“Agreed,” Pauly says, coming back in.
The two of us shut our mouths and straighten up like schoolchildren caught eating chalk.
Pauly heaves a beleaguered sigh. “Look. Sir. Ma’am. You’ve had your fun being the king of the world, and I’m sure you’ll agree we’ve been very accommodating. But the ferry company has no desire to repeat the years 1997 through 2010. Misguided romance fans—”
“—Titanicisnota romance—”
“—singing Céline Dion all over the decks. One person climbs the railing; the next one jumps down to the foredeck. Before youknow it, someone’s got a broken leg from falling fifteen feet onto inch-thick steel, and I’ve got eight pounds of paperwork. I’m respectfully asking you to cut it out.”
“Absolutely,” I say, smashing my smile into a serious line. “We’ll be on our way. I promise you won’t hear from us again.”
The second we’re out the door, we burst into furious giggles.
“At least he didn’t throw us off the ship. Literally,” I snort.
“We better count the lifeboats. Just in case,” Tobin wheezes.
He pulls me into an alcove off the stairwell and claims my mouth with his. It’s a kiss and a laugh and a secret all at once, warm and sweet on its way down to my heart. It speaks a kind of light, easy promise I forgot we could give each other.
We used to be good at that. On the last two-week rafting trip of that first summer, I heard Tobin’s familiar post-campfire scratch at my tent flap. Instead of coming in, he crooked a finger:Follow me.
“We’re not supposed to leave camp,” I whispered, pulling on an extra sweater. “What if someone comes looking for you?” Two trips ago, company brass had lectured us about “discretion.” Our relationship wasn’t against the rules, but clients liked it better when Tobin appeared available, like a K-pop star performing singlehood. And ever since I’d become camp chief, I’d fearfully followed every possible regulation, hoping that would undo my demotion.
“Five minutes,” he whispered back. “I’ll take the heat if we get caught.” We tiptoed down to the round rocks of the beach and stashed our clothes behind a boulder.
“Ahhhhh, it’s freezing!”
“Five minutes.” He waded to a shallow eddy, then stretched out on his back, beckoning me to float beside him. “Look up.”
We bobbed together, watching the August meteor shower decorate the sky, my skin zinging with the beauty, and the cold, and the thrill of disobedience. We didn’t last long, but the memory of that stolen moment is so bright.
I wish I hadn’t cared so much about doing what I was told. I was careful and rule-bound, yet I lost my raft, and a boisterous but reckless guide kept his—what was left of it, after his countless expensive whoopsie-daisies that put entire expeditions at risk.
Sometimes it seems like the people at the top of West by North’s strange social hierarchy are the players who figured out which rules to break. Like today—I’m flouting the rules that say I’m supposed to be a hard worker and a loyal employee, and Craig likes me better.
McHuge is on to something with this scenario. Love is about making your own rules, and so is life.
I gasp, my mouth popping off Tobin’s.
“You okay?” He’s looking at me with equal parts concern andwe’ll finish this later, at homein his eyes.
“Yeah, sorry. I, uh, realized something surprising.”
“Really. I was kissing you, and you had bandwidth left over. Guess I’ll have to do better.”
Wow. Tobin’s “better” is… it’s… ah. I can’t brain with his tongue doing that thing, and with the hands, beard soft,unf. Am dizzy; can’t feel the ground; need more.
I’m so kiss-drunk when he sets me back on my feet, I have to take a fistful of his hoodie to stay upright. I swear he sparkles, or maybe I’m not used to having all these stars in my eyes.
“I have a huge favor to ask.”
“Uh-huh.” I’m ready to say yes to anything he wants. He doesn’t have to act so twitchy, like he has to sell me something.
“Can we push our anniversary date back a couple of hours? Do a midnight movie instead of an early show?”
“Why?” I scan his unstable smile, apprehensive all of a sudden.
“Dad’s coming to town early, so Mom rescheduled our get-together for Tuesday. She’s baking up a storm. All your favorite pressed cookies.”
