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“Oh, shit. I’m sorry, man.”
“It is what it is.”
An uncomfortable silence washes over us. It’s easy to forget that we all come from different worlds. I can take a year off knowing full well that, when I’m ready, Pearl and one of her husbands will take care of all my expenses. Jason doesn’t have to think twice about admission—he’s guaranteed a spot.
Donovan isn’t afforded the same luxuries. It’s a sharp reminder.
“You need a first mate?” I ask, steering the topic away.
There’s a hint of amusement in Donovan’s eyes at that. “Yeah, maybe. You want to spend your gap year here?”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“I’ll think about it,” I say. But my grin stretches too wide across my face and gives me away. I can’t think of anything better than spending the winter with Donovan—no parents, no rules. Just the water and us, doing whatever the hell we want to do.
“What are you going to call her?” Jason asks.
“What do you mean?”
“The boat? She needs a name.”
“I haven’t thought about it.”
I gasp. “That’s all I would think about! Okay. Emergency brainstorm time.”
Donovan suggests the TARDIS, Muskrat King, and Fuck You I Own A Boat.
Jason suggests, Nightrider, Skipper Syndrome, and Captain Emo.
I give my suggestion, but Donovan furrows his brow. “Dock Boy?” he repeats.
“No, Dock Buoy. B-U-O-Y. It’s a pun.”
They both think about it for a second too long before they burst into laughter. “Yeah,” Jason says. “That’s definitely the winner.”
“So what do you do for fun on a boat with no electricity?” I ask.
Donovan opens up the navigation table and pulls out a deck of cards, tossing it onto the table. “Name the game.”
“Poker,” I say.
“I heard strip poker,” Jason counters as he starts to shuffle. “Who else did?”
“I’m game.” I grin.
“Deal us in,” Donovan says, completing our circle.
As it turns out, Donovan and I suck at poker.
Jason and I have a spark, but Donovan and I share a soul—we have a whole language of eyebrow twitches, squints, and slightly upturned lips. I can read him like a book, and he can read me. Which makes neither of us very good at bluffing each other.
Donovan and I both get down to our underwear. When I have to take off my bra, Donovan gives me a blanket to cover myself with—which Jason says is cheating—but that’s too bad. Meanwhile, Jason has only lost a pair of socks.
Donovan folds and I, finally, manage to get one over on Jason. “Read it and weep,” I tell him, putting down three of a kind.
“Alright, Trouble, you’ve got me.” He reaches behind and yanks his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side.
