Dirty Dreams novel · Chapter 7 of 24

Chapter 7: The Lake

The lake is twenty minutes from our house, on a road that bends through corn.

I rode in the middle of the truck's bench seat, between Dylan at the wheel and Wyatt at the window.

Brody and Tate sat in the bed with the cooler.

Dylan hadn't said a word since I climbed in.

His jaw was tight, and he gripped the wheel with both hands.

My bare thigh pressed against Wyatt's jeans, and every bump in the road moved it.

Wyatt held himself so stiff I thought he might crack.

"You okay?" I murmured.

"Yeah," he said. "Fine."

He wasn't looking at me.

At the lake, Brody's brother met us at the dock, handed over the keys to a small white boat, and left without asking what we were doing.

We motored out to a cove where the trees came down to the water.

Brody dropped the anchor and was in the lake before it hit bottom.

"Last one in is a coward," he yelled, and Dylan went over the side after him with a shout, and then Tate, who stripped off his shirt and dived in without making a splash.

Wyatt didn't move.

I sat on the bench at the back of the boat in my bikini and watched the three of them splash toward a rock in the middle of the cove.

They were far enough that their voices came across the water in pieces.

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