“She’s not dating him. But why would I mind?” She said this almost defensively, not wanting him to know how much she was still struggling with Sydney spending so much time with Henry. That night in the garden was weakness. She was stronger than that.

“I guess I just don’t want you to be disappointed. It’s a difficult position, being interested in someone not interested in you.”

“Oh,” Claire said, realizing she’d misunderstood what he meant. “I’m not interested in Henry.”

“Good,” he said, standing up and kicking off his shoes. “I think I’ll go for a swim.”

“But you still have your clothes on.”

“I love a lot of things about you, Claire,” he said, reaching his hands over his head and grabbing his shirt at his shoulders and pulling it off, “but you think too much.”

He ran to the water and dived in. Wait a minute. Did he mean that? He loved her? Or was that just one of those things people said? She wished she understood these games. Maybe she could play if she did. Maybe she could do something with these feelings for Tyler that alternately pinched and stroked her, feeling so painful and so good at the same time.

Henry was still watching Bay, so Sydney walked back to the quilts and sat beside Claire. “Was that Tyler?”

“Yes,” Claire said, watching his head emerge from the water. He shook his head and his dark hair flung around and stuck to his face in wet ropes. Bay was laughing at him, so he swam over to her and splashed her. She splashed back. Henry, at the edge of the water, said something to them and they paused for a moment, looked at each other, then they splashed Henry. Hesitating only a moment, Henry took off his shoes, pulled his shirt over his head, and jumped in after them.

“Wow,” Sydney said. “Milk, it does a body good.”

“There’s a reason I am the way I am, you know,” Claire blurted out, because she had to explain it to someone.

Sydney grabbed a can of Coke and turned to her curiously.