Honestly, I’m surprised he remembered the day he eavesdropped on mine and my parents’ conversation.
“Man?” Ransom pushes.
“Oh, you mean he didn’t report back to you with every little detail from that day?” I joke, and Beretta chuckles. “Interesting.”
Ransom’s glare grows deeper and I laugh.
“I’m working on the next phase of spoiled rich girl, that’s all,” I mock myself before he can.
“And deeper into the pit she goes.”
“I was born in the pit, Ransom. It’s all about navigation.”
“And you’ve got all the direction you need, huh?”
I give a simple shrug. “Some people go to college after high school, others go to the altar.”
He looks my way, so I push my glasses up on my head.
After a short stare-off, in which his face remains blank, he scoffs, sips his drink and sits back, so I do the same, refusing to dwell on his little trip inside my head last night.
It’s a new day, yesterday forgotten, so for the next couple hours, we simply hang out.
No one whines for fresh-squeezed orange juice to complete their mimosas, complains the water is too cold, or throws a fit over their hair getting wet. There’s no hint of coconut oil in the air and no photo sessions.
It’s pretty damn nice.
Right as I think it, a splash of water blurs my vision.
Arsen grips me by the hips and lifts me into the air. A quick squeal escapes me, and I’m forced to wrap my legs around his body for stability, knowing full well we’re going in.
Sure enough, with me wrapped around him, he jumps into the deep end. His legs come up, crossing under mine, slowly allowing us to fall to the pool’s floor.
At the bottom, he releases me, and we try to sit with our legs crossed as gravity sends us back to the surface.
Laughing, I swim to the opposite end, where we set up some snack trays with items we found in the fridge from Gennie.
I pick up a small crab cake and push the entire thing in my mouth as Arsen swims up, opening his.
I shove one in, laughing when he nips at my fingers and nods toward the pitcher of water, his empty glass in his free hand.
As I pass it to him, I catch Ransom staring, and he doesn’t turn away, but Arsen pats my thigh, so I refocus on him.
He nods toward the waterfall.
“Go for it.” I laugh. “But you’re on your own with that one.”
With a grin, he takes off underwater.
His head pops up and he climbs out as Ransom lowers himself beside me.
He watches Arsen, a strained look in his eyes. “He likes you.”
I study him a moment and then decide. “That surprises you?”
As if he’s unsure my statement is true, his brows pinch.
“He doesn’t sign,” I ease, and Ransom looks to me. “Does that mean he can speak but doesn’t?”
“As long as I’ve known him, I’ve never heard him say a word,” he shares. “He saw some shit as a kid, things his dad did to his own mom. When someone finally called social services, his dad told him if he spoke a word, he’d find him and do worse. He told anyway and later, they gave him back to his dad, and the asshole made good on his promise. He couldn’t speak after, and once he got better, he decided he didn’t want to.” He shrugs.
My muscles clench and I look to Arsen. “He doesn’t need words. He speaks in his own way.”
“He’s fluent with you. Normally he just... stares or glares around other people, avoids as much as he can. Not with you.” A small frown mars his forehead. “He motions, and you understand, without annoyance or pause or frustration. People aren’t like that with him.”
“People like Scott.” I remember that day in cooking class.
When he doesn’t speak, I look his way, and his eyes are already on me.
“You’re not like them,” he says suddenly, a thick sense of certainty in his tone, and while I hold his gaze a moment, I’m forced to look away.
Sure, they’re superficial rich kids in every sense of the word, preparing to live the lives their parents laid out for them, but am I not doing the same?
At least they’re enjoying themselves as they wait, rather than watching the clock and wishing to get it over with already, like me.
Maybe I should be more like them than I already am.