The Similars (The Similars #1)(82)

“Can I tell you a secret?” I ask Levi as I take a bite out of a candy bar.

“Depends what it is,” he quips as he pops open a bag of pretzels.

“Ha,” I say, allowing myself for one miniscule second to appreciate the simplicity of this moment. Us, here in this room together, acting, for all intents and purposes, like regular teenagers.

“So? What’s this big confession?” Levi asks, lying back on a pillow, his hands behind his head. My heart hammers as I look at him, lying there, and imagine all the things I would do…if I could…

“My dad never let me eat this kind of stuff growing up. I think I was fourteen before I ever tasted soda.”

“Wow,” says Levi, his whole face lighting up. “And to think, I almost went my whole life without knowing that critical fact.” I toss a pillow at him, and he ducks, laughing. After our sugar-laden meal, Levi sets up a cot in the corner, spreading out a blanket and rooting in his bag for his toothbrush. We get changed for the night without talking. I pull on a tank and shorts in the bathroom. It’s what I usually sleep in, but tonight, it gives me pause. The shorts feel short, and my shoulders feel bare. I climb into the bed; Levi takes the cot.

“Levi?” I say, as I lie there in the dark.

“Yes?” he answers back from only a few feet away.

“Can you come lie next to me?”

I don’t even know I’ve asked it until it’s too late for me to take it back. I hold my breath as I hear him move from the cot to the bed, where he lies down next to me, on top of the covers. I can’t pretend I haven’t been waiting for this moment, for us to be alone like this with no one to interrupt. No roommates, no curfews, no rules. Just us.

“What did you mean,” I ask, my voice barely audible, “when you said you fell for me?”

Levi turns on his side to face me. I expect to see lightness, a smile, or the hint of one. Instead, he is focused and intense. A fever builds in me, starting at my toes and traveling up my spine as he takes my cheek in his hand and leans in, pressing his lips to mine with fervor. I kiss him back, hungry, as he pulls me toward him, the full weight of his body against my own. It’s like I’m melting into him as we continue to kiss, arms and legs entwining, sparks traveling from his body to mine and back again like static electricity.

We pull away, letting our bodies detach only as much as is necessary to look at each other. I am momentarily flustered.

“So that answered my question,” I mumble. Levi laughs, the humor back in his voice as he brushes a strand of hair out of my eyes. The action is so tender, it’s hard to reconcile with the raw strength I know he possesses.

“I’m glad you found that response acceptable.”

I rest my head on his shoulder, suddenly tired. “Levi?”

“Yes?” he answers back, his voice thick.

“If something happens to us tomorrow…”

“Yes?”

I look in his eyes. He hasn’t tried to reassure me. To promise that I am safe with him. I am glad for his honesty.

“I will never regret that you came to Darkwood.”

*

The next morning, we catch the ferry that will take us through the ocean to Queen’s Harbor. It’s a four-hour ride, but we don’t talk much. We’re both nervous—we’ve made it this far, but the last leg of our journey will be the hardest.

We spend most of the ferry ride on the outside deck, our coats bundled around us as the wind of the open water whips at us. We leave the bay, lined with trees and dotted with houses. It feels like we’re entering another world, leaving behind New England for uncharted waters. It feels like we’re barreling toward the edge of the planet.

“Will he be expecting us?” I ask Levi, as I shove my hands into the pockets of my down coat. “The fisherman who can take us there?”

“Yes,” Levi says. He’s explained that this man knows Castor Island well, and that based on Levi’s previous encounters with him, he won’t tip off Gravelle.

At Queen’s Harbor—a quaint little fishing town untouched by time—we find the fisherman down at the docks. He’s ready to take us the two hours to Castor Island, but he warns us we’re in for a bumpy ride.

Grateful for this man’s help, we climb aboard his weatherworn motorboat. I cling to the edge of my seat the entire time, biting back seasickness as we pound through the choppy water.

When I finally see the island, I’m staggered. In all his descriptions of the place where he grew up, Levi never once mentioned its sheer beauty.

Jutting out of the water like a majestic, if small-scale, city, Castor Island is a work of art. Wrought out of steel and glass, the compound where Levi and his friends spent most of their waking and sleeping hours glows in the sunlight, its steel hinges and supports sparking colors like a kaleidoscope. The angles of this structure are unexpected and somehow defy logic.

“It’s stunning,” I say.

“It’s home,” Levi responds. “If home is the place where you’re locked up without a key.”

“Was it that bad? Always?”

“Not all of it,” he admits, as the fisherman steers the boat toward the shore. “I had the others, and they cared about me. We were a team of sorts. A motley crew. But a team, nevertheless.”

“So.” I stare, entranced, at the compound before us. “How are we going to do this?” After all the travel, all the planning, I suddenly feel foolish. The compound mocks me with its grandeur and otherworldliness, and the truth is, I’m afraid. Can we do this? Is it even possible?