Staying On Top (Whitman University) (25 page)

He didn’t have any reason not to trust me, I reminded myself. He might think my methods were excessive, especially if he checked out how much money I’d taken out of my spending account in the past two weeks, but he wouldn’t think I’d gone soft.

I tried hard to recall if we did anything or said anything in Belgrade that would make him realize I had feelings for Sam that were getting in the way, but it didn’t matter. My dad had a perceptiveness that didn’t seem human. If he was in the Caymans, if he saw Sam and me together, there was no way he would miss the pull between us. It could make him nervous, but it more likely would make him angry. People did what my father asked.
I
did what my father asked.

“I can’t wait to go sailing.”

“You know how to sail?” My eyebrows went up. “You never mentioned it.”

“You never asked. I have many, many talents I plan to let you discover.”

His arms went around my waist from behind as we waited in line for a taxi. A thrill went down my spine before I could think about stopping it. “Is that right?”

“Mmm-hmm.” He murmured into the back of my neck, leaving a kiss in its wake.

“Next!” 

The valet gave us a stern look that would have made me smile if my heart wasn’t in my stomach. Sam and I climbed into the backseat, and the cabbie, who was too much of a Jamaican cliché to make fun of —because he could probably put a voodoo curse on us—turned to ask where we were going.

“The Yacht Club, please.”

“Is the house here? Does your dad have a boat at the marina?”

I didn’t answer, unwilling to say anything incriminating in front of the cabbie, who stared into the rearview mirror without reservation. Sam got the hint, reaching over to hold my hand and then watching out the window. As was the way with all taxis, for some reason the guy had the windows down. In Jamaica, as in Greece, there wasn’t anything sweeter than the fresh, salty smell of the warm air. Going back to Florida would be downright dreary after the last two stops of our trip.

The Yacht Club had security, but the taxi driver just waved on his way through. I hadn’t spent a ton of time in Jamaica, but I knew the island had a growing problem with corruption and crime that worked in my favor. The plane tickets had soaked up over four thousand bucks for the two of us, which mean only about a thousand remained in my pocket. Sam had five or six hundred left at last check, and even though it would be plenty of money to get us
to
the Caymans, it was little enough to make me nervous about
leaving
the Caymans.

“You can just let us off at the docks,” I instructed, pulling out cash and a tip that might be generous enough to keep his mouth shut if news of a stolen boat reached his ears later tonight.

He took the money and sped off, then Sam turned to me and raised his eyebrows in a silent question. I didn’t answer, wandering down the dock looking for a sailboat with specific specifications—not too big, since the two of us would be sailing it alone, but too small wouldn’t do, either. It would only take us six hours or so, depending on the wind and the chop, to make it to Grand Cayman. Too fast for anyone to notice their boat was gone, report it, and chase us down. 

Especially if we found the right boat.

Third from the end, a little Catalina 335 series, gleamed like the answer. The sails and cushions were a tad faded and weathered, and the gorgeous teak interior needed a shine. It hadn’t been attended to regularly, which meant a higher likelihood that no one would miss it right away.

“I thought your dad’s boat would be bigger. And what’s with the name?”

I walked around to the rear, snorting when the boat’s painted name came into view. Who the hell named their boat
Wiggler
?

“I don’t know,” I replied, tossing my backpack in and climbing on board. I grabbed Sam’s backpack and tennis bag, stowing everything in a locker by the anchor.

“You don’t know why your dad named his boat the
Wiggler
?”

He hadn’t moved from the dock, squinting down at me in the bright midday sun. The set of his posture, the clench of his jaw, said he knew the answer to his question but still wanted me to say it. 

A sigh spilled out before I could stop it, even though it would have sounded more at home coming from a petulant five-year-old or an exhausted mother of seven. Ever since I’d heard from my dad, I’d wanted nothing more than to get this over with and go home. 

To stop pretending and accept the inevitable.

“It’s not our boat, Sam. We’re borrowing it.”

“Stealing it, you mean.”

“No. Same as the car in Austria. We’ll give it back. We’re just taking it on a short trip to the Caymans. No big deal.” He didn’t move. “This is it, Sam. What we set out to do. If my dad is on dry land, he’s in the Caymans, and this won’t be the first crime you’ve committed since insisting you come along instead of giving me your information and letting me use it. If you want out, give me what I need and go. If not, get your ass in the boat.”

He got in after the briefest hesitation, reaching for the mainsail and rigging without being asked. I checked the rudder then slid the jib into place, leaving both sails unfurled until we puttered free of the marina and sluiced into the open water. 

We worked together to unfurl the sails and secure the mainsheet and boom, until the wind caught us and drove us forward at a comfortable pace. The day was beautiful, lending to the serenity of the sounds of the slapping waves and the light spray cutting off the bow. We tacked into the wind, then settled back to let the boat and the water do the majority of the work.

“So, your phone was going nuts at dinner last night. Your friends at Whitman miss you?”

Talking about the messages on my phone tightened the muscles between my shoulder blades. Even though the question could be innocuous, it wasn’t. “Audra was checking in, which is pretty normal. She’s not worried or anything.”

“And . . . ?”

“How do you know there’s an and?”

“Isn’t there?”

Sam reclined in the bow, arms behind his head, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle. Sunlight bounced off the waves, bringing out the sparkling chestnut highlights in his hair. He looked like an impossibly perfect guy, and the fact that the way he acted backed that up made it hard to believe he was real, and that he could want me.

“I’m worried about her, I guess. She’s dating this guy that rubs me the wrong way.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Just a bad feeling. Don’t you ever get those?”

He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. “Sure. Have you said anything to her?”

“No. She’s so happy. It doesn’t seem right to rain on her parade without anything to back it up.” I tugged the rudder, adjusting our course slightly. “But I had a couple of weird texts from her brother and my old roommate. I’m a little worried something happened.”

“You should call her.”

“I’ll see her in a few days. We need to keep the focus on my dad.”

“Is that why you didn’t want to spend the night in Santorini last night? You wanted to put the focus back where it belonged?”

There was nothing I wanted to talk about less than why I’d shoved us out of our fantasy and back into reality with such abrupt gusto. One of the only bad things about being trapped on a sailboat with another person was having nowhere to run. 

“Yes. I liked pretending that it was just you and me on vacation a little too much. And I’m not saying I didn’t love everything you said on the plane—I did. But we can’t figure out where we go from here until we get past this, you know?”

“You’re a very practical girl, Blair, and I like that about you.”

“But . . . ?”

“How do you know there’s a but?” he parroted with a smile.

“Isn’t there?”

“Not really. It’s just . . . there’s a difference between being practical and being a pessimist. You’ve spent your life alone. I worry you don’t know how to let me just be there.”

Quiet returned to the boat for several moments. If Sam loved my practical side, I adored his ability to sit in silence, to not push me, to wait for the right conclusion.

“I
don’t
know how to let anyone be there, Sam. But I know that these past couple of weeks, I’ve gotten used to looking over and seeing your face. I’ve loved leaning into your arms, and kissing you, and I’m going to be seriously disappointed if we don’t get to have sex again before we part ways. I like having you around. It makes me sad to think that soon you won’t be.” I paused, swallowing my panic at sharing so much, terrified of the pain to come. “I’m trying.”

“I would have taken advantage of another night on the beach. Just saying.”

I rolled my eyes, hiding the fact that it killed me that we might never feel that impossible connection again. Another first for me. Not that I didn’t enjoy a good romp, but it was another thing that bored me quickly. With Sam, I couldn’t imagine ever being within five feet of him and not thinking about what I would do with him naked.

“We’re not having sex in another boat, lover boy. I demand a bed.”

“As long as there’s no bugs in it.” Sam shuddered at his own attempt at humor, his hand going to the back of his neck. 

My eyes dropped to the back of my leg to find that the rash had almost disappeared. “Right. As long as there aren’t any bugs in it.”

Chapter 18

We switched places with about an hour to go because I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore and Sam insisted I lay down. The warm sun, trusting someone else enough to let them take over, to doze off and know we would be okay—that Sam would be there, not asking anything from me that I wasn’t ready to give—it all felt too perfect. 

For the first time in my life, I sank into feeling good instead of pushing it away.

In my dream, dolphins swam up beside the boat, happy and chirping. They leapt and sprayed water my direction, and my heart felt light, as though I didn’t have a single worry in the world. Then the sun disappeared. The waves grew choppy and gray, disturbing the dolphins until the fear in their eyes made me feel slimy and cold, dragged the lightness away and replaced it with a drowning dark. Panic stole my breath as strings of seaweed crawled over the edge of the boat, clawing and grasping like human hands, tugging me by my feet toward the abyss. A scream built in my throat and I kicked in a fruitless attempt to struggle loose. 

It sounded as though the waves were calling my name when I woke up with a start, panting, my heart beating a million miles a minute. My mouth went dry when I saw the look on Sam’s face and my phone clutched in his hand. He’d seen the text message my dad had sent yesterday. Or maybe my dad had called early. Either way, the jig was up.

Instead of the kindness, the concern, that had been so often in his face, his maple eyes boiled with anger. I could have dealt with that, but the betrayal and pain swimming alongside it . . . that broke me in half.

“You were playing me this whole time?”

“Sam, no. I mean, yes, at the beginning, but—”

“Jesus. You fucked me for information? How could you? How did I miss that?” Anger reddened the tips of his ears and his hand shook around my phone. “All of that shit you told me about growing up alone, it’s all sob story? You’ve been happily helping your dad this whole time, right? And you were going to get more information out of me so he could steal the rest of the money I worked for? Lost my family over? Destroyed my body for? How could you do that?”

“I wasn’t going to, Sam. I didn’t lie to you, not after we got started. I swear.”

“Yeah, well, the word of a con-artist and a whore doesn’t really mean much to me.”

It felt as though he’d landed an actual slap across my face. For all of the bad things I’d done or helped do, none of my marks had ever caught on in front of me, had ever been the wiser until I’d long fled the scene, had ever had the chance to yell at me and damn, it hurt.

I knew it hurt because it was Sam. Because no matter what I said, he wouldn’t hear anything but lies. He wouldn’t see anything but a girl willing to do anything to steal from him.

So I didn’t say anything. Maybe that made it worse. In his eyes, a silent admission of guilt. But there didn’t seem to be any point to worrying about it now. Emotions swirled in the boat, in the air between us, building the longer we stayed silent. The pain, the anger, the aching, empty sense of loss brought tears to my eyes that I turned away in order to hide. They refused to be contained as the blue of the water grew lighter and shaded toward jade, then sea green, signaling our arrival in the Caymans. Sam made no move to comfort me, never stirred to speak. More insults would have been easier than the silence, which signaled to me that he had nothing left to say.

After what felt like an eternity, Sam spoke again. “Let me guess—your dad isn’t going to be here, either. You want to go ahead and give me your big speech designed to earn my trust now, or were you saving it until we were naked again?”

I closed my eyes, trying to will away the rest of my tears. It took forever before my throat stopped burning long enough to let loose the words it was squeezing to death. “Can we get the boat moored and then talk about it? And there’s no point in asking me questions if you aren’t going to believe a word I say.”

Sam moved without agreeing or disagreeing, and the two of us brought
Wiggler
smoothly into the North Sound, dropped anchor, and made our way ashore. A flurry of shops and places to eat awaited the arrival of tourists and sailors, but we had to go through customs first. Sam crossed his thick arms over his chest while we waited in line. His refusal to look at me left my heart feeling stomped on and my body cold, as though I’d been tossed out in the Manhattan winter.

“Nice touch with the tears, by the way. Brilliant.” 

The disgust in his voice hit my skin like pellets, diving beneath and dumping agony into my blood. “I know that you don’t have any reason to trust me, Sam. But I think my dad is here. I want to talk to him with you, just like I said in Melbourne.” I took a deep breath, hardly believing I was about to give him more ammunition. More truth to throw in my face. “But the reason I blew you off in St. Moritz . . . that was the truth. It seemed inevitable that we would be different. Not easy. I didn’t want to come on this con at all, but he forced me. And things changed along the way. You have to know that.”