But this is different. It’s new, and I like an adventure as much as the next girl.
“That’s a long way down.” My flip flops settle on the bottom rail and I lean over the top one at the end of the long wooden pier while Milo sets up our gear.
“Probably forty feet, give or take. It won’t feel all that great if you belly flop, so get on down from there.”
“I can swim, you know.” My arms extend outward as I lean into the railing like I’m Kate Winslet at the bow of a ship.
“I’d rather just trust you on that than get a demonstration right now. Besides, the rip currents are brutal. Get down.”
I grin at his overly protective tone and hop back onto the wood slats. “You must be a good swimmer if you’re a diver.”
“I do all right.” His fingers twist the fishing line into a complicated knot.
“Look at you being all modest. I’ll bet you were star of your high school swim team or something.”
“Uh, no.” I don’t miss the self-deprecating grin.
“What, too mainstream for you?” Admittedly, it would be hard picturing him in a speedo and swim cap, snapping towels in a locker room.
“No.”
“Then what?”
He holds out a pole for me to grab while he starts in on the second one. “Let’s just say you needed a certain GPA to do extracurriculars. And I had my own version of extracurriculars.” His grin turns sly, and my belly flips. I’ll bet he’s had lots of sex. Just the thought has my belly more tied up than the fishing line, not that I’m some prudish goodie-two-shoes. I’ve done stuff.
But, no! I’m not going to be one of those girls who finds underachieving attractive. That’s how you end up giving up your dreams and having two babies before your eighteenth birthday. No thanks.
“So, what? You hung out by the dumpsters and smoked pot? Borrrring.”
“You’re just a kid.” He scoffs, and it feels like an arrow to the chest. He’s trying to be a jerk again.
“Well, then what are you doing hanging out with me, old man?” I prop my free hand on my hip, refusing to take this lying down. He’s only eighteen, for Pete’s sake.
His mouth opens and then closes again as he shakes his head.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar,” I challenge again.
“Fine.” He squints up at me from his crouched position, shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand. “I was going to say that all my friends are working, and I’m out of a job while I play the obedient patient. But that would be cruel. And I don’t really mean it anyway.”
My heart drops. “That is cruel. You know, I have plenty of other things I could be doing.”
“I’m sure you do. Wrightsville Beach has lots of sailing lessons and golf courses to keep you busy. Don’t let me keep you.” He’s back to the boy I met last week.
“You know, you’re a real jerk. I’m outta here.” My rod hits the wood with a smack, and I don’t care if it rolls into the ocean. Let him go diving after it and belly flop.
“Jill! Wait up.” His voice is closer than I expect so I pick up my pace, swerving around tourists on the crowded pier. But he still catches up to me with a hand on my arm. “Come on. I’m sorry. I said I didn’t mean it.”
I whip around to face him. “Just what do you have against people with money anyway? I didn’t ask for my parents to make a good living. What am I supposed to do? Eat bread and water and refuse nice things out of principle? Let it turn me into an angry jerk like you?”
“No. I’m an asshole. Look, it’s not your fault.”
I swipe at a traitorous tear trying to escape my eye. “My parents aren’t actually rich, you know. They teach college and got a discount on a two-bedroom condo for a few weeks through a friend-of-a-friend. Not that I should have to justify myself to you—or anyone.”
His fingers tighten around my arm. “I know. You’re right. Like I said, I’m an asshole.”
I stifle a sniffle and straighten my back. “Well, stop then.”
“Okay.” He tries to smile, but it comes out as a grimace instead, and he drops my arm. “I’m really sorry.”
I glance down and see he’s favoring his bad leg. “You’re in pain.”
“Well, I’m not quite up to running yet, and I kind of forgot.” He tries putting his full weight on it and winces.
“You should sit.” Grabbing his good arm, I scan the pier for an available spot, finally spying a small bench with some seagulls investigating it for forgotten food.
“No, I should explain.”
I lead him to the bench, and we both sit, shooing the brazen birds away. “Explain what?”
Milo leans forward, massaging his thigh through his jeans. “Why I took my own shit out on you.”
“Okay, then tell me.”
He coughs out a half-laugh. “Well, now I’m not really sure where to start.”
“The beginning is usually a good place.”
He laughs again, but it doesn’t sound entirely genuine. My back rests against the warm wood of the bench as I give him time to find his words.
“I fucked up.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “I think we established that already. Has the pot gone to your head?”
“Would you shut up for a second?” He sighs when he catches my sour expression at the shut up part, then leans back and stretches his denim-covered leg straight out in front of him. “I mean, I would like to tell you what happened if now is a good time for you,” he recites carefully.
“Better.” I nod. “Go on.”
He takes a breath and studies me for a few seconds. His hair is caught in his eyelashes, and the red lines on his neck and jaw look especially angry in the bright sun, even through the sunscreen he’s slathered on them. I can make out the individual dots left by the stitches and I want to ask him if the pain ever goes away. He releases his breath and lets it all out. “I stole a boat, took a senator’s daughter out on an unauthorized dive, got high on some laced pot, and almost killed four people, including myself. All to make a girl jealous.”
My jaw threatens to unhinge. “Wow.” I let that marinate for a moment and shake my head. “I was totally wrong.”
“What? You thought I fell down the stairs or something?” The corner of his mouth twitches.
I shake my head again. “No. I had you pegged as an underachiever, but it sounds like you went way above and beyond on this one.”
“That’s me.” His lips curve into a real grin. “Go big or go home, right?”
“Yeah. I’d say that’s one big freaking whale, Captain Ahab.”
He laughs. “Aye aye.” I’m guessing he hasn’t had much to laugh about lately, and I’m glad for the sound.
A seagull chooses that moment to dive-bomb us, and I screech while Milo swipes the air to scare it away. He spends the next couple minutes making fun of me, but I give as good as I get until we’re both out of insults.
I turn on the bench and tuck one leg under me. “So how much trouble did you get in?”
“Besides this lifelong trophy?” He gestures down to his body, and I tilt my head at him with a sad smile. “Some of it’s still being worked out, but I think my parents are over it, for the most part.”