At Sea
I glanced at the door as Dr. Westwick droned on about the principals of inertia. Physics had to be the most frustrating class I’d ever taken, and honestly, I didn’t care when the ball I’d rolled would stop rolling.
Unless that rolling ball would explain to me where the hell Paxton was.
We’d been at sea four straight days, and he had already missed two of our World Lit classes, one of World Religion, and now all of our Physics. How the hell was I supposed to keep his grades up if he didn’t come to class?
My eyes drifted to the window, where the waves of the Atlantic were currently affecting the pitch of my stomach.
“Make sure you turn in your answers via eCampus by midnight tomorrow, and look over the guide for the quiz on Monday. Don’t slack off just because you have a couple days in Barcelona,” Dr. Westwick warned, ending our class.
I gathered my things to leave, shoving my binder into my bag a little harder than necessary.
“Miss Baxter?” Dr. Westwick called from the podium.
I plastered a tight-lipped smile onto my face before turning to him. “Dr. Westwick?”
His fingers trailed down a list I couldn’t see. “You’re Mr. Wilder’s tutor, aren’t you?”
Shit. “I am.”
He pushed his square-rimmed glasses up his nose. “Well, if you could persuade him to attend, that might help his participation grade a little. Tell him that watching from his room isn’t quite the same.”
I’m going to kill him. Dead. Then I’ll throw the body overboard where no one will find it. “I’ll tell him, Professor.”
He nodded his thanks, and I took off to my room—our room. Sharing with Penna was actually pretty enjoyable. She wasn’t around much, and when she was, she respected my space but was still easy to talk to.
“That asshole!” I shouted as I slammed our door behind me, throwing my bag into the hall closet.
“Who?” Penna called from the living room, where I found her painting her toenails. Her perfect legs stretched out in front of her, all tan and smooth, and I tried to ignore the stab of sheer envy that lanced through my heart. You are grateful for the life you’ve been given. These scars are a beautiful reminder of your second chance. The second chance he would have wanted you to have. I repeated the mantra in my head until the pain faded into a sense of peace. Dr. Scott would have been proud. Because that only took two years of therapy.
But even with therapy and two years, there were moments when everything hurt like hell, where the pain was still so rough that it scraped my soul until it bled. Those were the scars only I saw, the ones I picked at every once in a while so I didn’t forget him.
“Leah, who’s the asshole?” Penna repeated, jarring me.
“Oh.” I shook my head and collapsed into the armchair. “Paxton.”
“Well, that’s not the first time I’ve heard that word associated with his name,” she said. “What did he do?”
“He’s skipping classes. I’m about to do some experiments with inertia and my fist to his freaking face.”
She snorted. “Pax hasn’t ever been one to do what he’s supposed to. That’s why he has you.” She lifted the brush as the ship pitched slightly. “This is impossible in these waves.”
“Well, I guess I’m failing that one.”
She lifted the construction-cone orange polish and raised her eyebrows. “Want to do yours?”
I shook my head. Toes, I could handle, but if something slipped… “No, thank you. I may as well go kick Zoe out of his bed or whatever. He’s blown off all of today, but I’ll be damned if he misses anything tomorrow.”
“Zoe isn’t sleeping with him. She hasn’t in the last six months or so. It doesn’t stop her from trying, but that ship sailed a while ago, and Paxton isn’t one to climb the same mountain twice, if you know what I mean.” She closed up the polish.
“Yeah, of course, right,” I rushed. “Why would he be? Half the women on this ship would jump at the chance to…well, jump him, and the other half are lying to themselves. Why would he want someone twice?”
Penna flinched. “Shit, that’s not what I meant. I don’t want you to think he’s a man-whore or anything.”
I raised my eyebrows at her, and she looked around the room briefly before finally nodding. “Okay, so maybe he’s a little man-whorish, but his heart, that’s solid, untouched…for the most part, at least.”
I never understood people who could differentiate the two. Where my heart went, there my body did, and so forth. But if Paxton offered… I shut down that line of thinking and locked the door on it. “Why are you telling me this?”
She leaned forward. “Because he’s my oldest friend, and I care what you think about him. And I know he cares what you think about him, too.”
I swallowed. “Well, right now I think that he doesn’t know what an alarm clock is.”
She smiled. “How about I take you to him?”
“He’s not in his room?”
“Nope. And besides, I’d like to see what happens when he gets a load of how pissed you are. If you want to wait a few minutes, I’ll make popcorn.”
“Penna!”
She threw out her hands. “Just kidding. Give my piggies a chance to dry, and we’ll track him down.”
We didn’t have to wait long before Landon came in through the sliding door, dripping sweat. “Hey, asshat, knock!” Penna chastised, throwing a pillow at him.
“What? It’s not like I haven’t already seen you naked,” he shot back.
Penna snapped her gaze to me. “He didn’t mean it that way. We’ve been friends since we were kids, all of us.”
“Chill out, Penna. I don’t think Firecracker cares.” Landon laughed and sank into the couch across from me. “Damn, I’m wiped out. Pax is a fucking machine these last couple of days.”
Penna’s hand popped up. “He didn’t mean that, either. Pax hasn’t been fucking anyone, especially not Landon.”
“That’s none of my business,” I said, smoothing the lines of my leggings. As if leggings could have wrinkles.
“Yeah, anyway, he sent me to get you, Penna.” Landon lifted his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face, and my eyebrows shot skyward. In some parallel universe, the Hemsworths were searching for their lost brother, because he was here. Landon was hot. Not in the walking sex-dream kind of hot that Paxton was, but a broodier hot.
“I want nothing to do with that damn trick.” She crossed her arms.
“It’s not like he has his bike out, Penna. He’s working on the BMX for Barcelona, and he’s going to need your advice before he gets himself killed.”
Killed? I sat up. “What is he doing?”
“Trying to nail a Five-forty Double Tailwhip in these waves,” Landon answered. “He’s going to break his damn neck.”
“Show me.”
…
“How the hell did he…?” I shook my head as I stared at the monstrosity onstage. “You know, I’m not sure I even want to know.”
“Yeah, that’s a question for Wilder,” Landon answered.
“He looks a little busy at the moment.”
Little was an understatement. Paxton was currently riding his BMX bike on a monstrous half-pipe that consumed the entire stage of the auditorium. My breath caught every time he rose over one end, flying through the air, the bike twisting while he turned above it, only to gracefully fall back to the pipe and glide to the other end so it could all begin again.
He was magnificent.
“How tall is that thing?” I asked Landon.
“About six meters. A little under twenty feet.”
“Isn’t this a little dangerous on a ship?”
“Yeah, it’s pretty moronic,” Landon agreed. “But he’s as stubborn as they come.”
“He’s a reckless idiot,” I whispered in equal parts awe and fear. I knew reckless guys, knew what happened when they mistakenly thought they were in control. He’s not Brian. Pax might be worse.
“That, he is.”
At least the idiot wore a helmet.
But he was a driven idiot. His movements were hypnotizing as we walked down the aisle toward the stage.
The ship pitched slightly. I caught myself on the back of a chair and gasped as Paxton hit the side of the ramp, sliding down in a heap of limbs. “Paxton!” I yelled.
He sat up and blocked the stage lights from his eyes. “Firecracker?”
Shit. Was I supposed to be using his real name in front of the cameras? Well, too late.
“What the hell are you doing?”
He stood, holding his handlebars. “Watching a Gilmore Girls marathon. What does it look like I’m doing?”
“It looks like you’re being an absolute imbecile. Have you seen the waves out there?”
“What? No.” He walked the few feet between the ramp and the edge of the stage. It was only ten or so feet from the base of the stage to the bottom of the orchestra pit, but my stomach tightened all the same.
“He hasn’t left the theater during daylight hours in the last two days,” Landon said quietly.
“You’ve missed six classes,” I called up as we came closer, my neck craning to keep him in eyesight.
“What? I can’t hear you,” he said with a grin, putting his hand to his ear.
“You can hear me just fine, Paxton Wilder,” I shouted.
“Come on up. I don’t want to have to yell back at you.” He motioned to the ladder that led to the stage. “Or there’s a ramp right there.”
I opted for the second, heading for the side of the theater.
“Hey!” Brooke said from a seat at the edge, her notebooks perched on her lap. “Did you come to watch?”
“More to yell at Paxton for missing class,” I said, passing behind her.
“Nothing better than a nagging woman hanging around,” Zoe bit back, kicking her feet from the edge of the stage.
“I’m getting tired of telling you to stop being a bitch, Zoe,” Brooke snapped. “I’ll walk you up, Leah.”
“How is Wilder juggling schoolwork and practice?” Bobby asked, a camera not far behind him.
I stole Landon’s line. “That’s a question for Wilder, don’t you think?”
He tipped his hat with a smile. “You’re a fast learner.”
“You’re always in my face,” I said with an overly sweet smile.
Brooke tugged me past the crew and up the ramp.
“Come on,” Pax said with a grin, now at the top of the half-pipe.
“Would you stop going higher?” I asked, my heart jumping.
“How much do you want to yell at me for missing class?” he responded, motioning to the ladder that led to the platform at the top of the half-pipe.
My hands grasped both sides of the ladder in a death grip. The landing had a railing at the back of it, no doubt to keep his idiotic ass from falling off when a trick went wrong. I could easily make it up there. It was only twenty feet, and by God, he was not killing my scholarship because he couldn’t get his ass to class.
Rung by rung, I climbed the ladder, humming Katy Perry’s “Firework” to distract me from the distance to the ground.
My head popped over the rim of the half-pipe, and Paxton offered his hand, his eyes shining with a kind of victory.
“What are you so happy about?” I mumbled as he pulled me onto the platform, which was wider than I’d expected. My hand immediately sought and found the railing, and I loosened my death grip on Paxton.
“Look at you, up on my pipe.”
My eyebrow arched. “Your pipe is distracting you from class.”
He smirked. “It always does.”
“Oh my God, you two.” Brooke laughed, climbing up behind me. “I’ll give you some space,” she said as she skirted around us, heading to the other end.
The camera was on the opposite side, giving us a tiny bit of privacy. “It’s good to see you,” Paxton said, his eyes skimming my features.
“That’s because you haven’t been to class in about two and a half days. You’ve missed every single Physics class since Bermuda.”
“I’m studying physics right now,” he joked. “Shouldn’t that count as extra credit?”
“No.”
All traces of joking left his face, and he absentmindedly rubbed the tattoo on the side of his neck with his empty hand. “Look, I get kind of in the zone and forget that things outside this exist.”
“You can’t do that,” I snapped, keeping my voice quiet to avoid the microphones on the opposite side. “You’re losing participation points, and your homework—”
“I turned it in on eCampus,” he interjected.
“And the discussion in Lit?” He was not getting off the hook that easily.
“Did you take notes?” He lifted his arms behind his neck, his biceps flexing.
Don’t get distracted. “Of course I did.”
He shrugged. “Then what’s the issue?”
My mouth hung for a second before I managed to close it. “What’s the issue? You’re not in class!”
“But you are.”
“And?”
“And you’re my tutor. So you have notes and can catch me up, right?”
Do not smack him. Don’t do it. I sucked in a deep breath through my nose. “I am your tutor, not your teacher. You have to be there! Damn it, Paxton, there’s more than yourself to think about. My scholarship rides on your grades, too!”
“So do all of their jobs,” he said quietly, his hand sweeping to encompass everyone on the pipe. “Leah, if I don’t make grades, the documentary is canceled.”
“Wait. What? What kind of producer would tie a movie to your academics?”
“The kind who shares my last name.” He wiped away his sweat the same way Landon had, by lifting his shirt, and I kept my eyes locked on his face. I knew one look at those cut lines and I’d be a puddle of hormones, which wouldn’t do either of us any good.
“Your last…” His dad owned the boat on Bermuda, but how much money did he really come from? “Is your dad the producer?”
He nodded. “Yeah, and he agreed to the movie as long as my grades held. It’s his way of getting me to finish college.”
The ship pitched again, and my hand tightened on the railing as Paxton’s gripped my waist. He inhaled with a hiss and then dropped his hand like I’d burned him. I knew my waist was thicker than the athletic goddesses he hung out with, but really? “Well, you can’t finish college without making grades, so maybe you should get your ass to class.”
“Well, I make the tricks, or the studio exec pulls the movie,” he snapped, then closed his eyes for a moment before he opened them. “Leah, I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t. That’s why I need you.”
Those blue eyes cut straight through my anger, or maybe it was the damnable situation he was in.
“Half this camera crew has families they need to support, and…well, there’re more people involved than just you and me, so you tell me what I’m supposed to do.”
“I don’t know,” I whispered.
“I don’t, either. I know I have to study. I also have to practice, keep in shape, plan the next stunt, check on the one after that, and keep my sanity with a camera in my face every five seconds. I told you this wasn’t going to be easy.”
“Why would you sign up for all of this?” I found my hand on the skin of his bicep before I realized I’d even reached for him, as if the physical connection of our skin could make me understand something that was utter insanity to me. “Not famous enough already? Not rich enough?”
“Sure, partly. This will set our careers for years, and the opportunities are incredible, but more than that”—his eyes flickered to the camera—“look, I have my reasons. I should have come to class. I should have studied. I made a choice, and it might have been the wrong one.”
“That’s some apology,” I huffed.
He reached for my face but dropped his hand before he connected. “I’m not apologizing. If skipping class was what it took to get you up here, then I’m okay with it.”
“Of course you are,” I said with a sarcastic twinge, but the sting had left my voice.
“Well, since you came all the way up here, do you want to see some cool stuff?” he asked, his Wilder grin plastered on his face.
“Are you asking if I’m ready for an adventure?” I tossed his catch phrase at him.
“I’m asking if you’re ready to witness one,” he answered. “Landon, toss up a helmet?”
“Oh, hell no, I’m not getting on anything that slides down this ramp. You’ve lost your fool mind.”
He caught the helmet easily and slipped it onto my head, his fingers ghosting across the skin of my throat before he snapped it under my chin. “This is just in case. I’m not forcing you into anything, but sometimes bikes or boards go flying up here. I want to protect that beautiful brain of yours so you can get me through this term, okay?”
“Fine,” I answered, letting a smile slip. “Go do whatever it is you do. I’m giving you ten minutes before I haul you to my room.”
One of the crew whistled. “To study!” I yelled out in correction. “Taking him to my room to study! For the love—!” Why did everything have a double meaning around here?
Paxton’s laugh anchored my heart to my dipping stomach as he jumped onto his bike and took off down the pipe. He began his series of turns and dips, keeping clear of the section where I stood with Brooke next to me.
Up close, it felt more like art than sport, the way he moved, flying then falling, over and over again in a rhythm he created. He fell too often for my peace of mind, each time climbing up to the pipe to talk with Landon and then hitting the ramp again. He was 100 percent focused, never once looking my way or checking the cameras. It was as if nothing existed outside the bike, the ramp, and his own abilities.
The longer I watched him, the more I realized it was the same for me, holding my breath when he did a trick, releasing only when I saw him land it. My hands tightened when he gripped the handlebars of his spinning bike, my heart caught the higher he took to the air. Just as his world had narrowed to training, mine had narrowed to him.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Brooke asked.
“Incredible.”
“I’ve been watching them since we were kids, always amazed that they could all do these things, like gravity is some kind of game to them.”
“You never wanted to try?”
She scoffed. “Oh, no. Penna’s the rebel in the family. The things she can do…well, that’s not me. I don’t mind the tamer stuff—skiing, snowboarding, motorcycles—but the minute they take to the air, my butt usually hits the bench. I realized a long time ago that there’s a difference between admiring insanity and actually being a part of it.”
“Agreed.” Paxton did another trick where he flipped around, and my breath froze in my chest until he landed…backward. Show-off. “I get it now,” I said quietly. “Why all the girls chase him. That kind of intensity is captivating.” Even the thought of him applying that same focus, drive, and passion to sex was enough to send a flash of pure want through me.
I shifted my weight, inconveniently aware that I was a little more than turned on.
What would it be like to have his complete attention on me?
You’ll never know.
Paxton came to a stop on the other side of the ramp and pulled off his helmet. “It’s still not right,” he called over to me.
“You’re amazing,” I said, my mouth going dry as he wiped the sweat with his shirt. This time I didn’t look away from the carved lines of his stomach, the muscles that roped around his body. What the hell? Did the guy do sit-ups in his sleep or something? How was that kind of body even possible?
“Oh good, Colin is up,” Brooke said, coming to attention next to me. “Have you seen him? He’s gorgeous. If you’re looking for a little ship-fling, I can totally hook you up there.”
“I haven’t met him yet.” Plus, if I was looking for a ship-fling, I had a feeling it wouldn’t be Colin. Was I even capable of a fling? Or ready for any kind of relationship? Man, I was picking at scabs left and right today.
A guy hauled a bike up next to where Paxton stood, and they talked for a moment before Paxton gave him the go-ahead, motioning to the ramp. Colin strapped the helmet over his curly brown hair and mounted his bike.
The guy was good, I’d give him that, but not as good as Paxton. The bike turned and flipped at his direction, skimming along the pipe’s edge just to slide back down.
“What do you think, Firecracker?” Paxton called over to me.
“Incredible,” I answered truthfully as Colin headed back toward us, aimed about ten feet to the right.
The boat pitched, and Paxton’s eyes widened with a fear I’d never seen. “Leah!” he shouted.
Colin’s bike flew my way.
Everything slowed.
Huh, where’s Colin?
The metal frame hurtled toward me, racing faster than I could move. This is going to hurt.
I accepted the impending injury the way I’d calmly accepted the foregone conclusion of my death that night. Some things were simply unavoidable.
Just before impact, my right side was shoved. Brooke.
She sent me skidding out of the path of the bike, my feet flying from under me.
“No!” Paxton’s voice sounded so far away.
I looked down as I fell, watched the wood of the ramp rushing up to meet me, morphing into the barren landscape of a California ravine.
It’s not real. It’s not real.
But it was all I saw—the burning, the blood…Brian.
Then I saw nothing.
