Page 89 of The Storm

There’s no need to define anything.

Not much reason to hide anything either.

It’s just the two of us, and the water.

And whatever this thing is between us.

“That’s the old lighthouse.”I point to the tower in the distance. “I used to come here a lot when I was younger.”

Nick studies the tilting structure with a skeptical look.

“It looks like it’s about to keel over.”

I laugh. “Yup. Been like this for close to half a century as far as I know. The area around it is closed off, so you’re not allowed to go there anymore. Mom was never a fan anyway, but my grandfather always brought me here when school was out in the summer.”

“I thought your grandfather lived in Massachusetts.”

“My other grandfather. Pops. He was the one who taught me to row. He had a small blue house near Annapolis and a private dock. Back then we used to live in New York, so every summer I begged my parents to send me here.”

Nick nods. “I can’t really picture you living somewhere that doesn’t have access to water, let alone in a city.”

I laugh. “Yeah, I’m pretty much a fish at this point.” I look around and breathe in. “Being out here always reminds me of him. When he died, I swore off boats because being out here was too painful without him. But then we moved here and it got better. Bit by bit. Now being out here is easy. It’s the kind of freedom you don’t get anywhere else.”

His gaze is somewhere on the horizon for a while.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “I get that.”

“Why do you call me Blue?”I ask.

“Because I want to.”

“But why?”

He looks at me for the longest time.

“You’re Indy for everybody else. When you’re Blue… you’re mine.”

TWENTY-THREE

NICK

I’m fucked.

TWENTY-FOUR

INDY

I tryto set ground rules for myself at first, but I fail pretty quickly simply because I’m not really trying that hard to follow them anyway. Every time the two of us are alone inevitably ends the same way: with us plastered together against the nearest flat surface. And the rush of being with him is always so powerful that I forget everything I might have told myself about being careful.

I’m lying on my stomach with Nick half on top of me. He presses his nose against my shoulder blade, inhales, and sinks his teeth into my shoulder.

A shiver races over my skin.

The sun is setting outside my window. Mom and Dad left a few hours ago to go to Baltimore for some work party of Mom’s, so it’s just the two of us. The moment the door shut behind them, I dragged Nick upstairs to my room, where he sucked me off while I tried to stay upright against the door.

Now we’re sprawled out on my bed. Nick kisses my back and rakes his teeth over the place where my neck meets my shoulder. His hands roam all over me, everywhere he can reach. There are calluses on his palms, and his skin is hot against mine.

“You smell like cum,” he murmurs into my ear, and I snort out a laugh. I throw a look over my shoulder.