Ivy sat in one of the fading Adirondack chairs on the little dock her grandparents built when they bought the lake house. Her family visited every fall without fail, bringing together all the cousins, aunts, and uncles who could only be seen on holidays. Plunk.
She felt something knock against the top of her skull and roll across the wood planks–it was a chestnut. The infernal trees were dropping nuts from their branches all over the place. Plunk. Another chestnut glanced across her shoulder followed by a low giggle somewhere behind her. Ivy snapped her head around so fast it was liable to fly off her neck and roll over the dock into the water.
“I swear Patrick that better be you giggling like an idiot in those woods,” Ivy shouted.
A man with sandy brown hair and soft gray eyes emerged from behind a patch of shrubbery with his hands up in mock innocence. He rubbed the back of his neck as a subtle rosy blush crept across his cheeks.
“I’ve been here for weeks and I haven’t seen you once.” Ivy stood up and gave him a light punch on the shoulder, crossing her arms in an attempt to look irritated that failed for her miserably. Patrick broke into a wide smile and pulled Ivy in for a firm hug. He smelled of cedar and sea salt from taking the boat out in the harbor earlier in the morning.
It had been five years since they met, the first fall her parents loaded up the car for their drive to the coast. They were kids then, with plenty of awkward moments and embarrassed blushes exchanged between them.
“We’re not fifteen anymore you know? You could have taken one of my eyes out with those things.” Ivy pulled away so she could get a better look at him, still circled by his arms. There were hints of boyishness in his face; though his jaw had sharpened his cheeks were round and his brow soft. She reached up and ran her fingers over his cheekbones, drawing them down the side of his face and jaw. “Is this okay?” Patrick’s eyes fluttered closed at her touch and goosebumps began to prickle across his skin.
“Yes,” he let out in a rasp.
He was thinking of the first time they kissed outside of the bookstore on Abbott Street. Ivy was in the middle of teasing him about loving the classics when he dipped his head down and kissed her quickly to make her stop. It was rare Ivy was stunned into silence, but she couldn’t pull out a single word jumbling around in her head, so she kissed him back. They were sixteen, and that was the moment he knew he was in trouble.
The Rummy Writer 