We lost ourselves in the music. I swayed back and forth, surrounded by these girls who weren’t yet my friends but maybe could be, letting everything wash over me: the thrum of music, my pulsing blood, the sway of my hips. It smelled like sea brine and woodsmoke. People’s arms threaded through the air, their movements loose, their hands curved around each other’s hips. The trill of excited conversation and an occasional shout cut above the music. It felt familiar and easy, and for one of the first times since I’d arrived on Nantucket, I fully relaxed.
After an hour or so, I made my way to the drinks cluster and downed four cups of water in rapid succession, sitting on a closed cooler. I was desperately going to need to pee in about twenty minutes. C’est la vie.
Ethan joined me. “Having a good time?”
I considered, breathing in the night. “Yeah. Are you?”
He shrugged, then nodded.
I leaned back on my hands. “I hear you’re giving a talk for my dad.”
Ethan looked at me quickly, then blushed. “Oh. Uh. Yeah.”
“That’s pretty cool.”
He ducked his head, almost shyly. “Thanks.”
Shy. As though not enough people had told him it was cool. “Can I ask you a question? You don’t have to answer.”
He gave me a lopsided grin. “You’re scaring me.”
I smiled back, not wanting to come off as too judgmental of his family. “I was wondering—what’s up with your parents? They sounded weird about you working for my dad. As though my dad was doing it out of pity.”
“Ah. That.” He stared straight ahead. For the first time since I’d met him, no merriment animated his face, and his profile was hard and unexpectedly stark without it. “They probably think he is.”
“Why? My dad thinks you’re brilliant.”
Ethan’s face swung toward mine. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. And I’m pretty sure slackers don’t sign up to be historian’s assistants for four summers in a row.”
“They might if all they did was go out on ship excursions.”
I frowned, not liking the self-recrimination in his voice, as though he didn’t give himself credit for anything he did. “Sure, but I’m pretty certain you mostly do endless research.”
“Yeah.” His voice was lighter this time. “Weird, I guess.”
I studied this boy, who I resented and who I desired, who aggravated me and who made me laugh. I’d thought I’d figured him out before I came here: a pompous rich boy. Then I’d thought I’d figured out the boy on the boat: a carefree playboy. But maybe I hadn’t figured Ethan Barbanel out at all.
He turned toward the sea, looking out at the dark, rolling waves. “You asked why I was working for your dad, a few days ago. Honestly…he was the first person to take me seriously. My family thinks I’m a goof.”
“You are a goof. You yelled ‘cock-a-doodle-do’ while running into the ocean. That doesn’t mean you can’t also be serious about things.”
“Wow. How very—I don’t know, adult of you.”
“I spent a lot of time in therapy.” I shrugged. “You know. The dead mom thing.”
Ethan looked like he’d been struck. “I’m sorry. That sucks.”
“I know,” I said, because everyone was always sorry, and it did suck. “Thank you.”
“Did, uh—did the therapy help?”
“Think about how muchmoreof a mess I’d be if I hadn’t gone,” I said lightly. “How did you know my dad would take you seriously? I mean, what made you decide to work with him in the first place?”
Ethan sat on the cooler next to me. “Let’s see. I was sixteen. My parents were on me about college and what extracurriculars I needed. I’d done an adventure camp the past couple summers—camper, then CIT. But my family said I should work at the family firm, to round out my activities.” He made a face.
“Not your cup of tea?”
