Page 21 of Reckless Girls
We see the island a full day before we’ll be able to reach it.
It’s visible in the distance, looking like nothing more than a pile of clouds at first, all smudged and vaguely gray-ish, but within a few hours, I can see spots of green, and my heart thumps against my ribs as I stand at the bow, fingers curled around the guideline.
Suddenly, this trip makes a little more sense. Why Brittany and Amma wanted to come here, why Nico loves life on the water so much. It feels like magic, charting a course to a place, then watching it slowly materialize in front of you.
Brittany appears beside me, her long hair pulled back from her face, and she reaches down to squeeze my hand. “What are you going to do first?” she asks. “After we’ve anchored?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “No idea. A musical number, maybe? Accompanied by some crabs and tropical birds?”
That makes her laugh, too, and she gives my hand another squeeze. “Perfect. Nico?”
She calls back to him, and from his spot at the wheel, he leans over slightly, cupping one hand around an ear. “What?”
“She wants to know what you’re going to do first!” I call back. “When we get to the island!”
His expression shifts, that blinding grin flashing across his face. “Haven’t decided yet. Nudity feels pretty high up there.”
The storm threw me, would’ve thrown anyone, but now things are back on track. We’re safe, our destination is in front of us, and two weeks of doing absolutely nothing—not cleaning hotel rooms, not scrubbing a sink, not waiting my turn to use the shower in a mildewed bathroom—stretch out like a fucking red carpet.
I can’t wait.
HOURS LATER, WE’RE THERE, ANDas theSusannahmakes her way to the island’s natural harbor, I stare at the shore in front of us. It’s not like beauty is anything new to me—I’ve been living in Hawaii for the past six months, after all. But there’s something different about Meroe, something wilder. It looks like a kid’s drawing of a deserted island, all tall palm trees and sandy shore, the water and sky contrasting but equally brilliant shades of blue.
We have to motor in because of the currents, and as our boat chugs over a swell to enter the harbor, the push is strong enough that, for a second, it feels like the boat is moving backward. Like the island is pushing us away.
At the wheel, Nico’s expression is steely, his hands gripping tightly, and I wonder if he felt it, too. Probably not. Like he said, Nico isn’t superstitious. But I catch Amma frowning as we finally glide into the harbor.
And then I see it.
Like I told Brittany back in Maui, boats are not my thing. I’ve seen all kinds and have never been all that impressed by any of them.
But this boat is very different.
She’s a catamaran, well over forty feet, glossy white against allthat blue-green, her sail an even deeper, clearer blue than the sky. Fitting, because that’s her name, stenciled on the side.
Azure Sky.
Looking at her, I feel the same way I did the first time I saw Nico. Like the world has suddenly gotten a little bit bigger.
“Fuck me.” I hear Amma breathe at my side, and she scowls at the ship.
She and Brittany had been trying to do something other than the usual tourist thing by coming here. The fact that other people have already found the island—beaten them to it—is clearly bugging Amma.
Nico has killed the engine, letting theSusannahrest idly on the smooth, clear water as he looks over at theAzure Sky.
“What a beauty,” he says with an appreciative smile.
But Amma is already turning to Brittany, her expression stormy. “I thought no one ever came here.”
Brittany just shrugs, pushing her sunglasses up onto her head. “I thought so, too, but, I mean, it’s the twenty-first century. If we can find things, so can other people. It’s not really that weird that someone else is here.”
Amma doesn’t seem satisfied by that response, her frown only deepening, but then someone steps out onto the deck of the catamaran.
Even from a distance, I can tell he’s rich. Working at the resorts in Maui gave me a kind of sixth sense when it came to the type. His hair was probably once brown, but he’s been outside enough to give it that sun-streaked look women pay a lot of money for. Aviator sunglasses, mirrored, reflect the blue, blue water, and he flashes a million-dollar smile as he lifts an arm to wave to us.
“Ahoy!” he calls out, and I can practically feel Nico roll his eyes behind me. Still, he waves back at the guy, just as a woman makes her way up onto the deck to join him.
She’s also blond, hair whipping in her face as she leans overthe railing to gaze out at us. She’s wearing cutoffs that ride up her tan thighs, and an oversized button-down that probably belongs to the guy. Sun-kissed and beautiful, they look like an ad for hard seltzer, and I feel grubby in my own loose-fitting shorts and an old V-neck.
