I did it. I took the seat on the other side of the aisle from him, also facing the water. But I didn’t look at him as the ship pulled out from the dock, Hyannis’s harbor falling away behind us. At least I had that much control.
An announcement came on about rules and regulations. To my right, women in tank tops with Greek letters poured White Claws into thermoses; boys in ACK baseball caps ate slimy-looking ham sandwiches. I noticed my shoulders had drawn up again, high and tight, and forcibly relaxed them. I wasn’t being shipped off to Forks or anything, forced to handle pewter skies and brooding vampires. Plenty of people would give an arm and a leg to visit Nantucket.
Across the aisle, Chair Boy laughed.
A loud laugh. Alook at melaugh.
I steadfastly did not look at him. I might have chosen my seat precisely to put myself in this position, but surely I hadsomewillpower left? Surely I could keep myself from sliding down a slippery slope proven, time and again, to leave me feeling bad about myself.
He laughed once more.
I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t. I glanced over inquisitively. Our gazes collided.
He broke into a wide, contagious grin and nodded at a family standing by the rail. “They’re all wearing the same socks. Even the dog.”
Sure enough, the family of five wore navy socks with white anchors. Even the mini Bernedoodle.
“Isn’t the whole point of dogs not to need footwear?”
“I’m not sure thewholepoint of dogs is not to need footwear,” he mused. “There’s gotta be something about hunting in there.”
“And being our best friend.”
“They do a great job there.” He tilted his head. “You got a dog?”
This could be soeasy. He wanted to talk, and I could talk an ear off an elephant.
I’d told myself this summer would be different. This summer, I wasn’t getting involved with anyone. Maybe in the fall, when I started college, I could start a relationship with someone kind and smart and genuinely interested. But right now, I was going to prove I was absolutely emotionally stable, and the easiest way to do so was to avoid romantic entanglements altogether, and to focus on helping my dad.
But.
Screw it.
I wasn’t actuallyonNantucket yet. The summer hadn’t really begun. I still had this one short, high-speed ferry ride.
And just like that, my entire posture changed as I relaxed and smiled. “I wish. No dog, just dreams of dogs. You?”
“Two brothers, which is almost the same thing.”
I laughed. “Do they shed?”
“Come to think of it, yeah. One—David—has green hair right now, so you always know when it’s his fault.” He nodded at me. “He’d like your outfit.”
There was no judgment in his tone, no slight sneer at his brother and me, and it made me like him more, knowing he appreciated his green-haired brother with good fashion sense. “Oh?” I mirrored him, tilting my head as well. “Doyoulike it?”
His grin widened. “Definitely.” He swept a hand down, indicating his own body. “What do you think of this?”
I tried to contain an appreciative smirk and instead pasted a considering look on my face. I pulled my eyes over him, lingering on his boat shoes, his salmon-pink shorts, his white cable sweater. Everything was the highest quality, but deeply worn, as though he couldn’t be bothered to replace them. He had tanned skin, though the summer had barely started, like he’d spent two weeks lying on a Mediterranean shore. “I’m very impressed by all the fashion risks you’ve taken. Very avant-garde.”
He nodded, faux-serious. “I know. Nantucket red on Nantucket? It might be too radical. I might be thrown overboard before we reach the island.”
“I could tear off a little black tulle from my skirt and we could tie it around your neck. Help you fit in a little more.”
“Thank god.” He grinned at me. “Is this your first time on the island?”
“Yeah. What about you?” I didn’t leave time for him to answer. “Let me guess—you’re summer people.”
“What gave me away?” he asked. “Was it the tattoo on my forehead that sayssummer people?”
