A Boy Like You (Like Us Book 1)(34)

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.