Run Away with Me

by Mila Gray

  In the firelight, Em’s skin glows and her eyes take on a wild cat gleam. I pull her toward me and let out a groan as she lets her fingers trail across my jaw and down to my chest. She bites my bottom lip between her teeth and that’s it. I stand up, sweeping her into my arms. She wraps her legs around my waist, and I carry her inside.

  “I love you,” I say, looking her in the eyes as I lean over her. I want her to know it, really know it. I need her to know it. “I’m in love with you,” I clarify.

  She draws in a quick breath. “I’m in love with you too,” she whispers.

  And then she kisses me.

  Em

  I’m still daydreaming about Jake naked and all the things we did when I walk into the store the next day. Toby is already behind the counter, doing something on the computer. He looks up and smiles when he sees me.

  “Someone had a good night last night,” he says.

  My hand flies instantly to my hair, smoothing it down. I flush under his scrutiny. Do I have stubble rash? I choose to ignore Toby and dump my bag and keys on the counter. “What are you doing?” I ask, looking over his shoulder at the computer.

  Toby shifts a little to the side to give me a better view, and I see that he has a website open.

  “What the—” I ask, pushing him out of the way and leaning closer.

  “Hot, right?”

  “Why is Jake on the store’s homepage?”

  “He agreed.”

  Confused, I stare at the store’s website. It’s been completely redesigned and now prominently features a photo of Jake standing beside a kayak, wearing a LOWE KAYAKING CO. T-shirt. He’s gazing into the camera lens and he has a glint in his eye. The same look, in fact, that he was wearing last night right before he slipped my underwear off. Toby’s right, though. It’s hot. Extremely hot. Though I admit I’m biased.

  “Who did this?” I ask, gesturing at the website.

  “Aaron,” says Toby with a grin. “Check it out.” He hits a key and takes me through to the booking page, which has now been totally automated.

  “No way,” I say. “Aaron? The guy from the rafting trip?”

  “Yeah. He did it as a favor to me. He’s a web genius.”

  I’m still staring at the computer screen. We’re finally out of the dark ages. Our website looked like it had been designed in the ’90s—which it had. Now it’s slick and gorgeous and looks almost as good as Jake.

  “He must have owed you big-time for something,” I say in awe, then cast a sideways glance at Toby, who smiles smugly.

  “Guess who Aaron works for?”

  I shake my head.

  “Google! He’s the guy who helps design their search algorithm.”

  “Shut up!”

  Toby shrugs. “Well, something like that. I don’t know. When he talks IT, I glaze over like a donut, but yeah . . . we’re already at the top of the search rankings for Bainbridge Island. First place when you search Bainbridge and things to do.”

  “Really?” I almost squeal. We’ve always lingered on the ninth or tenth search page.

  “Yeah, and we’re the first thing that comes up when you Google Jake’s name. The site almost crashed yesterday because of all the hits.”

  “Oh my God,” I say. “How come?”

  Toby looks guiltily away. “I got Aaron to SEO the heck out of the site. I mean, Jake’s name is searched thousands of times a day . . . and, well . . . kayaking in Bainbridge is really not.”

  “What?”

  Toby gives me cartoon innocent eyes. “Jake said it was cool. I checked with him. Honest.”

  When did they do all this?

  “I’m telling you, the phone did not stop ringing yesterday,” Toby says. “Mainly, it was journalists—who, by the way, your mom totally dealt with like a pro; the woman should get a job as the White House press secretary—but we also took two dozen bookings over the phone, as well as a dozen more online.”

  My eyes fly open. Toby is grinning at me. “Things are looking up, Lowe,” he says. “And for Jake, too, by the looks of things.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask Toby, trying to sound casual.

  “Apparently, he’s now the next hot thing. Loads of designers are trying to sign him.”

  “What?” I stammer.

  “For modeling. Everyone wants a piece of him. He’s the bad boy with the chiseled cheekbones. They’re beating down his door.”

  I close my eyes again and press a hand to my forehead. “I don’t get it. How do you know all this?”

  “His agent called the store yesterday when he couldn’t get hold of him on his cell. I took a message. Didn’t Jake tell you?”

  No, he didn’t. But then again, we were kind of distracted yesterday and last night.

  “He’ll be the next Tom Brady. Which makes you Gisele, I guess.” He gives me a wonky smile and then goes back to staring at the screen. “Oh look, we got another booking!”

  Jake

  I’m sitting with Shay on the deck of my place, our feet dangling over the edge.

  “So you leave in three days, huh?” Shay asks me.

  “Yeah,” I say, contemplating a sparrow hopping along a branch.

  “It’s not that bad, Jake,” Shay says. “At least you didn’t get kicked out of college. What about your coach? What happened at the hearing? Did they fire him?”

  “No,” I say. “He argued that he covered up the test because he knew it was inadmissible.”

  Shay arches both eyebrows at me. “Is that true?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “No.”

  Shay’s mouth falls open in amazement. “So he lied and got away with it?” She shakes her head and laughs—snorting air through her nose.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Just that it sounds familiar. A sports coach lying and getting away with it.”

  I frown at the ground. I didn’t want Sarge to get fired over my mistake, but on the other hand, Shay’s right. Shouldn’t we all pay for our mistakes? I feel furtive, like I’ve gotten away with something I shouldn’t have, and I still feel as if I have an invisible noose around my neck.

  “There are so many double standards in the world,” Shay goes on, her voice getting louder. “It’s so unfair. Like you getting all those modeling contracts. If you were a girl, I bet you’d have been destroyed by the press, totally vilified. You wouldn’t have a career left at all. You’d probably have been thrown out of college, too.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I’ve turned down all the offers.”

  “What?” Shay asks.

  “Modeling is the most boring job in the world. You just stand around in your underwear staring into a camera all day being told to scowl as inside, your soul withers and dies.”

  “What about the money, though?” Shay asks.

  I shrug. “I don’t need it. If I could find a way to give the money to Em, then I’d do it, but she won’t take it. I’ve tried.”

  Shay doesn’t say anything.

  I exhale loudly and kick the step with my foot, startling the bird, which flies off. “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave.”

  “I know. It’s going to be hard on her. Us both leaving at the same time.”

  “It’s just so unfair. I mean, Em’s smarter than me. She’s the one who should be going to college. She’s the one who should be on a scholarship. I can’t believe she didn’t even bother applying.”

  “What do you mean?” Shay asks.

  “For college.”

  “She did apply. What are you talking about? She got a place. At Washington State.”

  “What?”

  Shay nods. “Yeah. You didn’t know? She just didn’t take it.”

  “Why?” I ask. And why didn’t she tell me this?

  “The money situation. They needed someone to run the business. And her mom needed help looking after her dad.”

  I frown. “But I’ve been through the business projections with her mom and Toby. The bank�
�s agreed to give them another six months to get back on their feet. And it looks good. It looks like they’ll be turning a profit if this place takes off and things keep going the way they are. So . . . couldn’t she go now?”

  “It’s still a lot of tuition to pay,” Shay says. “They had to use Em’s college fund to pay for her dad’s care.”

  The bird has flown back and is hopping along the branch again. I watch it for a moment. It’s pointless. I kick the post. “I just wish there were something we could do.”

  Shay pats my arm. “You’ve done plenty, Jake.”

  Maybe—I sigh—but it’s still not enough.

  Em

  This night is perfect. I lean back in the booth, feeling Jake’s arm around my waist, and press myself closer against his side. I used to come here sometimes with Rob, but every time he’d sit at the bar, stuffing pretzels into his mouth, glued to the game on the giant TV screen. And I would sit beside him thinking that was normal and acceptable. What planet was I on? I don’t even recognize who that girl was. She wasn’t me.

  “Are you okay?” Jake murmurs in my ear, shouting to be heard over the band.

  I nod, shaking off the memory, determined to stay only in the present from now on. No more looking back. No more Emerson. I’m back to being Em.

  Shay sits on my right-hand side. She’s laughing at something Aaron has just said, but my mind isn’t on the conversation; I’m just soaking it all in—this last night out together before Shay and Jake leave. At least, I think to myself, Toby will still be here to keep me sane. And Aaron, too, by the looks of things. He and Toby seem to be really into each other, are holding hands under the tabletop, sharing their drinks, and whispering into each other’s ears like teenagers on a first date.

  Toby suddenly glances across the bar area toward the door. “Look what the cat dragged in,” he mutters.

  I turn my head and feel my bubble of happiness prick. Rob has sauntered in and is standing in the doorway surveying the room. His gaze lands on me and he scowls.

  Shay lets out a groan beside me. “Look who he’s with.”

  My eyes flit to the person who’s walked in behind him. Reid.

  “Great,” I mumble, feeling Jake’s arm tense as he pulls me closer against his side.

  “Oh my God, what’s Tanya Hollingsworth doing with them?” Shay announces.

  My eyes widen as I see Tanya—the most popular girl from school—sidle up to Rob and slip her arm through his. She flicks her hair over her shoulder and then catches sight of me. A smug, gloating smile takes over her face, and I laugh out loud. I always had a suspicion that Tanya liked Rob. Every time she saw him, she’d flirt with him, but then again, Tanya flirts with everyone with a pulse and a penis, and I thought she was just doing it to rile me. I never realized she actually had a thing for Rob.

  “Tanya Hollingsworth and Rob?” Shay wonders aloud. “If they were on OkCupid, it would say ‘one hundred percent match.’ ”

  I laugh. I’m actually happy for them. They suit each other.

  “Who is that scary-looking girl?” Aaron interrupts, glancing over at Tanya. “And why is she giving you a stare that could freeze lava?”

  “She’s nobody,” I tell him. “Just some girl we know from school.”

  “Wow, she should audition for Mean Girls, the sequel.” Aaron chortles.

  “Do you want to go?” Jake asks me.

  I turn to him. He’s looking at me anxiously. “No,” I say, feeling a warm buzz start to build in my bloodstream at the way he’s looking at me: fiercely, protectively, like I belong to him.

  “You sure?” Jake asks, his eyes searching mine.

  “Actually,” I say a little weakly, “yeah, I do want to go.” I lower my voice and lean into him. “But not because of them.” I whisper in his ear, catching a hit of his aftershave as I do. “I want you to take me back to your place.” We’ve only got one night left, after all—best to make it count.

  I pull back to watch the grin split Jake’s face in two. Instantly, he’s on his feet, pulling me up with him. “We’re going to go,” he tells the others.

  Toby and Shay start laughing. “You have some kind of curfew, Lowe?” Shay asks.

  “No,” I stammer.

  She stands up, grabbing her purse. “It’s cool. I get it. You two love bunnies go enjoy yourselves. I have to get home and pack anyway.”

  “Wait up,” says Toby, draining the last of his drink and standing up as well. “We’ll come too.” He catches my look of alarm. “No, not with you,” he clarifies. “But we need to catch the last ferry.”

  Shay, Toby, and Aaron walk past Rob’s table and out the door, but as Jake and I pass the table, I hear Rob say something under his breath, something aimed at Toby and Aaron.

  Jake freezes and I grip his arm tight. “Come on,” I say. “Let’s just go.”

  “Yeah.” Rob snickers. “Listen to your woman.”

  Jake’s jaw tenses. I pull him toward the door.

  “Slut.”

  Jake stops again and turns back to Rob. This time I feel the tension running in ripples through his body. His back stiffens and he pulls his hand from mine. Before he can do anything, I step up to the table.

  “Last week I was frigid. This week I’m a slut. Make up your mind. You’re pathetic.”

  I whip back around, take Jake by the hand, and tug him toward the door. He’s resisting, but I hold on tight.

  “Yeah, that’s right, follow your little whore and her fag friends!”

  I cringe as if he’s thrown something at our backs.

  Jake rips his hand from mine and, before I can stop him, takes a step toward Rob, who jumps to his feet at Jake’s approach.

  “What did you just say?” Jake asks in a low voice.

  Oh God. I can see exactly where this is heading. I take hold of Jake by the arm and try to pull him away from the table, but he’s a statue and won’t budge.

  “Jake,” I say, but it falls on deaf ears.

  Reid stands up now as well, and steps between Jake and his little brother, fronting Jake with an angry stare.

  “Jake,” I say again, loudly, pulling on his arm some more. “Just ignore them. It doesn’t matter.”

  But Jake isn’t listening. His hands are fisted and the energy is bursting off him like a crackling force field.

  “Apologize,” Jake says quietly, almost under his breath. “Both of you.”

  Reid laughs. Tanya is still sitting at the table—her eyes glued to the four of us—as the drama plays out.

  “What do I need to apologize for?” Rob snorts. “She’s the one who was two-timing me. And look at how she tried it on with Coach Lee, then acted like he assaulted her when he turned her down. If that ain’t a slut, tell me what is.”

  His words hit me hard, knocking the air clean out of me, but they don’t hit as hard as Jake’s fist, which smashes into Rob’s jaw with enough force to make his head snap back like a Pez dispenser.

  I blink in shock, watching Rob go stumbling backward into the table, knocking over a bottle of beer, which spills all over Tanya’s lap. Her screams pierce my eardrums. The bar roars to life, people yelling and rushing toward the fray. Rob’s suddenly back on his feet and tearing toward Jake, who stands his ground and pulls back his arm, ready to lay another punch.

  Reid throws himself out of the booth. Everything becomes a blur. Reid tries to get between Rob and Jake, but he trips. He falls toward Jake, who steps aside, and the next thing I know, there’s a loud smack as his head cracks against the side of the neighboring table. He smashes to the ground with a thud. There are more screams. More shouts. Someone’s shoving Jake back toward the bar, and in the jostling crowd I get pushed aside.

  My head spins as I stare at Reid on the ground, surrounded by people. A man kneels and rolls him over onto his back. His head lolls. He’s out cold. Blood oozes from a cut to his temple. I turn to Jake and see him scanning the bar. He’s looking for me, and I see the wild fear in his face before he spots me and t
hen the despair when our eyes meet.

  Behind me, I can vaguely hear Tanya crying hysterically and Rob yelling at her to shut up. I turn, distracted, and see her flapping her arms and Rob kneeling over Reid as he starts to come around, stirring blearily and groaning.

  I turn back to Jake in a daze. I can’t believe he just punched someone. I’ve never seen Jake lose it like that before. I stumble toward him. He reaches for me and I wrap my arms around his neck. He pulls me closer, so tight it feels like he’s drowning and I’m the only thing keeping him afloat.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispers hoarsely, burying his face in my neck.

  “It’s okay, it’s okay,” I say, kissing him, stroking his hair, holding him as tight as he is holding me.

  I don’t think he hears me, though, because the wail of the police siren drowns me out.

  Jake

  They’ve set a bail hearing for tomorrow morning.”

  I stare at Shay’s mom. She’s wearing jeans and a sweater, not a suit, probably thanks to having been dragged out of bed in the middle of the night. I’m so embarrassed I can’t meet her eye. Instead, I look down at the cracked, coffee-stained table that’s bolted to the floor.

  “Jake, I need to warn you that Chief Walsh is going to ask the judge to refuse you bail.”

  I look up sharply. “What?”

  “He’s going to ask for you to be remanded into custody until the trial.”

  “Trial?”

  Oh God. I rest my head on my hands. The room in all its yellow, peeling-paint, piss-stained glory starts to spin.

  “You’re being charged with aggravated assault.”

  I look up again, nausea shooting up my throat like a geyser. “What? What does that mean?”

  Her mouth tightens into a straight line. “Rob’s claiming you threatened to kill him and that you hit Reid when he leaped to his defense.”

  I shake my head and sit back in my plastic chair, thinking I must have misheard her. “What?”

  Shay’s mother gives me a long, hard stare. She doesn’t believe me.