Chapter 9

“Everleigh?”

Spencer’s voice drags me out of my memory. I blink, and my surroundings come into sharp focus. His hands are still on my waist, though his hold is a little looser now, and his face is still within kissing distance. He stares at me with concern.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks.

I nod and clear my throat. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I move away from him, and I immediately miss his touch.

Good God, what is wrong with me? Getting on this boat was the biggest mistake of my life. I scoot down so I’m sitting on the opposite end of the bench.

Spencer hangs his head, then shifts to sit, too. He rests his elbows on his parted legs, but he doesn’t speak. Neither do I. What is there to say? We both know what almost happened just now, and nothing good can come from talking about it. Yet, I can’t shake the intensity of that memory, of how kissing Spencer had been so incredible, how he’d managed to make my first kiss a million times better than even my wildest fantasy.

“So, is this what we’re doing for the next two days?” He lifts his head to look at me.

“You mean sitting on this boat being bored to death?” I shrug. “You tell me. You’re the captain.”

He flops back against the bench, sighs, and rubs his hands over his face. “No, I mean pretending something isn’t happening between us.”

I clench my teeth before I blurt something that I’ll regret. “What, exactly, do you think is happening?” I cross my arms over my chest, wishing I had something other than my bikini top on.

“Do I really need to spell it out for you?” He raises a brow.

“Clearly,” I say with as much disinterest I can muster, but truth be told, I’m dying to know what he’s thinking and how he sees our current situation.

“I remember, too, you know.” He pushes to his feet. “Our first kiss.”

I suck in a sharp breath, my gaze locked on his every move as he stalks toward me. I have never seen anyone move so gracefully, or with so much purpose. He’s truly a sight to behold and, I realize, way hotter than Reid. My pulse pounds painfully, and I fully expect my heart to burst through my chest at any moment.

“You mean the kiss you stole from me?”

He stops directly in front of me, and the corner of his lip lifts in an arrogant smile. “I didn’t steal anything from you that night, Everleigh. I just happened to be real lucky.”

I roll my eyes.

“I also remember how… eager you were.”

I scowl. “I thought you were someone else. If I’d known it was you, I would’ve—”

“You would have what?” His voice deepens suddenly, challenging me.

Pushing to my feet, I stand, and now we’re nearly chest to chest. My breath comes in short, sharp bursts, but I refuse to let him see how much he rattles me. I lift my chin in defiance and toss my hair over my shoulder in my best attempt to act like I couldn’t care less about him or that stupid kiss.

“Pushed you away,” I say with a taunting smirk.

He nods as if he’s giving my answer serious thought. “And what about now?” He closes what little distance is between us. “If I tried to kiss you now, would you push me away?”

My throat goes dry, and the ability to speak flees. How am I supposed to answer that? Everything in me wants to say no, to throw my arms around him and see if he can still kiss like he did back then, but all I can think about is how my friends had reacted that night.

“Oh my God.” Whitney busts out laughing. “Did you seriously just kiss Spooky Spence?” She can’t stop laughing, and soon, everyone else is laughing, too.

Moments like this I wished I was still a nobody. If I didn’t act quickly, that’s exactly where I’d be again. “Ugh,” I say loudly, giving Spencer a dirty look. Then I make a big show of wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “Gross. Seriously, Spencer. What the hell?” I pretend to gag.

“Who even invited you anyway?” Mya asks.

“Yeah, what’re you even doing here?” I ask.

My whole body is shaking, and I’m not sure how much longer I can keep up the act. I know I have to act like I’m disgusted, but deep down, I really really just want to kiss him again.

Spencer gives me a pleading look, begging me for help. I look away, and he leaves, barging out the side door as people yell after him, calling him names.

“That was the grossest thing I’ve ever seen.” Mya laughs and flings her arm around me. “I’m sure you need a drink to get that taste out of your mouth.”

“Well?” he says impatiently. “It’s just you and me this time.” He holds his arms out to his sides. “No games. No vodka. No blindfolds.”

“What’s your point?” Anger simmers in my veins.

Why’s he trying to taunt me into kissing him again? What’s he hoping to prove? That I’m a liar and a fake? I already know that. I don’t need him to prove it to me. No matter how curious I am or how badly my lips tingle with anticipation, I cannot kiss Spencer again. I won’t.

But who will know?

As he said, it’s just the two of us. We’re alone in the middle of Lake Michigan with no signs of any other boats. Another kiss can be our little secret, right? If we start, though, will we be able to stop? Will either of us want to?

“Nothing.” He shakes his head with disappointment. “I guess I hoped there was a glimmer left of the girl I used to know, but I can see now that she’s gone.” With a huff, he turns to walk away.

I grab his arm to stop him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re still so worried about what your friends will think that you can’t seem to think for yourself.” He gives another shake of his head, this time with disgust. “But look around, Ev. Where are these friends, huh?” He jerks his arm from my grasp.

I ball my hands into fists and glower at him. The urge to scream at him consumes me, but I’m at a loss for words. He’s right. My friends aren’t here. Despite that, I can’t stop thinking about them and what they’ll say if they find out I spent the summer with Spooky Spence. No way will they let me keep hanging out with them, and if I don’t have Whitney, Mya, and Liz, who do I have?

“That’s what I thought,” Spencer mutters, then storms back to the wheel.

The boat roars to life, and then we’re moving at a fast speed that almost makes me seasick. Tears burn my eyes, but I absolutely refuse to let Spencer see me cry. So, instead, I clutch at the anger that’s never too far from the surface.

“For the record, you’re not the same guy I remember, either,” I snap.

He ignores me.

If looks could kill, I’d strike him dead right where he stands. But of course, I don’t possess that type of power. But I do have the power to hold a grudge, and that’s what I intend to do. I stomp below deck, purposely being way louder than necessary. If Spencer notices, he doesn’t say anything.

For the rest of the day, I go out of my way to avoid Spencer. If he’s above deck, I’m below and vice versa. Neither of us speak to the other, and I’m fine with that—until halfway through the following day. I’m bored out of my mind, and if I don’t find something to do, I’m going to jump ship and swim to land. Anything has to be better than nothing.

I wander above deck and shield my eyes from the blinding sunlight. Spencer stands a few feet from the rear of the boat, arms crossed, and stares at something in the distance. I try to figure out what, but all I can see is water.

Taking a deep breath, I march up and stand in front of him. “Did you ask me to take this trip with you just so you could get me alone and try to kiss me?”

This question’s been bothering me since our argument, and I can’t shake the feeling I’m right about his intentions. Why go to so much trouble, though? Every single time we’re in the guest house, we’re alone. We didn’t need to take a summer boat trip.

Spencer is quiet for a long moment. “I really have no idea how to answer that.”

“Truthfully would be nice.” I shift on my feet.

“I told you why I asked you. My dad made me.” He doesn’t move an inch, despite the way his gaze roams down the length of my body.

“And this trip was so important to you that you caved and asked me?” I raise a brow, my tone full of skepticism.

“Obviously,” he says.

Until right now, I never realized how infuriating Spencer can be, but he’s pushing every one of my buttons without even trying. Does he know he’s doing that? Sudden exhaustion crashes down around me. My summer already sucks, and fighting with Spencer only makes the whole thing worse. I’m not going to apologize—I didn’t do anything wrong—but I can try to find some common ground and salvage what’s quickly becoming a sinking ship.

“That’s what you were going to do yesterday, right? You wanted to kiss me?” My voice wavers the slightest, and I want to kick myself for asking that question. What if he says no? I’ll look like a complete jerk.

“Yes.” He meets and holds my gaze, and I’m utterly powerless to look away. I’m not even sure I want to.

“Why?” I whisper.

Spencer and I haven’t been friends in a long time. Why does he want to kiss someone he doesn’t even like?

“Because I like you, Everleigh.” He takes a step toward me, and I take a step back. “I always have.” Another step, then he stops and tilts his head. “You really had no idea?”

I shake my head and move back another few steps, knowing I’m quickly losing my resolve to keep him at a distance. My legs hit the side of the boat. Spencer reaches out and grabs me before I accidentally tip overboard. Then he eliminates all the space between us, and I can’t take a breath without inhaling the scent of him.

“I lied to you before.” His gaze is piercing and determined. “I didn’t get lucky that night. I paid Dan O’Dooley fifty bucks to switch cups with me so I could kiss you.”

I gasp. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I wanted you to be my first kiss.”

I narrow my eyes. So many thoughts fight for dominance in my mind, but I don’t get the chance to speak any of them before Spencer leans forward, his mouth poised above mine. I can’t help but stare at his plump lips and wonder if they’re as soft as I remember.

“And I want you to be my last,” he says softly, his lips grazing mine as he speaks.

The implication of his words hits me like a tidal wave. I shove him away. “Are you insane?”

“Probably.” He shrugs like everything he just said is no big deal. “By the end of summer, you’ll change your mind about me.”

“Don’t count on it.”

But deep down, I know he’s right—I’m already thinking of him and wanting him in ways I shouldn’t. How much longer can I pretend I don’t?