Evan Massey | firstname.lastname@example.org
First and foremost, Angela is a beautiful girl. I never thought that someone like me would be with someone like her. Yet, here I was. But Angela also did things. Spontaneous things. Things like climbing the fence of our community pool at night. This night. That’s what she was doing.
She had made it halfway over and was now climbing down on the other side. I studied her navel as the bottom of her small shirt pulled up from her climbing. She jumped down onto the concrete. We look in each others eyes through the holes in the fence.
“Your turn,” she says, from the other side.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” I say. “We’ll get caught.”
“Come on. You love me right?”
I’m looking into her eyes. “Yes,” I say.
“Then, climb over.”
I stood there for a moment with all of my fears. Things I was scared of. Fearing that she’d
leave me if I don’t climb. I kick off my boots and put them in the grass. They’ll only make it harder. I made my way up the tall green chain link fence in my socks. The stars stared back at me as I climbed. I counted them in the attempt to make my fear of heights go away. Fifteen, I say to myself, trembling. I swing my leg over the top. My foot searches, then catches a nice spot in the fence and I begin to climb down to her.
“See,” Angela says. “It’s not so bad.”
Yes it is, I think to myself.
When my foot touches the concrete I let out a long breath. I put my two feet on the ground then turn toward Angela. She plants a kiss on my cheek. I blush. I do more than blush. She takes my hand and pulls me. She pulls me and we walk to the deep end of the pool. I stare at the water as Angela leads. The water is dark and I begin to remember. This time will be different, I think to myself. Nothing will happen this time.
Those thoughts leave me when Angela begins to undress.
“Don’t look,” she says, slipping off her shoes.
I cover my eyes.
“I’m kidding.” She giggles. “You can look.”
I drop my hands and I watch. Angela is a beautiful girl. She slips off her shirt and her bra is exposed. Then she pulls at her jeans until they are a scrunched hunk of denim at her pretty feet. I examine. The night carries a chill. She folds her arms.
“Your turn,” she says.
I look around. I pat the side of my pants and scan all directions. Then I look at the water. I can’t see the bottom. Then I look in Angela’s eyes. I yank off my socks. I pull at the sleeve of my shirt and bring my arm through then yank the whole thing over my head, then off. Next, I start in on my zipper and slide off my pants. The night gets colder. I’m exposed.
Angela slips into the pool like it’s nothing. She goes under and I become wary. Then Angela comes back up and the wariness leaves. Her hair sticks to her neck and her shoulders. She wipes her eyes then smiles at me.
“Get in,” she says.
I shake my head.
“Don’t you love me?” she says.
I say, “Yes.”
“So get in. No, jump in,” she says. “Dive.” She laughs.
“Angela,” I say and I pause.
Angela tilts her head and her hair falls to one side. She looks at me like this. I submit. I walk to the edge. I look around once more for a reason not to jump in with Angela. The dark water settled around her body. Things will go different this time. I hope. To my left I see a sign. No running. No swallowing pool water. No diving.
I look back at Angela.
“Dive in,” she says. “Come on.”
“I don’t know,” I say.
“If you love me, you will.”
I gather myself. She’ll leave me if I don’t dive, it was certain. I took off my fears and laid them down alongside our clothes. The water is dark and I can’t see the bottom, but Angela is beautiful. I have no choice.
May 10, 2017
Evan Massey is from Richmond, Virginia. He is former military. Evan writes in Oxford, Mississippi where he currently attends the University of Mississippi. He is a Philosophy major, but his passion is writing. He enjoys reading Raymond Carver, Ernest Hemingway, and Tillie Olsen. Evan is currently constructing his first collection of stories. He also has work published in Literally Stories.