Boys of Summer by Jessica Brody Read Free Book Online Page B

reminding me of the way Jake and Jasper brush hair from their eyes in the bathtub.
    â€œOh my gosh! I’m so sorry! I saw you go under from my front porch. I totally thought you were drowning.” She spits out water. “Well, this is awkward.”
    I peer down into the water we’re both treading furiously. I can only see her from the chest up, but it looks like she’s wearing pajamas.
    â€œSorry to scare you,” I say, my pulse finally starting to slow.
    â€œNo! I’m sorry!” she’s quick to retort. “I’m a lifeguard. But I just finished training, so I’m still in that extra paranoid mode where I assume everyone is drowning. They kind of drill that into you. Better safe than sorry, you know?”
    She’s talking a lot. And very fast. It’s kind of cute. Not to mention impressive. That she can talk that fast and tread water at the same time.
    I laugh. “It’s fine. I just lost my board. I was looking for it.”
    â€œOh!” she exclaims. “I’ll help you look!”
    â€œYou don’t have to—” But it’s too late. She’s already dived under the water like a dolphin and is swimming away from me. I stare after her for a second, a little speechless, before taking off in the other direction.
    I swim a couple laps back and forth in a small area before finally giving up. I’m sure it’s washed up somewhere by now. But just as I’m about to head back to shore, I hear the girl call out, “Found it! I’ll bring it in!”
    I try to yell back “Thanks,” but a big wave takes me by surprise, splashing into my mouth, and I start choking again.
    â€œYou okay?” I hear her call. “Are you drowning this time?”
    I manage to cough the remainder of water from my lungs and yell, “No!”
    â€œJust checking!”
    When I finally reach the sand, she’s sitting next to my board like she’s been waiting for hours. She pops up as I pull myself from the water and tug at my twisted swim trunks, which have ridden up so high that they’re practically a Speedo.
    â€œSo sorry again,” she says, and I now have a full view of her. She’s definitely wearing pajamas. And not just, like, a random tank-top-and-shorts combo like Harper always wears to bed, but full-on, matching-top-and-bottom pajamas . They’re soaking wet and clinging to her body, which I admit is kind of a turn-on. And I can’t be sure, but are those little ducks on the fabric?
    She notices me looking and glances down, like she forgot what she was wearing. I half expect her to blush and try to cover herself up. Most girls would if they were caught out of their house in duck pajamas. But she doesn’t. She just laughs.
    â€œI was about to go to bed,” she explains. “I stepped out onto the porch to say good night to the ocean, and that’s when I saw you, you know, not drowning.”
    I shake my head, certain I misunderstood. “I’m sorry, did you say you were saying good night to the ocean?”
    Once again she shows no embarrassment. “Yeah. You know, like ‘good night, room; good night, moon; good night, cow jumping over the moon.’ ”
    I recognize the words. They’re from a book I used to read to the twins. It was one of the few they’d actually sit still long enough to finish. But it doesn’t mean I’m able to follow anything she’s saying.
    â€œSo you say good night to the moon, too?”
    â€œSometimes. But mainly just the ocean. I’ve never actually slept by the ocean. This is my family’s first summer here. We live in western Mass. Like, near Amherst? We’re renting one of those cottages.” She points up the beach. “Sometimes we go to a lake house in the Berkshires in the summer, but ‘Good night, lake’ just doesn’t have the same ring to it, you know?”
    â€œBut why do you say good night to