I open the door a crack and see him grinning on the other side. He comes in and shuts the door, sitting down next to me on the edge of the Jacuzzi tub. Even though it’s the downstairs bathroom, the one right next to the guest room, it’s still huge, twice the size of my parents’ bathroom. Next to the sink, there’s a framed photograph of Danielle from middle school, standing proudly next to a horse. I turn away from her stare.
We sit in silence on the edge of the tub. Somehow it was easier to talk to him through the door, to remember how to be his friend when I couldn’t see him. Now that he’s next to me, his left leg against my right, the slight smell of him—his sweat, his shampoo, the beer that’s now drying in his hair—is making me dizzy.
“Is this how it’s going to be?” I ask finally. I pick at a thread hanging from my shorts. “I was always so proud of us because we’d managed to stay friends after growing up. But maybe we just have to accept the fact that it doesn’t work.”
“Of course it works,” he says. “It’s been working for years. Just because we kissed in a stupid game, it doesn’t mean we can’t—”
“It wasn’t just that stupid game,” I say. “It was everything else. It was the Plan. It was you seeing me naked, touching my boobs.” Saying it out loud, I burst into unexpected laughter. Andrew starts laughing too, and I feel something ease inside of me.
“They’re nice boobs,” he says, and I swat him. His eyes widen and he loses balance, falling backward into the empty tub. I yelp as he pulls me with him so that I land hard on his stomach, bumping my elbow against the porcelain.
“Ow!” I hold up my elbow where I know a bruise is going to form. But I can feel him shaking with laughter beneath me, and so I’m laughing too. It all feels so natural again, like the old days.
“Can we just stay here the rest of the night?” I ask. “I don’t want to go back out there.”
“Deal,” he says, leaning back into the empty tub and rearranging himself so we fit sort of comfortably. He sits back against one end and brings his legs inside, bent at the knee. I sit back against the other end, so that we’re facing each other. The tub’s nozzle is right next to my neck and I have to tilt my head to the left to avoid it. He folds his arms behind his neck and closes his eyes, pretending like we’re in a real hot tub.
“Comfy?” I ask.
He nods with his eyes closed. “Remember when we used to take baths together? How did we ever fit?”
“You weren’t a hundred feet tall back then.”
“You’re still the same size,” he says, and then breaks into a grin. “Most places.”
“Shut up.” I push him with my bent knee.
“Hey, we should turn the water on. Pretend it’s ten years ago. Hot tub time machine.”
“What?” I ask, even though I’ve heard him.
“Let’s fill up the tub.”
“We’re in our clothes,” I say, knowing as I say it that I’ve started blushing.
“So? Live a little. I have to wash my hair anyway.”
“Yeah, you stink.”
“Cecilia dumped a beer on me.”
“You probably deserved it.”
“Yeah, I did,” he says. Then he unbends his leg and reaches a foot up to the faucet, using it to turn on the water. It shoots down onto my shoulder.
“Turn it off!” I shriek. “It’s cold!” I scramble to get out of the stream, but the more I move, the more I slip, water spraying everywhere.
“It’ll warm up in a sec,” he says, and I reach a hand under the faucet to splash him. But even as I do, I feel the stream of water turn deliciously warm. “See?” he says when I splash him again. He wipes the water off his face and runs a wet hand through his hair. I give up and lean back