I seriously hate summer. I know, Iknow, I think I am one of the only people in the world to hold this gripey opinion, but I really do dislike the season. It's dreadfully blistering where I live, and my schedule is just as hectic now with summer term as it is during the regular spring and fall terms, so it's not like I get any kind of a break. So sorry if my updates are fewer and further between, my brain is quite frankly fried at the moment. I'm feeling grumpy and sorry for myself, so be sure to smack my bitch-ass and knock me out of my wallowing before I drown in my own self-pity. Eh, that sounds utterly wretched and middle school-y, I'm really exaggerating. Big ole baby...

Disclaimer: I do own a pool, but not the own Ellie and Craig like to swim in.

You know the drill, here it is.


Oh dear God, we would have some serious explaining to do if our friends could see us right now.

Of course, those kids are the absolute furthest thing in the world from my mind at the moment, but if I was actually making the effort to consider their reactions, they wouldn't be pretty. Craig and I would be in some deep shit if we were exposed now, particularly where two of them are concerned.

Marco would be completely shell-shocked. His eyes would go as wide as saucers, his mouth would gape open, and with a big, dramatic, gay flourish, he would collapse into a stylish heap on the ground. In a daze, he would begin to mutter incoherently in Italian, crossing himself a few times for good measure. But when he came back around, he would smirk and wink and say he knew that this had been coming for quite some time.

Ashley though...ugh, Ashley would be none too pleased. A deep, jealous shade of green would quickly spread across her skin and great waves of steam would roll forth from out of her ears before she would suddenly spontaneously combust with a pop and a sizzle. Afterwards her smoking ashes would scatter themselves across the ground, slowly taking the shape of letters as they spelled out a mournful, bitter song about heartbreak and betrayal in her eulogy.

They would both be completely off and jumping to ridiculous conclusions, but I mean come on, what would you do if you saw Craig Manning and Ellie Nash stripping frantically, tearing off their clothes with a frenzied fervor in the middle of the night?

Please bear in mind that the key word in that sentence is THEIR clothes, as in our own, not each other's. I mean, it's not as if we were going to swim fully dressed, right?

I have to admit though, it was a bit strange showing up at the pool that first day after our unconventional little meeting. He was already in the water, and in the shadows I couldn't tell whether he was wearing trunks or boxers (not that for guys there was really much difference anyway). For me though, there was still the whole issue of not owning a swimsuit. I had hesitated a bit while dressing that day, wondering just how skanky spending time with my best friend's boyfriend in my underwear would have to rate on the Manny-scale. I'm guessing pretty high. On the other hand though, if I went out and actually bought a swimsuit, wouldn't that be making just a bit too much of an effort? After all, he's the one who crashed in on me, and so I shouldn't have to make any alterations just because of his presence.

I wasn't even sure that he would be there the second night, it's not like we sat down and worked out a schedule after our first swim. We just kind of fought and acted like ten-year-olds and he yelled a "see you next time" in my general direction when he was leaving. It shouldn't have made any difference to me whether he showed up or not, but for some reason it did. My mind kept wandering that day, the skyline commanding my gaze even more than usual, which is a whole hell of a lot. There was a nervous apprehension building in the pit of my stomach as I tried to read and do a bit of writing to pass the time on a non-group day, and I tried to brush it off as anxiety about losing my secret escape. But as much as I hate to admit it, a strange sense of relief washed over me when I walked in to find him there that night.

Hey, I'm only human. Even Ellie gets lonely sometimes, and that's obviously all it was.

Obviously.

Anyway, fast-forward to the two of us at the pool after that disruptive group session and our bizarre competition of who can get almost naked first. I don't know how exactly it all started, because I'm not a competitive person in the least. There was the talent show though, that was probably the only time I've ever really cared about beating someone, but that's only because I was supporting Ashley in her, "Craig Manning deserves chemical castration" tirade. Weird though, how the only two occurrences of my rare competitive side both involve this boy. But you know, coincidences do happen. It's nothing to give a second thought to.

What is worth giving second thought to is the fact that I might actually beat Craig to the water this time. Here I already am down to a shirt and my panties and he is still lagging behind me, bare-chested and struggling with his shoelaces. If I hadn't been giddy with the adrenaline rush of possible triumph I would have caught on to the strangeness of the situation, since he could have easily kicked his shoes off without untying them as I had, but I was and I didn't. But then I was a few steps away from the water's edge and he was upon me, taking full advantage of the distance between us to get a running start and launch a surprise attack. In a second he had scooped me up into his arms, bridal style, and suddenly we were both leaping off the ground and crashing into the water as one tangled mess of arms and legs.

I don't like surprises. I don't like to be helpless. I don't like to be tricked. But for some reason this time it was okay. This time I laughed, trying helplessly to conceal a smile behind narrowed eyes and clenched fists once we surfaced. I shoved him forcefully, though not quite with the force I knew would take to drive us apart. Still, he stood unmoving against my efforts and grinned at me deviously, capturing my wrists when I attempted to land blows against him for a second time.

"Craig let go of me. Now. Seriously, I don't want to have to hurt you."

"Aww Elle," he murmured, using his grip to draw me in closer to him, "You know you just don't have it in you to hurt someone as devastatingly handsome as me." A hand snaked its way from around my wrists to across my back. "But I, on the other hand," another arm joined the first one wound around my ribcage, "have no trouble," His grip tightened and our middles were touching," hurting the beautiful."

Wait, did he just...

And then he ducked, jerking the both of us underwater in an instant and filing my nose with a stinging invasion of water. He held us there, staring at me intently and releasing one arm from around me to bring in front of our faces. I was shocked, obviously, what with our sudden change of scenery and the lack of oxygen burning painfully in my lungs and the force of the water burning painfully up my nose and it took a second for my dazed brain to comprehend what the hell he was doing. Then I got it.

Those fucking hand signals.

Calling him an unfriendly name, (which ended up being a more of a garbled and bubbly expulsion,) I shot to the surface and waited impatiently for him to follow. When it was clear that he was going to continue being an ass and show off his superb talents at holding his breath underwater, I decided to take things into my own hands.

Literally.

I plunged a hand into the depths and quickly made contact with his newly cropped head of brown hair. With an unforgiving yank I hauled him out of the water, bringing the boy to stand in front of me. Grimacing with pain and pouting slightly, his signal-giving hands migrated up north and began to massage his assaulted scalp.

"Ow!"

"Aww, come on you big baby, Ash said you liked it rough."

"Oh yeah? Well so does you Mom!"

"Wow." I cocked an eyebrow, " Did you really just throw a 'your Mom' comeback at me? Manning, if we are going to hang out then you are seriously going to have to put upgrade your insults from a grade-school level of mockery. I simply can't be associated with someone who utters that kind of unintelligent babble."

He squinted his eyes slyly at me and crossed him arms over his chest.

"Well your Mom likes my unintelligent babble. As a matter of fact, I was making her babble unintelligently for hours last night. Pretty much all I could make out was 'Oh Craig, Oh Craig, Oh baby, OH GOD!' But you can't blame her, I do tend to have that kind of effect on women."

Seriously. Eww.

"Are you trying to bathe in my projectile vomit Craig? Because you are only about two words away from being covered in the stuff."

"Aww, well that certainly would suck Elle. Wherever would I find a place to wash it off?"He said with a sheepish grin, dropping his confrontational stance. Uncrossing his arms, he reached over to brush a strand of hair out of my face, tucking it gently behind my ear. His hands were warm, despite their wetness, and tough with the calluses earned from years of devoted guitar playing. My lips parted slightly of their own accord, and his eyes twinkled with an innocent sincerity when he spoke.

"Your hair is curly when it's wet. How come you never wear it like this to school?"

Wordlessly, I shrugged and stared down at the water, fingers twisting nervously at the tousled curls of his question.

"You should, you know. I like it."

Why was a feverish blush burning its way up my neck? Why had my heart started thumping uncontrollably the instant his hand brushed against my forehead? Why the hell was this boy I had never given a shit about before suddenly making me feel so...so unsettled?

The answers to these questions scared me, so I rolled my eyes and changed the subject abruptly, pushing the growing unease as deep down as I possibly could. Without much luck.


He He, So, what do YOU think is the reason Ellie is blushing?