Chapter 2
For the next few days, I'm gonna do something fun since Danny's out there doing whatever. First order of business is to head over to the lake just to get my head clear. Maybe I'll stop by the community center later too. I go there all the time, but right now I just need some me-time.
The lake is only two minutes away from the house.
Danny and I have a boat docked there, and we used to take it out together all the time.
But since he's been so busy lately, taking the boat out alone has become my regular routine.
Usually, the water is packed with other people, but with how freezing it is outside, the whole lake is pretty much mine today.
Thank goodness for that. The surface isn't frozen over yet, so taking it out whenever I feel like it is easy.
Untying the lines, I get the boat running without any trouble. It's named Liana. I get behind the wheel and steer it out into the open water like nothing. I left the gerbils at home because it's way too deathly cold for them to be out here anyway.
Once the boat drifts far enough out, sitting down below deck bundled in a thick blanket with a small space heater running makes the chill manageable.
Far off in the distance, maybe two other boats are out on the water, but they keep their distance.
Lounging down below, reading and feeling the gentle rocking of the water against the hull is peaceful.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
BE—BE—BEEP!
"What the hell?"
Setting the book aside, I climb up the steps to see what the hell is making that noise. Standing right there on the dock side is a guy—a really hot guy, actually.
"Um. Hi?"
The guy looks like he's in his mid-20s. He stands about 5’9”, with tanned skin and bluish, almost cyan-colored hair styled into a fade.
"You okay over there?" he calls out, leaning toward my boat.
"Yeah, I'm... I'm fine. Just resting."
"Pretty cold out here," he points out.
"I mean, yeah, you could say the same for yourself."
"You sure you're good?" he checks, grinning a little. "I came out here to do some ice fishing or whatever, but what brings you out?"
"Just came out to chill."
"Oh, word. You just chill in 16-degree weather?"
A short laugh slips out. "I mean, it's pretty warm down here. So..."
Gesturing vaguely toward the heated cabin below deck, the explanation seems to satisfy him. He nods. "I'm Terry, by the way."
"Melody."
Damn.
I almost blurted out my last name, but I caught myself just in time. The thing is, when meeting random people, throwing that name around always seems to rub folks the wrong way. I mean, this guy might be wealthy too, but I don't know anything about him, so I gotta be careful.
What if he's out here trying to rob people or something?
"Just Melody?" he questions.
"Just Melody," I answer with a cheeky tilt of my head.
The guy nods. His dark jacket looks a size too big for him, though for all anyone knows, he could have a sleeper build under all those layers. His boat is definitely much bigger than mine, but it looks a lot more worn down. Clearly built for fishing or hauling gear. Who is this guy anyway?
"So you live around here?"
Oh my god. Sounding like one of those Karens already.
"My father does," Terry replies. "He owns a company around here. Currently going through a messy-ass divorce with my mom, and she's basically raping him for everything he has."
"Wow. That sounds very… uh… sounds like a great vacation."
"It totally is. You should try it sometime."
"Mine are dead, so I think I'm over that."
"Well, then you're spared from the drama."
"Don't worry," I tell him. "I had my fair share of drama before they kicked the bucket. That was the legacy they left me."
"Well, you seem to be doing alright for yourself. Got a nice boat," Terry notes, looking over the sleek finish of the hull.
Standing on the deck, a polite smile and a "Yeah” is all I give the dude.
Terry leans his elbows against his boat's railing, flashing a smile that is way too familiar.
"It's not your boat, is it?"
"I mean, it's kind of my boat. Like—"
"It's either your daddy's boat, your husband's boat, or your brother's," he cuts in casually. "One of those three."
"Why can't it be my boat? Like, why was that not on the list of things? Why wasn't that one of the choices?"
"I don't know," he shrugs. "A girl like you doesn't seem like she'd be interested in buying a boat. That's usually a dude thing."
"Girls can do dude things, you know."
"So is it your boat?" he asks, looking completely cheeky.
"You know what? Now, because you said that, it is my boat."
"Really?" he taunts with a side smirk.
"Yah," I answer in a playfully obstinate attitude.
"Let's see how fast she can go."
"Probably a lot faster than your tugboat."
"Alright," Terry challenges. "If I win, you gotta come aboard and have a drink with me."
"Oh, hell to the no. What do you think I am? I've watched those movies where people go to France, get kidnapped, and their dad has to run across the whole country killing dozens of guys to get the daughter back while the audience just ignores the very real possibility that the girl has been raped."
"Wow," Terry lets out a genuine laugh. "What a wonderful way to look at life."
"Yeah. When you're a woman, that's, like, 80% of how you have to look at life."
"Unless you're on a boat that belongs to a man," he jibes back.
"Something like that."
"Well, don't you have any protection on you?" he questions lightly.
"Why are you fishing?"
"I am a fisher," he quips back.
A laugh slips out, my guard dropping in a way that is probably one hundred percent a bad idea.
"Well, you know what? I don't have to worry about any of that because I'm gonna beat you anyway," I declare, stepping over to the helm and grabbing the wheel.
"That's what I'm talking about."
"Yep."
"A nice fast race in this cold-ass weather," Terry grins.
"That's what I'm talking about too."
"Less talking. More doing."
Terry expertly lines up his boat next to mine, pulls a whistle from his jacket, and blows a sharp blast.
Both throttles drop at once. The engine roars, shooting the boat forward across the choppy open water out toward the wider channel.
Screaming over the rushing wind, pure adrenaline takes over.
Glancing to the right, Terry's heavier boat is already falling yards behind, pushing hard toward the distant green buoy he pointed out earlier.
The sleek hull under my feet completely knocks him out of the water, leaving his craft in the wake.
“YEAH BOI!” I scream!
Wait a minute…
I forgot to set a price for me winning, but crossing the buoy first is reward enough. Cutting the throttle, the engine eases down to a steady idle, letting the boat glide to a smooth-as-butter stop.
Terry finally chugs up beside me about two minutes later.
"That was hella embarrassing!" I scream in jest.
A loud, honest laugh bursts out of me; something I sorely needed after the stress of the past few weeks.
"It really was," Terry admits with a grin. "But now that I've let you win..."
"Oh, don't you dare."
"Now you gotta buy me a drink, and I get to come aboard your boat."
"Boy," comes my cheery reply, shaking my head at him across the water.
I won the race, but now I'm sitting here wondering: should I really trust Terry?
I don’t know this guy from Adam.
You know what?
Why the hell not?
There are moments in life where you know for certain, hey, maybe I shouldn't be doing this, but doing it anyway is the only way to feel alive. Just to stick it to the man, knowing full well you could get chopped up into pieces anyway out here in the ocean.
Whatever the hell.
That's me today.
Let's do this.
We're doing this.
"Alright. Come aboard then."
Terry pumps his fist in the air in a low-effort way and boards the boat while we anchor and tether them together.
The next thing I know, we're talking. Sitting below deck, showing Terry the books keeps things easy while he leans back on the little sofa. It really is very nice in this boat.
"What did you wanna be when you grow up?" he asks.
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know. Just wondering how far from your original plans you strayed."
"I guess I wanted to, like, make stuff with my hands, and I don't really know. Like, first," a finger goes up in the air to mark the thought, "I used to wanna be a jockey."
"Like a disc jockey?"
"No. Like an actual jockey for horses."
"For real? I mean, you're tiny enough."
"Even though I am quite small, I'm not small enough. No. The jockeys need to be, like, 4'0".
"How tall are you? You're tiny already as it is."
"I'm 5'5"."
"So what happened with that dream?"
"Like I said, I was too big. Then I wanted to be a firefighter."
Terry busts out laughing.
"Seriously, because I thought—like, I watched this cartoon when I was little, and my mom would laugh every time I would do it because I would get up and I would start, like, pew pew from my hands because I thought being a firefighter meant you could wield fire.
I learned quickly that was not the case. "
Terry starts laughing again, shaking his head. "Wow. So you're all the way crazy?"
"Still am."
"That's what I said," he laughs as he lies back.
Lying on my belly on the bed, the thought suddenly hits me: what would Danny think now if he saw me under here with some random guy who's actually pretty cute?
"But now for real, like, I always wanted to just make something beautiful that would outlast me. You know?"
"Like a kid," Terry replies.
"No. Ew. Not—what?"
My eyebrows crinkle, and I squint at him with a grin, looking at him like he's totally crazy.
"That's usually what people say when they want something that can outlast them."
"Yeah, but, again—stereotyping much?"
I bring my fingers straight to my chest mockingly while lying there with knees bent and legs waving back and forth in the air.
"I mean, there's nothing wrong with that," he murmurs, his expression dropping into something kinda sad.