Page 133 of The Otherworld

“Yeah, you know. Sexy. Beautiful. Otherworldly.”

He leads me to the dressing room, which is more like a well-lit closet with a tall mirror and hooks on the wall. He instructs me to try on the swimsuit and shuts me inside the tiny room, waiting outside the door.

I unclip the bikini from its hanger and slip it on—but I still feel naked, even after fastening all the proper clasps. I tilt my head at my reflection, concluding that I do look pretty. The cut of the fabric accentuates the curves of my body, the scarlet red a sharp contrast to my pale skin.

“Do you have it on yet?” Jack questions through the door.

“Yes.”

“Can I see?”

“No!”

He laughs. “Oh, come on, Orca. Don’t be so sheltered.”

I bite my lip, scrutinizing my reflection in the glass. I am sheltered; Jack is right. As I look at myself in this bikini, all I can think is: Papa would not approve. But somehow, that makes the idea more exciting.

Jack sighs and jiggles the doorknob, but it’s locked. “If you want it, you’re gonna have to give me the tag so I can buy it for you.”

I find the price tag he’s talking about and tear it off—slipping my blue dress on over the bikini before I swing open the door.

Jack’s face falls when he sees me fully clothed. I hand him the price tag. “Here you go.”

He smirks, leaning close to my ear and whispering, “The suspense is killing me.”

* * *

The sky is dazzling blue when we arrive at the marina—sunlight glinting off the crests of waves, boat sails snapping in the wind. Jack leads me into a huge open garage where his father is working on a boat, elbow-deep in the guts of an engine.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Jack.” He doesn’t look up. “You’re late.”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry.”

Mr. Stevenson fires a severe look at his son, which softens when he sees me standing here. “Oh, hello, Orca.”

“Hello—”

“I thought I’d start by taking that Regal for a quick test drive… with Orca. That cool with you?”

Jack’s lighthearted voice doesn’t fool Mr. Stevenson. “Where to?”

“Uh…” Jack hesitates, running his fingers over the back of his neck. “Just up to the cove and back. We won’t be long.”

I can tell his father has noticed Jack’s swim shorts and my red bikini strap peeking out the neckline of my dress. With a relenting smile and a tip of his head, he says, “Key’s on the hook. Make sure you’re not too long.”

Jack grins. “Sure. No problem, Dad.”

We hurry off before Mr. Stevenson has the chance to change his mind. Jack finds the key in an adjacent room, and then we head back outside into the sunshine. I follow him down the mazelike docks crowded with ocean vessels bobbing up and down on the water.

Jack stops at the end of a dock where a glistening boat awaits us. He extends one hand with a flourish to help me step aboard.

“It’s no yacht,” he says. “But I’m no millionaire.”

I laugh and slide my hand into his, stepping carefully over the watery gap and onto the cushion of the backseat. Jack hops in after me and turns the key. The engine sputters a bit, then rumbles to life. I cast him an unsettled look, and he laughs. White teeth in the sunlight.

“It’s fine. Just takes a second for the gas to get to the carburetor.”

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