Cinderella Steals Home

by Syms, Carly

  "What, not too cold for you?"

  I shake my head. "It's perfect."

  "Surprising."

  "Why?"

  "I thought girls like you always squeal when you get in the water," he replies. "'It's too cold! It's too cold! I can't get in there!'"

  "Don't go into acting," I tell him as I try not to laugh at his terrible impression of a girl. "Your falsetto isn't exactly impressive."

  He wiggles his eyebrows at me, and it's like all the tension he caused me just minutes ago disappears. He has an uncanny way of doing that to me. It's that damn hook again.

  And that makes me kind of crazy, too.

  "If that's the least impressive thing about me, then I think I'm doing okay," he says, and that shuts me up pretty fast. I have no idea how to respond.

  He leads me through the rest of the water and right around to the back side of the boat that wasn't visible from the shore, and sure enough, there's a ladder going straight down into the water.

  "Pass me the cooler and climb up," he says, and I do. When I'm securely on deck, I turn around to take the cooler from him.

  He's reaching over to me with it and I grab for it, but it must've gotten wet or I don't get a good enough grip because it slips out of my hands and tumbles down into the water. It floats there for a second or two, then sinks, but the water's so shallow that the top of the cooler doesn't submerge all the way.

  Doan and I stare at it for a few beats, then look at each other before bursting out laughing.

  "I don't even know why this is funny," he says, and I try to nod in-between heaves of my shoulders. "It really isn't."

  He's holding onto the railing of the ladder for support with one hand and pressing his fingers into the corner of his eyes with the other to keep the tears from leaking out. I'm just standing on deck, my shoulders shaking, no sound coming out of my mouth.

  When Doan gets a hold of himself, he looks at me. "Is that really how you laugh?" he asks. "Or were you just faking it?"

  I try to pull myself together. "No," I say. "Usually when things are super funny to me, I laugh so hard that I don't make any noise. Like that."

  He stares at me, the teasing glimmer suddenly fading from his eyes, and a strange, unreadable smile forming across his lips. I feel uncomfortable under the intensity of his gaze.

  "That," he says simply, "might be the strangest thing I have ever heard."

  There's no malice, no rudeness, in his voice, and I'm surprised, mostly because I agree with him.

  "Yeah, it's pretty weird."

  "But it's cute. Definitely cute."

  Doan breaks our eye contact and reaches down into the water to pick up the cooler as my heart slams against my chest at those simple words. Damn him.

  He passes the box to me a second time and I grip it harder now and manage to get it on board without meeting his eyes. I set it down just off to the side of the ladder and watch as he climbs aboard.

  "We're just waiting on a few more people and then we can head out," he says. "I'll put this stuff in the fridge below deck. You can come see it if you want."

  I don't say anything as I follow him down a narrow set of stairs and into a cramped kitchen. There's a single-burner stove, sink and microwave immediately to my left and a wide, tan leather wrap-around couch fills the rest of the small space.

  "This is the galley," he says. He stops in front of a small mini fridge, the kind you expect to see in college dorm rooms, and kneels down, setting the cooler on the floor next to him. "Have a seat."

  I wander -- okay, it takes me all of two steps -- over to the couch and sit on the section closest to the fridge. I watch as Doan carefully lifts the lid of the cooler to make sure lake water doesn't come sloshing out, but my eyes widen when I take in the rows and rows of beer cans inside.

  I guess I'm not really sure what I expected when my 21-year-old brother asked me to hang out with him and his college friends on the Fourth of July, but somehow, drinking beer never crossed my mind.

  I don't know why I thought Justin, of all people, would pack a cooler full of Diet Coke and Sprite to bring to Doan, of all people, but here we are.

  When I look up at him, I see Doan staring back at me with an intense expression on his face, almost as if he'd known to watch for my reaction and didn't want to miss it.

  I blink twice, trying to keep my face blank and relaxed.

  Beer.

  It isn't really a big deal at all -- even if I'm 18 years old and have still never taken a sip.

  Plenty of people drink, and they do it all the time, and they turned out okay. But I still know it doesn't always happen that way. All of my friends back in Pennsylvania do it. I just -- I don't know. I guess I was always afraid that I'd be that person, the one who couldn't handle it, that something bad would happen to me the first time I drank. So I didn't.

  But between my brother and Doan, I have a hard time imagining that I'll be able to avoid it here for long.

  And I know Justin won't let anything terrible happen to me if I try.

  "You good, Holls?"

  I snap out of my thoughts and look at Doan, trying to paint a carefree smile on my face. "Fine. I'm fine."

  He raises an eyebrow like he doesn't believe me, but says nothing as he starts placing beer cans inside the small fridge.

  "So," he says, "I hope you have your bathing suit on under that dress."

  I glance down at my outfit like I won't remember what I'm wearing if I don't look. "Of course I do. We're at the lake, aren't we?"

  "Sure, but sometimes people forget," he says. "Or they want to stay on the boat. Which is lame."

  "I've never been lame," I fire back.

  "Okay, okay, you win," he says, holding up his hands in an 'I surrender' pose.

  The cooler's empty now and Doan pushes himself to his feet and closes the door to the fridge.

  "Let's get back on deck."

  "Can you sleep on this boat?" I ask as we climb up the small staircase. I can't imagine that there's another space below deck than the one we're in now, and I don't see a bedroom anywhere.

  "Yeah," he says. "The couch turns into a bed." He glances back at me over his shoulder. "Why? You interested in a slumber party?"

  I blush immediately and feel the heat seep across my chest as I know my skin turns red. I quickly look away from him.

  Damn him, damn him, damn him.

  Doan chuckles to himself as he walks up the stairs and we emerge onto the deck. Justin and four other people I don't recognize have all come on board.

  "Awesome! Everyone's here," Doan says, pumping his fist. "Grab a seat, Holls, and let's get out of here."

  My brother sits in the passenger seat next to the wheel and everyone else has claimed a spot on a similar wraparound couch. Doan, I know, will drive the boat. I look around; there's really nowhere for me to go.

  But that's when one of the two girls I don't think I've seen before springs to her feet and wobbles slightly in the white stiletto heels she's wearing, then hurries over to Doan.

  She flings her wire-thin, tanned arms around his neck and kisses his cheek. "Hi, Doan!" she cooes. "It's sooo good to see you!"

  He gives her a half-smile, then snakes his arm around her impossibly-tiny waist. "Hey, Allison."

  He shoots a quick glance in my direction and I quickly try to pull myself together. I suddenly feel like I've been slapped -- all the blood rushes to my cheeks, the sting of the open palm across my face, the twisting of my stomach -- and it's stupid. It's all stupid.

  "I'll go sit down," I mumble and hurry over to the now-empty spot on the couch.

  The engine roars to life and after the boat starts moving, it feels safe enough to glance up from examining my cuticles. Justin's staring back at me, a look that's half-smug, half-sympathetic on his face, and I'm not sure I like what he's implying with that either. I try to return his gaze with a strong, carefree smile, but I'd be willing to bet it looks more like a grimace.

  I force myself to keep my eyes from trav
eling back over to Doan and Allison, but that doesn't last long. I can't help it.

  And it's like I've been slapped all over again.

  I hate that I feel this way. I don't get why I feel like this. I shouldn't care. I didn't think I cared. But apparently I do.

  Allison perches delicately on Doan's lap as he effortlessly guides the boat through the clear blue waters toward the middle of the lake. He's wearing sunglasses so I can't see his eyes, but his arm rests just to the side of her thigh, not making contact.

  That, for some reason, feels like a small victory to me.

  "Hey. I'm Joey."

  The guy sitting next to me on the couch lazily leans over and holds out his hand. He's dressed in a flimsy white cotton T-shirt and blue swim trunks, has several days' worth of black stubble decorating his face, and I guess he's looking at me behind his gold aviators.

  I smile at him and take his hand. "Holly. Justin's sister."

  He nods. "Good to meet you," he says, and then he turns his attention away from me. I look at the other guy and girl to see if they'll introduce themselves, but the three of them start talking about a friend of theirs, so I tune out.

  So much for that.

  Justin's across the boat and Doan's clearly occupied, so I turn to my right and stare out over the water. The mountains glow red in the late morning sunlight, the warm rays seeping into my slowly-tanning skin the same way.

  There are several islands littering the water, small ones with just some sand and trees and rocks, but big enough to spread out several towels and lounge around on. I wonder if that's in Doan's plans for today.

  "This spot look good?" Doan calls out.

  I glance over in time to see him jiggle his legs and Allison slides off them, a pout clouding her face.

  Doan has slowed the boat down to a crawl in the center of the lake.

  "Works for me," Justin says, and Doan nods. He cuts the engine and heads to the back of the boat to drop the anchor before he jogs down below deck. He's back a minute later juggling several cans of beer in his arms.

  Justin and Joey immediately jump to their feet and go over to take them from him. He passes them each a can, then goes to Allison next. She looks at it for a second before accepting it. I watch, a growing sense of panic forming in my stomach, as he goes to the other girl and guy that I haven't been introduced to, and then starts walking over to me with just two left in his hands. One's for him.

  The other, I know, is for me.

  Why is this such a big deal? I'm 18. An adult. I could up and join the Army tomorrow. I can vote and drive a car.

  So why does the thought of drinking a beer -- of drinking one little beer -- bother me so much?

  Fear of the unknown, I guess. Or something like that, anyway.

  It feels like Doan is walking extra slowly, but he finally stops in front of me and smiles, a warm, friendly smile.

  He holds the can out to me.

  "Want one?" he asks.

  I don't sense pressure in his voice or that he'll ridicule me if I say no.

  Most of me is relieved.

  But part of me -- and it's a growing part -- kind of wants to say to hell with all my worries and try it. Worrying about things that might happen is like trying to light a candle in a thunderstorm. You can do it all you want, over and over again, and it never works the way you want it to.

  I mean, what's the point?

  I'm with Justin. I'm with Doan. And while Doan is probably dangerous in ways I can't begin to imagine, I've spent enough time with him lately to know he's not going to let me do anything too stupid if things get out of hand.

  "Yeah," I say. "Okay."

  He raises his eyebrows but says nothing as he passes one of the cans to me. I take it and hold onto it. He cracks the last can in his hand open and takes a long swig.

  "Better," he says when he's done. "Much better."

  I look down at the beer in my hand and open the tab. I don't have to glance at him to know that Doan's watching me the whole time.

  Slowly, I bring the can to my lips. I sniff at it and try not to wrinkle my nose. A soft chuckle escapes Doan's lips but I don't pay any attention to him. And then without really thinking about it any more, I tip the can back and drink.

  The beer is cool, but not cold. It doesn't really taste bad. I don't know what it tastes like. Certainly nothing I've had before.

  I take another sip, then another. Before I know it, the whole can is almost empty.

  "Slow down, tiger," Doan says, looking at me with an amused grin on his face. "Leave some for the rest of us."

  I smile at him. "This isn't so bad."

  "It's always easy in the beginning," he tells me.

  "What, it gets harder to drinker?" I ask.

  He shakes his head and grins. "No," he says. "Harder to stop."

  I look him in the eye as I tip back and drain the rest of the beer.

  "I feel fine," I tell him.

  He shakes his head and laughs. "Give it a minute."

  Justin wanders over to us then and claps Doan on the back with a loud thud. "What the heck is this? Corrupting my little sister?"

  I grin innocently at him. "I told you he was a bad influence."

  Justin shakes his head. "It's better this way," he says. "You need to drink before you go off to college."

  I tense slightly at the mention of going to college and it's not long before I feel Doan's eyes on me, probing, remembering what I told him and no doubt wondering why Justin doesn't know.

  Meanwhile, all I can think about is how unexpected it is that he remembers I said anything about it at all.

  "Yeah," I say with a small, plastered-on smile. "You're right."

  "Let me get you another," he replies, disappearing below deck, leaving Doan and me alone together once more.

  "I don't want to talk about that," I say, refusing to meet his eye.

  "Okay," he says. "We don't have to."

  I look up at him. "Really?"

  He nods. "Seriously? You're surprised that I'm not pushing you for not wanting to tell me something?"

  I raise an eyebrow. "Did you forget the whole 'I really want to know who you are, Holly' campaign of yours? It was only last week."

  He smiles. "That's different."

  "Nope."

  "Yeah, it is. Wanting to know who someone is and needing to know every last detail about them and their past and the decisions they make are totally different. I'm more interested in knowing why you don't want to go to college than I am in knowing why you haven't told your brother about it. That doesn't affect me."

  I'm not sure I'm buying what he's selling but I've seen the galley and I know Justin isn't going to be down there all that long. The last thing I need is for him to overhear part of my conversation with Doan and get into this with him on the Fourth of July.

  "Okay," I say, and Doan blinks twice. But when my brother walks up the stairs a few seconds later with three cans in his hands and passes me another beer, I see the understanding flicker in his eyes.

  "Crafty one," he mutters under his breath.

  "Don't get too crazy now," Justin says as I crack the tab open.

  "When have you ever known me to get crazy?" I respond, and he laughs.

  "Fair enough." He flips his sunglasses down over his eyes and holds out his can to me. "Cheers. Happy Fourth."

  I clink my can with his, then Doan's, and the three of us drink. I notice the taste a little bit more this time, but I still don't really hate it. It's just sort of...there. And Doan's right. It goes down even easier.

  Doan finishes his beer before I'm halfway done with mine and runs below deck to grab a few more. When he's polished them off, he grabs the bottom hem of his red T-shirt and pulls it over his head.

  I can't keep my eyes off of him as I watch the fabric inch higher and higher up his torso. Each fraction of tanned skin makes my heart pump just a little bit faster.

  The beer must be affecting me more than I thought. I vow to go slower on the next one.r />
  "Who's ready to jump in?"

  Allison looks over at him like he's crazy, but I stand and pull the sundress off over my head. It's hot out here in the blistering late-morning sun and a dip in the water sounds perfect.

  "That's the spirit," Doan says when he sees me. He tosses two pink inner tubes over the side of the boat. "Come on, let's jump."

  I slowly walk over to where he's standing. He climbs up onto the edge of the boat, then turns and extends a hand to me, and I immediately flashback to the time in the parking lot when he did the same thing to help me into the truck.

  I didn't take his hand that time, but I find myself placing my palm in his now. And I only get a little bit of satisfaction knowing that Allison is right behind us to see it.

  "Ready?" he asks. "On the count of three. One.."

  I glance over at him and smile. I fight the urge to squeeze his hand. "Two."

  He looks back at me. "Three. Jump!"

  I spring off the small white edge of the boat and don't let go of his hand as I fall toward the calm blue water. Somehow our hands separate when we hit the water with a splash and I relish the feeling of the cool, refreshing water washing over me. When I can't hold my breath much longer, I swim up toward the boat.

  Doan's already surfaced by the time I wipe water droplets from my eyes and look around. He's smiling at me as I smooth back my wet hair.

  "Nice, right?" he asks.

  Apart from his boat and several others littering the water, there's nothing surrounding me but miles of lake, red mountains and cacti. It's beautiful and natural and lovely, and I can't feel anything other than total bliss looking at it.

  I'm startled out of my trance by the splash of an inner tube landing in front of me. Doan's climbing into his and I duck under the water and swim up through the center before hoisting myself through and letting my legs dangle over the sides.

  I let out a small sigh.

  It's perfect here, right now, in this lovely slice of desert, and I don't want to be anywhere else.

  Doan paddles his tube over toward mine and loops a long white rope through the handle grips before tying them together, keeping our tubes attached.