Page 3 of Swept Away

I deliberate. Best not. Caffeine first.

“I’ll get dressed,” I say, turning on my heel and stepping back into the bedroom.

My bag is jammed by the bed, sitting in a pool of sunlight. It looks like a perfect July day outside—the skylight shows a rectangle of rich blue sky.

As I yank on last night’s trousers and the one clean T-shirt I packed, I try to sort my head out. Being back on Dad’s old houseboat is weird enough without adding in a beautiful woman who won’t let me sit on the sofa.

I emerge from the bedroom to find Lexi staring at the little wood burner as if she’s lost in thought. She looks a bit intimidating: the leather jacket, the frown, the way she plants her feet like she’s waiting for you to try to throw her off balance. She makes me want to figure her out, which I have no right to do. This was a one-night thing, even if it’s dragged on a bit. She was very clear about that, and…

“I’d like you to go,” she says.

…she’s definitely not changed her mind.

“Last night was…Well. You know, you were there,” she says. “But we had an agreement, so yeah. Thanks. Good-bye.”

I’m the one who’s staring now. She might play tough, but she’s not meeting my eyes. I’m hit with a memory of the two of us kissing against the marina fence last night.What the fuck are you doing to me, Zeke?she’d said.I’m literally shaking.

“I’m not leaving. This is my boat.”

I pull out my phone. I’ve not got any signal. I know Gilmouth’s not exactly the metropolis of Northumberland, but how have they not sorted out their rubbish phone coverage yet?

“I’m sure I can find something in my emails that proves I bought it.”

I scroll through the downloaded messages, trying not to get pissed off. People often take me for a pushover—it’s the clothes, maybe, or the “propensity to daydream,” as my mum always puts it. But I’ll stand up for myself when I have to.

“Let’s just go somewhere where we’ve got some signal,” I say, giving up on my email. All my downloaded ones seem to be newsletters from brands telling me how eco they are.

“OK. You first,” she says, tipping her head toward the door.

“Seriously?”

She just blinks at me.

“You want me to walk out first? What, so you can…shut me out? Of my own boat?”

“I have no reason to think you own this boat.”

“What about mykey,” I say, but I’m already patting my pockets and realizing I don’t know where it is. Bedside table? In my bag? “Look,” I say, “if you want, we can walk through the door together.”

We both turn to look at the short, narrow door to the deck.

“This is ridiculous,” Lexi says.

“No, yeah, I’m with you on that.”

We wait in silence, contemplating the door. She glances at me. Checking to see if I’m budging. I look back at her, perfectly polite, not going anywhere.

“Oh, fine,” Lexi snaps. “I’ll go first.”

She wrenches the door open, and then pauses there, framed against the sky.

I let myself look at her. Hourglass figure, bun shifting on the top of her head as the water tips us back and forth, her big black boots braced on the bottom step. I’ve never met anyone like Lexi before. Suddenly that new cold twinge starts up in my stomach again and I don’t want her to walk out of that door.

“Wait,” I say, just as she turns to look at me.

I inhale. Her expression’s completely changed. She looks…horrified.

“Zeke,” she says, staggering up the steps onto the tiny deck.

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