Janelle stares at her fingernails, and Macon opens a bag of pretzels, crunching loudly. I get the overwhelming feeling that telling it like it is means talking about how messed up I am when it comes to Maggie. Maybe I’m being paranoid, but there’s definitely a tone to the air after Macon’s comment, and it makes me squirm. I swallow a huge mouthful of beer.
Then another.
I’m on my third giant gulp when I spot Eva, walking gracefully down the pier in a pair of tiny denim shorts. The string of a kelly-green bikini is knotted behind her neck and peeks out from underneath her light-gray tank top like a little secret.
“Like I said, go easy on that beer, Grey Goose,” Macon says, digging a ginger ale out of the cooler near my feet and handing it to Janelle. “Higher alcohol content than that Bud Light nonsense.” He chucks me under the chin and calls to Luca to help him untie the boat from the dock, but I keep staring at Eva.
And she keeps staring at me, her smile free of all that awkwardness in the Michaelsons’ hallway earlier. I want to know what’s going on, why she and Emmy are fighting and what Emmy won’t let her do, but right now, with the warming sun on my back and Eva walking closer and closer, I just want to have fun and laugh and, to be honest, get a little tipsy on some non-pissy beer.
The finally hot July sun soaks into my skin, imbuing me with a sort of giddy-hysterical feeling I’m sort of enjoying.
Or maybe that’s Macon’s beer.
Either way, once Macon and Luca untie Emmaline from the pier and we’re moving over the sun-sparkled Atlantic, the atmosphere on the boat is a little less tense and a little more Fourth of July. After we drop anchor about a mile offshore, Luca and I even manage to eke out a few jokes. As usual, I rag him about putting mayonnaise on his hot dog, and he finally gives me crap about my fear of Flipper.
“Dolphins are super friendly,” Kimber points out. She is real as shit sipping her beer through a bendy straw.
Macon laughs. “Just wait until she goes for a swim and a teeny-tiny fish brushes her ankle.” He mimes silent screaming and pulls on his hair. Janelle smacks him on the shoulder. It’s like their love language.
“Well, you’ll never know,” I say through a bite of hot dog. “Because there’s no way I’m getting in that water. It’s still cold as hell.”
“It’s always cold as hell,” Luca says.
“You’re only making my point.”
He smirks at me. Then he swallows the mouthful of barbecue chips he’s chewing and steps up on the edge of the boat.
“Luca,” Janelle says, but that’s all she gets out before he launches himself off the boat and into the ocean, releasing a high-pitched yell when he hits the water.
In minutes, he’s climbing up the ladder and dripping the salty sea all over the boat’s floor. “See, Gray? Nothing to it.” Then he grabs a towel and sits back down next to Kimber, who grins like a lovesick puppy and glides her hand through his wet hair while he stuffs some more chips into his mouth. I don’t point out that his skin is tinged purple.
We all laugh at him. We all eat and drink and tell dumb stories like any other Fourth. It feels a bit like Scotch tape holding together a broken vase, but I can’t understand why. I can’t figure out why things with Luca and me are so . . . un–Luca and me. But right now I don’t care. I can’t care. It’s summer and this beer tastes good and my thoughts are light and airy and Eva’s green bikini is ridiculously gorgeous against her dark skin and gold-flecked eyes.
Close to sunset, Janelle goes below deck to nap while Luca and Macon settle at the bow to play rummy. They’ve had a running game going for years, their scores somewhere in the thousands by now. Kimber fiddles with her fancy-looking camera and snaps pictures of them, the sky, the horizon, the shore. I’m about to suck it up and go talk to her about whatever the hell just to smooth out all the weirdness between us, when Eva taps my shoulder. I turn to find her grinning.
“What?” I ask.
“Come over here with me.” She tilts her head toward the stern.
“Over where?”
She keeps grinning and takes my hand, weaving me through the seats near the steering wheel, around the door to the cabin, and toward the stern of the boat.
“Um, no,” I say, digging in my heels.
“You don’t even know what we’re doing.”
“Oh, yes, I do. You’re about to sit on the back of the boat and probably dangle your feet over the edge, which is pretty much just asking for a shark or a humpback to come bite them off.”
“A humpback?”
“Yes, Eva, a damn humpback.”
She presses her lips flat, clearly trapping in a laugh. “You’re a strange little bird.”
“A little bird with all of my toes still attached.”
“Birds don’t have toes.”
“Talons, then.” I curl the fingers of both of my hands into claws, but she just laughs. Then she takes one of my hands and wraps it around her own back, pulling us closer together.
“I’m not afraid of your talons,” she says softly.
Her eyes flick down to my lips and my mouth goes dry. The cool wind blows her hair into my face and mine into hers. We’re all mixed up, and just when I think we’re finally going to kiss again, she pulls back.
“Come on.” She releases my hand and climbs up on padded seats that line the stern. Then, just as I knew she would, she throws her legs over them, settling on the couple feet of flat space covered with some non-stick faux-wood coating right above the propeller. A little silver ladder descends into the choppy blue abyss.
She glances at me hovering behind her and pats the spot next to her. “Here we go, little bird.”
I don’t fight her. Hell, as much as I hate the water, I don’t even want to. She’s been pretty quiet since we set sail, and there’s no way I’m passing up some time alone with her, especially in the light of day. Once I’m next to her, I curl my feet underneath me and get as far away from the edge as possible. The water is choppy, and a spray of cold ocean flecks our legs.
“See?” she says. “That wasn’t so hard.”
“Tell me that when I’m curled into a fetal position and sucking my thumb because I spotted a fin a hundred yards away.”
She laughs. “Come on, you can’t say this isn’t nice.” She lifts her arms to the sky and throws her head back, the sun glinting off her skin and hair.
Well, that’s nice.
“It’s just so . . . endless, you know?” I say, peering over the side of the boat at the inky water. “Who knows what’s going on down there?” I shudder. “Freaks me out.”
She leans over the edge too. Then she links her arm with mine and sits back, pulling me with her. We settle against each other, skin to skin.
“Just pretend we’re on the lighthouse, the endless sky above us,” she says. “Same sort of thing, right?”
“There aren’t live and curious creatures with teeth floating in the sky.”
“There might be in fantasy novels.”
I laugh. “So I should pretend we’re in a fantasy novel?”
She shrugs. “A fantasy of sorts.”
We go quiet after that, something both thick and airy hovering between us. The Atlantic tosses us this way and that, and I can’t tell if my stomach is fluttering from the motion or from having Eva’s body smooshed up against mine in this tiny space.
She takes one of my hands, sliding her fingers down my amethyst-hued nails. Hers are still dark eggplant, the tips just beginning to chip.
“Why purple?” she asks.
A knot forms in my throat, a knee-jerk reaction. “Maggie didn’t tell you?”
Eva shakes her head and I’m weirdly relieved Mom didn’t share this with her.
“It’s always been our color,” I say quietly as Eva continues to smooth the pads of her thumb over each of my fingers. “Mine and Mom’s. She started painting my nails purple when I was really little.”
“Why?”
So I tell her about the wishing. How Mom a
lways said that we wish on our fingertips, reaching out for what we want. Whatever that is. Mom’s told me more than once that she loves purple because it’s this beautiful mix of blue’s calm stability and red’s fierce energy. Funny how prophetic Mom was all those years ago. How wise about herself, about me, about us together.
Eva frowns a little but continues to hold my hand, rubbing circles over my nails much like she did that first day we met on the beach. The sky around us grows darker, the sun slips lower, the current slaps almost angrily against the boat. I hear Macon’s frustrated groan, followed by Luca snorting a triumphant laugh and Kimber’s clear voice cheering him on. Any minute the fireworks will start, filling the wide expanse behind us with impossible color.
But for the moment, it’s just me and Eva, my hand in hers.
“Your freckles are more noticeable after being in the sun,” she says, touching my nose with her forefinger, then tracing the little brown dots over both cheeks.
“Yeah, that happens,” I say, dumbly. My heart feels huge—literally a ginormous hunk of beating muscle in my chest. I’m sure she can hear it as she scoots even closer, as close as when we lie in my bed after being on top of the lighthouse. But this feels different. Those nights are more of a comfortable intimacy, while this crackles with energy. With possibility.
“What are you doing?” I ask when her finger drifts from my cheeks, down my throat and around, her palm hot on the back of my neck. Friends, I say to myself. Just friends.
“Making a wish,” she whispers, her breath fanning over my mouth. “May I?”
I barely nod before her lips press into mine. A gasp escapes my throat, but the good kind. The finally kind. The not just friends kind. My free hand reaches out to her, framing her face and pulling her as close as I can possibly get her on the end of this boat. Our mouths open, letting each other in. She tastes like beer and Eva, like wild summer nights. Her fingers dance up and down my arms, and I can’t stop touching her face, gliding my hands over her hair, letting my nails drift down her neck. God, her skin. It’s impossibly soft, smooth but for the goose bumps ignited by my touch. I could do this all night, wrap myself around her and never come up for air. Who the hell needs air anyway?
We break apart for a minute, and she laughs, hiding her face in the slope of my neck.
“I can’t believe I just did that,” she says, her words tickling my collarbone.
“What, kiss me?”
“Yes, oh my god.” She stays pressed against my throat, and I sort of like her there, burrowing into me like I’m a safe space. I keep my arms around her, dipping my head so I’m leaning into her, too. And it is safe. Terrifying and safe.
“I’m glad you did,” I say.
“I wasn’t sure . . . I mean, after that night in the tree, we sort of fought. I wasn’t sure you wanted to.”
“I do. I’ve been waiting for that for two damn weeks.”
She lifts her head. “Really?”
“Yes. In fact, I think we should do it again.”
One corner of her beautiful mouth tilts into a grin. “I think so too.”
So we do, this time kissing deeper, longer, harder, then softer. Her tongue traces my lower lip, her palms gliding up my thighs while my thumbs sweep over her delicate collarbone. Everything is bright and warm, the entire world turning electric under her touch. My chest feels strangely tight, but in a good way, like a deep ache that’s trying to break apart.
Behind us, a series of brilliant purple and gold sparks ignite the now-black sky, like wishes blinking in and out. We both startle, our laughs touching each other’s mouths. Arcing her neck, Eva stares up at the colors exploding into the sky, and she’s so freaking gorgeous, I have to press my lips to her throat. Like, have to. She sucks in a breath and curls her arm around my shoulder, her fingertips hot on my skin.
“Come do something with me,” she says, unraveling herself and reaching for the seats behind us.
“I’m pretty damn happy right here.”
She jerks her head toward the ocean. “I think I just spotted a humpback.”
“Oh god, let’s go.”
We laugh and pull each other up, keeping our hands on backs and arms as we climb over the seats and back into the boat. When the others come into view, Luca glances at us from where he’s cuddled up with Kimber at the bow, a curious glint in his eyes. I smile at him. He smiles back, but it’s small, and a sliver of unease cuts into all this ridiculous happy.
Eva doesn’t even notice. She disappears below deck while I wander over to everyone else, wondering why she pulled us away from our little slice of paradise. More fireworks explode in the sky, so I focus on the flowery shapes, the shimmery reflections in the water.
Soon Eva’s at my side again, handing me a small green bottle of Miracle Bubbles. She’s holding a long, cylindrical tube of the same stuff, a huge wand slicing through its blue liquid center.
“What’s this for?” I ask.
She unscrews the lid to her bubbles and pulls out the wand, a soft and wistful expression on her face. “My mom and I used to do this. Every Fourth, we’d go up to the roof of our apartment. From there we could see the fireworks over the East River, and we’d blow bubbles into the sky.”
“Why?”
She smiles, a small, sort of sad bend of her lips. “You’ll see.”
Then she swings the wand through the air, iridescent bubbles drifting into the space in front of us. But they’re more than iridescent, because at that moment a firework blasts into the sky above Cape Katie, filling the bubble with a million sparkles.
I uncap my own bottle and blow out a colony of tiny bubbles just as a gold and silver willow-shaped firework ignites. My bubbles fill and multiply the image, popping lazily, blinking out the firework one at a time. It’s like viewing the whole show though water.
It’s beautiful.
Eva and I continue to blow bubbles. I can feel Luca’s eyes on me, but I’m not sure what he’s thinking. Eva sweeps her arm through the air as she waves giant bubble after giant bubble into the sky, mingling them with my smaller ones, all of them shot through with flares of red and blue and green and purple.
The finale is just firing up, a constant boom echoing through the night, when I notice Eva’s stopped. She’s staring up at the sky, watching her last bubbles winking out, tears streaming down her face.
Capping my bubbles and placing them on the floor, I approach her slowly. I take her bubbles and cap those, too, before slipping my hand into hers. I don’t say anything. I’m not sure what to say, and I doubt she needs words right now. I think we’re just going to stand there, silent, watching the fireworks drench the black sky in rainbows while Eva cries, when she pulls away, backing up until she sinks onto the seats on the port side. Luca, Kimber, Macon, and Janelle all squirm, glancing at Eva and then me and then one another before fixing their gazes back on the sky. Because this is awkward. Sadness is awkward. Grief is awkward. A missing mother is awkward, no matter what form that missing takes. And no one likes awkward. No one knows what to do with it unless you’re the person used to receiving all those averted gazes.
I walk over to Eva and sit next to her.
“God, way to ruin a good night, huh?” she says, wiping at her eyes and forcing a smile. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry.”
She nods, but she scoots a little farther from me.
“Hey,” I say, pulling her knees around so her body faces me. “You’re allowed to feel like this. Do you need me to leave you alone? I will, if that’s what you want.”
She frowns at me but doesn’t move away. Then, a barely perceptible shake of her head. More tears spill over, so I frame her face in my hands, swiping her tears away. I kiss her cheeks, her eyes, the corners of her mouth. Behind me, I hear a soft “What the hell?” come out of Macon’s mouth, but it’s not a disgusted sort of question. I don’t think. More surprised than anything, and it’s followed by a whack sound—Janelle’s smack to his shoulder. St
ill, I ignore them all. I keep my eyes on Eva, whose tears keep coming, but who’s leaning into my touch. Finally, she exhales a shuddering breath. Her arms wrap around my waist, and she props her chin on my shoulder.
“I thought it would be good, you know? The bubbles. Like . . . I could still do something that was ours and it’d be sort of nice. A first step, maybe. But . . .”
Her voice fades away, her face pressed against my neck. I don’t tell her it’ll be okay. Maybe it won’t; I don’t freaking know. Our worlds are blurring, the days and nights overlapping. I hate seeing her sad. I’d do anything to make her smile right now and that thought is a relief, for so many reasons. I won’t hurt her. I won’t mistreat her like I may have mistreated Jay, douche that he is. And I can’t help but feel that these tears—their presence in front of me—are a good thing. Maybe this will separate her from Maggie a bit. Maybe she won’t need Maggie as much, because I’m here. I understand the missing mother. I understand that bone-deep ache too.
Weirdly, I sort of wish Emmy were here. Well, okay, maybe not here, because I have no idea how she’d feel about Eva wrapped in my arms right now. But I have an answer to her question. I tighten my grip on Eva, hands skating over her back as her crying calms and the wind blows her hair into my face.
This. This is what I want.
I lift one hand into the sky, the other still holding on to Eva. The last fireworks fizzle in between my spread fingers, the purple nails bright against the last bits of gold, like wishes come to life.
Chapter Twenty-Two
THE NEXT AFTERNOON, LUCA IS LEAVING LUMAC’S AS I’m walking in. Last night, after we’d returned to the pier, Luca and I parted with smiles and waves. He even attempted a halfhearted noogie, but I don’t remember anything much beyond that because my entire walk home, anticipation over Eva slipping through my window and into my bed later on had covered me like a skin.
And by anticipation, I mean I was freaking the hell out. We hadn’t made any plans to meet at the lighthouse or anything. She’d just cupped my chin and pressed a kiss to my forehead—my forehead—and then walked toward the Michaelsons’ house with Macon and Janelle. What if those kisses on the ocean finally changed everything? What if she regretted them, like I had thought she regretted the tree kiss? What if she was too sad? What if she needed Maggie? What if I was too much, too little?
How to Make a Wish Page 15
