Page 117 of Johnny

I turn around to find Megan standing on the other side of the living room, naked. She’s looking at

me. All of me. Because I’m naked too.

She smiles and something suddenly hurts inside my chest. “I had a nice time last night,” she says,

holding up her wrist where the gold ribbon is still tied. It’s a little worse for wear now. Not as pretty and sleek after our trip into the ocean. And she’s still wearing the jewelry too.

I picture her last night in the ocean. The long pig tails I made from her hair swaying in the water.

She looked very innocent. Very normal. And maybe, now that I think about it, I made her hair into

pig tails for that reason.

I want her to be innocent. I really do.

But I’m not sure I have anything left for Megan Machette. I think I gave it all away last night.

I suck in a deep breath and say, “Me too. Take off the jewelry and get dressed. Wear something

comfortable. And don’t wear those sandals. Either pair. Wear the water shoes.”

“OK,” she says, eyes still lingering on my body. “Are you nervous?”

“No,” I lie again. Then walk back to my own room to put on clothes.

I rip the tags off a pair of faded jeans, pull on a white tank-top t-shirt, and then spend two whole

minutes adjusting the laces on the rugged water shoes made for hikers.

Megan appears smelling like toothpaste. “I’m ready. Technically. But I’m nervous. What exactly

will we do when we get there?”

“I’ll explain on the yacht,” I say, pushing past her. I go into the bathroom, close the door, then

unwrap the complimentary toothbrush, brush my teeth, splash water on my face, and stare at myself in

the mirror. Both hands braced on either side of the sink.

It’s gonna be a long day. I can already feel it.

There’s a car waiting for us outside the main lobby of the hotel and we get in. Neither Megan nor

I have said a word since we left the cabaña and during the short ride over to the dock the silence

continues.

I don’t want to think about last night on the beach. Or dinner. All those things I said to her. Or the

conversation with Logan afterward. But I can’t help it. All of it runs through my head.

It felt nice to be with a woman again. One who wasn’t trying to pump me for information about my

life or sneak pictures of me to send to her friends. I haven’t had a girlfriend since I was in high

school. Everyone between then and now has been a casual thing. A sex thing. Strings of emotionless

experiences stacked one upon the other.