“What’s the Kelly boat all about?” I leaned over to pop the brim of his cap up high enough that I could see his gray eyes, dancing with adorably obnoxious self-satisfaction.
“The Kelly boat is the boat for all of the losers and nobodies.” His handsome face cracked into a smile. “Everyone thinks they’re better than the people in the Kelly boat.” He shrugged and nestled his head against my legs until it fit right into my lap, then yawned. “You might not’ve had the chance to take a ride on the Kelly boat if you’d been a better ass-kisser.”
“What do you mean?” I pulled his cap off and stroked my fingers through his sun-gold hair. “Whose ass would I have kissed?”
“My phony grandmother’s. My drunk loser father’s. Slutty Caroline’s. There’s a big list of asses that really, truly think they deserve to be kissed.” He turned his face to my belly and kissed it with a warm, suctioned pop of his lips. “I love that you’re happy to be on the Kelly boat instead of an ass kisser on the Rich Bitch boat.” When I didn’t say anything, his voice dipped, low and nervous. “You arehappy to be on the Kelly boat, right?”
“Don’t you hate it that they think that? That they honestly think they’re better?” I demanded, my ears ringing from the pure, molten fury swirling through me.
Jake sat up and took my hands. “I’m kind of used to it.” He squinted in the sun and pulled his cap back down. “And it used to hurt. Because I thought everyone looked down on me, I guess. Then I met you. And you liked me for who I am. That’s a crazy thing, Brenna. Most people don’t bother with that shit, you know?”
I smiled a little. “Yeah, I do.” But, whoa, I really didn’t at all. I thought I got what it felt like to be Jake. But I had no clue. I hated it, and once again, Jake surprised me with his courage and resilience. As usual, he was unexpectedly incredible. “Hey,” I added, kissing him softly. “I like the Kelly Boat. I do.”
“Good. Because it’s actually kind of a pirate ship, and if you wanted to leave, you’d have to walk the plank.” He shook his head sadly. “Then I’d have to jump to your rescue, and we’d probably both get eaten.”
“By crocodiles?” I kissed him, my hands right on the soft brown hair that was spilling down his neck, overlong and a little golder in the lazy summer.
“If you want.” He kissed my neck. “I was thinking sharks. You’re always more creative.”
And then he was kissing me on the dock, his mouth nipping along my collarbone and down around the fabric of my bikini top. It was black with little red polka dots and bottoms that tied at the sides.
“Do you want to go back to the house?” I asked, my mouth down close to his ear as his lips wandered all over, making me crazy.
He stood and scooped me easily into his arms.
“You’re going to drop me,” I said, refusing to get all screechy and girlish. Even if his arms were bulgingly fantastic, and there was definitely a high, excited buzz working through me.
“Never.” He curled me to his chest a few times. “I’m getting weak from all of this luxury. I need to work out a little or Zinga’s will fire me.”
“Are they holding your job?” I tickled my fingers over his ribs until he stopped using me as an exercise device.
“Oh yeah.” He hefted me up closer to his chest as he navigated the tiny, brambly paths that led to his grandmother’s monstrous house. “The owner’s son came back from college for the summer, so they were kind of glad I took some time off so he could get my hours. But they’ll need me once he goes back.”
My next questions felt obvious, but Jake could be infuriatingly oblivious to the obvious. “So, you’re going to keep working? Even though you found your family?”
“I get an inheritance, but I can’t just live like a movie star.” He was at the door of the house. I reached over and twisted the knob. “I need to go to college someday and get a job and live with you. And, more importantly, I need to never, ever turn into a prick.”
“I won’t let you.” I squeezed his face in my hands and he smiled a squished-face smile. “I’ll make sure you stay in the Kelly Boat.”
He walked up the steps, which were so shiny I could practically see my reflection them. He opened my door and plopped me down on the bed.
“Thanks, Bren,” he said, falling next to me.
“For what?” I rolled into him.
“For helping me keep it real.” He grabbed me in his arms and hugged me hard. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“I’m glad you’re here, too,” I said, and then we started kissing and couldn’t really stop. Or I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to, but Jake had taken a firm stand on sex, and he just said no, no matter how much I whined and pouted.
We got far enough that he grabbed a pillow and put it over his head so he could scream.
“Brenna, why are you doing this?” he asked, shaking his head.
“Because I think we should have sex. I feel ready, and I don’t know why you’re all reluctant about it.” I narrowed my eyes at his scowl. “I have condoms.”
“I don’t even want to know.” He blew a long, slow breath out. “I can’t. Not here. Not now.”
“But this might be the most free we’ll be, Jake. Once we get home, it won’t be like this.” I grabbed his face and gave him a hard kiss.
“This is weird.” He gestured around the room with a flippant toss of his hands.
“What’s weird? This room is beautiful.” It was. The furniture was all super old and gorgeous, the bed was the most comfortable thing I’d ever slept on, the art and knick knacks were high brow and a tiny bit ironic, and the light shined in through the huge, high windows in the prettiest golden waves.
He looked around, and I could see that his eyes weren’t seeing what I was seeing. “This is a room that was decorated by someone who doesn’t live here. It was all set up just to impress people. It doesn’t have any soul, doesn’t have anything real in it.” He let the words drop out of his mouth with slow, sad emphasis. “Doesn’t that make you sad? This is like a fucking fancy, phony showroom.” He sat up and yanked his jeans back over his hips. “I’m not having sex with you for the first time in this shithole.”
I shook my head. “I guess I see your point. Can’t we pretend it’s a nice hotel?” I suggested with my sweetest smile.
He shook his head. “Nope. This isn’t a real room. This isn’t our real life. I’m not doing it here, and that’s the end of it.”
“Fine,” I said and walked to the dresser. I had finally given in and moved my clothes out of my suitcase and into the drawers. Mom didn’t seem like she was in any rush to leave. Thorsten had been able to pick up an extra show at work, so he was happy to get the overtime hours without worrying about Mom and me. She felt like this was a good experience for me. I didn’t exactly disagree.
Except I didn’t like myself very much here. I wanted to be more like Jake, but I wasn’t. I actually admired so much of what they had and what they did and where they went. Not everything, obviously. I hated their phoniness and the fact that the teenagers and probably adults traded sex partners without even thinking and accepted the alcoholism that pretty much ran rampant. I hated that they were catty and jealous and mean.
But I wanted to be trilingual and get in places no one else could, to have access to all the little best things in life that they could afford to just take for granted. When Evan talked about having to go to mass in Rome for Easter while she visited her free-spirit aunt or how her father got so many tickets to concerts she literally couldn’t make it to every show, I wished I could have those experiences. I hated that I had wound up being so admiring of the whole thing, but I was.
I pulled a little white dress over my head. I had as much of a tan as I was ever going to get, and the dress looked really good on me. I knew it wasn’t designer. When had I even started worrying about things like that? Whenever we went out in Dublin, Evan pointed out how great my outfits were and honestly loved them. But she kind of had the choice to spend as much or as little as she wanted on her wardrobe, at least for now. It was hard to be that open-minded when you didn’t have any other option.