by Nicole Snow
"Hey, hey...She's just a kid." Georgia's voice. "You said this ship is good for how many? Like twenty people? It's not like she'll interrupt anything if we just let her hang."
"No, Georgia, you don't get it. This little stowaway will rat us the hell out the second she's got her phone to her ear. Speaking of which – where's your phone, sis? Hand it over." More rage floods his tone by the second.
"Jesus, calm down! It's not like I was going to say anything. Honest. Just wanted to know what you guys were up to. We already both know messing around with the Wilkie is a butt kicking in dad's book. We've been out here for more than an hour, Jace.” She pauses, sighing. “Don't you think I'd have called dad by now if I really – hey, hands off!" It's the last thing Amy Kay says before the discussion, if you can even call it that, breaks down into three way teenage screaming.
This is getting out of hand and very fucking dangerous. We can't have a slap fight and nobody at the controls for long. I have to break this shit up.
I pound into the main living area like a tornado. Amy Kay is in tears, locked in a tug of war with her idiot brother, while Georgia looks on and clucks her tongue, making the world's weakest attempt to make peace.
“Guys, for fuck's sake. Guys!” I rush between them, shove Jace off her, ripping at the phone in his hand.
He's caught off guard and goes spinning back against the wall, stabbing a dirty look through me. “Screw you, Usher! What the hell do you think you're doing? Didn't you see –”
“I've got it right here in my hand,” I growl. “You're paranoid, man. I'll keep this safe if you're worried about her squealing.”
Amy stands up, wipes the stray tears off her cheeks, and takes a good long look at me.
I catch her green eyes, try to telegraph a warning into her brain. Quiet. Let me handle this.
“That's not the fucking point!” Jace roars, storming over. He's in my face, shouting, something I've never seen him do in the three years we've known each other. “She always ruins my shit – always. She's a little rat. Her life's so damn boring she's always got to rub her nose in mine, where it doesn't belong.”
“Like I care, asshole! Don't flatter yourself.” She stumbles forward a couple steps.
For once, I'm grateful for Georgia, who grabs her, whispering a few choice words.
Jace ignores the scene, too busy barking more rancor, spitting in my face. “Fuck you, man. You know how wrecked I am if dad finds out we've got his boat? Any fucking clue?”
Yeah. Maxwell will nail him to the wall, put him under house arrest.
Jace'll be lucky if I'm even allowed to drop by to write his papers and help with SAT drills. He'll be useless, set back, an even bigger liability for getting our business off the ground.
I gather my words, ignoring how good it'd feel to punch him in the face.
“Remember what you told me earlier? Relax? That's what we're here to do today, right?” I'm speaking slow, measured, like I'm cornering an escaped beast at the zoo. “She won't be making any calls. Trust me. Let's just forget this crap and have our fun.”
He narrows his eyes. I see it in his face, he doesn't want to let go. “Fine. But damn, any more antics, and I'm dead serious about making her swim.”
“Screw you!” Amy Kay lurches forward, catches Georgia's arms, beaming raw hate at her brother. “You're all lucky I'm here. Somebody needs to be sober on this ship. I swear, Jace, if you bring this boat home beat up, dad'll –”
A high pitched scraping sound drowns her out, giving heart-stopping emphasis to her words. Fuck.
It only lasts a second, maybe two. At least it shuts everyone up. We're glued to the floor, staring at each other, fear replacing anger in Jace's eyes. “Oh, Christ,” he whispers.
“Let me take a look. Amy Kay, you've been out on this thing a few times, haven't you?” I look her way, see the same terror filling up her face. Slowly, she nods. “Come with me. Georgia, Jace, you two stay here. Cool your heels. If we're in deep shit, you'll hear it from me.”
I hear them bantering back and forth while Amy follows me upstairs. She's still blotting at her eyes with her sleeve. It's a maroon sweater and a skirt today, concealing her curves, but barely.
I'll take it. I don't need distractions while I search out what we hit, praying it isn't another boat.
“No manual for this thing?” I ask her, rummaging through the cabinet again after a quick check through the windows. I don't see any obvious collision objects or damage. Maybe – I hope – it was just a huge rock or the edge of a navigation buoy drifting by.
“I...can't remember. Dad always steered. Like second nature to him. He had a few years in the navy, spent a few summers with our grandpa's fishing company, I think.” She sniffs, still clearing her tears, shaking her head. “Okay. I've seen him do this a million times...once or twice he even let me have the wheel. Supervised, of course.”
Quietly, she comes close, peering over my shoulder. “Sensors look good. Whatever it was, I don't think it did any major damage, but we should try to dock to look things over.”
I shrug. “If we're not taking on water, I think we're okay. Good for however long Jace wants to stay out here, I mean.”
She twists her lips sourly. “He's a dick. Don't know how you stand him.”
Can't argue today. I'm trying to focus and let go of the shit storm with my best friend.
It's raining, big fall Pacific droplets pelting the hull. So much for the clear weather Jace promised, wiped out by the abrupt rains that always manage to attack a beautiful Seattle day.
I'm hoping this doesn't pick up, or visibility will become a struggle.
I look through the glass, ignoring how she leans on my shoulder. Her heat is another vicious distraction I don't need. “Your brother's not an asshole constantly. Sometimes, hell yeah. No denial. He thinks with his reptile brain and doesn't know how to shut it off.”
“His...huh?”
“Reptile brain. You know, the part where all the animal instincts are. Fight, flight, and –” I stop myself right before I say fucking. “Feeding. Point is, that's what he lets lead him around. Causes a lot of trouble sometimes.”
“Is that why you enable him?” She casts a bitter look. “He'd have flunked out of Maynard or gotten a real tutor by now if you weren't writing his papers. Too bad you can't take his tests, too. Best he ever does on those are Cs.”
I ignore her, eyes ahead of me.
Think I see an island in the distance, one with those small channel harbors where they used to have fisheries and whaling houses a hundred years ago. Probably a heritage marker now. Chances are there's a run down dock or two, the perfect place to wait out this storm, if I can get us there in one piece.
“Sorry, Trent. That was rude of me, I guess.” She sighs, looking down. “His crap isn't your fault. I'm just...really frustrated. We all are.” Her voice softens. So do her fingers, running along my neck, causing something evil and electric to dart through me. “I'm scared he won't come home one day. Mom, too. Or he'll wind up in big trouble, something so bad it hits the whole family. Call it a gut feeling. An ugly one.”
“He's going through some shit. Letting his dick and his inexperience lead him into trouble. Finding himself or whatever. Pretty typical seventeen year old acting out.”
She laughs, a high tinsel sound. A smile digs at my cheeks while I'm looking for the rudder controls, trying to turn this thing, point us toward the docks in the distance. “On your left, old fart. You don't have to correct very much. The computer does it automatically.”
“Old fart?” I raise an eyebrow.
“I mean, you talk like you're not the same age as Jace. Like you've been there, seen that, done it all. Come on. You're a kid, Trent. Just like the rest of us. Or does that tortured high IQ orphan thing make you a wise man, too?”
“Shut up,” I grumble, half-playfully and half-serious. She's touched something I've tried to bury. “Never gone looking for sympathy. Not even once. My parents are great people. They'
ve given me the world, and I'm grateful. Couldn't care less about the nobodies sharing my DNA.”
I bring the ship closer to the island, keeping a safe distance. There's an outline of something on the shore. An old fishery, I think, or maybe just a touristy place with docks.
If I'm right, it'll do.
“Ouch. Sorry for trying to figure you out.” She pats my shoulder playfully. Then she leans over, bringing her lips dangerously close to my ear, a whisper falling out. “Didn't know you were so easily offended, Usher.”
Great. More fuel for those wet dreams I'm trying like hell to forget right now. “Trent, Amy Kay. That's my name. Everybody says my last so much it's been run into the ground and then some.”
“What, I thought you were a Poe fan? House of Usher? You've got that broody, tall, dark mysterious thing going on. Kinda fitting.”
Her voice flows in my ear, thick as honey.
Definitely softer.
Dangerously sweet.
Almost addicting.
Also, so damn close to making me crack and tell her she can call me whatever she pleases.
No. Focus. I'm not running this ship into a cliff because I can't stop imagining what her sassy lips would feel like on mine. She's wearing a new shade of lipstick today, I see, a light maroon that makes her face look more grown up.
I say nothing, easing the ship forward as best I can, until Amy Kay squeezes my shoulder. “You're coming in too fast. Don't crash.”
Turning, I slowly look her over, studying the curved smile on her lips. “You've watched your dad a million times, you said?”
She nods. Slowly.
“Then stop being a tease and show me.” I take my hands off the controls. She laughs, maneuvering her hands down my arms, taking her sweet time on the muscles I've sculpted the last four years in the weight room after school.
“This,” she says, guiding my hand to a lever on the side. “It's just like a brake. It'll help you slow, make sure we don't rip the dock clean off.”
I test it slowly, pushing where she showed. There's a faint creaking sound. We're losing speed. A brutal weight lifts off my shoulders.
It takes ten minutes to guide the boat into a large space tucked in the beat up marina. I see one of the museums perched above it, already closed for the rainy season and the end of the tourist rush.
“You think it's safe? I mean this is private property...” Amy's burst of confidence is gone. I see the sweet, shy daddy's girl again, so afraid Jace's stupidity will land her in the thick of trouble.
“It'll have to do. Rain's picking up. We'll take our chances nobody else notices or cares. Do I need to anchor, or what?” She takes my hand, guiding it to another panel on the side. I push the button and there's another groaning sound, smoother than before.
The swaying from the wind and water eases. We're docked, probably through the evening. Amy's soft hands leave my skin slowly, no longer having an excuse to linger. I watch her smile and trot to the edge of the glass. Her eyes search the rain, the trees, the thickening gray clouds choking off the sky.
“Sucks we can't go on land. I can't believe I forgot my umbrella.”
“It's frigid as hell, Amy Kay. Consider yourself lucky. Hear how hard it's coming down? That's rain like ice.” Finally relaxed, I reach for the beer I brought aboard, cracking open another porter. The rich dark brew helps take the edge off.
She turns, wrinkling her nose when she sees me flopped back in the captain's seat. “Can't believe you're drinking that stuff. We're definitely screwed if the cops pull up for an inspection. No boat license, underage, and intoxicated. I thought you were like crazy smart?”
I lean forward, smiling. “Here's a tip, Amy Kay: your brain gets bigger when you learn to pull that stick out of your ass. Quit worrying and live a little.”
Her jaw falls open. Somehow, I like her a whole lot more when she's looking at me bewildered.
Makes the fierce urges running through my blood a whole lot easier to control. “Whatever. Not sure I'd call screwing off and almost flunking classes living, Trent. Or stealing dad's prized baby just so I can have a fancy room for a quick lay. That girl, Georgia...she'll be in tears next week. Jace is just sad.” She whips her head around, then looks back, adding, “So are you.”
Standing, I walk forward, taking another swig off my bottle. “Sad? You say that like it's a bad thing. No yin in this life without the yang. Sad has its place, darling. Sometimes sad means being young and stupid, making mistakes. Living just to learn.”
I'm closer than I intend. She turns, her eyes widening.
They're huge, green, and so fucking bright.
Just for once, I wonder what they'd look like truly lit. Like if I take her little face in my hand, pull her in, and leave her with something electric.
Something worth thinking about far more than fretting over her dumbass brother.
“I don't need a lecture, Mr. Usher.” She imitates her dad's voice when she says my name. “Look, I know you've got my parents and everybody else fooled. They think you're the good son they never had. Brains, morals, nose to the grindstone, wizard-like responsibility. They all trust you.”
My hand grazes her cheek. She gasps, her sweet body wriggling under the maroon sweater. Deep purple dipped in rust red, a color calling to every dirty, dark thing I've had on my mind since the first time Jace invited me over a year ago, and I saw his little sister for the very first time.
“And you don't?” Can't figure out if it's the booze warping my mind or just her sass.
Fuck. I'm playing with fire, throwing it around in fistfuls, begging to have my ass kicked if Jace or Georgia wander up here while I've got my hand on Amy's face.
“No.” She says firmly, but I sense hesitation. “If you were really so different from Jace, you wouldn't be hanging around him all the time. Definitely wouldn't be planning to take off to college together, hatching your silly solar business. I'm not stupid, Trent. You're using my brother, my family. It's money you're after, isn't it? Ours.”
That...that isn't fucking true. Arrow, meet chest. My playful smirk fades. It's hard not to pinch her cheek until she squeals.
I mean, in a round about way, part of the Chenocott allure is what they can do for me. No denying it. But hell, I didn't creep up to Jace in gym the day we met just for money, offering to spot for him while he hit the bench press. I didn't have a clue how rich he was then, or why his take-no-shit attitude pissed off most of the other guys in our class.
I damn sure didn't start hanging around to bleed him dry. I'm not a manipulator. I actually appreciate my little chats with Maxwell Chenocott, and if I've got an ulterior motive with Ophelia, it's scarfing down her latest batch of cookies.
“What? Too real for you?” Amy Kay whispers, her green eyes twitching as they pour into mine. They're nervous.
A wry laugh rattles in my throat. She stares harder while I shake my head. “You're precious, Amy Kay. Never change. I mean it, too. Nobody else but you could insult me to my face and get away with it, calling me some kind of fucked up gold digger who's just out to leech because I'm the orphan kid, or whatever.”
“Hey, now. I didn't say you wanted to marry him or anything. Don't think Jace swings that way.” She thinks she's being funny.
Fuck this. I've had it with her insults, her insufferable looks, her words. Everything she's patented to make my blood run so hot it scorches my blue veins black.
Tightening my hold on her face, I bring my lips home. I kiss the brat with half my soul. Plus a wild need to shut her up.
She melts in a fury of shock and awe and disbelief, her little tongue bending against mine. More eager than I expected, soon as she's gotten over the initial shock.
Sweet. Fucking. Mercy.
Her taste is equal parts temptation and wrong. So off limits, so good, so real I don't want to stop.
But I haven't lost it. However much I'd love to drink her over and over, let my hands roam freely across her, I realize our predicament.
&nb
sp; Jace and his latest fuck are too near. We're marooned here until this rain stops. And if I keep drinking with Amy Kay Chenocott in close quarters, we might do things that'll land me in far deeper shit than any reckless driving with this yacht.
I can't let that happen. Not with my best friend's little sister. Not with a girl who's a freshman.
I tear myself away, leaving her lungs working overtime. She flattens herself against the huge window for support. “What...why...why did you stop?”
“Stay precious, Presh. You can't do that if the dirty orphan boy you don't trust is the first to break you in.” I turn, grabbing my beer, heading for the stairs.
It's the only sensible thing. I don't have a death wish.
“Trent? You...you're disgusting!” She belts out the last two words when I'm well on my way below deck, whistling to myself to drown her out.
Fuck.
I'm smiling when I find the empty room at the end of the hall and flop down on the bed. Behind the wall, I hear heavy breathing, grunting, the sound of something heavy and solid creaking like it'll break.
Jace and Georgia are going at it. Thank God for the beer, or I think I'd have the world's worst case of blue balls.
I work through my beers slowly, playing with my phone, staring out into the twisted, rain-beat beauty of the Washington coast.
It's hell getting my mind off that kiss. Meaning it's even worse for her, somewhere on this ship, wherever she slunk off to after we got up close and personal.
I meant to leave her breathless, shaken, humbled.
Instead, I'm the asshole feeling rustled, wondering if it was too much, too soon.
Is she somewhere on this ship crying her little eyes out? Fuck, was that her first kiss?
Don't know why I care about the answers.
She's a spoiled, annoying, beautiful brat. Sooner or later someone was bound to teach her some respect. Not like this, though.
Goddammit. Having a conscience sucks.
After a couple hours, flat on the bed, listening to Jace snoring in the other room while him and Georgia take a breather, I've reached my limit.