But when I tear my gaze away from where our bodies are pressed together oh-so-casually and look up into his eyes, I see something unmistakably different there. He feels it too. Not casual. Not casual at all. Not friendly. Not old pals catching up.
What is this? What’s happening?
I move my arm away, heart beating wildly against my ribs, and I pretend that nothing has happened. Because nothing has.
I think the seasickness has seeped into my brain and caused a temporary malfunction. That’s probably all it is, right? Just need to breathe and stop thinking about it. I’ll be fine.
Lucky clears his throat. “You know, you could’ve just asked to meet me at the Quarterdeck again. Less nausea. More coffee. No mothers involved in the meetup.”
“Ah, well. I didn’t want to stalk you around the department store or creep around the boatyard, and I didn’t have your phone number.”
“Tell me yours.”
“What?”
He lifts his chin, encouraging. “Go on. Tell me yours.”
“Now?”
“Right now.”
I recite my number. “You’ll remember that without writing it down?”
“Yep. Mind like a steel trap. Remember? I used to help you cheat on math tests.”
God. He totally did. “Is that because you’ve turned into a genius?”
He groans.
“Evie said you got a perfect score on the SAT,” I say.
“Gossip,” he says, dismissive.
“Really?”
“Near perfect.”
“Shut up! Then it’s true?”
“Who cares?” he says, shrugging. “Test scores don’t measure intellect. They just prove you’re good at taking tests. And who cares if you can get into an Ivy League school if you can’t afford it? None of them offer scholarships. You still have to pay. All the rest of the colleges offering full rides want extracurriculars and students ‘of character.’ I think we can all agree that’s not me.”
“But—”
“It’s not even what I want to do. No one stops to ask me that. My mom wants me in college. My dad wants me to take over the boatyard.…”
“Whatdoyou want?”
He hesitates. “Maybe I’ll show you sometime. If you’re interested …”
“I’m interested.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Hey,” he says. “Did you ever call the woman at the magazine?”
“Oh, her. Uh, she hasn’t gotten back to me,” I lie.
