Nova is lousy at lying.

By the way she's staring at my mouth, I can tell she's thinking about kissing me.

It's something I've noticed in the past couple of weeks. Minus Canada Day, she's been surprisingly open with me. Or maybe I'm just getting better at reading her. We have spent a fair amount of time together, and I can't say I'm not a fan of this sudden closeness. Despite the fact that whenever I spend time with Nova it becomes harder to consider what's going to happen when summer ends, I enjoy being with her.

I still wish time would slow the hell down, though. It's moving too fast, at an alarmingly irregular pace.

I'm going to miss my roommate more than anyone could possibly comprehend.

I've been thinking about what Hazel said, yet every time I try to ask Nova out, all I feel is disappointment. Asking her out would make things formal, which feels wrong to me. She's going to be in a different dorm room when fall arrives. So how is that fair to either of us?

Our lives have been different since the moment we met, and I should have known that we could never be more than friends.

"Is the water going to be cold?" Nova asks.

Discarding my depressing thoughts for the time being, I shrug. "Depends on what you consider to be cold."

Her eyes widen, and she begins to try to worm her way out of my arms. "Warren," she says, "put me down. Right now. I can't stand cold water."

I contemplate her words. "I'll pass – you need to cross swimming in the ocean off of your bucket list. Oh, and the sand is hot. I wouldn't want you to burn your feet."

Surprisingly, maybe due to the fact that I'm stronger than her, Nova stops struggling and sighs. "Damn it. You could have gotten a scholarship for anything, yet it had to be volleyball. It had to be a sport."

"Are you saying I'm in good shape?" I smirk.

"Shut up," she mutters.

I grin. Stupidly.

As it turns out, the water is cold, but not nearly as cold as the lake was. I, however, barely notice the temperature because all I can focus on is how hot Nova is in her black bikini. Yeah, I'm ogling and maybe I'm fantasizing about what slathering her back with sunscreen would be like once we get out of the water, but where's the harm in that?

Damn, she's gorgeous.

And, thank God the water is cold or else I would be in one embarrassing predicament.

Once I'm waist-deep, I stop and take my time to look at her. Whatever energy she had focused on getting out of my grip is now focused on the water. I watch as she runs her hand through it.

"It's not too bad," she mutters. She looks up at me. "Why are you still carrying me? We're in the water now; there's no possible way I could burn my feet. Put me down."

I shrug, and the motion causes her body to move against mine. The friction of skin against skin is enough to make me bite my cheek. Damn the things she does to me.

Nova flicks water in my face.

"What was that for?" I ask.

"For not putting me down as I asked."

I eye her...

And then I drop her from my arms.

She comes up sopping wet and sputtering. "What the hell, Warren?" she demands, splashing more water at me.

I'm too busy laughing to care about the water, and I think that's why, when she throws her weight at me, I'm caught off-guard. I stumble, reaching out for the first thing I can grab to regain my balance. My hand clamps down on her shoulder, which is something she's not expecting.

It's like a chain reaction: my movement causes her to stumble, which causes me to stumble, which causes both of us to fall into the water.

When we rise back to the surface, we're both sitting on the ocean floor. The water is up to my shoulders and up to Nova's chin. She's glaring at me, but I can tell she's trying to prevent herself from laughing.

"This is ridiculous," she says, the corner of her mouth twitching. "We're acting like children."

Leave it to Nova Elliot to overthink and look at the logical side of a playful situation. "Being a kid is fun," I say. "Don't you ever want to think back to a memory and define it as ecstatic? Like being a kid again?"

She squints up at the bright sky, and then, without saying a word, she dives forward and swims away from me.

I frown after her, watching as she swims out to the buoys that line the swimming area. Just when I thought our conversation was about to go somewhere, she shuts it down. It's a pattern I'm beginning to notice with her. If something that could lead to a deep conversation is brought up, she runs or changes the topic in an abrupt manner.

Shaking my head, I swim after her. It doesn't take me long to catch up. Not because she's slow, but because she's taking her time, enjoying the water and the sun. I can understand that. But what I can't understand is why the air between us, through the heat of the sun, suddenly feels twenty degrees colder. I know for a fact that I didn't say anything that could have offended her.

"Nova," I say, grabbing her shoulder.

She tries to jerk out of my grip.

I don't let go.

"Nova," I repeat.

This time, she turns to look at me, and I see the sheen of saltwater across her brow, running down her neck, making the skin of her breasts glisten. With an exceeding amount of self-control, I tear my eyes away from her breasts and look at her face. Her brown eyes hold a haunted look.

"What?" she asks.

"What happened on Canada Day?" I ask softly. "I followed you after you left the dock, but I ran into my sister. She didn't tell me a damned thing, so what happened? Did I say something?"

I wrack my brain, replaying the events of that night. I had thought everything was perfect – the food, the drinks, the games of bocce ball, the laughter, the bonding. What did I miss?

Nova shakes her head, strands of wet auburn hair plastering to her forehead. "It doesn't matter. It's over now."

"It matters to me," I argue. "What's with you? One moment you're happy and I think you like me, and the next you're upset and back to resenting me. I'm starting to get whiplash. Just tell me what happened so I can have a better understanding. So I don't hurt you again – accidentally or purposely."

Her face transforms into a look of dread; she looks broken and torn. It only confuses me more. I don't understand her feelings and how they can bounce in different directions so quickly.

I don't understand her.

"Warren...I can't talk about it right now. I'm not ready. Not yet. I promised Hazel I would tell you. And I will. Just let me think about it a little more."

I suppress an eye roll. I'm so sick of this shit. She knows more about me than I do about her, and it makes Nova a hypocrite. She was the one who said we needed to get to know each other better for the illusion we pulled over my parents. After sharing a personal story that my parents don't even know, you'd think she'd say something. Just a small piece of goddamned information that I could work with.

Loosening a frustrated breath, I decide to give up. I know her good enough to know that she is extremely stubborn, and this is one of those times where she's not going to give me what I want.

"You know what?" I say, shaking my head. Drops of water fly around, dotting the wavy surface. "Forget I said anything. Whatever. If you want to keep pushing people away, then be my guest."

She gapes at me, and for a moment I think I've hurt her. But she sighs and says, "You're right."

"Wait. What?" I ask in disbelief.

"I said that you are right," she replies. "It's what I do when people are trying to help me or get to know me. I push them away until they realize they're being senseless and need to get away from someone like me."

"And what," I say, "is that supposed to mean?"

"What did Hazel tell you?" she counters.

I run a hand through my wet hair. Now that we're actually going somewhere with this conversation, I'm anxious. One wrong word and I could mess this all up. "She said you were dealing with something that has a hand in why you're so against relationships. That it was something tough and personal."

"That's all?"

I look at Nova. "When my sister promises something, she never goes back on it. Trust me, I've basically begged her to tell me. So you'll be happy to know that I still know shit."

A small smile tugs at her lip, and the very sight makes me think about today and the next two days. We're supposed to be relaxing, enjoying ourselves and exploring. We should be saving this conversation for another time.

"Listen to me, Scotia" – I grin when she rolls her eyes – "I'm sorry, okay? You're just hard to figure out and I'm impatient. I understand how hard it can be to reveal your past to someone. But I also know that getting it off your chest, like Sven did when he told me and East about his addiction, can help you move on. So, although I'm the biggest ass on campus, just remember that I'm here to talk."

I don't know when the space between us became nonexistent, but realization hits me hard when I see my hands cupping her face. I'm too shocked to move.

"Okay?" I whisper.

"Okay," she replies breathlessly.

My eyes move to her lips. I think about the times I've touched mine to hers. I'm never going to be able to get enough of them; the softness, the taste, the way she kisses me back.

In the corner of my vision, I see her hand come up to rest on my bicep. An electric zing goes through my body as her skin makes contact with mine.

"Okay," she says.

Her voice is barely audible over the sound of the waves crashing against the shore, but it doesn't stop me from leaning down and kissing her. Instantly, she pulls away, her cheeks flushed pink. It's these types of reactions that make me wonder just how intimate she's been with a guy.

I turn her face back to mine and kiss her again, softer now. Softer so she realizes I'm not going to get carried away. She wraps her arms around me and because the water is too deep for her height, her legs embrace my thighs. Her hands stroke my hair and then my face, and then they move to my bare chest.

There are so many things going on that I can barely keep my sanity from drowning; all I can focus on is how salty her lips are, how she smells like coconuts and sunscreen and saltwater.

But maybe it's a good thing I'm distracted. I'm used to being in complete control, to dictating what a woman and I do.

I keep my hands on her face, gently resting them there and not pulling her closer – though I desperately want to. I also don't let them explore certain areas, which is something I want to do even more. The things I could do to her and how I could make her feel...shit.

We kiss until I'm certain the ache and the longing for her are going to take hold of me.

And then she pulls away.

The first thing I see is a look of guilt, causing reality to hit me hard. She knows she deserves better than me. She knows this kiss was a mistake.

So, before she can say anything to me, I smile. "Just a kiss, right? No strings attached."

To keep at least a piece of my pride, I turn and head back to the shore.

I don't know what I was thinking – kissing her like I did.

When the summer ends, so does this. She'll be leaving the dorm room and I'll be continuing on with my life.

As I lay down on the towel, I try not to think about how lonely it's going to be without her.