13
I clung to the edge of the dock, chest-deep in liquid that felt far too viscous and smelled far too foul to be simple H2O. Like rotten egg, rotted dead animal, and rotting gym shoes rolled into one: a complete conjugation of stink, finished with a soupçon of petrochemicals. I hesitated.
“In for a pound,” JD whispered.
It was getting dark, but I could swear the jerk was grinning. I grimaced and let go. At the last second, I realized I couldn’t touch bottom. I threw my head back and kept my mouth and eyes above the water. JD grabbed me, clearly able to stand. Damn tall jerk.
“Can you swim?” he asked. I was still looking straight up instead of at him, but it didn’t sound like he was smiling anymore.
“Not with you holding me in place,” I whispered.
He released me and my head went unde
