Page 75 of Phobia

Funny now, how I’d had a similar thought about him earlier.

“If you don’t shut your mouth, I’ll shut it for you.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Lord Rivera?” Oliver waggled his eyebrows and I glared at him, clamming up immediately. He’d never used my full title before. Ever. And of course, the one time he did would be to bring up my greatest shame. I don’t know why I was surprised he knew about what I’d done. Of course he’d heard the rumors, everyone had. As much as my father had tried to keep it under wraps, there was only so much one could do when their son was caught…well.

The rumors were a lot more graphic than reality had been.

Our community was tight knit down by the docks, and Father was well respected, especially because he owned more than half the harbor. There was no stopping the rumor mill from spreading my shame like seed in an open field the moment his watchful eye was no longer turned toward them.

Oliver clearly sensed he’d crossed a line because his manic grin softened somewhat, though the wicked gleam in his eyes remained. The boat rocked as a larger than normal wave rolled beneath it, and even my ire couldn’t distract me from our circumstances anymore.

Maybe if I closed my eyes I could forget where we were? Forget the fact he was sitting across from me. Forget the fact that we could die out here, his jokes be damned. Forget the darkness lurking beneath us, the leagues and leagues of uncharted water, the monsters, and the—

“Henry.” A warm hand brushed my shin and my eyes startled open. The panic tingling at my fingertips subsided as Oliver removed his hand, and his head ducked to meet my gaze. “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t okay.

It wasn’t.

“Your father’s probably heard all about it already,” he said with a laugh, like this was supposed to reassure me. Even though we both knew if my father had heard about what happened there would only be more punishment for me, and for him… Well, he’d lose his job. I had the feeling that it was a lot bigger deal than he was willing to let on. “You have your tracker with you?” I nodded. The spot where it sat just beneath the skin on the inside of my forearm burned at the thought.

“See? He’ll send a search party out for you.” Oliver blinked. There were shadows beneath his eyes. Bruises, more accurately.How had I never seen them before?“You’re gonna be fine.”

It didn’t escape my notice he didn’t mention himself.He’ll send a search party out for younot us.You’re going to be fine, not we’re going to be fine. It made me wonder, for a moment, if there was anyone back at the docks that would be searching for Oliver. Someone who was wondering why he hadn’t come home that night. Wondering if he was alright—if he was lost at sea, like he currently was, stuck on a rowboat with his nemesis turned accomplice turned…whatever we were now.

Partners?

Survivalists?

Comrades?

Equals.

“I’m not scared,” I lied, for the second time, because I hated the way he was looking at me—like I’d crack any second. Oliver didn’t call me on it this time, he just nodded and retreated to his side of the boat again. I missed his hand the second it was gone. My shin still stung where he’d kicked it, but the pain grounded me.

We sat mirroring each other, our backs to the shallow sides of the boat. Our legs were nearly tangled together as we sat at an impasse. There was shared knowledge that if either of us moved the other way we’d have more room, but neither of us was ready to bring that up.

Oliver was getting just as much comfort from my presence as I was from his, and that was a fucked up thought all on its own. The toe of his boot brushed my inner thigh and he grimaced, curling up around his legs so we were no longer touching, his raven bangs a dark flop over his brow.

He was right.

My father would see my tracker and retrieve me.

All we had to do was wait.

We’d be fine.

I managed to keep that optimism alive for the few moments it took for the first drops of rain to hit.

Chapter 2

“You’re kidding.” I twisted my head toward the star streaked sky and watched a swarm of dark clouds bleed across the horizon, snuffing out their light. Horror made my stomach churn. The storm that had festered at the edges of the sea all week was finally approaching. If I’d been frightened before, I was terrified now. I had no idea how our boat would hold up should the waves grow taller, and if we capsized—well.

At least Henry was tastier than I was.

Despite how much shit I’d given him only minutes prior for his body fat percentage, or lack thereof, he’d definitely make a better snack than I would. The sheer width of him would take care of that. All broad shoulders, square jaw, and sturdy legs.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, peeking over the edge of the boat distrustfully, on the hunt for whatever creepy-crawlies (creepy-swimmies?) were bound to be scoping us out. I couldn’t see anything but choppy waves, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t something lurking out of sight. The idea of becoming shark lunch was enough to make me sick.