“Thanks,” he whispers after a moment. I pull my head back enough to gaze up at him. “For what?” “For listening to me. For being my friend.” “You’re welcome.” I squeeze him back. Then I climb off the mattress, holding out my hand. “Come on. Let’s go for a swim. You smell terrible.” He lets out a deep laugh and puts his palm in mine. “You know,” I say as we walk to the water, “you’re a lot more high-maintenance than I would have guessed.”
