Ashes to Ashes (Burn for Burn #3)

Ashes to Ashes (Burn for Burn #3) Page 37

“Hey, guys,” I say. I go turn the music down, and Nadia rolls her eyes but doesn’t say anything. She knows better than that. She can be mad all she wants, but she knows that if she dares cop an attitude with me in front of her little friends, I am not having it.

I’ve got my eyes closed when I feel someone picking me up. My eyes fly open, and it’s Reeve grinning at me. He’s in his swimming trunks and sunglasses. I thought he was at the gym! That’s what he’s been doing every day when I’ve been at the stables. Now that he’s gotten his playbook and workout routine for Graydon, he’s always in the weight room lifting weights. It shows, too. He has a serious six-pack now.

“Hey, you,” I say.

“Hey, you,” he says, and he scoops me up and carries me over to the pool like I weigh nothing.

“Don’t you dare!” I scream, flailing my arms and legs.

“Do it, Reeve!” Janelle shrieks.

“I’m serious, you better not,” I warn him.

Reeve winks at me. “I won’t,” he says, and then he jumps into the water with me in his arms. We land with a big splash, and I’m still screaming with my arms tight around his neck. Sputtering with laughter, he says, “You’re choking me!”

I splash him right in the face and paddle away from him. “Everybody, get Reeve!”

Janelle and Patrice dive toward him, but Nadia hangs back. Reeve swims right for her and picks her up like he’s going to throw her into the air. She’s screaming her head off, and for a second I worry that she’s mad. I’m about to tell Reeve to put her down, when she starts cracking up. And then everybody’s splashing everybody. Us girls get him good, and Reeve starts circling like a shark, throwing all the girls around. They love it. I swim to the edge of the pool and hang off the side and watch. I haven’t seen Nadia this happy since before Rennie died. “Lilli, help!” she screams, giggling so hard, she can barely stay afloat.

“Sister power!” I scream back, swimming toward them. I start trying to dunk Reeve, but it doesn’t do any good, because pretty soon he’s got me by the waist with one arm and Nadia with the other.

It’s a really good day. It feels so nice to play, to feel young and free. Later Nadia and her friends are watching TV inside, and Reeve and I are wrapped up in towels watching the sun set. “Hey, can you maybe wear a tie to dinner tonight, and khakis?” Before Reeve can answer, I add, “And my dad will order sake for the table, but you definitely shouldn’t drink any.”

Reeve gives me a look. “Cho, I’m not a barbarian. I know how to act around parents.”

“I know, I know, but please just don’t act cocky. My dad hates when young men act cocky.” That’s a direct quote, too.

“Hey, you knew what you were signing up for when you got on this ride,” Reeve says, grinning, and I shriek and slap him on the legs.

“Ow, ow! That hurts!” Reeve grabs my hands. “I’m kidding. I’ll be a perfect gentleman. Don’t worry so much.”

I lean back against him and say, “Remember the first time we met? When the house was being built? You were here with your dad and we were playing tag, and you ran right into a room with fresh cement and ruined it.” I burst into giggles.

Ruefully Reeve says, “My dad beat my ass for that. It was worth it, though. You had on a frilly dress like you were going to a piano recital, and you were such a little bitch.” In a high-pitched voice he says, “?‘I’m rich and this is my house.’?”

I slap him on the chest and he fends me off, and we just sit there, watching the sun dip away.

“I love you, Cho.”

A smile spreads across my cheeks. “Duh,” I say.

“You’re such a brat,” he says, pulling me closer.

“You knew what you were signing up for,” I say.

He laughs, and then I say, “I love you, too.”

Reeve’s chest puffs up, he’s so happy. “Hey, I was going to wait to give this to you tonight, but I’m already nervous about impressing your dad, and they might think it’s weird, like I’m getting too serious too fast . . .” He reaches into his bag and pulls out a small box. “For you.”

I don’t know if Reeve has good taste in jewelry or not, but I recognize the red velvet box as being from Brightline’s—the shop where I bought the necklaces for me, Rennie, and Kat—and they really don’t have anything ugly. I open it already smiling. It’s a beautiful necklace: an opal heart surrounded by a line of pavé diamonds, on a short chain. I can’t stop staring at it. “I love it! But, Reeve, it must have been so expensive.”

“Only the best for Princess Lil,” he teases, and I lean forward and hold up my hair so Reeve can do the latch. Years from now this will be what I remember when I remember my spring break senior year. Not the missed trip to Jamaica, or not being invited on Alex’s yacht with all my friends. It will be this moment right here. The smell of chlorine on his skin. The way the sun dips slow into the water before it disappears. The first time I ever told a boy I loved him.

Chapter Thirty-Two

KAT

THE SUN IS SINKING LOWER and lower in the sky. Even though I know it’s bad as shit for your eyes, I’ve got my sunglasses perched on the top of my head so I can stare straight into it. The orangey pinks of the rays, sizzling out across the slate sky, lighting up the turquoise water in electric-blue streaks. The colors are just too beautiful, and to look at them through some cheap-ass drugstore plastic lenses would be a straight-up travesty. Plus we set sail back to Jar Island tomorrow, and I want to hold on to every single minute.

Clearly I screwed up. Forget Oberlin. I should have applied to some random school in the Caribbean to study marine biology so I could see this sunset every damn day.

Everyone else is below getting ready for dinner. I’m in my black bikini, cross-legged on one of the white sunbathing beds on the main deck. It was starting to get cold, and my suit was still wet from this afternoon—when me and the guys were taking turns jumping off the bow. Luckily, one of the boat staff brought me out a drink and set a super-soft blanket over my shoulders.

I’ve done jack shit for the past few days besides swim and sun myself, and my legs are almost as brown as the whiskey in my glass. I have to keep reminding myself to sip it slowly, because it’s the smoothest, most quality shit in Uncle Tim’s bar, and it goes down dangerously easy. I fear I’ll never be able to drink cheap whiskey again.