that summer |percabeth au| ✔︎

6.

chapter | 06
❝ I'm caught in between, what I wish and what I know. ❞

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Fog had crept up the coast during our drive back from the Well, and whirls of mist still clung to the sand when I set out for the marina. It wasn't yet seven in the morning, and the beach was cloudy and deserted, save for the oyster-catchers scrabbling around the tide pools. I zipped the hoodie up to my neck and picked up the pace, jogging toward the docks at a speed only slightly hampered by my earlier injury.

Percy was there when I arrived, his back to me as he stood at the stern, one foot propped up on the coaming. His hands were shoved into his sweatshirt pockets—light gray, just like mine—and the fabric pulled tight across his shoulders as he stared out at the sea.

I'd thought this might be a problem, him being here. The boat needed a major overhaul; of course he'd want an early start. But I couldn't just leave my stuff. Without a few coats of paint, my written words would remain forever—I could at least apologize and collect my physical belongings.

Percy hadn't noticed my approach, and I took a second to gather my thoughts, to observe this boy whose grit and seaworthiness would determine Candy and Katie's future at the Cove.

He was taller than me by a half a head, with those strong-looking shoulders and narrow hips, dark jeans that hung loose on his legs. His hair was medium-length and thick, soft and messy. It was darker than his father's, so dark it seemed blue.

I wondered if it was hard for him, being here. I wondered which place he thought of as home. Whether he'd ever felt untethered, like me.

The breeze kicked up, blowing the strands back from my face. I ­gathered them into a hair tie, took a deep breath, and marched down the dock. I stopped beside the Queen of.

Percy had left a tape gun and a couple of flattened cardboard boxes on the dock, awaiting assembly, and the boat's aqua-blue deck was already littered with stacks of stuff. Much of it had probably been in the saloon since they'd first docked the boat here, but some of those stacks were mine. It reminded me of packing for Bluever. Trying to decide what was worth bringing, what had to be left behind.

A fierce wave of protectiveness rose in me, but I let it pass. Percy wasn't dismantling my room. The Vega was his; he was simply removing a stranger's junk, getting her ready for the voyage ahead.

Uncertain of how to get his attention, I unfolded one of the flat boxes and attacked it with the tape gun. Percy turned around at the noise, the pensive angles of his face reshaping.

"Aha!" He pointed at me with mock accusation, a slow grin spreading. "My stowaway. I was hoping you'd turn up today."

The seashell around my neck felt heavy. My fingers found their way to it, fidgeting as I tried not to break his gaze.

"Sorry to be the bearer of shitty news," he said, "but you're being evicted."

I scanned the sight of my belongings, a half dozen piles on the deck.

In a softer tone he said, "I was just boxing it up to bring to your aunt's."

I gave him a quick nod of appreciation and got back to work ­assembling the box. When it was all put together, he held out his hands for me to toss it up. He caught it and set it down on the deck, then waved for me to climb aboard.

"Come on, now," he said when I didn't budge. "You came all this way. At least help me pack it up."

His smile hadn't faded, but it didn't reach his eyes. Not now, and not last night, either. It was the ghost smile, that look, there but not. His gaze was far away, adrift on another sea, and his real smile wasn't for me. Kinzie—she probably got to see it. But not the girl who'd stowed away on the boat that didn't belong to her. The girl who'd ­written volumes on the walls but never said a word.