Lanie Bross - Fates

“So, cool party, huh?” Hillary asked.

“Karen knows how to throw a good one,” he said pointedly. At his girlfriend’s name, Hillary made a face.

“You’re still with her?” She ran a red-tipped nail up his arm and twirled her finger in the hair lying on the back of his neck. “Bummer.” The word washed across his ear, hot and breathy.

He took a step away from her, disengaging his arm. “Have fun.”

On his way across the deck, he grabbed another beer out of a huge cooler filled with ice and bottles. Hillary was psycho-killer crazy, but seeing her—feeling her near him—had made his body light up.

Why couldn’t he just get his shit together? Be happy with Karen? She was funny and smart and into him. Her skin smelled like raspberries, she always matched her bra to her underwear, and she had a tiny, adorable freckle to the left of her belly button.

And she threw killer parties.

He’d chugged the beer, but it wasn’t working. His mood was tanking quickly. He felt an elbow in his side, and someone knocked into him from behind. He turned around, unconsciously balling his hands into fists. Ricky Semola, the class president, grinding some girl Luc didn’t recognize. She looked about five minutes away from puking, though. Her short dress seemed to have gotten caught in her thong, and Ricky pulled out his iPhone and snapped a picture.

“Nice, huh?” he said, showing Luc the screen.

Without thinking, Luc grabbed the phone and tossed it over the opposite railing before Ricky could react.

“What the hell, man?” Ricky yelled.

“Oops.” Luc shrugged. Ricky glared at him, and Luc stared back, raising his eyebrows. He knew he would crush Ricky in a fight—and Ricky knew it, too, because he backed off, muttering under his breath. A freshman girl had managed to disentangle her friend’s dress, and was half propping her up. Luc was about to tell them both to go home when a couple tucked away in the corner caught his eye.

A girl with long blond hair braided nearly to her waist stood with her back to him. Something about her—her back, the messy braid—struck Luc as familiar, and he felt a small thrill go up his spine. She was talking to Mike Ditson, a junior basketball player and first-class asshole. Judging by the way Mike was frowning, something big was going down.

Maybe he was getting dumped.

That thought made Luc smile.

Mike nodded to her and said something else before turning and disappearing down the stairs. The girl stayed where she was, staring out over the bay, her shoulders rigid.

Wisps of her hair kept coming loose from her braid. She reached up to smooth them down. He could see her long, graceful fingers from where he stood, but there was no polish on her nails. All the girls he knew wore it, even Jas.

It was strangely compelling to see bare nails.

She moved closer to the railing and leaned out a little. The silk wraparound skirt she had on billowed around her legs. She smoothed it down over her hips and he forgot everything—what to think, what to say, how to breathe.

Everything about her was amazing. The way she tilted her head to the side, like she was listening for something. The curve of her neck right at the shoulder, a spot he wanted desperately to touch.

Someone jostled him from behind, breaking his train of thought. God, what the hell was he doing? What the hell was he thinking of doing?

Karen. He had to find Karen. He took a long drink of beer.

He was tired of being alone tonight.

He glanced back at the railing, but the girl was gone.

He headed downstairs to the hold. Hardwood floors gleamed in the light of a dozen candles, and softer music played against the background of the thumping bass from above.

Lily, one of Karen’s best friends, was leaning against the gleaming chrome sink, talking animatedly to another girl with identically tan skin, blond hair, and the look of someone who spent most of her life on vacation.

“So the next time you go to the Vineyard, you have to check out this new art nouveau coffee shop that makes the most to- die -for cappuccino. You seriously can’t get anything like it here.”

Luc barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. He cleared his throat.

“Have you seen Karen?” he asked.

Lily swung around to face him, her high ponytail swinging around her head like a pendulum. Sparkly blue makeup covered her narrowed eyelids. “Why would she want to see you after you ditched her last night? That makes, what, twice in the last two weeks? Way to be a boyfriend, Luc.”

Of course Karen had told Lily. “Look, I had a family emergency. It’s none of your business, anyway.”

“She’s my best friend, so yeah, it is my business.” Lily’s makeup made her look just like a bug. Like a large, skinny insect. “A word of advice, Lucas: You’re not the only guy who’s interested. You might want to try a little harder.”

Heat surged up the back of his neck. Lily was one of the few people who outwardly disliked him, although as far as he knew, he’d never done anything to make her feel that way. Usually he just ignored her, but tonight, he just wasn’t in the mood to take it.

“A word of advice, Lily: Keep your nose job out of it.”

“Cute. Very original.” She turned her back to him.

Past the kitchen was a short hallway that led, Luc knew, to the boat’s three bedrooms. A cord hung across the hallway, with a neatly lettered please keep out sign attached to it.

Everyone respected Karen’s rules. Luc hesitated, debating whether he should look for her there, but in the end he decided against it. She was hosting the party. She wouldn’t be hiding out in a bedroom.

He went back upstairs and wound back toward the prow, where there was a smaller deck. In the shadows, where the spiral staircase led to the upper deck, was the girl he had seen before, the one with the braid.

The same flicker of recognition tugged at him. He still hadn’t seen her face, but the way the light shone behind her outlined the curves under her cream-colored shirt. She was thin—a little bony, even—but he could tell by the way she accepted a beer from one guy and at the same time easily laughed at something a different guy was saying that she was confident as hell.

Her tank top dipped low in the back, he noticed, exposing her tanned shoulder blades.

Luc swallowed hard.

Suddenly, the crowd seemed to clear. The two guys disappeared up the stairs, leaving the girl with the braid alone in a pocket of shadows.

Something leapt inside Luc’s chest, like when space opened up on the field and he knew he had a shot. There was no thought involved, just his body moving toward the goal. He had to see her face.

A breeze lifted strands of hair that had escaped the braid hanging over her shoulder. They danced wildly around her head, and this time she let them.

He smelled flowers mixed with the salty sea air as he approached.

He must have made a sound, because she spun around and pinned him with her stare. Gray eyes. A flare of hot recognition leapt in his gut.

It was the girl from the accident; the girl who had run away.

“Hey—hey again,” he stammered. Shock kept his brain from telling his mouth what to say, and he stood there like an idiot with his mouth hanging half open. He had hoped to see her again, but now that she was right in front of him, all his game was completely gone. “You’re here.” Idiot.

Her eyes appeared to grow darker. Those eyes—like there were shadows moving underneath them. She said nothing.

He ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat. Get a grip, man.

“So, you know Karen?” Of everything he could have asked, why had that question been the one to pop out? He could have asked where she had run off to, if she was okay, a hundred other questions that weren’t about whether or not she knew his girlfriend.