Page 18 of The Storm

FOUR

INDY

Becca shakesher hand after her drink sloshes over the edge of her cup. She takes another step closer after Miles bumps into her from the side, rolling her eyes.

“I swear half these people have never stood upright before,” she mutters.

I huff out a laugh and shake my head as I move to stand between her and Miles. “Free drinks. They have that effect.”

She sends me a coy look and a flirty smile. “It’s nice that you’re volunteering as my bodyguard. My hero,” she teases.

My shoulders tense just a bit. I don’t want to give her the wrong impression, despite the way Bridge practically marched Becca to me and is now widening her eyes at me suggestively from a bit farther away. At this point, I wouldn’t be too surprised if she pulled out two voodoo dolls of us and made them kiss.

“I mean,” I say lightly, “I’m not doing anything else. Might as well be useful.” I follow that up with an awkward laugh. Going by this interaction, you’d think this is the first time in my life I’ve ever talked to a girl. It’s not. I’m usually pretty good at it.

Becca keeps throwing me looks and smiling at me. And I’m not feeling any of it. If anything, I’m bored. I’vebeenbored for a while.

Ever since Nick entered my life.

He’s a mystery and I’m obsessed, unable to step away and let it go. I don’t get why I’m like this when it comes to him. It makes no sense.

Becca leans closer. “Hey, you wanna take a walk? Somewhere quieter, maybe?”

There’s a hint in her voice. A suggestion.

“Yeah. Sure. In a bit,” I say. “I’ll just… grab us something to drink first?”

Her smile widens even more. “I’ll be here.”

I escape. I’m not proud of it. Don’t regret it either, though, so it sort of balances out. Instead of getting drinks, I make my way down to the water. The music dulls as I go. The bass turns into a distant pulse instead of rattling in my rib cage. Crickets take over the farther away I get. The air is cool, and I breathe easier.

The bay looks like dark glass, not a wave or a ripple in sight. I wish I was out there right now instead of here. It’s my safe place. It’s where I feel most like myself and most comfortable.

It’s not that I don’t like people. It’s not that they don’t like me. I’m reasonably well liked at school, but every now and then I start to feel this itching need to be on my own. Away from everybody else.

Someone dragged an old picnic table closer to the shore years ago, and I head that way.

There’s some kind of dark shape stretched out on top of it.

For another blissful second, I’m still under the impression that I’m alone out here.

Until the shape shifts.

Nick.

He’s lying flat on his back on top of the table, hands folded behind his head like he’s at home in our backyard instead of a five-minute walk away from a party. He has one ankle hooked over the other, and he’s staring up at the sky. I almost turnaround, which would be the smart thing to do. Instead, I step closer, summoned by some unnamed force.

“You know, this thing’s probably got splinters.” I nod toward the table.

He doesn’t look at me. “Would be a problem if I were naked. Alas…”

I huff out a laugh. The sound feels too loud.

He looks different here, far away from the firelight. His face is even harder and, without the glow of the fire, colder.

So maybe not different, then. More like his usual self.

“What are you doing?” I ask.