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One, it shows it’s my mother calling. Two, it shows me I’m in Josh’s bunk on his boat. I knew that, and yet, it hits home.
“Shit,” I hiss, low, because I shouldn’t be here, and because it’s surreal to even be here at all.
I press the green button to accept the call. It’s flipping Christmas Eve. Of course, my mother’s calling. And it’s well after dark, as the darkness of the night indicates through the cabin’s windows. What the hell. I missed Christmas Eve dinner. I’m sure of it.
“Hello.”
“Cassandra? Where are you?”
I wish I could say that there’s a hint of worry in my mother’s voice.Yeah, I wish I could say that.
“At a friend’s.” That’s a stretch, but what else can I say? The truth wouldn’t go over well, and it would end up resulting in a lecture that I don’t feel like listening to.
“We’ve already had dinner.” Her tone is accusatory.
“Sorry, Mother.” Yeah, I’m sucking up to her, to make amends. “I already ate.” A lie, for sure. My stomach is cramping with hunger pains. “I won’t be here much longer.” That’s the damned truth. I can’t believe I fell asleep. What the hell was I thinking? Clearly, I wasn’t, since I cried myself to sleep.
“Whenexactlywill you be home?” she asks, her tone peevish.
I feel bad for my dad. He’s going to be on the receiving end of her irritation with me.
“Soon.” I won’t be more specific. I already know how that goes.
The connection goes dead without a goodbye.Oops. I guess I’ll have some making up to do.And I do feel kinda bad because I didn’t plan to miss Christmas Eve dinner. Anyway, I wasn’t supposed to originally even be in town, so what’s the big deal?
The waves lapping against the side of the boat are soothing and lulling. No wonder I fell asleep. My stomach growls in protest, demanding to be fed. It’s a loud grumbling sound, rising above the sound the waves make.
“Your stomach says it didn’t eat dinner.”
I jerk, startling, biting back a cry of alarm.
Oh. My. God.
Oh, God.
Josh.
Josh!
“Josh?” My entire being reacts to his voice, like it always has.
“Who else would you expect? It is my boat.” His voice comes from the corner.
I squint into the darkness. “I didn’t think you’d come.” Lame. Like what a girlish, high school thing to say. I don’t know what to say. A million volts of electricity and excitement are coursing through my body.
He’s here. He came down.
“If you didn’t think I would be here, why are you on my boat?”
Ugh. Not what I wanted him to say. I was hoping for something like‘I couldn’t stay away.’
As if I’m going to answer why I was on his boat. After he said that bit about being on his boat.
As if I’m going to give him access to my emotions.
As if…
Of course, I’m guarded. I’m not the same girl he used to know, three years ago—seems like ages, way more than three years. Why does it feel like we’re sparring? There’s this major charge of sexual undertow that’s pulling at me, and yet we are sparring, pushing each other’s buttons while knowing that we want one another. Well, at least IknowI want him. I’m thinking he feels the same way, based on what happened under the bridge last time.
