Page 20 of The Bully's Dare

No pressure.

Just as I’m starting to get the hang of it, I hear a howling behind me. I glance over and see it—

In the middle of this calm, glass-sea day…a roaring monster.

The Healing Touch speeds through, slicing through the serenity. The motorboat flies passed us, bouncing along.

As they go by, I can see the passengers: the King family. Mrs. King is sunbathing on the bow—the forty-year-old has a body that even I am jealous of. Mr. King is at the helm. And then there’s Jason. In his polo. He’s hanging his long limbs over the edge of the boat, looking bored. But when he sees me, he smiles. For me.

Cue my stomach, clenching.

And, just like that, they’re gone.

“Hold on!” Four says.

At first, I don’t know why, and then it hits—The Healing Touch is followed up by a series of wakes, and they roll through the water, shaking our boat back and forth.

Hour nine of complete confinement with Four and Pearl.

Pearl is taking a midday nap to avoid a hangover later. Four is playing solitaire.

I entertain myself by sitting in the cockpit and painting my toenails. Seashell pink.

I’m touching up my big toe when Jason’s face breaks through the water.

I screech. My polish goes everywhere.

Jason clings to the stairs. His hair is darker when wet. Saltwater drips down his chest, making the muscles glisten.

“Hey, Trouble,” he says. He blinks water from his eyelashes. Have I noticed before how long they are?

“Jesus! Are you a mermaid?”

“Maybe.” He’s grinning again—that cocky smirk. “Dad wanted to invite your family over for dinner tonight. We’re grilling steaks.”

I’m trying to ignore the way the water sparkles on his broad shoulders. The droplets slipping down his biceps.

“Okay,” I say. “I’ll pass on the word, I guess.”

“Good. We’re on Moor 16.”

A loud whistle cuts through the air and Jason glances over his shoulder.

“Is that for you?” I ask.

“Dad is timing my swim,” he responds. He looks back at me, his eyes sweeping. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Maybe.”

“Do better than maybe.” He winks and then pushes off the side of the boat. He moves through the water effortlessly, his arms swinging up and over.

I’m not ashamed to admit I watch the muscles of his back flex as he glides through the water.

Okay. Maybe a little ashamed.

What’s gotten into me?

Pearl fits me into a purple blouse and white pants—which seems like a stupid idea, ultimately, because my butt gets wet as soon as we get in the dingy.

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