The House in the Pines(33)

“Whose place is this?” she asks.

“Belongs to a friend of my dad’s.”

He leads them down a footpath, then onto a dock.

Maya’s swum at Onota Lake for as long as she can remember but has never seen it from here. It could be an ocean. The water at her feet mirrors the sky, blue upon blue, clouds floating like lily pads.

Frank lifts the hatch of a large storage box near the end of the dock. Inside are life vests, bodyboards, and a few foam noodles. He reaches inside, runs his fingers along the rim of the box until he finds what he’s looking for. A key. He jingles it on its plastic key chain as he walks over to the classic wood-paneled motorboat lolling by the dock. The boards beneath her shift as Frank steps across several feet of water into the boat.

Maya tenses.

He turns. Offers her his hand.

“Your dad’s friend said you could use it?”

“Anytime I want.”

She relaxes, steps closer to the edge. Takes his hand. His touch is a thrill. He helps her over the gap onto the swaying boat, and for a moment—too short—they hold on to each other for balance. His smell is musky, sun-kissed, his neck inches from her lips. She flushes all over as he turns away to untie them from the dock. She sinks down onto the red leather seat.

He sits beside her, turns the key in the ignition, then gives her the sexiest smile she’s ever seen. He presses the throttle. The engine growls. They begin moving as Frank steers them onto open water. She remembers the life jackets, but now it’s too late to say anything—the boat’s picking up speed. She feels the spray on her skin, the wind in her hair.

“You ever driven one of these?” he asks, shouting to be heard above the motor.

“No!” she shouts back.

Frank eases off the throttle. The boat slows, the engine quiet. Maya sees people in the distance, wading at one of the public beaches she would have attended herself on any other day.

“Switch seats with me,” he says.

She shakes her head. “I’ve never driven a boat.”

“You can drive a car, right?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Then you can do this.”

The boat, gliding slowly now, rocks onto its side as Frank moves to take her seat. Maya moves to the driver’s side mostly just to even out their weight, but then she sits behind the big, gleaming wheel. The lake stretches out ahead of her like open road.

“The throttle’s your gas pedal. Push it forward to go.”

She pushes it too far, and they lurch ahead, kicking up waves. She shrieks. Releases the throttle. The boat rocks forward, then back, a real-world version of the swinging ship ride at a fair. She grips the edge, panicked.

She hears Frank laugh. She turns to him, heart in her throat, as the boat settles. He laughs but not in a cruel way, his voice wide with delight. Maya draws a shaky breath. Her fear gives way to exhilaration, and before she knows it, she’s laughing too. Not because anything’s funny but because she’s okay and intoxicated off danger.

He moves closer, takes her hand, and this time she’s sure he’ll kiss her. She swallows, looks at his lips, leans in closer. She closes her eyes, but instead of kissing her, he lifts her hand and places it back on the throttle.

“You just have to be gentle,” he says. He keeps his hand on hers, easing them forward. They begin to coast. Her pulse pounds. She keeps her eyes on the water. They’re in the middle of the lake now. He lets go of her and settles back into his seat.

“So,” he says. “When do you leave for Boston?”

The question is a splash of cold water. “The week after next. I’ve been trying not to think about it.”

Frank is quiet beside her. They’re nearing the far side of the oblong lake, the shore embroidered by forest. Leaves float across the water. She’d been so sure he was into her too. Could she have been wrong? Or is this because she’s leaving?

“Got any plans tonight?” Frank asks.

“Going over to Aubrey’s,” Maya says. “But tomorrow—”

“Hey, Gary!” someone yells.

Maya and Frank turn to see a woman in a kayak two dozen yards behind them. Her features come into view as she glides closer: Silver hair and wiry arms. Good posture. Her smile falls as she sees they’re not Gary.

Frank waves at the woman. “Ready to switch back?” he asks Maya.

She doesn’t have time to react before he’s on his feet, gesturing for her to slide over. The boat sways as they switch positions. He pushes the throttle, eases it up to speed. Maya glances over her shoulder at the woman, getting smaller as they leave her behind. The woman stares after them, her oars still.

“What was that about?”

He shrugs. “Must be a friend of Gary’s.” He slows as he turns, heading them back toward the dock. The boat hugs the shore, giving the kayaker a wide berth.

Maya looks at Frank. He seems calm, relaxed even, head tipped back like he’s enjoying the spray and the sun. But suddenly it seems possible to her that he’s taken the boat without permission. She flashes back to when they met, the cigarette he smoked in full view of the no smoking sign at his job, like he didn’t care what happened, or what anyone thought. And she can’t help but wonder what that feels like, that kind of freedom. The confidence. He hasn’t hurt anyone, so if it’s true—if they’re joyriding in the fancy boat of someone he doesn’t know—she decides she’s okay with it.