Chapter 8

Four Days Pre-Culling…

Yawning, I stretch my arms over my head. My hand hits the side of the boat, and my knuckles crack. I groan, sit up, and rub the lingering sleep from my eyes. The hammock is empty, which means Spencer is already awake. Did he even go to sleep last night? I hadn’t heard him come below deck. Then again, I slept better last night than I have in a long time. Of course, I didn’t have two parents screaming at each other all night, either.

The boat rocks gently as I make my way to the top deck. Spencer sits in the captain’s chair, his bare feet propped on the boat’s dash. His head is back, and his eyes are closed. He’s also shirtless, and his skin glistens in the blazing morning sun. My gaze rakes down his chest and abs, and my breath catches. My pulse races.

Then, as if he hears me, Spencer turns to glance at me over his shoulder. A knowing grin brightens his face. “Sleep well?” he asks.

“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “You?”

“About as good as usual,” he says and turns back around to stare at the lake.

“Where are we?” I ask around another yawn. “I’d kill for a donut right now.”

Spencer’s laughter is light and carefree—such a drastic change from his attitude last night. “Sorry, can’t help you with the donuts.” He drops his feet from the dash and stands. “We’re about two days away from the next town.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Two days?”

Having grown up in Michigan, I’m very familiar with the lake and all the towns that surround it, and the distance from one town to the next isn’t more than a day at most. Maybe a tad longer if you’re at the mercy of a sailboat, but we’re not.

Spencer nods. “You were sleeping so soundly I didn’t want to wake you, so I didn’t stop at the last town.”

“Okay,” I say slowly, drawing out the word.

“And I’m taking a scenic route.” He shrugs.

“How much more scenic can you get? We’re literally in the middle of Lake Michigan.”

A familiar sense of unease fills me, and my stomach lurches. What on earth is going on with Spencer lately?

“Stop overthinking everything.” He stops in front of me, close enough that I can feel the lingering heat from his sun-kissed skin. “We’re in no rush, and this is supposed to be fun, remember?”

I snort. I’m not sure I’d call anything about this trip fun. At least, not yet. A girl can hope, anyway. I shake those thoughts away and focus on a more pressing issue that’s still bothering me.

“Do you have any service on your phone?” I ask.

He glances around, then settles his disbelieving gaze on me. “No.”

I tilt my head, waiting for him to say something more, but he remains silent for several moments.

He sighs. “We’re in the middle of the lake, Ev. Do you see any cell towers? We’ll only have service when we’re on land.”

Fear slithers its way into my chest and tightens like a noose. “So, what happens if there’s an accident out here? How are we supposed to call for help?”

“The radio.”

“Oh.” I shift on my feet. I really should have listened better when he gave me a rundown about the boat and how everything works. “So, there’s no way to get in touch with anyone other than the coast guard?”

“Correct.”

Spencer moves away and stretches, and my attention drifts away from the cell phone issue and focuses on him and the bare flesh that’s within touching distance. Even his shoulder blades and back are ripped. Seriously, when did he get so fit?

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

I force my eyes back to his face, and I’m met with yet another knowing grin. My heart trips over itself, then races. Spencer’s grin widens, and he slowly crosses his arms over his chest, almost like he’s doing it purposefully for my benefit.

“Yeah, something is wrong.” I mimic his stance. “I think Whitney might be in trouble.”

All the teasing drains from Spencer’s expression, and his eyes darken. “What kind of trouble?”

I shrug. “She hasn’t posted on Instagram lately, and she’s always sharing stuff.”

The tension in Spencer’s body eases. “That’s it?”

I scowl. “You don’t know her like I do. She can’t go more than a couple hours without being on Insta. I’m telling you… something’s not right.”

“She’s probably out having fun. Which is what you should be doing, too.” He turns and saunters back to the captain’s chair. “Once we reach the next town and are back in cell service, I’m sure you’ll see a million posts from her.”

I take a deep breath, mostly so I won’t snap and go off on Spencer. He has no idea what he’s talking about, but I do. I know Whitney, and this behavior is unusual for her. Of course, if we’ve been out of cell range, I guess it’s possible my feed hasn’t updated. Maybe there are posts from Whitney, and I just haven’t been able to see them yet. Still, I wish I could text or call Mya or Liz and check in.

“There’s cereal and milk below deck. And some pop-tarts, too, if you’re hungry.” Spencer fiddles with knobs and buttons on the dash. The boat rocks forward, and then we’re moving across the lake at a steady speed.

Without another word, I head below deck to find some food. I retrieve a box of strawberry pop-tarts from one of the cabinets and a bottle of water from one of the dozens of coolers Spencer has stashed around the boat. Then, I slide into the tiny booth seat behind the table.

I tear into my breakfast and eat in silence, my thoughts swirling. Is Spencer right? Is Whitney having so much fun with her new boyfriend that she hasn’t bothered to post on her Instagram? Or is she dead? I shake that thought away as soon as it pops into my head. Whitney’s fine.

So are Liz and Mya. All my friends are having the summer of their lives, and when we all get home, they’ll tell me everything. I smile and take a sip of water. I can already hear Whitney and Liz arguing about the details of their trips, each one trying to one-up the other. Too bad I won’t be able to tell them anything about my summer. If I even mention Spencer’s name to them, they’ll stop being my friends.

My stomach churns. I gather the rest of my uneaten food, toss it in the nearby trash, then wander into the bedroom to find some clothes. I eventually settle on wearing my swimsuit and a pair of black cotton shorts. No reason to worry about how I look when I’m stuck on this stupid boat for the next couple of days.

“Ev!” Spencer shouts. “Come up here!”

Ugh. What now? He better not give me another lecture on boating safety. I might just jump overboard if he does. I trudge back up the stairs. The boat has stopped, and Spencer is at the bow.

“You summoned me?” I say.

He waves at me to come closer, so I do. “Look.” He points to something a few feet away.

I kneel on the bench, grip the railing, and lean over, but I don’t see anything. I squint and peer harder into the water. “Uh, what am I supposed to be looking at?”

“There.” Spencer moves so he’s behind me.

His mouth is poised dangerously close to my cheek, and his breath is warm on my skin. I hold perfectly still, afraid if I move, he will, too. Though I’m not sure if I’m hoping he will or not. My heart thunders in my chest and ears, deafening me to everything else around me.

“See?” He points again, this time his arm aligned with mine, and the brush of his flesh against mine sends goose bumps racing up my arm. “It’s a lake sturgeon. That thing has to be ten feet long. How do you not see that?”

I lean farther over the railing, and Spencer grabs my waist to stop me from falling overboard. All efforts to see this fish evaporate, and all I can focus on is the feel of Spencer’s hands on my waist. His hold is firm but gentle and so unlike the way Reid always held me. I blow out a slow breath.

The water ripples, and then I see it—a massive lake sturgeon no more than a foot from the boat and not too far from the surface. My eyes widen, and excitement swells in me, though I have no idea why. I’ve seen this type of fish before. Granted, never one this large.

“I see it,” I say, turning just enough to see Spencer.

His face is mere inches from mine, and my heart nearly stops. His gaze lingers a little too long on my lips before traveling up to meet my eyes. Is he going to kiss me? Does he want to? Do I want him to? And in those split seconds between my thoughts, I’m transported back in time to that fateful night of my first kiss in the basement of Courtney McAllistair’s house…

None of my friends know I’ve never been kissed before. I’m too embarrassed to tell them, especially considering all of them have done a lot more than just kissing by this point in their lives. So, when Mya, Whitney, and Liz drag me to Courtney’s fifteenth birthday party—an unchaperoned co-ed party—and insist I play Vodka Kisses, I can’t really say no. Unless I want to spill my secret. And that is not something I want to do.

Vodka Kisses is a stupid game where the girls are blindfolded and then made to pick a cup from a bag. There’s one bag for the girls and another for the boys, who aren’t blindfolded. The girls’ bag and the boys’ bag are identical with the number and colors of the cups, so this way, each girl who picks a cup there’s a matching boy cup.

The rules are simple: Pick a cup and then stand in a line so the boys can find their matching cup. The boys stand in front of their match while the cups are filled with a shot of vodka—which Courtney swiped from her dad’s personal office bar just for her party. On the count of three, the girls down the shot of vodka, then let the guy kiss them. Easy enough, right? The only catch is because the girls are blindfolded, they have no idea who they’re kissing.

Knowing the guest list is very exclusive, I assume the guy now standing in front of me is someone cool. A football player, maybe. I’m hoping it’s Reid Walker, the star athlete. Courtney counts down to three, and I chug the vodka. The liquid burns my throat, but it serves its purpose and gives me the boost of confidence I need.

In the next moment, there are hands on my waist, someone pulling me closer. A thrill works down my spine as a hard, muscular body meets mine. It has to be a football player. I just know it. I close my eyes, which is stupid, knowing there’s a blindfold over them.

The softest pair of lips brush over mine, and I let out a small gasp of surprise. Not knowing who I’m kissing is exciting, electric; because in my mind, I can let it be anyone I want. I imagine Reid with his perfect body and full lips and dark, wavy hair. There’s a light nip at my bottom lip, and then I’m kissing him.

His tongue is inside my mouth, rolling under and over mine, our lips perfectly aligned like our mouths are made for each other. Feeling brave, I put my arms around his neck, drawing him closer. He responds by tightening his hold on my waist and practically yanking me against him. There’s a soft moan, or maybe it’s a groan, I’m not sure. I’m also not sure if it’s him or me who makes the sound, but it causes both of us to press closer, to kiss just a little deeper and harder. I suddenly understand why Whitney, Mya, and Liz are always kissing guys. Talk about a rush. Pure euphoria.

Despite the circumstances, my first kiss is way hotter than I imagined it would be. I’m talking a breath-stealing, toe-curling, knee-weakening, mind-melting, body-numbing kiss. When he finally pulls away, I’m dizzy, and my ears are ringing. It takes me a moment to realize there’s no music blasting, but all around me, I hear people whispering and giggling. I’m terrified. What happened? Did I do something wrong? Taking a deep breath, I yank the blindfold off my eyes.

“Spencer?”