.
A white flower landed near her head, bobbing in the water. Wendy gathered it to her. It was as large as her hand, the center as yellow as a jonquil in spring. She buried her nose and was rewarded with the smell of warmed honey.
"Thank you." Wendy angled her smile to the tree above.
Peter flipped onto his stomach, a devilish gleam in his eye. "I'd like to swim now."
"You may once the boys return with my towel."
"But, I'd like to swim now, since I cannot seem to fly."
Wendy tucked the flower behind one ear. It was ludicrous to be arguing while submerged to her neck. "Fine. I will swim back to the tree and wait for the boys. That will give you plenty of room."
"What if I told you I cannot swim? That I'll drown when I fall from this branch?"
"You'd be lying. You swam to me just a bit ago." She started taking short strokes towards the opposite shore.
She didn't even have time to look up after the "Whoop!" before he cannonballed into the water just inches from her face. Wendy sputtered as water splashed her face.
Peter emerged to her right, grinning. "Come on!" He grabbed her hand underwater and towed her any direction except the tree she should be swimming toward. Tinkerbell flitted between the two, lighting the surface of the water with fairy dust just before it faded and sank.
"You're going to drown me, Peter. Let go of my hand."
"Only if you will race me to…that rock over there!" Her eyes followed his outstretched hand to a rocky ledge.
Wendy angled herself in the water so she was closer to the outcropping. "Let go and I will race you." She almost chuckled at his gullibility when he released her. "On your mark, get set—" She shoved both hands, full of water, at his face and then raced toward the rocks.
Peter hacked and coughed but was still close by, no matter how fast Wendy pulled through the water. She thought she might beat him until a cold hand clamped around her ankle and yanked her backwards.
"No fair!" she cried.
"Says the girl who cheated!" Their arms entwined, both laughing and desperate to win. "You have to get to the top of the rock to win!"
"Dirty cheater yourself." Wendy had somehow tousled her way to where the rock met the water.
He gripped her wrist until she twisted just right and freed herself, bolting from the water's edge, heedless to the pain shooting up from her ankle. Peter used his much longer legs to jump over her when she tripped on a vine and landed with and "oomph." He should have known better than to hesitate, because no sooner had he stopped to check on her, that Wendy pulled on his ankle, toppling him to the ground.
She shrieked when Peter's hands failed to keep hold of her legs as she hopped over him.
"You're like a snake!" He bounced up from the dirt and was able to finally grab hold of her hand as she stepped onto the rock.
"I did it! I won!" Wendy's lungs burned, but she was happy—unfathomably happy. She'd gone and beat Peter Pan in a race.
She reached out to pluck a leaf lodged near his ear. "I'm more filthy than I was before." Wendy laughed, turning her hand over one way and then the next, examining her arms at length until she froze.
She was dirty and dripping wet in nothing more than her undergarments in front of a very grown-up, bare chested Peter Pan, whose eyes were twinkling with mirth.
"Lucky for you, there's a bath right here," he whispered and took a step closer. His hands slid up both of her arms and surrounded her shoulders, warm and steady.
Wendy didn't look away from his face—the smattering of faint freckles stretching from one cheek to the other, the golden ring around each iris.
And then she was falling…quite literally. He launched them both into the air over the pond. She had barely enough time to squeeze her eyes closed and take a gulp of breath before smacking the water and sinking.
Peter pulled her to the surfaced and she gasped for fresh air, her toes brushing against his pants. He was laughing and apologizing, holding her arm so she didn't slide back underwater.
"That was ungentlemanly!"
"Well, I'm not a gentleman."
"You're a poor sport."
His eyebrows scrunched down. "What's that?"
"You don't like to lose."
"Of course I don't like to lose! Peter Pan never loses!"
Before Wendy had another opportunity to baptize him with a handful of water, Tinkerbell buzzed their head, swooping and banging into Peter's ear. He looked up to the rock where they had just stood and shifted his body, pushing Wendy behind him. She started to protest the way he pinned her in place to his back with one strong arm until she followed his gaze upwards.
High above, in little more than a gauzy shift, feathers tethered by leather laces swinging in the wind, and fierce black and turquoise war paint, Tiger Lily eyed the pair. Even Wendy could see the princess had, in some magical way, blossomed into a young woman through the transparent dress that left little to the imagination.
Wendy pressed herself flush against Peter and wound her arm around his chest as he paddled to keep them buoyant. Decency forgotten, she whispered his name, her breath trembling. Wendy had no doubt the beautiful Indian, hair undone and wild, was going to stake claim on the man she was wrapped around.
But Miss Wendy Moira Angela Darling had already won once in the day and would not lose her prize.
With every intention, Wendy raised an eyebrow at her foe. She put her lips at Peter's ear and lowered her voice. "Kiss me."
When he twisted to question her words, Wendy kissed him as if her life depended on it. For in that very moment, it did.