EMILIA
I guess sometimes you have to be shivering, bone-deep cold before you can rethink your life choices.
I surface, coughing and laughing, water streaming down my face. Liam comes up right after me, spluttering.
“You pulled us over!”
“You leaned!”
“You panicked!”
“I laughed!”
He glares at me, soaking wet, hair stuck to his forehead. “You owe me dry clothes.”
“Says the one who was just boasting about his steering technique! Look, now my cardigan’s all wet.”
If possible, his glare intensifies. “It’s not even yours.”
Details, details.
We tread water for a moment, breathing hard, the air quiet around us except for our laughter and the gentle ripple of waves. Despite everything — despite the bickering and the shivering — I don’t want to be anywhere else.
Or maybe just in Tessa’s
