4. Lost Boys
Lost Boys
T he jet descended with great precision onto a small tarmac.
The Never Lands might look unoccupied and peaceful from above, but they were pulsing with hidden verve below.
The air was alive with unseen inhabitants, and the bass could be heard in the distance as if the wild woods sheltered a hidden nightclub.
Aside from the small airport and tower, nature grew wildly, unrestricted by whatever manmade obstacles encroached on the land. Ivy and vines climbed and twirled about the street signs and pavement as if the groundkeepers couldn’t cut the overgrowth back fast enough.
Branches dangled from footbridges, stretching from the canopies of lush, towering trees.
Wildflowers bloomed in bright colors that challenged the shade of the night sky.
The air was thick and humid, causing ringlets to curl about her face as she followed Peter toward a dim path that led to the woods.
He pressed a hand to her back. “Shall we?”
She looked around but saw nothing but trees and the dotted line of hanging lanterns. “Is there a car?”
His smile stretched. “Why would we need a car? We’re here.” He led her onto the grass in a direction that felt inherently wrong.
Insects trilled from hidden crevices. Tiny creatures skittered below the underbrush. The earthy scent of damp soil tickled her nose, but there was also the intoxicatingly sweet fragrance of exotic flowers, some in colors too vibrant to name.
“Thirsty?” Peter offered a flask.
She took it and sniffed the fruity contents, knowing enough to assume the sweet smell likely masked something potent and dangerous. She hesitated, not because she was afraid, but because she wanted nothing to dull her senses or her wits.
“No, thank you.”
“Such a scaredy cat.”
She frowned and then snatched the flask. “I’m just not a fan of fruity drinks.” She took a tiny sip and sputtered. One drop was enough to steal her breath. “What is that?”
“We call it nectar.”
“That is not nectar.” She cleared her throat. Only grain alcohol could burn like that.
Nightbirds cawed, and the hum of insects amplified as they trekked a path between the dense trees.
Branches rustled as unseen animals launched about.
The nearby trickle of a stream caught her ear, but it was too dark to see beyond a few feet.
The deeper into the jungle they traveled, the louder the rush of water grew. Perhaps there were waterfalls nearby.
Her heel sank into the spongy ground, capturing her slipper in the mud and pulling it off her foot. “Oh!”
Peter caught her arm as she hopped on one foot. He crowed with laughter when her other shoe also got stuck in the mud.
“Oh, no!” Clinging to his shoulders, she lost her balance, and her bare foot sank into a soggy clump of mud.
“Well, they weren’t the most sensible shoes for exploring.”
“They’re slippers! I would have worn appropriate footwear if you had given me a moment to dress, but you rushed me out the door!”
“Women are notoriously late. This isn’t a fashion show. Besides, we both know you don’t own a pair of hiking boots. Look how distressed you get over a little mud. You haven’t hiked a day in your life.”
She was getting tired of his assumptions. “You’re a jerk.” Bunching up her robe and nightgown, she glared at him, her feet fully submerged in the slimy mud now.
“Are you finished having a fit over your precious slippers?”
“Asks the fully dressed man wearing close-toed shoes.”
He shrugged and crouched. “I don’t mind the mud.” He removed his shoes and cuffed his designer pants to stand barefoot with her. “Happy?” He tossed his shoes into the shadows.
“Yes.” She glanced at the woods. “Are you leaving your shoes there?”
“Shoes are useless here. Nobody wears them. You’ll see. This is a less is more sort of place.” He proceeded down the path, leaving her to follow.
“Ugh.” She winced as mud squished through her toes. “I probably should have updated my vaccinations before coming here.” How was she to know such an elite place would be so savage?
“Did you say something?” Peter yelled from up ahead.
“No.” Every step squished more mud between her toes and made her wince.
“Just follow me, princess. I’ll get you there!” His voice echoed through the trees.
Wendy wrinkled her nose and shadowed him down the dark path. “I’m on a vacation with a lunatic.”
Mist hung low in the air, clinging closely to the gnarled roots of trees that appeared centuries old.
The forest was a mixture of danger and discovery that left her in a constant state of awe.
The tangy essence of fruit on the breeze sweetened every breath.
She couldn’t wait to see this untamed land in daylight and hoped they would have a little time to explore its secrets before returning to London in the morning.
Peter loped back to walk beside her, studying her expectantly. “Is it not the most exotic place you’ve ever seen?”
Their arrival invigorated him to an almost intoxicated point. Or perhaps he’d had too much nectar from the flask. The way he pranced beside her with his hands in his pockets and a wide grin stretched across his elfin face made him boyish and childlike.
“I hope to see it in daylight.”
“Oh, you will! And then at sunset, and under a full moon when everything is aglow with blue light, and by sea, and from the trees, and on the backs of wild beasts, and from the cliffs of the wildlings?—”
“Peter,” she laughed at his hyper enthusiasm. “I have to go back to London eventually. I can’t stay here.”
He frowned. “But you wanted an adventure.”
“And I’m on one, but I have responsibilities at home. My family will expect me to return.”
He cocked his head. “But you wanted to escape.”
“I have a family, Peter?—”
“A family that suppresses your right to live.”
“That’s a little extreme.”
“Is it? When was the last time you wrapped your legs around something for the sheer joy of it?”
She scowled at him. “You know perfectly well that I’ve never wrapped my legs around anything.”
“Not even a tree swing?”
She gaped at him. He totally set her up for that. “I didn’t realize you were talking about the trees.”
He laughed. “That’s okay. You don’t strike me as much of a swinger anyway. But I am!” He rushed into the woods, leaving her on the trail in the dark.
Only shadows and the trill of insects surrounded her. “Peter?”
His crowing voice echoed from deep within the woods, and then a large creature flew from the trees, swooping low to the ground.
Wendy ducked as the bird nearly buzzed her head in a flash of green and gold.
But it was not a bird. It was Peter, swinging from a vine that must have been a hundred feet long.
“Come on, Wendy, swing with me!” he yelled, winding back and forth like a pendulum.
He was insane. “I don’t swing!”
“Where’s your sense of adventure?” He swooped by again, losing momentum as gravity slowed him to a twirling dangle. “Are you afraid of heights?”
“No, but I’m in a nightgown with muddy feet, and I’d much rather reach the house than climb trees.” He was lucky he didn’t break his neck. The vine was nothing more than a tangle of leaves and branches. “Can we please keep moving?”
“All I hear is priss, priss, priss, priss, priss, priss, priss.”
She ground her molars. “Look, I’m not in the mood for juvenile games.” She slapped her ankle when a mosquito bit it. “Could you please go back to acting like an adult and take me to your house?”
Dangling ten feet overhead, his foot held in a loose knot where the vine looped. He laughed at her. “Ms. Darling, you sound rather irritable.”
“Mr. Pangbourne, that’s because I am irritated,” she said between clenched teeth.
“Is it because we got interrupted by the turbulence?”
She scoffed. “No, it’s because my tour guide is a reckless man-child.”
“I could finish what we started on the plane. Maybe that would improve your mood.”
She gaped at him. “I can’t believe you just said that.” Unsure where she was going, she stomped off.
“What? I was being generous!”
She growled and kept walking toward the steady beat that pounded in the distance.
It was not a sound of nature but the sound of human life.
Perhaps someone there could help her. Peter claimed the Never Lands were his, but he also mentioned lost boys.
There were clearly others on the island.
At the moment, she could easily trade her escort for someone less annoying.
A twig snapped behind her, and she turned, startled to find Peter at her back.
“Did I scare you?”
“No. And what is this obsession you have with my fear.”
He shrugged. “Girls are always in distress.”
“Hardly. We have much more fortitude and courage than society realizes.”
“There’s a spider in your hair.”
She swatted wildly only to realize he was teasing her when he laughed. Composing herself, she glared at him. “You’re a child.”
He smirked. “You only say that because adults forget how to have fun. It’s like some sort of amnesia. You might already have it.”
“It’s called responsibility.”
“More like indentured slavery if you ask me.”
“Well, I didn’t.”
“Half the rules are unnecessary. People are too afraid of chaos.”
Typically, she’d agree with him, but with each muddy step and stinging mosquito bite, the thought of her secluded bedroom grew more and more attractive.
Speaking of chaos, he’d removed his jacket and tie, and a storm of confusion whirled inside of her.
He rolled his sleeves, exposing the strength of his forearms. His tanned skin and muscular physique were undeniably attractive, but his cavalier behavior was a total turn-off. Unfortunately, he wore unruly well. And his unpolished, bad boy appearance confused her all the more.
“What are you looking at?”
Realizing she was staring, she dropped her gaze and asked, “Do you hear that music?”
“That’s just the Lost Boys.”
“And who are the Lost Boys again?”
“My friends.”
She self-consciously looked down at her clothes. “How many are there?”