Page 15 of A Summer Thing

Chapter Nine

Declan

It turns out, Jude doesn’t have a problem with me, just the idea of me.

After our handful of conversations this past week, and probably centered even more around the events of last night, his demeanor—his brusque attitude, signature scowl, and cold stare—seem to have calmed, settling into something just this side of resigned .

His hard gaze has softened, the rough edges of his personality sanded away until I can feel the beginning of a real friendship starting to grow.

I can still see the shadows lurking in his gaze, though, reminders of whatever it is I remind him of darkening his mood, but I feel…

separate from them now, in a way I should have been to begin with, when he visibly brushes them away and graces me with a small smile, the wild hurricane in his gaze calming.

“You good?” he asks, his tone calm, thoughtful.

“I’m good.” I smile, even if it might not be entirely true.

My thoughts stray right back to him, though.

I’ve never been so curious about someone and what their demons might be— I’ve got enough of my own to deal with —but the thought is distracting enough to keep my mind off of my own, off of the anxiety slowly trickling through me, pinpricks of unease cutting away at the buzz of alcohol flowering beneath it.

“Ahh, okay, okay! You can put me down now!” Addy squeals, and I’m grateful for the reprieve.

I glance up behind me from where I’m lying on a towel in the sand to find her slung over Boss’s shoulder.

She’s balancing two drinks, one in each hand, somehow managing to only spill a few drops.

“Ready to head out on the boat?!” she asks, and I notice a bunch of the guys and some of their girlfriends heading down the beach behind her, Jude standing from where he was sitting beside me, too.

It’s fine.

It’s fine, it’s fine.

I manage to smile. “Yeah, definitely,” I say as I come to a stand, too, reaching down to pick up my towel and roll it up in my arms.

Deep down, past the murky waters of my brain, I know it will be fine. It’s just a boat, and a lake, and a handful of Boss’s friends. But my mind is an ocean of dark thoughts, and I have to swim across it every day trying not to be ravaged by sharks.

Par for the course, I guess.

I inhale a subtle breath through my nose and release it as slowly as I can through my parted lips.

Addy doesn’t sense my hesitation and links her arm through mine, handing me one of the drinks she made. I lift the cup to my lips, and the taste of vodka and cranberry washes over my tastebuds.

Much to Addy’s amusement, I chug the entire thing down in one go.

Warmth spreads through my chest, helping to drive out my overactive thoughts.

See? It’s fine. It’ll be fine. I’m safe, and all is well, I repeat one of my favorite internet-found mantras.

The one that reminds me that I’m here, and I’m alive, and that I just need to stay…

present. To focus on the granules of sand beneath my feet, the humid air kissing my shoulders, the arm linked through mine, belonging to the one person in this world I can trust with all my heart, and on the fact that in the end, I always end up being okay.

As far as the boat goes, Addy will be there with me, and Jude will be there, too, and I—I hardly catch the tail-end of that thought before it’s gone, Addy tugging me down the beach with a giggle, pouring half her drink into the empty cup still in my hand.

Her smile widens, and she brings her cup to mine.

“To our summer of freedom,” she toasts, and I take just a small sip this time, enjoying the cool, crisp flavor.

Cicadas hum through the greenery that surrounds us, warm summer heat melting against my skin further as the light buzz of vodka sprouts vines through my limbs, and suddenly, a boat ride doesn’t sound all that terrible anymore.

______

The boat comes to a slow stop in the water, and the music cranks up along with the voices of everyone on it. A bottle of champagne pops and fizzes, and the voices grow louder. Cheering, hollering. Drunk football players whooping before splashing into the lake, or river, or whatever it is we’re on.

I think Boss called it a lake arm, that somewhere down the way washes out into a much bigger part of the lake. I don’t know. Truth be told, it all looks like a lake to me.

Grabbing the last drink Addy poured me, I sneak away to the front of the boat, where only two seats occupy the space, reclined against the boat beneath the windshield.

The commotion grows louder, everyone chanting Landon’s name in a dare to strip off his shorts and jump into the lake naked. Their laughter is almost infectious as he accepts the dare.

Almost, but not enough to reach my lips.

I lower myself into the farthest seat, forcing in a deep breath, willing air into my lungs in the hope that it diminishes the shakiness in my chest. My drink sits in a cup holder beside me, already forgotten.

Whoever said drinking on a boat was a good idea had zero sense of self-preservation.

The contents of my stomach move with the water beneath me, lapping up against my insides like the lake washes against the boat.

Leaning back into the cushioned seat, I close my eyes against the sunlight, focusing on the warmth that permeates my skin—and on the breaths to calm my racing heart.

Five, four, three, two, one, I recite calmly, following through with each step as the party continues around me—at the back of the boat, on the roof above the captain’s quarters, down in the water.

I swallow down another breath, the pinpricks of anxiety slowly receding.

Reaching over, I grab my cup, take a few more sips whether it’s a good idea or not, and feel the boat rocking beneath me.

Unease continues to swim through my body, coupling with what I think might be a mild sense of seasickness.

I was so focused on everything else that I hadn’t accounted for this part. My body rebelling against the movement.

I try my best to ignore it.

Deep breaths through my nose, and out through my mouth.

Addy’s signature whistle sounds from the roof of the boat, and I look up to find her glancing down at me with a smile, a hand shielding her eyes from the sun. She gives me a thumbs up with the other, her way of asking if I’m okay.

I return her smile and the gesture.

I’m fine. I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine.

______

It isn’t too much later that Jude finds me.

Of course, he finds me. He must think I’m a lost cause at this point.

I could feel his stare on me inside the boat, and I’m almost certain he could sense exactly what was amiss. My churning stomach, my unease, my anxiety, my need to escape the humid, close quarters.

On top of everything else he’s already seen.

The night on the balcony.

Last night.

He lowers himself down into the seat next to me, his knees spread as he relaxes into the cushioned chair without a care in the world. At least it feels that way, with the ease with which he settles in.

Pinpricks of envy needle through me, but I draw my focus back to him.

He’s shirtless now, a fitted pair of black swim trunks the only thing covering any part of him.

I urge, or more like beg, myself not to stare, but my gaze lingers on his toned body anyway.

Inked, and muscled, and this close to completely mesmerizing.

The soft black lines and subtle gray shadows of his artwork stand out even more against the sunlight, and I’m a lost cause as I take in every exposed inch.

Angels, demons, and a lightning-lit sky rage across his stomach and chest. Grainy, geometric patterns and shadows hug his neck and pour down onto one flexed arm; roses, skulls, and sharp daggers adorn the other.

My gaze slides lower.

His entire upper thigh consists of a wolf’s face surrounded by whirls of smoke that loop and weave around the other tattoos falling down his leg.

Mountains, trees, and a river running through from what I can see.

It’s the leg closest to me, though, that might be my favorite.

Gods and goddesses depicted on his thigh, wielding powers through shadowed swirls of ink, bearing down on the evil Gods and Goddesses below, covering his muscled calf and shin.

Raw emotions play out on each of their features, and the entire scene is simply… breathtaking.

Addy mentioned Jude’s junior level at OSU, and the fact that he’s twenty years old, so I can’t help but wonder how he has such beautiful, intricate work all over his body. It’s the kind of talent and artwork that would take years to accomplish.

“Have you gotten your fill?” he asks, his tone abrupt and terse, and it startles me from my daze.

But when I pull my gaze to his, ignoring the warmth rising up my cheeks, the hint of a smirk is tugging at his mouth. The corner of his lips draws to one side, the dimples I’ve seen dotting his cheeks a few times now peeking through. He’s not annoyed, just amused.

“I—well…” I trip and stumble over my words, the intimidation of him turning my thoughts into mush.

I mold the pieces of them back together and straighten my spine, saying, “Can you honestly say you blame me?” I huff out a short breath of laughter.

“It’s some of the most beautiful artwork I’ve ever seen, and you’re literally covered from head to toe in it. ”

He grunts. Or maybe it’s a groan of laughter. I can’t tell if the look on his face now is amusement or irritation or something else entirely.

“Eli will love that,” he says. “Gorgeous girl calling his work the most beautiful she’s seen.”

My heart skips a beat over the compliment. And possibly a dozen more.

“Eli?” I ask, though my mind is still glued to that word. Gorgeous. He thinks I’m gorgeous.