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"You know, the goal is to keep your head above the water."

I glared up at Blake, wishing I could jump out of the pool and smack that stupid smirk off his face. Since I had done so well with the whole float-on-your-back thing, Blake had decided it was the right time to take me into the shallow end of the bigger pool and teach me how to tread water. He'd demonstrated how I was supposed to kick my legs and circle my arms, but he made it look much easier than it actually was. I was getting tired of lifting my feet up, flailing my limbs, falling under the water, and then standing back up.

Blake, however, didn't seem to be getting tired of watching me.

"This is impossible!" I groaned.

"You're not even trying," Blake scoffed, plopping down on the end of one of the recliners by the side of the pool.

"I am trying!"

"Kick your legs more."

I took a deep breath and submerged myself up to my neck in the water. Then I lifted up my feet and began kicking furiously. I barely heard the beginning of Blake's chuckle before my head sunk under the water. I put my feet back down onto the bottom of the pool and stood up, chlorine burning my eyes and Blake's full-on laughter bombarding my ears.

"Shut up!" I snarled.

Blake stopped immediately, his lips quivering with the effort.

"I'm sorry, Alaska."

I quirked an eyebrow.

"Okay, fine. I'm not." Blake leaned back in the recliner, kicking his feet up and putting his hands behind his head. "I just don't get how someone can get to the age of seventeen without learning how to swim."

"I'm from Alaska. There was no water where I grew up."

"None?"

He sounded a little shocked. Of course, someone who had lived by the ocean for his or her entire life probably couldn't even fathom the idea of not being near water.

"Well, there was a pond behind my school," I said, "but it was frozen."

"Even in the summer?"

Blake's eyes were somehow even bluer than the pool water. I realized I was staring and hadn't answered him, so I gave a quick nod and ducked back down into the water.

He sat up and reached down to where he had set his shirt, shoes, phone, and sunglasses. I tried not to watch his tan, freckled arms flex as he slipped a pair of black Ray-Bans over his eyes. "Wake me up when you can keep your head above the water for more than three seconds."

I stared at him for a moment.

He had to be kidding.

Blake was supposed to be teaching me how to swim, not napping.

With all the strength I could muster, I lifted up my arm and then swung it down again, sending a wave of cool water up over the edge of the pool. I grinned as the water rained down on Blake, who flinched and bolted upright in the recliner. He tore off his sunglasses and glared down at me, looking even more pissed than last night when his parents had ordered him to take me to the beach bash.

"Really?" he hissed.

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to cool you off. You're a bit of a hot-head, you know."

Blake stared at me for another second.

And then he smiled.

The wicked grin on my face fell as I tried to figure out why Blake was smiling at me like that. I watched as he delicately set his overpriced sunglasses down on the patio, then rose from the recliner.

What was he... oh, sweet Jesus.

Before I could even turn around to climb out of the pool, Blake had taken two long strides across the patio and jumped. I gasped and shielded my face as he cannonballed into the pool, sending a giant cascade of water over me. Just as I peeked out through my fingers to see if the coast was clear, Blake burst through the surface of the water. I let out a scream as he brought his arm down against the water, splashing me again and again.

"Stop!" I squealed.

I turned and, without thinking, brought my own hands down on the water.

It was war.

Blake and I splashed each other mercilessly. He was stronger than I was, so his waves were about twice as big as mine, but I kept attacking. Through the sound of our splashing, I heard a strange noise.

Blake was laughing.

Really, truly laughing.

"You're so dead!" he declared.

Just like that, Blake's arms wrapped around my waist. I let out a noise that sounded somewhere in between a gasp and a horse choking on an apple as Blake lifted me up off my feet and over his shoulder. My heart seemed to stutter as I felt a million things at once. Blake's big, warm, tan arms were smooth against my waist. His wet hair was soft against my skin. His shoulder was surprisingly hard as it dug into my stomach.

Oh God, I thought, please don't let my bathing suit fall off.

And then, for the second time in one day, I was tossed into the water against my will.

For a moment, it was quiet and all I felt were bubbles of air tickling my skin. But then, a hand encircled my upper arm and yanked me upwards almost violently.

I coughed a little and blinked in the sunlight.

Then I saw Blake.

I couldn't understand the expression he wore. It was somewhere in between nervous and despondent, and his eyes were glazed over as if he were thinking about something that was painful to remember. A sad memory, perhaps. But I didn't understand why that would make him feel the urge to grab my arm and pull me out of the water.

"Are you okay?" I asked worriedly.

It felt a little silly that I was asking him the question, as if he was the one who had just been dunked in the water. But he looked a little dazed.

"I'm fine." His voice was hoarse.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

He wasn't telling me something.

"Blake?" I asked, my voice a whisper.

"I said I'm fine," Blake snapped. He took a step back from me, then exhaled harshly. "It's just, you can't swim, so it probably wasn't the best idea to toss you into the deep end."

"It's not that deep," I told him. "Look! I'm standing."

Blake frowned as he noticed that I was, indeed, standing.

"Sorry," he shook his head again, "I just thought..."

He trailed off.

"I'm fine," I told him, "Besides, you were right here. I wasn't going to drown or anything."

For a long moment, we just stared at each other. There was something in the way Blake's blue eyes glistened that made me think that there was something he still hadn't told me, and at the same time, he wanted to tell me.

"Did you know someone who drowned?" I asked.

I wasn't sure why the words came out like that. They just did. I wasn't even sure how I came up with the question. But maybe my subconscious was smarter than I gave it credit for.

Blake's eyes went wide.

"Who told you?" he asked, his voice so soft I could barely hear it.

"Told me what?"

"About my mom."

"Your mom?"

Blake blinked at me, his face twisted in confusion. "So you don't know?"

"Know what?" I demanded.

"Never mind," Blake said quickly, turning his back to me and placing his hands on the ledge of the pool. I watched him lift himself up out of the water, his wet skin glistening in the sunlight as he hurried over to where his shirt, shoes, cell phone, and sunglasses were.

"Wait!" I protested, hurrying after him. "What don't I know?"

By the time I managed to pull myself out of the pool with my weak little arms, Blake already had his shoes and shirt on. Just as he stood up from the recliner, his cell phone vibrated. I caught a glimpse of the name above the text message before Blake could pick it up.

Alissa Hastings.

Why would she be texting him?

I watched Blake's face as he picked up his phone and read whatever she had sent him. He grimaced, then ran a hand through his hair and shot me a tight smile.

"Let's call it a day," he said.

I couldn't do anything but nod.

My mind was still racing, trying to figure out what Blake had been talking about before. What had happened to his mom?

And was he ditching me to go hang out with Alissa?

I felt my stomach twist into a giant knot.

But I had to be more fun to hang out with than his cheating, emotional wreck of an ex-girlfriend. Right? I felt like throwing up as I pulled on my shorts and T-shirt, unable to think of anything but Blake and Alissa, their arms intertwined and their faces beaming at each other. Why did that mental image make me so distraught? Once we were both fully dressed again, I followed Blake through the pool house, making sure to keep several feet of distance between us. Neither of us talked. The only sounds we made were the wet squeaks of his feet in his sneakers and the clacking of my flip-flops against the tile floor.

When we finally made it out of the building, I nearly cried in relief.

"You know the way home?" Blake asked.

He took a step backward. Away from me.

"Huh?"

"I've gotta run over to Alissa's place," he explained, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder in what I was sure was the opposite direction of Rachel's house. "Can you find your way back?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure."

God, I hope I didn't sound as hurt as I felt.

For a moment, I thought Blake had detected that something was wrong. He pressed his lips together in a tight line, then huffed.

"Take a right on Caldecott Lane, then walk three blocks towards the beach. Then you take a left at..." Blake repeated the instructions three times. I'm not sure why. Maybe he thought the chances of me getting lost on the walk back were really high, and he just didn't want to get in trouble with my aunt for leaving me unattended in a town I didn't know very well.

"Got it?" Blake asked.

"Got it."

He gave me a little half-smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. They still looked troubled.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked.

"Sure," I replied half-heartedly.

What if he and Alissa were back together by then?

Before I could do something stupid, like interrogate Blake about why he would want to go hang out at his ex-girlfriend's house, I turned and started walking towards Caldecott Lane.

"Waverly!" Blake called after me.

My head snapped around just a little too fast. Blake was still standing in front of the Holden Public Pool, his hands thrust into the pockets of his swim trunks. It was immediate déjà vu. Last night, when I had driven a very drunk Blake home, he had looked at me the same way. And I still couldn't understand what that look meant.

"Don't get lost," he said.

His smile was teasing. Before I could stop myself, I was smiling back at him.

"No promises!" 

And then I turned and took a right down Caldecott Lane.

With every step I took, the smile slowly disappeared from my face. Blake was going over to Alissa's house. That meant he still had feelings for her. So why did that hurt me so much? Did I have a crush on Blake? No, impossible. I wasn't falling for Blake. That was stupid. I had known the guy for two days, and he had hated my guts for half of that time. I was just astounded that someone like Alissa could find love while I couldn't. That explained why I felt so lonely and rejected all of a sudden.

Lonely and rejected.

I sounded like the epitome of teenage angst.

By the time I made it back to Rachel's house, I was exhausted. I slipped into the house, muttering only a small hello to Rachel before I hurried upstairs. I wasn't in the mood to have a long, lengthy conversation or watch The Bachelor. That show was all scripted anyways. Men just liked playing with women's emotions, and women just liked the chase. Besides, it wasn't like a couple on that show had ever worked out. They all broke up a few months after the show ended in a malicious media battle.

I had never in my life seen an example of two people working out.

Rachel and her boyfriend Phineas Jones hadn't worked out. Blake and Alissa were currently in the process of working out, but that would only last until she went crawling back to Ethan. My parents definitely hadn't worked out.

I stopped in the doorway of my bedroom.

It was their fault that I was even in Holden. My parents hated each other so much that they wouldn't agree to show up in the same courtroom to discuss who would get custody of me over the summer.

When I was eleven years old, I'd watched their marriage crumble. Family dinner slowly deteriorated into mama's going to fix macaroni and cheese for you while papa goes to the bar with his friends. The night my dad didn't come home from the bar was the last night his things were in our house. By the time he arrived the next afternoon, hungover and covered in lipstick, my mom had put all his things in suitcases on the front porch.

I stripped off my damp clothes and changed into pajamas. Falling asleep was going to be almost impossible. It didn't help that all I could think about was how Blake and Alissa were probably sucking on each other's faces off in some enormous house a mile or two away. My stomach twisted at the thought. I rolled over and buried my face in my pillow. 

Why could I still see Blake's smile in my mind? 

It was time to admit it. I was getting a teeny, tiny crush on Blake. I was getting a crush on a gorgeous lifeguard who had major issues with his gorgeous ex-girlfriend. I was getting a crush on my aunt's next-door neighbor who had a complicated family history I had only begun to figure out. And most importantly, I was getting a crush on a guy who couldn't ever be mine.

"Oh God," I moaned into my pillow. "I'm an idiot."

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