The wind whips my hair across my face in stinging tendrils, and little bouts of spray pelt my face with every dip in the water. Wills starts shouting at me to pull this or tighten that, but no matter how quickly I do it I’m apparently never fast enough. It would be exhilarating if he wasn’t constantly swearing and moving over to redo something I apparently did wrong.
Eventually, I just throw up my hands and go to sit in the middle of the boat as out of the way as possible.
The shore has started slipping away. Soon it’s just a tiny dark line across the horizon.
Wills is so focused on sailing that he soon forgets me entirely. His eyes scan the skyline with a laser-focus that’s a lot more attractive when it isn’t looking for my shortcomings.
I close my eyes for a bit and lose myself in the motion of the boat. It’s calming and methodical until, with a sudden gust of wind, it isn’t.
I’ve never felt a storm blow in so fast.
The lake, glassy and smooth just moments before, suddenly rages around us. A wave slaps against the side of the boat, sending a massive spray of water up into Will’s face and blinding him.
Part of the sail whips around and nearly hits me in the face, but I manage to duck and grab onto some of the lines for support. It was the wrong move.
The boat tilts sharply to the side, ripping the rigging from my hands. Something snaps overhead and suddenly ropes and splintered wood are raining down on me. I duck and cover my head, sending the boat heaving to the other side.
Wills is screaming at me, but I can only hear part of what he’s saying. He lets go of the rudder and reaches out to me with one arm, the other pointing at something in the water behind me.
I feel the swell reach me before he does.
The spray and rain has become so thick that I don’t realize I’m falling in until salty water is rushing into my lungs and burning my eyes. I must have hit my head on something while falling, because a searing pain has sprouted at my temple. I’m disoriented for a moment—lost once again in the swirl of water around me.
Then I come to my senses. I kick my feet hard and push my face up out of the water, gasping for breath, only to get washed over with another wave. The boat is nowhere in sight. Beneath the surface, all I see is dark water and bubbles. Above, just a haze of grey rain.
I’ve swallowed more water than air, and I’m not sure that I’m going to live through this when I feel something clamp onto the shoulder of my lifejacket. I’m hauled up out of the water like a fish on a line dragged onto what’s left of the deck of the boat.
Wills crouches over me, his hunched body blocking the rain from hitting my face. The other hand does that job for it, tapping my cheeks until I open my eyes and blink up at him.
“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” he hollers at me. He glares furiously at my face, and then closes his eyes and shakes his head. I just half roll over and spit up a lung full of water.
Just as I catch my breath, I see him reach for the bottom of his shirt and pull it up over his torso and head. As quickly as the storm rolled in, it dissipates. The clouds start to part overhead and the lake, one moment before a storm-tossed-sea, goes still.
Wills looks like a Greek god; he’s exquisitely chiseled, and it stuns me for a second, staring at him as he leans close to me.
“I can’t believe you did this!” he barks at me as he wads up his shirt and dabs at my head. It’s only then that I realize that I’m bleeding. He studies the cut as he wipes at it and then he hands me the soaking wet shirt.
“Press this against your head right here, and hold it tight,” he tells me, then repeats himself while demonstrating when I don’t do it right the first time. “Tighter!”
I do as he says, and then I look around. The boat is half submerged, and even Wills looks as if he’s given up.
“Can we fix this?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No. We’re lucky it hasn’t sunk completely yet. We’re going to have to sit here and wait to be rescued. Nice job, Blondie.”
He goes to the furthest edge of the boat just a few feet away and squats with his back to me while he rummages in the remains of our emergency kit for a flare. I try not to stare, but I just can’t help it. He’s so incredibly built, and because he’s not looking at me, it gives me a sneaky chance to take in his amazingly sculpted physique.
I might not like him, but he’s definitely worth staring at when his back is turned. I blame the head injury.
Thankfully it isn’t long before the teacher arrives on another boat, and we clamber on. Wills’ wrath is nothing compared to his. He lets Wills have it, telling him that his parents will be billed for the damage and he can expect at least a week’s detention for leaving before the rest of the class.
I’m expecting similar treatment when he turns to me, but instead, the teacher just checks the cut on my forehead before pronouncing me fine. I guess being new has its perks, for once.
I go to sit beside Wills, not exactly to thank him, but maybe as a sort of apology for him taking all the blame. He just keeps those eyes of his trained on the boat sinking beneath the waves behind us.
Wills isn’t speaking to me or looking at me at all, he’s so mad. As I watch our sailboat finally sink down beneath the lake waters, I guess I can’t blame him.
As reckless as he was, I still feel guilty for not being able to help. He probably wouldn’t have sunk if he had an even somewhat reliable sailing partner.