Cinderella Steals Home (14 page)

     
I nod and smile at him from behind my sunglasses. "I feel great."
 

     
"Go easy with those, okay?" he says, pointing to the beer in my hand. "It's hot and you can't handle your alcohol."
 

     
I narrow my eyes even though he can't see it. "What makes you think I can't handle my alcohol?"
 

     
"Holls, please. This is the first time you've ever drank anything. I know what that's like, okay?"
 

    
I don't appreciate the smugness, the arrogance in his voice. "I'm fine."
 

     
"Don't get bent out of shape," he tells me, rolling his eyes. "I just want to make sure you're okay out here."
 

    
"Since when are you all sweet and concerned about me?"

     
"I keep telling you, I'm not a bad guy."
 

     
I feel the anger seep out of me. Maybe it's the beer catching up with me or maybe it's just that it's gorgeous here or maybe it's because I'm less hardened to the idea that Doan's a total jerk these days.
 

    
"I guess I'm going to have to start listening to you, huh?"
 

     
He shrugs, then takes a sip from his own can. "I mean, I personally think that's a great idea. But it's your funeral."
 

    
I look out over the water at the tiny sailboats littering the horizon. "I guess we'll see what you've got."
 

    
He raises an eyebrow. "What I've got?"
 

    
I nod. "We'll see how far off the track you steer me."
 

    
He laughs. "I promise not to steer you wrong, Holly Shaw. Scouts' honor. Besides, you really can't go wrong with me. You'll see."
 

    
I study his face, suddenly feeling myself growing more serious than I'd meant to, but I shake it off. "You were a boy scout?"
 

     
He shakes his head. "Nope. But it sounded like the right thing to say."
 

     
I don't say anything as I drain the rest of my beer.
 

     
"Hey, Justin," I call out. My brother turns around from his spot on the boat where he's been entertaining a very pouty-looking Allison for the past half hour. I wiggle the can in my hand before tossing it in his direction. "Catch."
 

    
He grabs it out of the air. "No more for you."
 

     
"What? Come on, one more."
 

     
Justin shakes his head. "No chance. It's about to hit you and then you'll be glad you listened to me."
 

     
I glare at him. "You don't know what you're talking about."
 

     
My brother exchanges an amused look with Doan.
 

     
"What?" Doan says with a grin. "I think it's cute. She's never had a drink a day in her life before but now she thinks she knows better than you and me."
 

      
I turn to him. "I know myself better than you know me. So there."
 

     
"So there?" Doan repeats. "Did you just hit me with a 'so there' and actually mean it? Yeah, Justin's right. You're definitely cut off."
 

      
I still don't feel any effects from the alcohol. I just feel...happy. My thoughts aren't swimming. I'm not slurring my words. I don't feel like I'm not in control of what I'm saying or doing. None of the bad stuff I'd been worried about is happening, but for some reason, Doan and Justin are being difficult about this, and I don't like it.
 

     
"Can I just get a beer please?" I call to my brother.
 

      
He shakes his head. "I'm not getting you one."
 

     
Then I'll get it myself." I put my hands in the water and begin paddling my tube toward the boat, but it's a lot harder with Doan tied to me, weighing it down.
 

     
"Don't look at me for help," he says, leaning back in his tube with his arms folded behind his head as though he's really about to enjoy watching me figure this out.
 

      
I stare at him for a few extra seconds before scooting to the edge of the tube then jumping down into the water. I swim over to the boat, climb up the ladder, smirk at my brother and march below deck to the mini-fridge where I find another drink.
 

      
When I emerge back into the sunlight, everyone's staring at me.
 

      
"Something wrong?" I ask without thinking about it. I'm surprised by my boldness. It's not like me. Allison and her friend both raise their eyebrows then look at one another. Justin grins, and the other two guys don't look interested at all.
 

      
"Holls, c'mere," my brother says, walking over to me and putting his arm around my shoulder. He guides me gently away from the others.
 

     
"What?" I ask.
 

     
He spins me around so that I'm directly facing him. "Slow down," he says. "We're going to be out here all night for the fireworks. You don't need to get drunk this minute."
 

    
I shake my head. "I'm not trying to get drunk."
 

    
"Well, that's what's going to happen if you keep going like you are."
 

    
I just roll my eyes. "I feel fine, Justin."
 

    
"Do what you want," he says. "But you're making a mistake."
 

    
I push past him and climb back down the ladder into the water before swimming to my tube with the beer in my hand. I swim up through the bottom and climb in, placing the can in the cup-holder built into the float.
 

    
Doan looks over at me. "Everything good?"
 

    
"Everything's just perfect."
 

    
I check out my surroundings one more time to shake off the icky feeling of the stupid confrontation with my brother and let out a happy, content sigh.
 

     
"Yeah," I mutter under my breath as I wiggle into a more comfortable position in the tube and let my eyes flutter closed behind my sunglasses. "It's perfect."
 

***
 

    
A freezing sheet of water splashes on top of me and I sit up with a start, forget where I am and immediately feel myself sinking underneath the water.
 

    
I flounder around for a few seconds before shaking off the groggy sleep and remember why I'm here. Fourth of July. Doan's boat. Floating in a tube. Everything's fine. I'm fine.
 

    
I swim toward the surface and break into the sunlight, expecting to feel the heat of the blazing desert sun warm my skin but it's chillier now than I remember it being earlier, and I wonder what time it is.
 

    
I look around. Doan's tube is empty but still floating tied to mine. I feel a wave of panic start to wash over me before I spin around and catch sight of the boat still anchored where we left it.
 

    
Everyone's on board.
 

     
I blow out a deep breath, hook the tube in the crook of my elbow and begin paddling toward the ladder.

    
"Well, good morning, sleeping beauty," Doan says when he sees me swimming over.
 

   
I glare at him. "My head hurts."
 

   
I don't understand the wide, self-satisfied smirk that slowly spreads across his face.
 

   
"I bet it does," he says. "Climb up. I'll get you some water."
 

   
I drag myself on deck and grab one of the dry towels from the stack resting near the back of the boat and wrap it around myself.
 

   
"Come with me," he says, jogging below deck.

   
I follow him, the pounding in my head seeming to get louder with every movement of my feet on the stairs.
 

    
Doan rummages around in one of the two small cabinets above the microwave while I slump down onto the couch. A few seconds later, he crouches down by my side with a plastic cup of water. He holds out two pills to me.

   
"Advil?" I ask.

   
He gives me a sweet smile and nods. "You look like you need it."
 

   
I swallow the pills in one try, drain the water and let out a sigh. "How long was I sleeping?"
 

   
He glances at the clock hanging above the stove. It's almost five now. "A couple of hours."
 

   
"And you didn't wake me?"
 

   
He shrugs. "I know what it's like to drink in the sun. Wipes you out. Sleep's good for that."
 

   
"I didn't even drink that much," I protest. "And I definitely didn't feel drunk."
 

   
"You probably weren't, but you were buzzed. And it's new to you." He smiles and pats my bare knee. "You'll get used to it, believe me."
 

   
I grimace, the thought of experiencing this kind of splitting headache again incredibly unappealing. "Or maybe not."
 

   
"Hungry?" he asks, getting to his feet.

   
"I could eat," I say, and I hear my stomach grumble loudly as I think about food.
 

   
Doan raises his eyebrows and laughs. "I'd say so. Come on, we're going to go dock over by one of the islands and grill."
 

   
We walk back above deck where everyone else is hanging out and talking and laughing. Allison, I notice, is now perched comfortably on my brother's lap, and I can only shake my head and chuckle quietly to myself.
 

    
I'm not sure where I should go as I stand here for a few awkward seconds by myself while Doan deals with the anchor. I happen to catch his eye (and definitely not because I'm staring at him) and he motions me over by the wheel with him once he's finished.
 

   
I'm also not sure why this fills me with such a smug sense of satisfaction, but it does, and all I really want to do is turn around and grin at Allison as I walk over to him.
 

   
He drops down into the seat, plays with a few gadgets on his dashboard and the engine roars to life. He swings the wheel and guides the boat in the direction of a small patch of land in the middle of the lake, barely big enough to be considered an island.
 

   
When the boat's cruising along comfortably, Doan looks over at me and pats his knee. I stare back at him blankly as he raises his eyebrow and chuckles.
 

   
"Okay, we're not there yet," he says in that infuriating but adorably unflappable voice of his. "Good to know."
 

   
"What?" I respond lamely.

   
He doesn't have to explain before it sinks into my still-thundering head that he'd been asking me to sit on his lap.

   
Duh.

   
I shake my head.

   
Sometimes I'm too clueless for my own good.
 

   
I hold a three-second debate in my mind. I can either awkwardly sit down without saying anything and make the situation even more ridiculous or I can crack a joke and hope he invites me a second time.

   
It doesn't take long for me to make a decision.

   
And of course I pick the more embarrassing of the two options.
 

   
I drop down onto his lap without a word, and I can hear his soft chuckle fill my ear that's suddenly a lot closer to his lips than it's ever been before.
 

   
Than I ever thought it would be.

   
Than I ever thought I wanted it to be.

   
But the funny thing is, I'm finding out that I sort of don't hate it at all.

   
The sky dims now as night falls. The air feels cooler, though it's still warm, but with my wet skin and hair, I shiver in the setting sun.

   
Doan must feel the vibrations coming off me because he wraps his arm that isn't piloting the boat around my shoulders and rubs some warmth back into my skin.
 

   
I feel the tingles of his touch hot on my skin and it's all I can do not to shiver again, but this time not from the dip in temperature.
 

   
We ride the rest of the way over to the island like this, with Doan's left hand lightly brushing against the exposed skin of my shoulder. I don't dare shift even an inch in either direction because I don't want his touch to end, even though I know it will.

   
It has to.

   
Doan slows the boat down to a crawl, then brings it to a complete stop in shallow waters. He jiggles his leg and I immediately get to my feet and wrap the towel around me tightly.