“Come on,” I say, throwing his arm over my shoulder and glancing back at the pier. There’s no one there. I’m seeing things. Again. “Let’s get you out of here.”
“I’m fine,” he protests weakly. But as we get to the shoreline, I feel his body go slack like a deadweight against my side as he crumples to the sand. His eyes are closed, but I can feel a faint pulse. Grabbing his limp form, I half drag, half carry him back to the blanket. By the time I get us there, he doesn’t even seem to be breathing. I glance around in a panic—there’s no one even close enough to get help.
Jenna and I took a CPR class sophomore year, and I’m racking my brain to remember all the details. With a deep breath, I place my hands fingertips together and palms flat against Lo’s chest, ignoring the immediate tingle that seeps from his skin into mine. Completing the thirty compressions is easy. It’s the next part I’m worried about...especially my body’s desperate reaction to any intimate contact with its long-lost mate.
With a sigh, I lean forward to hold Lo’s nose closed with one hand. His skin, though damp, is warm. Gently tugging on Lo’s chin to open his airway, I lean forward. I lick my lips and lower my head to his, only to find that the breath I’d taken is almost gone. The closer I get to Lo’s pale, parted lips, the shallower the breaths I breathe in. Being this close to Lo is torture, especially after the uncertainty of the past few days and being apart the past few months. All I can think about is the look in his eyes while we were on the wave together, and my stomach becomes riddled with knots. Touching him then ignited it all and more. And now, even worse, having to put my lips on his...
Oh, get over it, I growl to myself. It’s not like you’re really kissing him or anything. You’re saving his life.
With a deep breath, I touch my lips to his, slowly blowing in a stream of air and watching his chest rise slightly in response. But it’s the only part of him that moves. I repeat the breath and then thirty more chest compressions.
“Wake up, Lo! Wake up,” I mutter fiercely.
This time, I press my lips so hard against his mouth that my teeth nearly graze his. I close my eyes, willing him to awaken. But before I can breathe out, I feel his lips soften imperceptibly against me, fitting into the softer curves of my mouth. My eyes snap open only to become caught in the melting—and fascinated—blue depths of Lo’s. He’s awake. All I can think is, thank God he’s half Aquarathi, or things could have turned out quite differently. Deep, even breaths fan against my face, bringing me to swift reality. I jerk away, putting inches of space between us, every part of me frozen. Lo’s eyes are glittery and intense, not with recollection of any kind, but longing. I don’t care—I’d rather he look at me with anything but the cold lack of recognition I’d seen there the last few weeks.
We stay like that for what seems an eternity—staring at each other in explosive silence—before Lo lifts his head off the sand, his hand sliding up my arm and splaying across my back to draw me back down to him. His lips press featherlight against mine, brushing gently from one corner to the next, before crushing into them more deeply. He tastes like salt, and I can’t get enough as his mouth slants open over mine, nibbling across my lower lip and pulling it between his teeth.
In a smooth motion for someone who has just been clocked in the head with a surfboard, Lo flips me over to my back, propping himself up on one elbow beside me, his head descending once more to mine. I sigh, turning into the insistent pressure of his lips, letting Lo kiss me until I’m senseless. I give in to every part of it—the sensual slide of his mouth, the feel of every inch of his legs, the hard press of his hips—until we draw apart, breathing heavily. Lo’s face is flushed, his eyes storm-tossed. And all I can think about is what kissing like this led to the last time we’d been on a beach much the same as this one. I swallow thickly, banishing the torturous image, and reach up to brush a lock of hair away from Lo’s temple.
“It’s electric,” he rasps. “The chemistry between us.”
I can only nod and lick my bruised lips.
His eyes flick toward my mouth, becoming even darker. “When I’m with you, I feel like everything is brighter, more alive. I don’t know why. I don’t know how. I just do. But it’s so confusing to have my brain telling me one thing and my body saying another.” He leans forward to graze a kiss along the slopes of my cheekbones and then up to my eyelids. My fingers flutter against his cheekbones, down the stubbly blond fuzz of his jaw. “But every part of this feels so right.”
“It is right,” I whisper. You belong to me.
But of course I can’t say that, so instead I say it with my body, twining my wandering fingers into the wet hair at the nape of his neck and dragging his face down to mine. Within seconds, I silence the doubt creeping into my mind with the single-minded focus of satisfying my body’s insistent demands.
9
The Challenge
I am literally weak-kneed from the look that Lo has just slanted in my direction from across the room in study hall—a look that is obviously just as effective as his kissing skills. My body feels like it’s dissipating...literally evaporating into mist. After what had happened yesterday, Lo seems more determined than ever to remember our relationship, and not just because things got a little weird afterward. It wasn’t his fault—reality just sort of kicked in. Reality, and the fact that he was making out with a girl he barely knew.
I duck my head, stabbing the end of my pencil into my teeth and trying to concentrate on the penciled notes on my desk. Echlios’s most recent reports contained news of growing unrest in Waterfell. Castia attempted to usurp the Aquarathi queen I’d left in charge. And I’m willing to bet anything that Keil and the Ruby Court had something to do with it. Unseating a queen who isn’t exactly seated on her throne is the best time to start a coup. I’m still weighing the pros and cons of heading back to Waterfell to set things straight. I don’t need everything falling apart there, too. But maybe that was Cano’s plan all along.
A sharp poke in my side distracts me.
“So, after you made out on the beach, what happened?” Jenna whispers. “Don’t leave me hanging. I can’t believe I had to hang up last night in the middle of that bit of juicy. It was torture.”
“Not much,” I say with an embarrassed flush. “We stopped in at his place for Grayer to have a look at him, just to make sure he wasn’t concussed.” I pause and glance at her, leaning in. “Did you know that Grayer is a doctor? He seriously has an M.D. and everything.”
Jenna rolls her eyes. “Doctor, valet, butler. What’s next? Black-belt ninja?”
“Probably,” I say, stifling a snort. “Guess Ehmora wanted to be prepared that her son would be properly guarded when she wasn’t around.”
Jenna pokes me again. “Stop avoiding the subject. So, you go home with him, get checked out and then what?”
“Then he takes me home.”
“That’s it? He takes you home. And nothing else happens. He doesn’t even say anything? Doesn’t try to round the bases? Nothing?”
I shrug. “Honestly, after the haze of it all, I think Lo was confused. I mean, he liked making out fine,” I say, another furious blush coloring my cheeks. “It was when he started thinking about it and his brain couldn’t seem to make the connection with his body that things started getting weird. He said...” I trail off in embarrassment.
“Don’t stop there. I’m your best friend, remember? It’s my solemn duty to share your suffering.”
I glare at her. “You are having way too much fun with this. Do you know what it’s like to throw yourself at a guy, have him respond and then basically treat you like you’re a stranger?”
“Welcome to most teenage girls’ average Saturday night.” Jenna’s nodding sagely, and I snap my teeth in frustration.
“Like you would know. You and Sawyer have been married since you were five.”
�
��I’m sorry,” Jenna says, looking contrite. “Okay, I’m serious now. What did Lo say?”
I feel myself flushing more deeply. “He said that maybe he hit his head harder than he thought.”
“What?” she breathes. Her blue eyes are wide and serious now with growing indignation. “Are you kidding me?”
“Nope.”
“What a douche.”
Shrugging, I eye the clock and place the notebook I’d been using in my backpack. “Can’t say I blame him. Maybe he did hit his head hard.”
“So hard that it made his tongue crash into yours?”
My startled giggle at her dry comment is drowned out by the sound of the bell signaling the end of class. Guess she has a point. Jenna pats me on the shoulder and grabs her backpack.
“Looks like we’re going to have to change our strategy,” she says.
“Change our strategy how?”
“Duh. Make him remember you.”
I glare at her. “I don’t think I can throw myself at him any more than I already have. It’s demeaning. I am a queen now, in case you forgot, and that sort of groveling is way beneath me.” I’m only half joking.
“Time to pull out the girl hidden under all those scales, Nerissa Marin,” Jenna shoots back. “You want Lo? You have to win his heart. You know that the chemistry’s there. His body remembers you. Now you just have to make his brain catch up.”
“Easier said than done,” I mutter sourly, slamming my backpack into my locker and grabbing my English books. I wave my copy of The Importance of Being Earnest in her face. “You know, the double-life thing seems almost easy in this book.”
Jenna stares at me so hard I can almost feel her mind ticking over. “That’s brilliant! That’s it.”
“What’s it?”
“You should totally create an alter ego of yourself. You know, someone kind of smexy, like a Nerissa Marin black-sheep sister. We can call her Reese. Kind of inspires confidence like the name Ernest, don’t you think?” she says with a wink, quoting one of the lines from the book.
“That’ll never work.”
“But it’ll be fun.” Jenna grins. “Just remember...Reese. Now come on, we have to present our group’s position in front of the class today.”
In class, Professor Donovan is all smiles as he pulls his chair to the side of the class. The group presentation will count for a large part of our overall grade, and he’s excited to see what we’ve come up with. Speio’s group goes first. They’ve been tasked to discuss the theme of marriage in the play and how the different characters perceive it.
“It’s business,” Speio suggests to the class. “People in the time period of this work get married because it’s the social thing to do, not because it’s something that they want. It’s marriage based on what you earn, what your social standing is and your birth pedigree.”
Rian steps forward to chime in, her voice soft. “In addition, there’s much discussion in the play about whether the subject of marriage is a pleasant or unpleasant one. The view of it ranges from trivial to cynical based on the opinions of the characters.”
As I watch her, my interest perks. She’s the one Speio got all bent out of shape over for the party last weekend. Not conventional-looking by San Diego Barbie standards, she has long, glossy dark hair surrounding a heart-shaped, delicate face. Her eyes are a deep green color. Although her features seem soft, something about her strikes me as very intense. It’s not like Speio to go for the quiet, passionate type, so I’m intrigued. I glance over at Cara making goo-goo eyes at Lo and roll my eyes. Then again, anyone would be a step up from that.
The sound of clapping interrupts my thoughts. “Questions, class?” Mr. Donovan says.
Lo raises his hand. “What if the marriage is based on a lie? I mean, Jack lied about who he was, and so did Algernon. Doesn’t that change the meaning of it?”
“Good question. Sawyer, you want to address it?” Donovan asks with an approving nod.
Sawyer looks like a deer in headlights as he attempts to answer, but his voice fades into the background as Lo’s question draws me into a forgotten memory. My father’s politically arranged union to my mother had been based on a lie. She had chosen someone else—Ehmora—before they could consummate their bond, and my father had ended up being duped by two of the most calculating liars on the planet. All they had ever done was scheme for control of the Waterfell High Court throne, and my father paid the price with his life. And my mother was still scheming for it.
I center my attention to the front of the classroom, where the groups are switching out. Cara takes her place with her group. “Our group theme is morality and hypocrisy,” she says with an evil sidelong glance at me. Great. Undoubtedly I’m going to be the brunt of Cara’s entire presentation. Cara continues, “Hypocrisy comes out of pretending to be someone that you’re not, or when you’re pretending to have certain virtues when you obviously don’t.”
Jenna nudges me, whispering, “Reese should have no virtue whatsoever.”
“Be quiet,” I whisper back with a grin. “Cara’s going to pitch a fit if we steal any of her spotlight.”
We both turn back to Cara, who drones on. “In the play, Jack pretends to be his imaginary brother, Ernest, to escape his social and moral duty. This contributes to his hypocrisy. Algernon, on the other hand, pretends to have a sick relative whom he visits, which is a little more virtuous, but still deceptive.”
“Her brain may explode with all those big words,” Jenna whispers to me, and I stifle a snort just as the laser of Cara’s pale eyes falls on us and she stops midsentence as if someone asked a question.
“Ms. Pearce and Ms. Marin, do you have something to add?” Mr. Donovan asks, following Cara’s silent glare.
“We were agreeing that the best thing about hypocrisy,” Jenna says, “is that it always come to light. You can’t hide the truth of what you are underneath, even if you’re desperately trying to get people to see you a certain way. They will always see you for what you are. A sham.” She raises an eyebrow in silent challenge and then adds, “For the two Ernests, I mean.”
Cara’s face turns a splotchy shade of pink, but unfortunately for her Mr. Donovan sees it as a valid point and not as any perceived slight to Cara’s character. “Excellent point, Ms. Pearce. The truth does come to light in the end. Carry on,” he tells the group.
Another boy steps up to continue the presentation. Jenna slides her hand out in a parallel high-five motion and I slide mine across the top of her palm. Nerissa three, Cara one, she mouths. I forgot I’d even been counting.
We are the last group in the class to go. Lo has prepared his piece on introducing the double life with complete poise—a far cry from his performance in school the year before, where he didn’t care squat about any classes. Jenna and I exchange amused looks. We’ll save that little teacher’s-pet tidbit for later.
I clear my throat. “As Lo has explained, this is one of the play’s core metaphors. What Jack has created in his fake brother is an intricate deception that allows him to escape who he is. Eventually his fictional life catches up with him and becomes tied in to his reality, so the whole double life comes together, forcing both Jack and Algernon to come clean.”
Cara’s hand shoots up. Of course it would. “Yes, Ms. Andrews?” Mr. Donovan says.
“I don’t get it.”
“You don’t get what?”
“Why create a fictional reality? Maybe Jack should just realize that he’s never going to be earnest. He’s a complete hypocrite.”
“Maybe he wants to be earnest because he’s fallen in love,” I shoot back.
“He’s still a hypocrite.”
Childishly, I meet venom with venom. “He gets the girl, doesn’t he?”
Professor Donovan’s eyebrows are nearly fused together. He can guess that there
’s a little more going on than a heated discussion of the play’s metaphors and themes. Oblivious of his dawning understanding, Cara bares her teeth in a knowing sneer. “Only because Jack is a total man-whore.”
“That is enough,” Mr. Donovan says in a firm voice. “Are we both talking about the play here? Or do you need to take your discussion to the principal’s office?”
“The play, sir,” we both mumble.
Jenna finishes up our group’s presentation just as the bell rings, but inside I’m still seething. Not that everyone got Cara’s insinuation, but she pretty much called me a whore in front of the entire class. Somehow she found out about Lo and me, and what happened. The smug, knowing look on her face says as much. My fingers curl into fists and I half step toward her before I feel a gentle but restraining pressure on my arm.
“Don’t,” Jenna whispers. “It’s not worth getting suspended over.”
“But—”
“Nobody got it. Trust me. And you said it yourself, she’s not worth it.”
“She knows—”
Jenna stares at me. “She knows what? That maybe you made out with Lo this weekend? Trust me, that’s killing her more than anything else right now. Let it go, Riss.”
I nod, slamming my books into a pile. I don’t know what I’m angrier about—the fact that Cara’s nasty dig at me has somehow gotten under my skin, or Lo’s unexpected coolness toward me. He’s held me at a courteous arm’s length all day, even though I feel him studying me when he thinks I’m not looking, as if he’s trying to work everything out in his head. A part of me doesn’t blame him. He’s confused, and desperately trying to remember who he is...and who we are to each other. Jenna’s right. This is neither the time nor the place to lose control. I need a swim. A swim far, far away.
“Where’re you going?” Speio yells out, just as I swing into my Jeep and rev the engine.
“Away.”
Speio’s face furrows with worry, but I can’t even stick around to explain. Trying to be calm and tread water over the past few days while feeling like a vicious riptide is taking me out to uncharted waters has been nothing short of draining. I feel like I’m being held together by the whisper of a glimmer. And if it breaks, I’ll be lost.
Oceanborn Page 11