Reckless Girls(21)
NINE
It takes us a little bit to get things situated. Nico wants to find the perfect spot to anchor, somewhere close enough to shore that we can easily swim to the beach, but not so shallow that we’re scraping the hull. We eventually anchor just a few yards from the Azure Sky, the water around us so clear that I can see all the way to the sandy bottom.
By the time we’re done, Jake and Eliza have already taken their dinghy—if the spiffy Zodiac can be called that—over to the beach.
Our own dinghy is still affixed to the starboard side of the boat, but we’re anchored close enough to shore that I just strip off the T-shirt and shorts I’m wearing over my bathing suit and jump over the side, opting to swim to the island instead.
Warm water closes over my head, and my sunburned skin stings from the salt, but when I break the surface, I’m grinning so hard my face hurts. Even though my eyes smart, the island in front of me is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, prettier than a dream, better than any of the fantasies I spun up in Mom’s hospital room when all I wanted was to run to the ends of the earth.
I hear a splash to my right, and then Brittany’s head bobs up next to me, followed by Amma’s, then Nico’s, all of us beaming. I feel a pleasant ache in my muscles as I start to swim. For a few days, we’ve been cooped up, and getting to stretch out like this feels even better than I expected.
I remember Nico warning us about sharks around the island, but not even that can kill my buzz as I pump my arms and legs, making my way toward the shimmering beach. It only takes a few minutes, then my toes touch the sandy bottom, and I’m there.
Meroe Island.
It’s a pretty name, melodic when you say it out loud, making it easy to forget that it’s named after a shipwreck.
After all the wrong turns, I finally took one that brought me to a real, live, deserted island, some honest-to-god Blue Lagoon– type shit.
It’s already late afternoon, the light turning golden and soft. The shore curves away into the distance, and beyond it is what looks like a nearly impenetrable jungle of palms and other greenery.
Slicking my wet hair back from my face, I gesture at the jungle. “I think the airstrip Nico talked about is somewhere through there. If we ever want to check it out.”
“Oh yeah, very high on my list of priorities,” Amma replies, and the bite in her words irks me. She’s clearly still pissed about Jake and Eliza.
But I’m used to handling negativity. I shrug and say, “You never know. After a week, you might get bored of watching perfect sunsets and swimming in turquoise seas. It happens.”
Nico gives a mock growl as he charges me, his arms going around my waist, lifting me off my feet as I shriek. “Or we could play pirates,” he teases, swinging me around. “Capturing that booty.”
Rolling my eyes, I pull myself out of his arms, still smiling. “I actually can’t believe it’s taken you this long in our relationship to make that joke.”
Up ahead on the beach, Jake has set up a ring of stones, filling it with branches and dried palm leaves, and as I approach, he pushes his sunglasses up his nose and grins at me.
“Is a bonfire on the beach too cliché for the first night?”
I smile back, shaking my head. “Just the right amount of cliché.”
“Knew I liked you. Eliza, come meet Lux.”
I’m actually a little surprised he remembered my name. It’s unusual enough that most people need reminding, or they call me Liz, Lucy, Lex—something close, but not quite right. The fact that Jake clocked it so fast makes me like him more.
Eliza opens her arms to hug me. “Our new roommate!” she says, laughing as she squeezes me. I’m very aware that I’m salty and damp while she smells amazing—like this perfume I once smelled in a guest’s room called California Reverie. I’d even spritzed some on my wrists, walking around the rest of the day taking surreptitious sniffs of my skin. It had made me feel like a totally different woman.
“Island-mate,” I joke, and she laughs generously even though it’s definitely not that funny.
“Honestly, I’m just thrilled you’re here. I love this bastard, but the idea of several weeks alone with him on an island was too bleak to contemplate.”
Her accent is pure BBC, vowels rich, consonants clipped, and when she reaches up to push her hair back from her face, diamond studs sparkle in her ears.
“Yes, your arrival has probably saved me from a late-night castration, and for that, you deserve a beer,” Jake says.
I wonder if they always talk like this, each sentence a tennis ball lobbed, firing back and forth with the ease of sharp, smart people who know each other well.
Jake opens a giant cooler and pulls out a beer, and when he hands it to me, I actually gasp at how cold it is. We have a fridge on the boat, but Nico said ice was a needless extravagance, so pretty much everything we’ve had to drink has been lukewarm. And I haven’t had a beer since we left the mainland—no drinking on the open sea and all that.
“Your fella tells me you’re out of Hawaii?” he asks.
“Maui, yeah,” I reply, taking a sip and closing my eyes at how good, how refreshing, the beer is. “Well, San Diego for me originally, but we’ve been in Hawaii for a few months.”