Coming Up For Air | ✓

11 | the splashing cove

"And now: let go!"

A soft, warm breeze trickles by just as Stella squeezes her eyes shut—lifting her hair as she lets her hold of the sturdy, sand-colored rope ease, feeling it slip through her fingers. Clasping her palms together, she brings them close to her chest as her hair flutters against her shoulders, the wind a whoosh in her ears as she falls. And then she reaches the surface of the lake with a great splash.

Despite having been at the mercy of the sun's rays all day long, there's a chill to the temperature of the water as it wraps around her, having small goosebumps erupt along Stella's warm skin as she swims back up. Emerging, she bats her eyes open and lets her lips form a wide smile.

"Amateur."

Mouth falling open with a small puff of air, Stella narrows her eyes at Jake and speaks through a chortled breath. "Excuse you?"

Treading water, Jake inches back as Fizzy swims past them in the formation of an eight. "You closed your eyes."

Disregarding her usual seamless graceful swim-movements, Stella kicks back to float on her back and lets her heel come down hard against the surface with a precise aim to splash water in Jake's face.

A hint of amusement dances over her lips as she stares up at the mild early evening sky. "You just told me to swing myself off a cliff, of course I closed my eyes."

She lets her gaze drift sideways to said cliff, which isn't a cliff at all. A half-steep patch of stone would be a more precise description of the terrain that sits in the center of the small bay. At best.

Trees wind around it in half a circle, creating the illusion of a cove. The cove. The crowns of the trees are a splatter of green against the blue sky, the leaves rustling with the faint sway of the wind. They operate as a border, separating this small patch of a Blue Windflower Lake landmark (Jake's words, not hers) from the rest of the town. And the world.

A strong rope swing hangs from one of the highest branches, creating a pathway from the edge of the cliff into the lake stretching out below.

The splashing cove.

That's what Jake had called it earlier, around noon, when he'd suggested they go. They'd been sat at the dock, an already solved crossword-puzzle between them as Stella painted her—and then his—nails in a soft pink color.

A few hours later, as the sweltering heat of the day transcended into a more comfortable warmth, they left the house behind—striped beach-totes packed to the brim hanging from the handlebars of their bicycles as they'd set off, Fizzy at their heels. Performing a sure to be tone-deaf duet of 'A Whole New World', clothes sticking to their skin despite the breeze as they biked side by side along a gravel path. The song's been stuck on their brains for the past three days, the two of them having spent their Tuesday cooped up in the house: favoring a slow day of watching movies and accidentally napping together on the couch rather than spend it out in the sun. A pause, of sorts.

They'd continued to sing while climbing through the woods, having left their bikes to the side of the road. Though—while lifting tree branches out of their way, letting them whip behind them in the still quite warm breeze—every now and then, Stella had momentarily paused in her song to pose the most important question one has ever asked through the history of time: Are we there yet?

Sidestepping roots, whirling around patches of sprigs, reaching his hands out to help her up steeper stones, Jake had continued to shoot her amused—yet slightly tired—looks, the word soon falling from his lips before she barely had the chance to ask again.