Page 56 of Under the Influence

The way he stands behind the wheel, his hat flipped backward, and the open water ahead of us, makes him almost look normal. For the first time since the cages, it’s like I see a regular sixteen-year-old guy, not the alpha Shark, not the king of Legacy High. I shake any thoughts except pure hatred away, remembering what he said earlier in the alleyway.

I’d like to know what he’s done since we’re counting our crimes. I guarantee that he has secrets too, and I intend to expose every last one of them. If he is so sure that I’m a threat, then that is precisely what I’ll be.

Nash Langdon’s worst nightmare.

The clouds darken, and most of the ride has been eerily silent. We are still in the bay headed to what I believe is south, so I’m not sure what his intended destination is, but I assume we are getting close.

“The wind is starting to pick up,” I announce loudly over the sound of the boat motor.

He cuts the engine, walks around to the bow, opens a compartment, and pulls out two rain jackets. He wouldn’t care about keeping me dry if he was going to kill me, right?

The water laps against the side of the boat, rocking it vigorously. A flash of lightning is quickly followed by thunder, causing me to jump. Nash starts the boat back, and I look to the sky as raindrops begin to fall. He motions for me to sit next to him underneath the hardtop, and I do as instructed. There isn’t much room, so his leg rests against mine, even though he is standing up.

The rain picks up, matching the wind, and Nash pulls back on the throttle, moving slower. The visibility ahead is awful, and I think it’s at this exact moment he realizes he messed up.

At this point, we’re both soaked. It’s raining sideways, and the conditions are dangerous. Nash yells over the rain and wind, “We have to dock somewhere!”

I do my best not to yell at him for being so stupid and scan the area for somewhere safe. There’s what appears to be a dock up ahead, but it’s definitely someone’s private residence. I point across the water, “Over there!”

He turns the boat and barks orders, quickly and precisely at me, to help him get the boat tied up, using several bumpers as the wind pushes it against the wood. I do as he says and we sprint down the wooden dock. I don’t know whose house this is, but it doesn’t matter. The water was so rough, and the weather was so bad, we could’ve died out there. I’m suddenly more aggravated than I was before at his blatant disregard for either of our safety.

We stop under one of the trees in the backyard, using it as a temporary shield from the rain.

“My dad is going to kill me if something happens to his boat,” Nash sighs, aggravation in his tone.

“You almost got us killed, and you’re worried about the boat?” I yell over the rain beating against the ground.

He grabs my wrist, pulling me behind him until we are under the covered porch at the house. I’m getting pretty sick of him dragging me around like a doll.

There’s a skid steer parked near the side of the house, clearing out what appears to be a driveway. Nash pushes the French doors open, pulling me inside.

“You can’t just walk into someone’s house!”

He rolls his eyes, “It’s new construction, Corinne. No one is even here.”

I yank my hand away from him, “It’s still trespassing.”

“This is an extreme circumstance.”

My phone sings with tornado warnings, and I realize he’s right. We are safer here.

“Take off your shoes,” he demands, slipping his off too.

I pull the jacket he gave me off, leaving it dripping by the door.

“We should call someone for help,” I demand, reaching for my phone in my back pocket and realize it isn’t there.I must’ve dropped it somewhere.

“No,” he warns. “It’ll pass fast.”

He pulls his phone out, dialing someone quickly. “Little delay. I’ll text you when we get to the house so you can take me back to get my Jeep.”

He waits for the response on the other end of the phone, and I decide this is my chance.

“Help, we need help!” I yell over at him, trying to get closer to the phone speaker so the person on the other end can hear me.

Nash forcefully shoves me away, and as he does, I stumble backward, tripping on a stack of unlaid tile. Slamming into the floor, I slice the back of my arm open on something.

The pain radiates up my arm and into my neck, and Nash stares at me. I scramble to stand back up and jump when Nash’s arm lands on my waist to steady me.