Page 87 of Plain Sight

Soaking wet.

I can’t help the way I reacted. I’m only human, and I’d had several long sips of hard lemonade by then. The alcohol was beginning to enter my bloodstream. And between the heat and the water and the man who was in the water⁠—

I looked.

I might’ve stared.

And then the moment should have been over.

It should have.

Except he turned and looked at me, still smiling, and that light in his dark eyes got even brighter.

Mason and Gabriel’s stock market observations have become more intense. I don’t think they notice Jameson leaning closer.

“Our pool party friend.”

“There were a lot of people at pool parties over the summer.”

“I’m sure you remember this guy.”

“I really don’t.”

Jameson’s eyes glint. “Caspian.”

Caspian. The name makes me think of sparkling adventures on the high seas. It makes me think of cutting the lines to everything I’ve ever known. It makes me think of the phrase wild blue yonder.

Those are all things I don’t need and don’t want and never, ever dream about. Sailing away? On what ship? I don’t even know that Caspian has a ship. And crewing a ship, from everything I’ve read in books and seen in movies and looked up on the internet, is more like a red-flag family than a company. Putting your life in someone’s hands when you’re surrounded by miles of open ocean is a serious commitment.

“I wasn’t thinking about Caspian, no.” I should get some kind of honorary distinction for saying his name like it’s just a name and not the name of that dark-eyed, soaking wet man.

I might’ve been thinking about him last night as I fell asleep.

As I tried and failed to fall asleep, then tried some other things to distract myself, then finally fell asleep well after midnight.

I might have been thinking about him in the shower this morning because I think of him every time I turn on the shower. It was all those glistening droplets. It was how they glinted in the sun when he looked at me and I⁠—

“I don’t buy it.”

“You don’t have to buy it. You have to eat lunch. How’s Lily, by the way?”

Jameson looks down at his plate, the skin near his eyes tensing with nervousness. “Really, really pregnant.”

“Is everything going okay?”

“Yeah.” He drums his fingers on the tabletop. “I just don’t want to let her down.”

“You won’t.” Jameson meets my eyes, and I get a little stab of guilt. I mean what I’m saying to him. I haven’t made a habit of lying to any of the Hills, or anyone else, really. But I asked him about Lily on purpose. I can’t afford to think about Caspian right now. Not if I’m going to have to stand up and walk out in sight of other people.

“I might,” he says, softer.

“No. You’ll be great. You’ve trained all your life to improvise in high-stress situations.”

Jameson grins, and I have a vivid memory of him at sixteen, looking dead tired and at his wits’ end, saying can you not tell Mason I’m here? I had to leave school and I just can’t.

His face lit up just like this back then, when I’d ordered him a veggie burger and a mountain of fries and a small bucket’s worth of ketchup and let him gather himself before he told Mason what had happened at school.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Jameson sits up taller and reaches for his drink. “You’re, like, a cornerstone. Building would collapse without you.”