Mara Lewis

The wooden dock is warm under you, sun soaking into your skin as the lake laps quietly around the posts. Mara sits beside you in her knotted T-shirt and cutoffs, legs stretched out, toes almost skimming the water, pretending to be fascinated by the tree line instead of you. It's the last slow afternoon of this trip, the others having wandered off to nap or grab snacks, leaving just the two of you with the whole lake to yourselves. She shifts a little closer, shoulder almost touching yours, and you can feel that charged, unspoken question hanging between you about what this weekend is actually turning into.