Cross Me Off Your List (10 page)

“Off the boat before it even leaves the dock,
huh?” he asks, folding his arms and staring down at us. “You know,
I could easily call Deputy Pittman right now and have him haul you
guys in. He has a thing for messing with guys with tattoos. He’s
thrown my friend A.J. in jail for nothing more times than I can
count. He’d at least have a charge this time.”

I rip off the sunglasses and debate throwing
them overboard for a moment, but I’d hate for some poor dolphin to
find them and sport awful fashion under the sea.

“If you were going to rat us out, you
would’ve done it the moment you saw us,” I say.

“You’re right,” Reed says. “Luckily for you,
Dr. Richardson’s son Dominic has bad blood with some of my friends
in Horn Island. So in honor of the Hooligans, I’ll just call this
karma and look the other way.”

Noah spazzes out at the word Hooligans. He
tells Reed that he’s met them and that we jumped off the collapsed
pier with Theo and that Miles was actually the one who gave him the
party crashing idea. I don’t believe in dropping names, but I fully
support it in this moment.

“You picked the right friends,” Reed says. He
turns and looks back. “I’ll hold them off, but I can’t hide you.
You’ll have to jump. Like, now. Fast.”

The thought of jumping into the ocean at
night, with a crescent moon attempting to light my way, scares the
living hell out of me. I’m afraid I’ll hit the water and splatter
apart like that ice anchor did when Jules kicked it to its
doom.

But being arrested by this Deputy Pittman
dude isn’t on my bucket list and I don’t intend for it to be.

“Okay, let’s make a jump for it,” I say,
pulling Noah up with me. I slip my heels back on and pray they
don’t take flight when we do.

“Go,” Reed orders. “Seriously, if you jumped
off that pier in Horn Island, this will be nothing. Over the
railing. Now.”

He rushes back to give the report that no one
is on this level, and I climb the railing much less gracefully than
Kate Winslet in Titanic. She made it look so easy, even in her long
dress. I could never make it in Hollywood. Noah hops over with more
ease and grabs my hand.

“On three, just like the pier,” he says.

Sirens wail in the distance, and I wonder for
a second if they’re coming because of us. I hope Aralie and Jules
made it back to safety. They don’t need to go down on my
account.

“Okay…one, two, three!” Noah shouts.

In those few seconds between railing and salt
water, I hear someone’s voice in the depths of my mind. I hear
Theo, and he’s screaming, “For Sharrrrrk!”

When I bob to the surface for air, I grab
onto Noah and begin swimming toward the docks. But in my mind, I
can’t help wondering if Theo’s words are going to haunt me
forever.

A bang on the door jerks me out of my
afternoon slumber. What’s the point of placing a ‘do not disturb’
sign on the door when housekeeping doesn’t respect it? I bury my
face into the pillow, but the knocking only grows louder.

I force myself out of bed and peek through
the peephole on the door before I open it for the world to see last
night’s leftover makeup and crazy hair. I showered just enough to
rinse away the salt water. Then I crashed. But it’s not
housekeeping begging to be let in.

“Aralie?” I stare at her in a semi-sleep when
I open the door.

She wastes no time. She barges in, pushing
the door behind her, and then she holds up the Crescent Cove
Gazette.
Teens Crash Richardson’s Party. Info Wanted.
Damn,
this place moves fast. How did they even get a story printed
overnight?

A photo of Dr. Richardson and The Golden Star
stretches under the photo. I skim the article, trying to take in as
much as I can through the flakes of mascara left on my eyelashes.
The clumps make it hard to see.

Fortunately for us, Dr. Richardson has a
strict ‘no cell phone’ policy during his annual party, so no one
was able to snap a picture of us. The descriptions of two females
and two males, all brunette teenagers, is pretty crappy. Accurate,
yes, but that’s really not much to go on. I guess the cheap
sunglasses worked after all.

“We’re going to be fine,” I assure Aralie.
“None of us are from here, so we won’t be around for an
investigation, and I feel like they’ll look into locals first. How
would we even know about it and why would we care?”

“That guy,” Aralie says, completely in a
panic. “That guy is going to rat us out. That Reed dude. He’ll tell
because he doesn’t want to get in trouble and doesn’t want his dad
to lose business.”

I wonder what she’s so afraid of. She doesn’t
seem like the kind of girl who would panic. We got away, we weren’t
caught on camera, and no one can link us to the boat.

“I need your help,” she says. “I have to
return the dress from last night. If someone identifies the dress,
it can be linked to me. I have to take it back.”

Did this girl take a dip in the ocean last
night too and swallow too much sea water? She’s not making a bit of
sense.

“Wait a sec. Why take the dress back and risk
being seen? Why not ditch it or burn it or rip it to shreds?” I
ask.

Aralie sighs and falls back onto
the-bed-formerly-known-as-Erin’s. “You, of all people, should
understand,” she says. “I’ve seen how you dress. You care about
fashion. I can’t let a dress that beautiful just die. It deserves a
second chance, another shot at being beautiful and having an
amazing adventure with some other girl.”

So this is a fashion breakup. Suddenly, I
empathize. I sit next to her in silence until she hands me an
envelope. She tells me this is her ‘goodbye letter.’

“When I take the dress back, I’m leaving this
letter with it. I need the next buyer to know how special this
dress is,” she insists.

I pull the paper out of the envelope and read
what she’s written.

Dear Awesome Girl Who Brought This
Dress,

I assume you have to be awesome since you
bought it, right? I loved this dress. I only wore it once. I
actually bought it right here at this same store. But then I went
out with my boyfriend and his friend and some random girl the
friend picked up, and we crashed a yacht club party. My boyfriend’s
sort of well-known, and luckily, we were able to avoid anyone
catching our act on camera. So it’s with my deepest regrets that I
had to return this dress. I didn’t want it to be the one thing that
gave us away after getting by with such an awesome stunt. So here’s
what I ask of you, awesome new dress owner – whatever you do in
this dress, DO IT BIG. Because, you know, the dress sort of expects
it. I’m counting on you!

Love, A

“Well, it’s a very incriminating letter,” I
tell her. I fold it up and put it back in the envelope. “Luckily
for you, my prints are all your confession too now. Please tell me
you’re waiting until you leave town to return it.”

She smacks her palm against her forehead. “Oh
God,” she groans. “I seriously needed more sleep. You’re right. I
can’t take this back now. The girl may read the letter and turn me
in. I’ll wait until we’re leaving. It’ll be my last stop.”

Once I convince Aralie to go back to her room
and get more much-needed sleep, I find myself wide awake and
refusing to dwell on what happened last night. No one will ever
know.

An hour later, Noah arrives at the door of
room 322, and I’m relieved that I didn’t fall back asleep because
I’d die if he saw me in the state Aralie had. I’ve had hangovers
that looked better than I did earlier today.

“So, we’re going somewhere,” Noah says,
welcoming himself into my room and onto my bed. “I found this
really awesome thing happening about an hour or so north of here,
and I’m taking you.”

“You’re taking me?” I ask. “Just you?”

A smirk pops up on his face. “Yeah, that’s
why we have to make a run for it,” he says. “As of right now, Big
Tony doesn’t know I’m in the wind.”

We’re thirty minutes away from the hotel when
Tank calls Noah’s cell phone. Noah shoots me a sneaky smile before
answering. I’m amazed at how brutally honest he is with Tank about
why he left. Apparently, the other bodyguards are more fun than Big
Tony. Tank’s concern for Noah’s safety is legit – the shopping
experience proved that – but at the same time, I think Big Tony
would just put a damper on our day. Once Tank agrees not to come
after us, Noah promises to call the police if things get out of
hand.

“Do you normally get attacked by excited fans
when you go somewhere without security?” I ask, watching the waves
ripple outside my window.

“I wouldn’t know what happens,” Noah says.
“Since this band blew up, I haven’t gone anywhere without security
really. I mean, back home I’ll go get groceries or something, and
people approach me, but they’re calm. Outside of Montréal, that’s
when it gets crazy.”

I sort of want to call Tank back and ask him
to send reinforcements. What on Earth, Saturn, or freaking Pluto
would possess Noah to do this? My list isn’t that important, and I
know he wants some freedom, but in a way, he signed up for this by
being in the most famous boyband since One Direction. Being the
girl with him is basically asking for my murder to happen.

“So, where exactly are we going?” I ask.

Noah plays with the radio, changing the
stations until he eventually gives up, while I watch the ocean
continue to stretch alongside the highway.

“Sunrise Valley,” Noah finally says. “Darby’s
hometown, actually. She said there’s more city life happening there
than in Crescent Cove. I figure it has to be awesome since she
doesn’t bother to utilize it.”

I burst out laughing and look over at him. He
fights a smile but eventually loses it and cracks up himself.

“What’s the deal with her? Why don’t you like
her?” I dig a little deeper. I haven’t met the girl yet, and I’m
not sure how much I really can gather from her YouTube channel. “Is
it the whole fandom thing?”

Noah shakes his head. “She’s good with the
fans, and we rely on her a lot to tone down online drama,” he
explains. “But she’s just, I don’t know. She’s a little immature, a
bit too wrapped up in her relationship with Tate. She’s good to
him. She’s crazy about him. But sometimes, it’s overbearing, and
it’s not even
my
relationship.”

Apparently, Darby’s parents aren’t nearly as
cool with the Saturn thing as the Branson parents. I guess maybe
lockdown made the difference, but Noah explains that Darby’s family
is using her spring break week as a family vacation. Crescent Cove
was chosen because her dad is a big shot with Ocean Blast Energy,
which happens to be one of Miles’s sponsors.

“Crazy, right?” Noah says. “I never even put
it together until Miles mentioned his sponsor. Then I remembered
her dad’s company. I think I’d have rather vacationed in Sunrise
Valley.”

I lean onto the arm rest between us. “And
what exactly is in Sunrise Valley?”

Noah smiles but keeps his eyes on the road.
“I hope you like mermaids.”

Noah pulls his Oakley sunglasses over his
eyes before we get out of the car. I don’t think it’ll do much to
help hide his identity, but he insists, and I’m not about to argue.
My life could be on the line as far as Saturnites are concerned, so
if he puts on a mask, I’ll probably just smile and go along with
it.

“Sunrise Valley’s Annual Mermaid Festival,” I
say, reading the words off the turquoise and silver banner.

“I have a tattoo like that,” Noah says,
pointing to the mermaid tail on the letter S in Sunrise.

“You have a mermaid tattoo?” I’m honestly
surprised. I know he’s pretty well-inked, but I don’t recall a
mermaid on his skin. “Where?”

Noah slaps his own ass. “Right back there,”
he says. “Her tail actually sticks out of the top of my
boxers.”

“You tattooed a mermaid on your ass?
Seriously?” I ask.

He nods. “If you’re lucky, I might let you
see it sometime.”

He grabs my hand and leads me through the
crowded street to see what this festival is all about. The last
festival I went to was in junior high with Hilary. She pigged out
on overpriced greasy food and then begged me to ride the
Tilt-a-Whirl with her. I held her hair while she puked up corndogs
in a trash can afterward. She was mortified, and we immediately
left. It’s not exactly one of my favorite memories.

“So, what first? Food, rides, vendors?” Noah
asks. He pulls me closer to him as we push through the people.

“You’re the one who had the bright idea of
coming here,” I remind him. “I think you need to take the
reins.”

He smirks. “But you seem like one of those
take-control kind of girls.”

“And when the time is right, I will
definitely take control,” I say, keeping my voice low so no one
around us hears me. In case he is recognized, I don’t want to end
up in the Saturn Sleaze next to Chloe and her Isaac scandal.

Noah points to a teal sign that reads
Mermaids This Way
with a white arrow. A white starfish
serves as décor on the sign.

“Want to see some mermaids?” he asks.

While we stroll the vendor booths and admire
the bottles of mermaid tears (aka sea glass), the silicone mermaid
tails, and bedazzled bra tops that are all the rage in mermaid
fashion, I step aside to ask a few locals about the time for the
mermaid parade.

“We have three hours,” I tell Noah. “So I’m
thinking food, rides, more food, and then I’m spending all of my
dad’s money on clothes and jewelry.”

“Daddy’s money is no good here,” Noah says.
He wraps an arm around my shoulder. “Today is on me. No
arguing.”

We walk over to the closest food vendor when
I remember the list. A mermaid festival has to be the best place to
cross off some items. Noah steps in line while I dig through my
purse for my bucket list.