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I scoff. “I don’t buy it.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “What?”
“If you want to join…just do it. Screw your dad. You’re Jason King. You get everything you want.”
He doesn’t take his eyes away from me. “Not everything.”
I let out a light laugh. My turn to examine my plate. “Wow. Are you really hitting on me over the sink?”
“Well, you are already wet…”
He closes his fist and opens it fast, flicking water at me. I yelp and put my hand on his chest, giving him a shove. “Dick!”
He’s so solid, has so much muscle mass, that my shove barely makes him sway.
It suddenly occurs to me that my hand is still on his chest—hard and full of muscles—and like this, we’re close. I don’t move away. Neither does he.
“I like you,” he confesses suddenly. It sounds simple the way he says it, yet I feel like the floor has been yanked from under me, and I’m floundering in the water below.
“Why?”
“You’re different.”
“Different? Fat? Nerdy? You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“You don’t let anyone tell you what to do. You’re the only one who calls me on my shit.”
“Someone has to.”
We’re close, now. Close enough to kiss.
I imagine the warmth of his lips. Would they taste like salt water?
I think about Donovan. And a stone rolls over my heart.
I can’t. He’s my only friend here…and he’d kill me if he knew I was making out with the enemy.
A clattering of laughter from the deck jerks me back to reality. I step back, putting some space between us. Like that, the moment shatters.
“We should…go back up,” I say. My heart is pounding in my chest.
“You go,” he says. “I’ll finish up.”
I want to argue, but I’m afraid if I spend any more time down here with him, I won’t be able to stop myself from letting Jason King pin me to the sink and soak me.
I climb above deck. It’s cooler out here. The fresh air feels good on my hot cheeks. Anchored out in the middle of the lake…I finally start to understand this living on the water thing.
I haven’t seen so many stars in my entire life. They dot the sky like glitter. The light from the moon echoes across the still, black water. A satellite blinks across the sky. I can see it as clearly as if I had a telescope.
There’s a lantern on deck that illuminates the guests. Pearl, Four, and Mrs. King are chatting. The ember from Ian’s cigarette glows on and off again from the bow.
Mr. King hangs off the back of the boat. He’s taken the mesh from the grill, and he’s scraping it clean over the side.
I walk over to him and sit down on the bench beside him.
“Can I help?” I ask.
He glances up at me. They both have it—that arrogant, boyish smirk. Mr. King, I’m sure, was attractive in his time. He’s good-looking now, even, if you’re into the silver fox thing.
