I move my hand to my ear to replace my earring when McKenna comes back, her eyes finding me, and her lips sneering instantly.
"Who invited you?" she says, taking her drink in her hand.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
I smile, feeling more satisfied than I have in days, maybe weeks. "Kyle did. Just to piss you off," I answer, knowing Kyle won't mind one bit.
"Yeah, well it worked," she says, shrugging one shoulder and moving her drink to her lips. I smile as the first few drops hit her white shirt, the drip coming out heavier with every tilt.
"Good," I say, turning before she has a chance to even flinch. I walk toward Taryn, but notice she's with all three Stokes boys, and Wes's eyes are on me. He saw. He saw everything. And with one sigh and the tilt of his head, I feel like a petty, ridiculous child.
Shit.
Instead of joining the group, I step by the corner of our blanket and retrieve my sweater, slipping it over my chilled arms and neck, tugging the sleeves down low enough to cover my hands. I cross my arms over my body and begin to walk slowly, not wanting to draw attention.
Not wanting to be followed.
I make it most of the way along the main pier, my body camouflaged in the darkness of the far end where the lights have yet to turn on. "What are you doing, Joss?"
I knew he'd come.
"Just going for a little walk," I say. My words come out in a giggle.
"Alone?" Wes asks. He's closer. I can hear his feet along the wood now. He's wearing shoes. He put them on to come find me. He wasn't wearing them for our game. He wasn't wearing them at the bonfire. But I hear their heaviness now.
"I'm not alone," I say, pulling my arms and body free of my sweater again, holding it outstretched above my head, letting the wind catch it like a flag. "You're here."
I let the sweater drop behind me. Wes's feet stop moving. He's picking it up.
"How about we both go back to the fire, huh? It's cold out here," he says.
He's nervous. Why are you nervous, Wes? Are you afraid I'm going to ask questions?
"I like it out here," I say, walking past the small observatory at the end of the pier, out to the very edge. The moon is only half, but it's enough to make the water's ripples light up like crystals.
"Yeah, I'm getting that," Wes chuckles, moving next to me. I don't look at him completely, but I see his body from the periphery. He's staring out at the water too.
We both stand in silence for almost a full minute. The time passes so slowly that it eventually becomes a test for me to see how long I can go, how long I can survive in silence this close to Wes. My body shivers once, betraying my strength, and I feel the fabric of my sweater tickle along my arm. I turn to see Wes offering it back to me. I refuse it.
"I'm fine," I say, my right lip rising in a short smile as I return my focus to the deep black of the ocean.
"Sure you are," he says, punctuating it with a short laugh that causes me to turn and look at him again. "Is that why you poked a hole in McKenna's cup? Because you're fine?"
I hold my tongue against my top lip, fighting off the embarrassment at getting caught, moving past it. My eyes meet his, and after a few seconds, I grin. "No, I did that because McKenna's a bitch," I say, my mouth stopping in a tight smile.
Wes shakes his head, and I turn away, letting him take in my profile. He won't look away, though.
"You know McKenna and me, we're just friends, right?" he says. "Hell, we're not even really friends. We're just … I don't know … friendly? I barely know her."
I start to laugh softly, letting it drift off into quiet before I speak again.
"Wes, I don't care what you are to McKenna," I lie.
Really, I do care. I care more than I should, more than I want to. McKenna's lucky I stopped at the hole in the cup. My other visions of revenge were less couth. I take a deep breath before turning, so my back rests against the wood railing at the end of the pier and my eyes catch Wes, ready to dare him.
"I care about the fact that a rock was hurled at my head-at a hundred miles per hour-and you snatched it out of the air. Your hand-it isn't even bruised," I say, knowing he won't show me otherwise as proof against my theory. There's nothing to show. Instead, he slides his hands in his pockets and moves his feet, shifting his weight as he looks down at the planks of wood beneath us.
"What I care about, is the fact that you grabbed me in the air and wrapped me up in your body as we tumbled along a jagged highway. You were unscathed, Wes. Scratches-mere scratches," I say, holding up my arm and twisting it to the side to show the huge gash still healing on me.
His eyes lift to meet mine, but his lips remain closed. Tight. He swallows once, hard.
"What I care about … " I say, my hand reaching for him, but closing in a fist and falling to my side. "All I really care about right now, this minute, is the fact that you saved my life when I was just a child. The most horrible thing to have happened in my life happened right in front of you-and when it almost killed me, you stepped in the way and stopped it all. And you won't admit it. You won't admit to any of it at all, but that … that … the fact that you're Christopher, that you're the same boy I knew then-you'll deny that most of all."
"Joss," he sighs, his lips parted and ready to give me more lies.
"No," I say, holding up my palm. "Tell me, Wes. What would you do?"
His brow pinches, and his eyes lower on me, his mouth unhappy, almost angry.
"What would you do, Wes, if I just … " I pause as I feel with my bare feet behind me until one foot finds the first beam of the wooden ledge. I step up on it and quickly lift myself to sit on the top of the railing.
"Joss … " Wes moves toward me, uttering my name nervously. His eyes are wide, but his movement is guarded.
"I don't swim. Did you know that? Not well, at least," I say, moving my feet to the next rail, standing slowly.
"Joss, stop. Stop! Joss … you're scaring me," he says, lunging for me. I slide out of his reach down the railing, the wood only thick enough for my feet.
"Tell me, Wes. I want the truth. Give me the truth," I say, our eyes locked in a game of truth or dare. His eyes are paralyzed-stuck on my movement-and behind them, so much is happening.
"Joss, there's no … truth. I don't know what you're saying. The rock was coming for your head, and I just stopped it. I got lucky, Joss. Jesus! Just … fuck, Joss. Get down from there … "
"I don't think so," I say, falling backward in a leap of faith. I have faith … trust in Wes. In Christopher.
I will be okay.
The fall is farther than I realized, and about halfway down, my heart is rushed with adrenaline. I stepped off feet first, and my arms swing wildly. But I don't scream. I'm too much in shock for noise to leave my throat. The impact is harsh, and even though my feet break through the freezing surface first, the movement of the water rushes over all of me, twisting my body and battering my face with salty wave after wave. I ingest breaths of water, and I choke and fight with my arms to right myself.
But I'm never fully afraid. I think I never screamed because I always knew he wouldn't let me drown.
I don't hear him. I feel him. Wes's arm loops around my chest and under my arms and he kicks hard to bring us both to the surface. He battles every wave until we're near the shore, the sand rushing up to meet our feet. I cough as I climb from the water, the waves still wrapping around my legs, my wet jeans clinging to my thighs and my body shivering from the cold air.
"I knew it," I mumble, teeth chattering.
I keep walking until the sand is dry, then I look at the sky, my smile wide on my face, and I begin to laugh.
"Damn it, Joss!" Wes scolds me as he steps behind me. I wrap my arms around myself, and turn to face him, the smile never leaving my lips.
"I knew it!" I say, my voice louder now.
"Knew what? Jesus, Joss … you're talking like a crazy person. You … you could have died doing that! What were you thinking?" Wes's voice is angry, and his face is harsh, a deep line between his eyes, his skin beading with bumps from the freezing water and air as his wet jeans and shirt hug his body.
"I knew you'd save me. I knew it! Say it, Wes. Tell me. You're him, aren't you?"
"Goddamn it, Josselyn! Stop this!" Wes shouts, stepping at me with angry movements until his hands wrap around my wrists. He doesn't shake me, but he holds me in place, lowering his head to look me in the eyes. "I am not some super hero! And you-you are not immortal! You have to stop, Joss. You have to stop this crazy idea that seems to have stolen away your ability to logic and reason. I've been lucky."
"No, you haven't. I know it," I begin, but Wes quickly speaks over me.