Breathless - Jennifer Niven Page 0,77

what she wanted to do. I’m not planning to hook up with her again, much less while hanging out with you. If I wanted to be with Wednesday, I’d be with her.”

“I don’t want to find out that you’re, like, comparing us in any way, and I’m some sort of consolation prize.”

“You could never be a consolation prize, Captain. You’re like that giant purple carnival bear, as big as a fucking SUV, that costs a bazillion tickets. The one you knock yourself out trying to win by playing Whac-A-Mole and Shoot-the-Duck and whatever else you have to do so that you can bring it home. Also, I’m not really a guy who sleeps with more than one girl at a time. And besides, you do know we’re on an island.” He gives me this half grin. “So what scares you most? With us?”

I give this a little thought. “That you’ll be really into me one day and the next day you won’t be, and I won’t see it coming. Because apparently feelings can change overnight. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m too much. Or maybe I’m not enough.” All the things I’ve been thinking since my dad told me he was leaving.

“You’re enough. Trust me. You’re more than enough.” He laughs a little, but I can also tell he means it.

“Not that you have to like me forever, but I just don’t think I could survive another Now you see the floor, now you don’t.”

“That won’t happen.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’m the guy who shows up. When the dad leaves, when the mom falls apart. And when I have feelings, they don’t change overnight.” I open my mouth to ask about Wednesday and he says, “I said when I have feelings.” Which tells me maybe I am different in some way.

I take a breath. Let it out. “So what scares you most?”

“You.”

Our eyes lock, his and mine, and it’s the single most erotic moment of my short life. There’s all this heat, but more than that. Something like love.

“And me,” he says. “I scare the shit out of me. I have this way of sabotaging the good things in my life, because for a long time when anything good happened, I didn’t think I deserved it. So I fucked it up, most of the time on purpose. I know enough to know I don’t have to, but that doesn’t mean I won’t. As you can probably tell.” His voice is soft and raw.

I think about this. “So I have trust issues because people leave me, and you fuck good things up on purpose because at least that way you won’t get hurt.”

“Pretty much.”

“Perfect.”

“At least we know what we’re in for.” He bumps my arm with his and I bump his back. Somewhere inside me, the wall crumbles a little.

I say, “For the record, I think you’re a giant purple carnival bear too; otherwise I never would have done anything with you. I mean, what kind of girl do you think I am?”

“The likes of which I’ve never seen.”

He smiles.

I smile.

“So does this mean you want me to be your girlfriend?”

“Is that what I said?”

“Pretty much. I mean, sure, if you want me to be.”

“I want you to be.”

“I want to be.”

He leans over and kisses me. He wraps his arm around me and I nestle into him and it feels good there.

I say, “Maybe it’s better not to talk about what happens when we leave here.” I wave at the island.

“Whatever you want, Captain.”

We sit there and for some reason I’m thinking only about what happens when we leave.

He looks up at the sky. “It’s a full moon. Which means a king tide. Which means good treasure hunting.”

I picture pirate galleons and gold coins and trunks of jewels—mountains of sparkling, glittering stars. I picture Miah and me sailing the seas in a pirate ship, scattering gold everywhere to everyone. Suddenly the world seems possible. I tell myself, You can do this. Just be careful.

“We should go tomorrow. I’ll bring mud boots for you.”

“Why do I need mud boots?”

“You’ll see. What size are those feet of yours?”

“Nine.”

He whistles.

“What? That’s, like, average size.”

“Nothing about you is average, Captain. Even your giant feet.”

* * *

I’m home before midnight, and my mom is still awake, working in the little office. I stand in the doorway for a moment and watch her, the tilt of her head as she reads something, the way she leans into her laptop as she types, the way

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