Chapter 29
Alice
J ake and I are on his uncle’s boat, gliding across the bay on our first official date. Hazel is lying at his feet, basking in the sun. The wind is doing crazy things to my hair, and I wish I’d thought to wear a hat. I know Jake will give me his if I ask, but then I wouldn’t have this view of him in a backward cap, with the veins on his arms popping as he stands and grips the steering wheel.
“Do you want to drive?” Jake asks over the hum of the engine.
“Can’t. Don’t have a boating license.” I shrug.
Jake turns his head to blink at me slowly. “How is that possible? You’ve lived in North Bay as long as I have.”
“Not all of us grew up with our own boat in the backyard,” I remind him. “What was I going to do with a boating license?”
“Drive a boat,” he says matter-of-factly. “That’s usually what people do with it.”
“Like I said, can’t.”
Jake keeps one hand on the wheel and angles the rest of his body to face me. Hazel lifts her head to watch us, but immediately gets bored and sets it down again.
“Come here.” He’s smiling and being all encouraging when he motions to the space between his body and the steering wheel. There’s not much extra room there because the raised captain’s chair is behind him, and a certain lazy dog is only inches away.
I smirk. “Nah. Danielle can teach me.”
“How do you think she learned? I won’t let you crash us,” he promises.
I let out a small huff, but I walk over and squeeze my body in front of his, and my arm grazes the billowing fabric of his T-shirt. The sleeves are cut off, putting both of his tatted biceps on full display as he puts his hands on my hips. He smells like sunscreen and just a hint of cologne.
“If I’d known nobody else was teaching you, I would have done this a long time ago.” Jake reaches past my shoulder to adjust the gear shift and bring the boat to a slower speed.
“Wasn’t your job.”
“It is now.” He bends so his face is closer to mine, and he lifts his sunglasses so he can look directly into my eyes. “Hands on the wheel. You’ll do great.” He kisses my forehead. “All right. I’m going to shut off the motor, and we’ll start from the beginning. You already know how to drive a car, so it’s going to be simple. This is basically the same, but easier. No pedals and less traffic. Docking can be tricky, but we’ll save that for another day.”
My chest squeezes at the idea of another date. “I just turn the key?”
Jake moves his mouth closer to my ear. I feel the warmth of his breath on my neck, and it gives me goosebumps I’m grateful to be able to blame on the cool wind. He continues with the lesson. “On this kind of boat, yes. On the smaller ones, like the aluminum jon boat we take out fishing, you steer the motor with a stick. I’ll show you that, too. But for now, go ahead and start the ignition.”
I turn the key, and the motor kicks on again. Jake briefly explains what each of the markings on the dash does, then he points to a buoy in the distance.
He puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes lightly. “Head in that direction. You’ve got this.”
Then he steps back and watches as I drive the boat a few hundred feet in a straight line.
When we approach the buoy, I let out a yell. “I did it!”
Jake laughs. “I saw.”
Without thinking, I close the few steps of distance between us and throw my arms around him. He chuckles as he hugs me back, but at the same time, he maneuvers our bodies so he can regain control of the boat before it runs directly into the channel marker.
“Oops.” I unhook my arms. Immediately, they feel empty.
“All good. You did a great job. Next time maybe just make sure nothing’s in the path of collision before you abandon your post. Otherwise, no notes.”
“Fair. I can do that.” I smile.
He nods. “Of course you can. Now I have a very important question. Think hard before you answer. Ready?”
“Hit me.”
“Do you want to eat lunch here on the boat, or do you want to go over to the beach?”
“The beach” is what locals call the small island in the middle of the bay. It’s not big enough for any homes or utilities, but boaters pull up and use the sandy area on its shore for recreation. Teenagers go there to hang out with friends, throw Frisbees, or sneak beers. It’s also a popular make-out destination.
“Let’s check out the beach.”
“Done.”
It only takes a few minutes before we’re pulling up to the shore and Jake beaches the boat. He lowers Hazel down onto the sand and grabs a backpack from a side compartment. Then he hops out into the shallow water and extends his arms to help me down. I’m spending a lot of time in these arms today, and I have no complaints.
Hazel follows as we walk along the beach until Jake stops and sets the backpack on the sand. He unzips it and pulls out a striped, oversized beach towel, which he spreads out for us to use as a picnic blanket.
“I figured peanut butter and jelly should be safe enough. No meat, no dairy, right?” he says as he pulls two metal water bottles and some sandwiches from the pack.
I beam at him as I sit down on the blanket. “Thank you. I love PB and J. And I was surprised to learn recently that peanut butter is considered a liquid. Did you know that?”
Jake chuckles and sits next to me. “You don’t say.”
He takes out a collapsible bowl and pours water into it, holding it out for Hazel. She dives in sloppily before returning to her favorite spot at Jake’s feet. We eat our sandwiches, then we lie on the towel, shoulders touching while we listen to the water lap onto the shore.
“You know, Ace, it’s almost August. We’re going to have to think of a creative way to celebrate your birthday.”
“Oh yeah? This oughta be good.”
“I’ll think of something.”
I roll onto my side to face him, and he does the same. We stay quiet and still, concentrating on each other while everything else around us seems to fade away. Eventually, I can’t take it anymore.
“The way you’re looking at me right now makes me want to kiss you,” I repeat the line he used on me our first night at the cottage, and from the way his lips part and eyes darken, it seems to work just as well on him.
“I think I want that, too.” He remembers what I said in return.
I think I might actually be falling for Jacob Freaking Gibson.
I grab the front of his shirt and pull him toward me. He tastes like peanut butter and salt, and with his lips on mine, I hardly notice the sand in my hair or the water breaking onto the shore just beneath our feet.