Page 77 of Phobia
“Did you see something, Oliver?” The way he said my name made my pulse skitter and my fingertips tingle. All posh. Proper. Annunciated perfectly like every vowel was a battle and he was a commander with a vendetta.
“Nothing.” I shook my head. “Just…” I shrugged. “Maybe a shark?”
“You saw a shark?” Henry raised a brow.
“I saw,maybea shark,” I corrected him. “It could’ve been nothing.”
It was probably nothing.
Hopefully, nothing.
Henry shifted, then rose onto wobbly knees to look over the lip of the boat, despite what I knew it must cost him, considering the fact that he was even more scared of the water than I was. Weirdly enough though, the mention of a shark didn’t seem to phase him.
“Seaweed,” he decided after a moment, the frightened pallor to his skin fading now that I’d given him a mission to accomplish.
“Oh, thank god.”
He chuckled in amusement, and the sound startled me. It was rich, like the throb of the chime that rang every noon like clockwork atop the church downtown.
“Are you scared?” Henry threw my own words back at me mockingly, but I couldn’t bring myself to care too much this time. My relief was too distracting.
“Of sharks? I’d be an idiot not to be.” My eyes narrowed. “You’re scared of them too, don’t pretend like you’re not.”
“I’m not scared of sharks.”
Did he think I was stupid?
I could literally see how sweaty and uncomfortable he was.
Henry gave my foot another shake, and I realized belatedly that he’d never let it go. I wished I could feel his fingers through the thick sole of my boot, but despite the fact the leather was older than I was, his touch was merely a phantom. “If you’re not scared of sharks, then what is it that’s got you all…you know?Sweaty.” I gestured at his general uncharacteristic twitchiness.
“The water.”
“The water?”
Henry nodded, his lips thin, a haunted tremble to his broad shoulders. His grip on the toe of my boot grew tighter. “I don’t like the…” He chewed on his lip. “The…unknown.” He nodded, seeming to bolster himself. “If I could only see past the waves I wouldn’t feel this unsettled. It’s the lack of knowledge that makes me sweat.”
“Of course it is.” I rolled my eyes. Another raindrop splattered my cheek. “Mr. Know-it-all.” The spray of water from the rolling sea was beginning to make me feel ill. I’d never liked being damp. Suddenly, I missed my shitty little bed and all its holes with a vengeance. Maybe it wasn’t the nicest thing in the world, but at least it had been warm. Beds came with a price however, even I knew that. I glanced up at the sky, grimacing when I noted that the storm clouds were creeping closer.
Dread curled its icy fingers around my heart at the sight of the flash of lightning in the distance.
“I’m surprised you admitted it,” I murmured quietly. “You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who can admit he has faults.”
“You don’t know me.” Henry reminded me, and I bore my teeth at him, more than a little annoyed, as I was reminded why I didn’t like him in the first place.
“Of course I don’t.” I shook his hand off my boot with a jerk, crossing my arms over my chest. “How could I? We’ve worked together every day for nearly a month and you still look at me like I’m going to steal your wallet the second you turn your back.”
“I do not.”
“You do. You think I don’t notice but I do, I’m not an idiot. I know why you were working that party tonight. You don’t trust me.”
“You’re wrong.” A muscle in Henry’s square jaw clenched tight, making him look more boorish than usual. His head was just as thick as the rest of him, though admittedly he only managed to look roguish, nerdy glasses be damned.
Right.Thiswas why we’d never be friends. Aside from the obvious difference in social class. It was a wonder I’d even met him at all—considering how high up he sat on society’s food chain. His silly little laugh earlier had made me momentarily forget what a self-righteous prick he was. “It’s written all over your face that you think you’re better than me. You think because I’m poor I’m a thief.”
“Youarea thief.”
I lashed out with my boot only for him to catch it again, holding it captive, squeezing till I felt the impression of his fingers on my toes. “I am, sure,” I admitted, feeling strangely liberated as the words slipped out. “But that doesn’t mean you need to treat me like one. Maybe if you didn’t look down your nose at me I’d be less inclined to rob you.”
