Page 10

10

SKYE

Lying in the bubbling water, I watch the steam from the penthouse hot tub billow out into the chilly London night air.

I let the bubbles take the weight of my weary bones and starfish on the surface. I submerge my ears in the water and my eyes close as the meditative rumbling of the hot tub gurgles surround me, vibrating the tension from my body, allowing me to feel more relaxed than I’ve done in weeks.

But despite the way my body feels generally, I feel weird. Like, off-kilter parallel-universe weird.

If only Jacob would talk to me about his feelings, tell me everything without me having to fill in the gaps for myself. I know for sure it would clear the air between us.

What is wrong with me? He’s out on a godforsaken date… I need to forget about him.

But I can’t.

He’s all I see, all I hear, and all I think about… broad body, sinewy muscles, abs… thank the Lord for washboard abs.

Long gone is the thin-as-a-drainpipe, cute boy I met back on my first day at Castleview Cove High.

Thinking back to that day, a smile curves my lips as I recall our first encounter. We were just sixteen…

“Everyone, this is Skye McNairn. Our new student here at Castleview Cove High and also the headmaster’s daughter.”

Oh crap, why did my new English teacher, Mrs. Clark, have to say that? Now no one will want to speak to me. And the last thing I want is to be singled out or given any special privileges. Or for the other kids to bully me because of who I am. Fudgenuggets.

“Make her feel welcome,” Mrs. Clark instructs my new classmates with a stern glare.

Her face instantly changes when she looks at me and, with a warm smile, she points to the seat at the back of the classroom, urging me to fill it.

This is the moment I have been dreading all summer: my first day at a new school. The looks, the attention. The headmaster’s daughter. Urgh.

I feel so sick and the nervous flutter of butterflies hasn’t stopped swirling in my tummy.

I slowly make my way up the aisle between the desks as a sea of curious stares follows my every move to my seat.

Palms sweaty, I remove my backpack from my shoulder and chuck it on the floor, before parking my backside on the wooden chair, pushing myself down to avoid eye contact with anyone.

“Hey.”

I snap my head to the side when a gentle voice startles me and I’m greeted with a beaming smile from a cute skinny guy. His green eyes shine back at me when I smile and mouth a soft, “Hi” in return.

“Are you okay?”

Don’t cry, don’t cry.

A minute passes before he says, “You can sit with me and my friends at lunch if you want. That way, you’ll know some friendly faces and you won’t have to eat by yourself.”

“That would be nice, thank you,” I whisper.

“I’m Jacob. But my friends call me Jay.” When I look up again, his smile quickly grows wider, instantly making me feel better.

“I’m Skye,” I murmur then drag my attention back to my teacher and listen intently as she starts the lesson.

“You have a really pretty name,” Jacob whispers again. “It matches your blue eyes. Sky blue.”

I glance sideways, being careful not to get caught talking. I don’t want to get into trouble on my first day. “Thanks.”

Mrs. Clark taps the electronic whiteboard behind her. “What do we learn about Dill’s character in chapter one? Pay attention. This question appeared in last year’s examination paper.” She lifts her brows knowingly. “Discuss this with your table partner.”

My new classmate taps his book cover. “Want to share my book?”

“I have a copy.” I reach down, unzip my floral backpack and pull out my dog-eared copy of To Kill a Mockingbird.

“Wow, how many times have you read that?” he laughs.

“A few.” I smile. “I love reading.”

He considers my reply. “What’s your favorite book?”

It takes less than a heartbeat to reply. “ The Princess Bride .”

“The film?” His mouth drops open as he looks confused by my answer.

I roll my eyes. “It was adapted into a film in 1987. It’s a book, and it was written in 1973.”

“Smarty pants.”

“That’s mean,” I reply, nudging my elbow against his.

“Hey, I was kidding. I didn’t mean to offend you, Ms. Sassypants.” He smirks. “I love that film.”

Oh, I like this guy. He’s got the kindest of eyes. “The book is better. It’s the greatest love story ever told.”

“Isn’t it a comedy?”

“It is. But it’s also a fantasy book with heaps of adventure and, of course, there’s a huge dollop of romance. It’s the best type of fairy tale.” The tone of my voice goes all swoony. I love that book and have read it like fifty times. “It gets me every time… loving someone from afar because the hero was too afraid to tell her. The way Westley uses his own code words to tell Buttercup he loves her…”

“He loves her whatever, however, forever.”

“Look at you, making up your own secret code words.” I tease him then pull my hands to my swollen heart. “Can you imagine meeting someone and falling in love with them at first sight, but never thinking you are good enough for them, so you never tell them?”

“Do you believe in all of that?” His cheeks pink up. “The love at first sight thing?”

“I believe there is someone who is made perfectly for every one of us. But fate dictates whether you find them or not,” I reply easily, having spent many an hour thinking about this.

“Fate.”

“Yes.”

“Well, I feel like it’s fate that you moved here.”

“You do?” I question, my heart hammering.

“Yeah, and I’m glad you sat down beside me.”

“Why?”

“Because who would have told me The Princess Bride was a book? I could have spent the rest of my life not learning that interesting, but very important fact, then I would look like a complete dumbass for passing English Lit without ever knowing.” He lifts his elbow against the table and rests his head on his hand. “Maybe you should teach this class.”

I chuckle.

“Do you have a copy of The Princess Bride I can borrow?” he asks.

“You read?”

“Rude, but yeah, of course I read.”

I dip my hand into my backpack, and pull out my copy. “Guard this with your life.”

He reaches for it, but I pull it back. “Promise me you won’t lose it.”

He draws an imaginary X over his heart.

“If you do, you will die a painful death by dragon fire.”

I lay my book out for him to take and he says, “I will guard it with my life.”

“You had better.”

We spend the rest of the lesson focused on the work and when the bell rings, I start packing my things back into my backpack as a shadow appears by my side, blocking Jacob from my view. “Hey, I’m Owen.”

My trip down memory lane quickly bursts into a million jagged pieces as soon as Owen appears in it.

I’d forgotten that day until now… well, forgotten that Owen was there when I first met Jacob.

Remembering it now, I think Jay liked me from the first moment we met, but like always, Owen railroaded his way in. Taking what he wanted. Not caring about who he hurt in the process. I didn’t see it then, but I see it now.

With my ears submerged under the water, a distorted voice startles me, making my eyes spring open.

Standing on the side of the sunken hot tub, in all of his six-foot-two broad and dark glory, is Jacob.

Subconsciously moving as far away from him as I possibly can, I ease my feet to the floor of the tub. Pushing my hair back off my forehead, I glide back and park my backside on the lip of the underwater seat.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asks, standing with his legs wide, hands in his pockets, and dominating the outdoor space.

“Yes, thank you.”

“I’ve never seen you with your hair completely down before.” He rolls his tongue over his top teeth.

“Do you like it?”

“I do.” He loosens his tie and then undoes the knot before sliding it slowly out of his shirt collar, then proceeds to undo the top button of his white shirt. “You should wear it down more often.”

“Your date didn’t last long. I thought you’d be out all night with her.” My voice is laced with sarcasm.

“I didn’t have a date,” he confesses, his honesty knocking the wind from me.

“Where did you go then?” I ask, trying to sound like I don’t really care.

“I met my cousin, at The Ritz for dinner. She’s a cardiothoracic surgeon at Great Ormond Street children’s hospital. She’s just moved back from New York.”

“Wow. That’s impressive.”

He looks troubled, wrapping his tie around his shovel-sized hands, when he says, “Joanna talked some sense into me. She said I needed to open up.”

What I would like him to do with that tie…

“You and me.” He gestures to the space between us. “We need to talk. Get out.”

“Hop in,” I counter, trying not to overthink all the reasons this is a bad idea.

His jaw twitches once, then twice, as he considers my invitation.

“Jacob, as my friend, I’m asking you to get in.”

He tilts his neck back as he inhales a deep breath, forcing his wide chest to puff out.

Without another word, he begins unbuttoning his shirt. When the last one is undone, he peels his shirt off, providing me a better look at him.

He’s a solid wall of muscle and his skin is a work of art. My mouth salivates at the thought of licking all his delicious divots.

Eyes connected, he toes his black dress shoes off before he unbuckles his belt, leisurely teasing me with the slow tempo of his movements.

Watching him, with my pulse racing, I have to dip my mouth below the surface of the water to stop myself from moaning, unable to tear my eyes away from him.

He grants me a rare knock-out grin and my eyes dip to watch him unzip his suit trousers. Pushing them past his hips, he lets them fall to the wooden deck.

I sit up straighter, my mouth rising out of the water, exposing my lips to the cold air, and an unexpected high-pitched gasp leaves my throat.

I drink in his tall, lean body and it’s like something out of a men’s fitness magazine. Thick thighs, solid calves, laddered abs I’d like to climb, and, Lord have mercy, the outline of his thick, long cock is obvious beneath his stupidly tight boxers.

I raise my eyebrows, stunned at his surprising choice of underwear. “Do you have a yellow duck pattern on your boxers?”

“Yes. Why?”

“No reason.” I dip my mouth back in the water to hide my amusement.

He leans to the side and pulls his socks off.

Squinting my eyes in the low light, I try to get a better look at the vast expanse of tattoos across his wide shoulders, arms, collar, and chest, as he moves to step into the hot tub, submerging his gorgeous body from my viewing pleasure.

As he sits across from me, tension grows between us.

Growing impatient, I flick water at him, the droplets hitting his chest and running down, making me wish I could follow them with my tongue. “Start talking.”

“What do you want to know?” he lets out with a sigh, stretching his arms wide along the sides of the hot tub, his hands clenching the lip of it tight.

“Why did you never tell me you had a thing for me, Jacob?”

He looks around the huge outdoor space before saying, “Because, within the first six months of moving to Castleview Cove, you were all about Owen.”

“No, I wasn’t,” I reply defensively.

“Yes, you were,” he scoffs.

“He asked me out, and I said yes. That’s different.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. I’m not sure if you know this, but I wanted you to ask me out. Properly. Officially. But you never did.”

I had prayed to the heavens above for Jacob to ask me out on a date back then. As our friendship blossomed over the weeks, we grew closer, laughed more, and spent so much time together. Most of the time it was just the two of us, but no matter how much I wanted him to, Jacob never tried to kiss me. I guess I stopped wishing he would see me as more than just a friend. I didn’t think I had a chance at more with him.

“Then Owen asked me out to the movies and the only reason I said yes was because I didn’t think you were interested in me like that , Jay.”

His head snaps back at my news, his brow wrinkling. “Are you serious? How could you not have known? I spent every single free minute with you. Who was the one that walked you home? Who asked you to go to the ice cream parlor on weekends? Who read to you and joined you in the library? Sat with you inside the castle waiting around as you filled your sketchbooks to the brim?”

I whisper, “You.”

“Me.” He pokes his chest. “And never, not once, did you ever look at me the way you looked at Owen.”

That’s not true. I did see him. Every day. “But you never gave me any indication that you even so much as liked me romantically. You never made it seem like you wanted anything more than friendship between us.”

His nostrils flare, and the timbre of his voice drops a few levels. “Have you forgotten who made sure you got home before curfew? Or who looked after you when you got tipsy? Who took you home when you ripped your dress at prom, and who helped you fill out your art college application?”

It was always Jacob. Owen was always too busy having fun .

And I only just learned that Jacob even bought my Christmas and birthday presents, all lovingly disguised and labeled up from Owen.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I ask, rubbing my water-wrinkled fingers into my temples. Recalling our teenage memories is giving me a headache.

He takes his time considering what he says next. “I was waiting. I don’t know what for, but I waited.” Every muscle tensed, reminding me of a sixteen-year-old Jacob who was uncomfortable talking about his feelings. “I was a skinny kid, who wasn’t good at chatting with girls romantically. Especially girls that look like you.”

“Look like me?” I repeat, wondering if I’m dreaming all this right now.

“Have you seen you, Skye? Even when you were sixteen, you were fucking beautiful.” He stands up suddenly, causing the bubbles to slosh over the sides. “You would never have gone with a skinny, dorky dude like me.”

“I did like you.” I stand up, furious that he saw himself that way. “I loved who you were, and I wanted you to ask me out or kiss me.”

He steps forward, closing the space between us, but standing far enough away that I can’t reach him.

“But the night you went to the movies and kissed Owen, I lost you.”

“We were sixteen,” I cry, anger bubbling up inside me at a situation I can’t change.

“And that kiss sealed our fate.”

“You sound like a parrot.” I move closer, prodding him in his solid chest. “So you can’t go after what you want because of some stupid promise you made when you were fourteen? Am I hearing this correctly?”

“We had a verbal agreement. No touching, dating, or kissing ex-girlfriends. I’ve never broken it.”

“And do you think Owen kept his promise?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.” He shakes his head. “He’s my best friend.” He sounds pained.

“And he treated me like shit.”

“And you let him.” He clenches his fists into tight balls by his sides.

A wave of furious heat scalds my skin as our conversation turns sour. “I did not let him.”

“You fucking did. Every time he split up with you, he went with other girls, and you took him back again and again. Did he show you he loved you? Not just with words, but actions?”

The facts are difficult to hear because he’s right. “He couldn’t even be bothered to get you a fucking birthday present!” he roars. “And if you’d looked closely enough, you would have realized it was me who bought you those gifts. Who else would have known about the rucksack you love or the earrings from the New Zealand jewelry designer?” He points his finger into his chest, his voice booming. Dropping his gaze, he runs his hand over his face before looking at me again, his voice softer as he delivers his next line. “I pay attention to every little detail about you because I’m in love with you.”

As if not quite believing the confession that just left his lips, his eyes bulging, he stumbles backward, almost falling over.

Hot tears spring up in my eyes.

“Love me?” The words catch in my throat.

He spins around to leave the hot tub.

“Please don’t go,” I beg, moving quickly and resting my hand on his tattooed shoulder. Goosebumps cascade across his skin and I hope it’s from my touch and not the falling outside temperature.

“You were too blind to see it,” he says, but he doesn’t turn back to face me as he speaks.

“And you were too scared to admit how you feel.” I keep my voice low and calm.

He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter now.” His voice is almost inaudible.

“Jacob, look at me.”

His body remains facing away from me as if he’s too scared of what might happen if he turns fully, but he twists his head, looking at me over his shoulder.

“All these years?” I’m almost too astonished for words.

His broad shoulders sag. “From the first day you walked into class, I knew then.”

Fourteen years.

“And we can’t ever be together because of a stupid rule all three of you made up when you were just kids?”

“Exactly.”

“And what if I want more?” My hand is still on his shoulder and I run my finger over the black ink that sits beneath my thumb.

He stops my movement and lifts my palm from his skin, releasing his grip quickly. “I can’t keep saying this over and over, Skye. It’s too late.”

“Did Owen know you had a crush on me?”

The sound of the city below, the honking of the horns, and the emergency service sirens fill the air as I wait for him to answer.

“He did.” He pauses as we let the weight of this conversation settle around us. “That’s what’s fucking with my head. I’m mad at myself for not stepping up and being the man I am now, but Owen knew. I stopped sharing the names of the girls I liked at school and university when Owen was around. When you two would split up, he seemed to make a competitive sport out of trying to get the girl before me. And he always did.”

His sad emerald eyes have lost all their sparkle. “I need to learn how to fall out of love with you. You have to let me.” His voice sounds almost strangled as he speaks.

“Please don’t say that.” The tears I’ve been holding back since this conversation started break free, running down my cheeks.

“C’mon, Butterfly, don’t cry.” Jacob reaches up and thumbs them away. “I didn’t mean to upset you and I didn’t mean what I said about you letting Owen treat you like shit. I just want you to know you are worth more. You deserve better. Unfortunately, like I keep saying, I can’t be that man.”

I watch him walk back inside the penthouse, the bright light of the living space illuminating the delicate sky-blue butterfly tattoos covering his back and shoulders. They move across his sculpted frame as if fluttering through the vivid blue clouds branded into his skin. I’ve never seen his tattoos in detail before, so I gasp as I take in the decorative words cleverly threaded among his artwork that I missed before. The words he said to me years ago.

‘Whatever, however, forever.’

He loves me.