Meet Me at Midnight - Jessica Pennington Page 0,10

break eye contact as I smile, and hope Dad doesn’t call me on the lie I’m hoping will deter Asher. Even he’s not going to give up thirty minutes of sleep just to torment me.

Asher gives me his own smile, and I wonder if anyone else realizes it’s more killer than kind. “Not a problem,” he says coolly.

Dad claps his hands together. “That’s settled.” He lets out a relieved breath and shakes his head, like he just woke himself from some sort of nightmare.

“I didn’t realize it was so horrible,” I say, my voice soft but biting.

Dad gives me a sympathetic glance. “It’s not, Chipmunk—”

God, that nickname. I shoot Asher a warning look, and his face is pinched tight, his shoulders lightly shaking.

“It’s just”—he lets out a sigh—“it’s so early. And … boring.” His face mirrors the shock in my own, like he can’t believe he said it. I can’t believe he said it out loud. My dad—the guy who prides himself on having shown up to every one of my mom’s meets in college—admits that watching his daughter train bores him?

I take a drink of my water, setting my glass down softly. “But we always do the morning swims together.”

“I know, but this is Ash’s thing, too … maybe he can even give you some tips while he’s at it.”

I snort. Asher as spotter, making sure I’m not hit by a rogue fishing boat? Okay, fine. But my pseudo-coach? No. Hard pass. I give Dad a little smile that I hope says, Sure, I’ll think about it.

Across the table, Asher is smiling at me. I fight the urge to scowl and stab a piece of broccoli instead.

“I’ll meet you at the boat at six,” he says, lifting a cob of sweet corn to his mouth and taking a slow, deliberate bite.

“Six fifteen,” I correct. “I like to shower and wake up first.” I’d like to leave at six thirty like usual, but now my lie is out there, and it’s going to cost me fifteen minutes of precious sleep.

Asher bites his bright yellow corn cob in a slow, straight line, holding my eyes. There’s a smile hidden there, and I try to school my face and the scowl I can feel brewing. He takes the last bite at the end and mouths ding.

I almost lose it. My mother and her stupid stories. A few years ago my mother just had to tell everyone the “cute story” about how I used to eat my corn on the cob like the old-fashioned electric typewriter my grandma had when I was little. I’d eat it in a straight line, say ding! when I reached the end, then start in on the next row. Chomp, chomp, chomp, chomp, ding! Chomp, chomp, chomp, ding! Only Asher would remember that stupid story a million years later. Does he take notes somewhere? Record all of these stupid family conversations on his phone?

“Six-fifteen.” He smiles behind the cob. “Should be fun.”

Fun. I think he and I have different definitions of the word.

“Definitely. Don’t forget your suit, you can take the leg back,” I say. “I’d be happy to give you some pointers as well.”

Asher smiles and our parents chat across the table about winery trips and new restaurants to check out, as if we’ve become invisible again. “Looking forward to it.”

DAY 3

Sidney

The next morning, I am nearly unconscious. You would think, since I’ve been getting up at the crack of dawn every other day of vacation for the last five years, it wouldn’t be an issue anymore—that my body would remember what’s happening and snap into gear—but when 6 a.m. rolls around it’s not familiar, it’s painful. So painful. Like my eyelids will need to be surgically separated if they’re ever going to function properly again. My room is dark and the hallway is dark, and I think maybe I’ve seen the light of day for the last time as I stumble toward the bathroom door. My eyelids are permanently closed. This is my life now.

I slink into the bathroom, opting for the dim light above the vanity, rather than the fluorescent box that hangs over the little shower stall. Stripping off my tank and shorts, I step into the shower, ready to be blasted awake by the cold. I could just wait to jump into the frigid lake, but I’d rather shake off the sleepiness before I start training. Especially for my first morning swim with Asher. Gah, even just thinking about it is miserable. He’ll