Wilder

Her shoulders relaxed in obvious relief. “Well, thank you for that consideration.”

“And you can tell your roommate that there’s nothing to worry about.”

Leah shook her head, the wet strands sliding along her top. “Rachel can’t make it until next term. She has mono.”

Damn. Three whole months. How the hell was I going to keep Leah happy until Rachel got here? Penna’s research showed they were basically inseparable. What if Leah hated me and left before the term was over? This definitely had the potential to fuck my carefully laid plans. “So you’re all alone in here? Are you going to be lonely?”

She rubbed her hands down her arms. “I’m perfectly okay. Besides, if you need to study, you’re right, you’ll be doing it here, because I’m not going anywhere near those cameras unless I have to.”

My muscles relaxed as I realized she wasn’t going to renege on our deal and not tutor me. “I understand.”

“Okay then. Do you have your schedule so I know what classes you have?”

“I have every class you do.”

Her mouth dropped open. “How is that even possible?”

“I needed to know you could help me, or take notes if I had to miss class.” Because I engineered it that way.

“Did you sleep with the registrar or something? How did you make that happen? You know what? I don’t even want to know. We have seminar at nine a.m. tomorrow. Do you think you can make it? Or were you planning on waterskiing behind the ship or something?”

“That’s not even…” Huh. I wondered if it was possible. Maybe if the rope was long enough, and we launched from—

“Unbelievable. No wonder you need a tutor. You’ve killed off all your brain cells doing stupid crap. Tell me something—are you just here for the Renegade Channel?”

My eyes widened. “I thought you didn’t know who I was?”

She rolled hers. “Come on. We’re still close enough to port to have good internet, and there’s not a lot of Paxton Wilders running around. Google is pretty nifty with the whole search thing.”

I swallowed. How much did she know? “What did it tell you?”

“That you run a YouTube channel with a few friends who all have ridiculous stage names, you’ve won a couple X Game medals in motocross or snowmobiling or something.”

“Both,” I answered automatically.

“Great. You enjoy flinging yourself off mountains and buildings and generally see exactly what it would take to kill yourself, and I’m responsible for getting you through this academic year while you’re doing it all over the world, right?”

Fuck. She put it together so quickly. “What makes you think that?”

“Well, I doubt those hugely expensive cameras are here to document some boring reality show featuring your academics center stage, so the only plausible explanation is that you’re here to take your little channel international. Or is it bigger?”

“Bigger,” I answered truthfully. “Some of the things we have planned aren’t exactly legal in the U.S., so it seemed to be a great time to shoot the documentary. What else did you learn?”

“That you prefer leggy blondes who have a disproportionate ratio of breast to waist. Which is fine with me; I’m sure there’s a full treasure trove here to select from, and I’m safe since I don’t fit any of that criteria.”

“Whoa, when did I even hint—?”

She threw her palms out. “You didn’t. I just figured I’d get ahead of you. Look, you almost killed me, dumped me into a huge pool, and now I’m stuck with you if I want to stay on this trip. I understand what I signed up for. But I will not be involved in anything you do—like I was today—ever again. You and I are business only, got it?”

I nodded slowly. “Got it.” What the fuck just happened?

“Good. Now you can leave. I’ll see you at seminar in the morning.” She walked to the door and held it open until I left her room, closing the door behind me with a loud click.

I was halfway to my room before I started laughing. Little Eleanor Baxter had done the one thing no other girl had done in my lifetime—dismissed me outright.

I knew I liked her for a reason.

Chapter Three

Leah

At Sea

Books, paper, pen, registration information…yep, I had it all. I sent another glare toward my espresso machine and headed out the door for seminar. Screw World Literature, I needed a course in how to use that.

Maybe it was good to kick my caffeine addiction. But morning coffee with Rachel was the one thing that had gotten me out of bed when I’d wanted the universe to swallow me whole freshman year, and now it was a habit I couldn’t break. It wasn’t even the drink itself as much as it was the routine, knowing that the world didn’t care if I wanted it to stop turning—it was going to keep going, and so was I…whether or not I saw the purpose to it.

So I’d gotten up every morning, carefully masked the pain, the hopelessness, and the dread that took up residence in my soul every time the alarm clock went off and I realized I was still alive…still the lucky one. I showered off the sweat from the nightmares, put on my clothes, and poured a goddamned cup of coffee with Rachel, because that’s what living people did. They…lived.

Sure, the time had passed, my memories of him softening enough to breathe, to move on. Brian. See? I could think his name now without crying. There was even a sweetness to it instead of the oppressive grief that had been my constant companion these last couple of years, but I still dreaded mornings.