by Nell Stark
“All right, Quinn,” Corrie shouted, as she let the mainsail out completely. Crouching low to maintain her balance, she threw one leg over the tiller extension so that she could steer with her legs while flying the chute with her hands. “One last time. Hand me the sheet!”
Quinn bent her knees and swung into the boat, reaching back as she did so to transfer the line into Corrie’s gloved palm. As soon as she was safely inside the boat, she unhooked her harness from the starboard trapeze clip and reached forward to jibe the pole. For the first time in her life, Quinn managed to release the pole and reattach it in the same motion. In a burst of speed, she reset the spinnaker lines and hooked herself into the port trapeze clip, then grabbed the sheet from Corrie and propelled herself out of the boat.
Corrie let go of the spinnaker sheet completely and grabbed at the purchase system of the mainsail. Mesmerized, Quinn took her eyes off the newly inflated spinnaker to watch the muscles in Corrie’s arms and back leap into sharp relief as she manually yanked the boom across the thwart while shoving the tiller away from the sail with her knees. The boat lurched and spun quickly around the buoy—so quickly that it only registered as a bright flash of orange in Quinn’s peripheral vision before they had cleared it and were racing toward the leeward mark.
“That was beautiful!” Corrie yelled into the wind as she trimmed the sail. “You are beautiful!”
Quinn laughed triumphantly. The spinnaker tugged against her grip like a creature possessed, but the ache in her arms and legs was gone. “How far ahead?” she shouted, not daring to look back at their competition.
Corrie risked a quick glance. “Enough!” she crowed. “Enough. Just keep her full.”
And Quinn did, all the way until the windward mark. She pulled the spinnaker down with smooth, efficient movements as Corrie spun them around the buoy and headed back upwind toward the finish line. The boats ahead were meaningless. Only the one behind them counted. As soon as the sail was tucked securely into its bag, she swung out again on the trapeze. Their boat responded by darting forward, as though it knew just how important these final seconds were.
“Still enough?” Quinn gasped. Her arms were suddenly aching again.
“Yes,” said Corrie, her voice strong and sure. She stretched as far out of the boat as she could, and briefly met Quinn’s eyes. “Just a minute more.”
Quinn’s legs shook, her thighs and stomach burning as she struggled to maintain her balance on the trapeze. And then, out of the corner of her eye, she could see it—the judges’ boat, only a few seconds away. She leaned back for all she was worth, forcing the hull down hard to ride flat against the water until the high-pitched blare of a whistle signaled their finish. Corrie released the mainsail immediately, and Quinn somehow found the strength to lunge back into the boat before collapsing against the thwart.
Several seconds later, the whistle shrilled again. As one, they looked toward the judges’ boat, where Jen was waving her arms frantically in their direction. “You did it!” they heard faintly.
“Holy shit,” said Corrie. The boat was rapidly losing momentum, as it spun up into irons. She looked over at Quinn and grinned tiredly. “We beat them.”
“Yeah,” Quinn said weakly. Her heart, she was certain, was trying to force its way out between her ribs. “We did.”
“You were amazing. Incredible. That last jibe...”
“You were pretty amazing yourself,” Quinn managed.
The boat finally stopped its forward movement, hanging motionless for just an instant before the wind and the waves began to push it backward. After another minute, Corrie wiped the sweat from her forehead with one arm and sat up slowly. She turned toward Quinn, and her eyes were bright.
“Thank you,” she said. Inexplicably, she blinked back tears. “God, Quinn, thank you so much.”
But Quinn shook her head. “Don’t thank me for something I wanted to do.” She reached out to touch Corrie’s arm above her sailing glove. The skin beneath her fingertips was hot and moist with sweat. And then Corrie leaned in to briefly rest her head on Quinn’s shoulder, her eyes closing as she sighed deeply.
I hope this brings you peace, Quinn thought as she grazed Corrie’s temple with her lips. You deserve it. Corrie’s vulnerability was humbling. It made her ache inside. I love that you trust me. I love you.
“Come on, Skipper,” she finally said. “Let’s head in, so we can celebrate our victory.”
Gale Force
Quinn stretched her sore legs out beneath the table as Jen handed her another drink. Tequila sunrise. Quite possibly a new favorite. “Oh, thank you,” she said, immediately pressing two fingertips to the cool glass and transferring them to her face. Cool. Nice and cool.
“Either you’re pretty buzzed, or you got a wicked sunburn,” Jen said, smirking. “’Cuz you’re all red, y’know.”
“Sunburn. I forgot to put more lotion on, during the lunch break.”
“Ah.” Jen took a sip from her glass—some kind of hard liquor on ice—and raised her eyebrows. “You must be feeling pretty good, though. About beating Corrie’s brother, I mean.”
“Oh,” said Quinn, nodding perhaps a bit more enthusiastically than she would have, had she not already consumed one tequila sunrise. “Yes, definitely. I feel great.” And about out-crewing Denise. Especially about that.
“Bet Mars does, too.”
“I hope so,” Quinn said, suddenly serious. “She should. In fact...” She sat up straighter and craned her neck. “Where did she go?”
“There.” Jen pointed, and Quinn twisted around in her seat until she could see Corrie, who was deep in conversation with Brad and Drew just a few feet away. An unfinished beer bottle hung down by her side, resting in the vee between her index and middle finger. She was still wearing the rash guard, and Quinn’s eyes were drawn to the gentle curves of her breasts. They weren’t full and heavy, like her own. In fact, she was willing to bet that Corrie could get away with not wearing a bra without feeling discomfort. But they matched her lean physique, and they had fit so perfectly into her palms, and god, she wanted to feel them again, to kiss them as she smoothed her hand down Corrie’s taut stomach and—
Will strode into her field of vision, Denise in tow, and Quinn was immediately on high alert. Denise looked reluctant to be there; she was frowning a little and biting her bottom lip. As she stood behind him and slightly off to one side, he clasped Corrie’s shoulder. Quinn grimaced preemptively. Uh oh.
“That last race was amazing, Cor,” Will said jovially. “The way you stole our wind like that was just clutch. You guys were sharp!”
Quinn didn’t realize that she was holding her breath until she exhaled in surprise. Corrie’s expression as she turned to look up at Will was not fiercely triumphant, as she had expected it to be, or even angry. Her face was curiously blank, almost as though she didn’t recognize him. Her mouth opened slightly, then closed.
“And Quinn was incredible, too,” he said, his hand still resting on her shoulder. “Especially seeing as she only started learning this season.”
Corrie said nothing in reply, but Quinn could tell when the rage began to sweep over her, could see it in her face and in the set of her body—like watching a thunderstorm move across the water. Denise was actually fidgeting, and Quinn wondered whether she could read Corrie’s mood as well. The thought bothered her.
“Anyway, that was a solid ass-whupping you gave us, but we’ll be out to get you back next year.” He reached out to thread one arm around Denise’s waist. “Right, honey?”
“Sure,” said Denise. She glanced once at Corrie, then away.
The storm hit. Corrie trembled once, violently. Her eyes were as wide and dark as they had been while Quinn had touched her the night before, but her fists were clenched at her sides and the tendons in her neck leaped out in relief as she struggled to keep her fury in check. She trembled again, squared her shoulders, and turned toward the double doors. They boomed shut behind her, a clap of thunder.
Will turned toward Denise, tugging in frustration at the brim of his cap. “What the hell was that all about? What did I say? I congratulated her, for fuck’s sake!”
“Just let her go,” Denise said, grabbing for one hand. “Come on, let’s head back to our table.” She tugged lightly, but Will remained rooted to the spot.
“No.” He shook his head. “No, I’m going out there, and I’m going to find out what her goddamn problem is.”
“Will—” she sounded genuinely frightened for some reason.
Quinn paused in the act of raising her glass to her lips. What was Denise trying to hide? She tracked Will’s progress across the room before looking down into the pink and gold swirls of her drink. “They’ll either have it out once and for all,” she said to Jen, “or one of them will end up in the ocean.”
*
Corrie kicked up small clouds of sand as she hurried across the beach toward the docks. “Fuck you both,” she muttered. “You and your bullshit, treating me like some kind of baby...” Will’s condescending congratulations had been the proverbial last straw. Who the hell did he think he was to give her a pat on the head? His message had been loud and clear. Nice sailing, kid sister, but we all know what’s really important. What I have and you don’t, what I won and you lost.
She turned aside at the first pier and threw herself onto the slats, dipping one foot down to kick furiously at the glittering water. Leaning back on her elbows, Corrie looked up at the stars—so very bright in the clear, still sky. But all she could see were the dark spaces between them.
Behind her, a loose board creaked. Her head whipped around. “Get out of here!” She spun around and surged to her feet in the same movement.
“No.” Will stopped a few feet away. “I’m sick of this passive aggressive bullshit, Corrie. It’s been going on for far too long, and I should’ve called you on it a long time ago.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “So whatever the hell is bothering you, out with it, okay? Right here, right now. ’Cuz I’ve been wracking my brains, and I don’t have a clue.”
“What the fuck?” Corrie took a menacing step toward him. “Wracking your brains, huh? I always knew I was a fuckload smarter than you, but this just takes the cake!”
“Oh, get off it,” Will growled. “I’m sick and tired of you going on about what a little genius you are! Ever since you got into Georgetown, you’ve been rubbing my face in it.”
Corrie’s fingernails bit into her palms. “Oh, and you’ve never rubbed my face in anything, have you? ’Course not. Not you. Prince Charming William.”
Will threw his hands up in the air. “What the hell are you talking about now?”
Corrie took another step forward. “Denise, you asshole!” she yelled back. “Or have you already forgotten how you stole her, fucked her, and fucked me over?”
Will froze. “What?”
“You heard me.” Her words were missiles, sparking over the gulf between them, finally finding their marks.
“You...and Denise.” Will looked stunned. “You and Denise had a…a thing?”
“A thing? I was in love with her! I had it all planned out! We were going to win the gold and move to Provincetown so we could get married and—” Suddenly, the import of his questions hit home. She reached out for one of the pylons, to steady herself. “Holy shit. You didn’t—”
“Of course I didn’t know! I just thought you guys were friends. You never said anything about it. I had no idea.”
“How could you not—”
“What the fuck? Do you expect me to read your mind or something?” Will scowled deeply. “Cut me a little slack here, for once in your life. I have no idea how your oh-so-brilliant brain works, okay?”
“And that’s my fault?” Corrie sucked in a deep breath. “You never bothered to really get to know me. All I’ve ever been to you is a fucking benchmark you always had to exceed.”
“Oh, thanks a lot, Cor. Thanks a lot.” Will shook his head. “Who the fuck taught you how to throw a football? Kick a soccer ball? It sure as hell wasn’t Dad. I taught you how to sail for god’s sake!”
“All you taught me,” Corrie snarled, “was how to royally fuck up someone’s entire life. And you didn’t even have to try that hard.”
“I told you, goddammit, I didn’t have a clue that you guys had been an item. Not a fucking clue!”
Silence descended between them, then, as Corrie realized the import of what he was saying. “She never told you.” She shook her head in disbelief. “I mean, yeah, she didn’t want to come out to her parents, but how the hell did she manage not to tell you?”
“She—she told me she thought you were jealous of her because she made it to the Trials and you didn’t.” He shrugged, clearly confused. And upset. “What...what happened, Cor?”
Corrie looked down at the dock. Suddenly, she didn’t want to yell anymore. Her righteous anger didn’t stand a chance in the face of his honest confusion. “We were together for two months.” Her lips twisted. “I had it so bad...and then, one day, she just broke it off. Said she couldn’t ‘do this’ anymore, whatever the hell that means.” She sighed heavily and glanced up at Will before rubbing the back of her neck with one hand. “Next thing I know, I see her getting all cozy with you.”
Will looked out toward the water, running his fingers lightly over his five o’clock shadow. “Fuck.”
Corrie nodded in silent agreement. “You and I,” she began hesitantly. “We’ve always been competitive. Too competitive, about everything. And maybe it’s my fault. Maybe I let the pressure of always being in your shadow get to me.”
“My shadow?” Will grimaced. “I had to fight just to stay one step ahead. You lit a fire under my ass, you know? Always on the verge of catching up and passing me by.”
Corrie laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “God, what a pair we make.”
“No shit.” Will stretched both arms above his head. “I feel like I’m in one of those soap operas Mom used to watch when we were kids.”
“I hear you.”
They stood still for several minutes—not moving, not saying a word, but closer than they’d been in years. Will sighed. “I think Denise and I need to have a long talk.” He glanced at her, then back out at the water. “You and I...uh, are we...?”
“I don’t think this is going to get fixed in one day,” Corrie said quietly. “But this—it’s a start, I guess. Or something.”
“Temporary truce?” When Corrie shrugged, he held out his hand. “Do you want me to spit in my palm, or what?”
She turned away, but Will thought he saw the shadow of a smile curve her lips. “I’ll pass, thanks.”
He jerked his head toward the boathouse. “Want to head back?”
“Yeah, okay.”
When they stepped through the doors of the chart room, Will headed one way and Corrie another. Quinn had to grab her chair handles to keep herself from jumping up and asking what had happened between them, but fortunately, Corrie made for her table after a brief stop at the bar.
“You okay?” Quinn asked softly as Corrie sat down next to her. Corrie nodded. Her expression was vacant, as though she were looking at something far away. God, she looks so tired.
“He didn’t know,” she said. “All this time, I thought he was gloating. I even thought he might’ve done it on purpose just to get at me, and he didn’t know.”
Quinn sat back hard in her chair. So that’s what she was hiding. Why would she do that? “God.”
“Yeah.” Corrie took several swallows off her beer. She closed her eyes. “I think I’m going to go home. Party’s winding down anyway. I’ll clean all this shit up tomorrow.”
Quinn reached out to stroke Corrie’s quads with a light, soothing motion. The muscles were tense beneath her palm. “Okay.” She bit at her lip. “Do you want, um, company?” Please say yes. I want to help you, to comfort you.
Corrie opened her eyes and smiled but shook her head. She covered Quinn’s hand w
ith her own. “I sort of just need to be alone tonight. To think.”
“Sure,” said Quinn, smothering her disappointment. How can you blame her? “Sleep well, okay?”
Corrie kissed her lightly on the lips, then stood up. “You, too. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” She paused to brush her knuckles down the side of Quinn’s face. “And sweet sailing out there today.”
Quinn didn’t look away until the doors closed behind Corrie’s back. She sighed and swirled the last few swallows of her drink in the bottom of her cup. I wanted to hold her tonight. To just hold her until she fell asleep, then maybe wake her up in the morning…
“Hey, Q, you all right?” Drew slid into the chair that Corrie had just vacated.
“Sure, just fine.”
“You were making a weird face. All scrunched up, like—” When he demonstrated, Quinn laughed.
“I sure hope I didn’t look like that.”
“Yeah, you kinda did.”
Quinn relaxed into the friendly banter, but deep down, she knew she’d be unsettled until she saw Corrie again—until she held her, touched her. Tomorrow, Quinn thought. Tomorrow, I hope.
Coming About
Corrie woke to birdsong with the early morning sun in her eyes. She lay still, blinking as she remembered. Yesterday, the regatta. Will. Relief spread through her body—aloe over sunburn. She hadn’t wanted to admit it last night, but their talk had been new. Different. Good, I guess. She flexed her toes and took a deep breath before rolling over in the hopes of getting more rest. God, I never realized how tiring it is to be angry all the time. For years now. She snuggled back into the pillow and pulled the sheet up to her shoulders. But now I don’t have to be angry—not at him, anyway.
Denise, however, was a different story. Corrie felt the tension begin to return, despite her efforts to relax into the springy firmness of the mattress. He didn’t even have to try to steal her away, she realized. She was so eager to forget me, she never even told him about us.
