Fates

4

The party was in full swing by the time Luc arrived. He knew Karen would be pissed. He’d tried calling her, but she was obviously screening his calls.

After he got off his shift at the boatyard, he’d come home to change, only to find out his dad hadn’t bothered shopping that afternoon. There was nothing in the fridge except some mustard and beer. And the old, cracked cookie jar where they kept extra money was almost empty.

Thankfully, Luc had been paid, and his shift money would cover something for dinner. Jas was already too skinny—and Dad, well, he’d just head down to the bar and forget he needed to eat. So Luc walked to a nearby convenience store and picked up some microwavable sandwiches and a couple of Twix.

Jas, of course, still refused to go to Karen’s with him. She had said she was going to stay home, bum out on the couch, and eat the Twix he gave her. He’d reminded her: Absolutely no going out. No T.J. No parties.

Definitely no parties.

The Mission Creek Yacht Club had rules against boat parties, noise levels, and maximum capacity—but Karen’s parents were founding members, and exceptions were made.

The brightly lit houseboat was moored at the end of a private pier, and it was bigger than most people’s real houses. It had three decks and a hull of gleaming chrome. Even though he was late, Luc walked slowly, enjoying the feel of the ocean breeze on his skin, the view of the thousands of stars glittering in the night sky like shattered bits of ice.

Cassiopeia, Centaurus, Corona Borealis.

Voices and bursts of laughter punctuated the night air. A strong hip-hop beat vibrated through the wooden gangway, buzzing up through Luc’s feet as he crossed onto the boat from the pier.

Heat lamps had been arranged all around the deck, and the air was artificially warm, despite the breeze coming off the bay.

“Ahoy, matey!” someone called out from the roof deck as Luc shouldered his way through the crowd.

He looked up and saw a very drunk guy in a captain’s hat leaning way too far over the deck. Just when it looked like he might tumble over, several hands pulled him back and he disappeared into the crowd. Saul Tompson. Life of the party. Total dumbass.

“The Duke is in the house!” Tyler shouted, appearing out of nowhere. He gripped Luc’s hand and bumped his shoulder. “You ready for our five a.m. weight-training session on Monday, Your Highness?”

After Luc led the soccer team to their first shutout victory last year, the guys had started calling him Luc the Duke. The nickname stuck, and when he made captain this year, Luc found he liked being held up on that royal pedestal. It kept his head in the game—helped him to focus. Most of the time, anyway.

“Hell no.” Luc took the beer Ty offered. He could use a bit of a buzz tonight. “This is why I hate losing.”

“Well, maybe if our star forward actually kicked the ball into the goal … ,” Tyler said, grinning.

“And maybe if our star goalie actually stopped one once in a while … ,” Luc fired back. The truth was, he had been distracted. He had missed an easy goal and his shot had gone way wide to the left, not even tempting the keeper to make a save. Everyone on the field had actually stopped and stared. Luc rarely missed—he couldn’t afford to miss, not when there were always college scouts dropping by practice.

Not when he was already in the doghouse with Coach.

Two weeks ago, Luc had pushed a member of a rival soccer team. Coach wouldn’t listen when Luc argued that the guy had gone straight for his ankle, not the ball, when Luc was about to take a shot. Coach had simply been pissed that Luc lost his cool and had benched him for the rest of the game.

No more fighting, no more screwups, or else Luc would get booted off the team for good.

He needed to play soccer.

A soccer scholarship was his best hope of actually getting into—and being able to pay for—college. Plus, it was the only part of school he was actually good at.

“Duke! Duke! Duke!” a chorus of voices yelled, and three more players from the team pushed their way over.

“Hey, man, Karen was looking around for you about a half hour ago,” Jake said. He was the closest thing to a best friend Luc had. “She didn’t look too happy.”

Luc heaved a sigh. Great. Another night of fighting. Just when he was starting to relax.

“Guess I should go and face the music,” he said, tipping the bottle back and draining the last of the beer.

“You need a longer leash,” Tyler said.

“Whatever, Finnegan. Becky’s on the warpath, so I wouldn’t be talking too much trash,” Jake said to Tyler.

Tyler’s girlfriend, Becky Waller, slid up behind Tyler just then and wrapped her arms around his waist. She was tiny, and blond, and together she and Tyler looked perfect: golden and all-American, like something out of an Abercrombie & Fitch ad.

Becky was shorter than Karen and had bigger boobs, which, Luc couldn’t help noticing, were barely harnessed by her stretchy pink top tonight. But Karen had confidence that Becky didn’t have, and it made her sexier.

“Sorry, guys,” Becky said, giggling. She was already slurring her words a little. “I’m stealing your goalie for a while.”

She shrieked when Tyler leaned down and grabbed her around the waist, swinging her over his shoulder. He strode over to the railing.

“Who’ll give me twenty bucks to toss her in?” he yelled.

“I’ll give you fifty not to!” Becky shouted, kicking and giggling.

“A hundred!” someone shouted.

A small crowd gathered and the wager grew bigger by the second.

“Wait!” Becky shouted. She arched up and whispered something in Tyler’s ear. He spun around and set her down, where she wobbled on her high heels. Ty grabbed her around the waist to keep her from falling.

“Gentlemen, I’ve been made an offer I can’t refuse,” he said, grinning widely.

Luc felt a sudden surge of envy. It was so easy with Ty and Becky—they even kind of looked the same.

What had Karen said about tonight? She might have a surprise for him. He knew he should feel excited—he was excited—but he also felt weirdly guilty, as though Karen had spent a lot of money on a present he didn’t totally want.

Luc started for the stairs. Karen liked to be in the thick of it all, so she was probably waiting upstairs on the roof deck.

A huge group of people stood around, laughing and dancing to the beat thumping out of the surround-sound speakers. Paper lanterns were strung around the railing of the upper deck, bathing the roof in a soft yellow light.

Karen never threw just any party. The beer they were drinking was actually good, and cold, not just some Coors Light that had been shoved in someone’s duffel bag. There was liquor, too, all top-shelf, and the lights were just dim enough. Karen would never do anything half-assed.

She was predictable, but that was exactly what he liked about her. She grounded him, kept him focused in the right direction.

Luc smiled and nodded at random people as he pushed his way through the crowd. And then, out of nowhere, he got cornered by Hillary Greer.

Shit.

“Hey, Luc,” she practically purred in his ear. She pushed her chest against his arm and leaned in as close as she could get.

Luc could smell cherries and vodka on her breath.

“Uh, hi, Hil. What’s up?” Luc tried to edge his way past her, but she clamped a hand on his arm.

He’d made out with her last year at a party after the team had won states. In an uncharacteristic Luc moment, he’d gotten blind drunk on tequila shots. Turned out Hillary was one of those really pretty girls who was also really freaking crazy.

She texted him at all hours of the night, cornered him at school, and finally bought herself a dozen roses on Valentine’s Day and told everyone they were from him.

The guys thought it was hilarious and showed up in the locker room with roses the next day, claiming Luc had sent them.

He’d had to put his foot down with Hillary after that, and he half expected to find a dead animal nailed to his door when he told her that there was nothing going on between them and she needed to stop.

She seemed to take it well enough, but he tried to avoid her at school just in case. Then he met Karen, and Hillary was forgotten. Except right now, she was hanging on his arm in a very low-cut shirt and it was hard to even remember his own name.

“So, cool party, huh?” Hillary asked.

“Karen knows how to throw a good one,” he said pointedly. At his girlfriend’s name, Hillary made a face.

“You’re still with her?” She ran a red-tipped nail up his arm and twirled her finger in the hair lying on the back of his neck. “Bummer.” The word washed across his ear, hot and breathy.

He took a step away from her, disengaging his arm. “Have fun.”

On his way across the deck, he grabbed another beer out of a huge cooler filled with ice and bottles. Hillary was psycho-killer crazy, but seeing her—feeling her near him—had made his body light up.

Why couldn’t he just get his shit together? Be happy with Karen? She was funny and smart and into him. Her skin smelled like raspberries, she always matched her bra to her underwear, and she had a tiny, adorable freckle to the left of her belly button.

And she threw killer parties.

He’d chugged the beer, but it wasn’t working. His mood was tanking quickly. He felt an elbow in his side, and someone knocked into him from behind. He turned around, unconsciously balling his hands into fists. Ricky Semola, the class president, grinding some girl Luc didn’t recognize. She looked about five minutes away from puking, though. Her short dress seemed to have gotten caught in her thong, and Ricky pulled out his iPhone and snapped a picture.

“Nice, huh?” he said, showing Luc the screen.

Without thinking, Luc grabbed the phone and tossed it over the opposite railing before Ricky could react.

“What the hell, man?” Ricky yelled.

“Oops.” Luc shrugged. Ricky glared at him, and Luc stared back, raising his eyebrows. He knew he would crush Ricky in a fight—and Ricky knew it, too, because he backed off, muttering under his breath. A freshman girl had managed to disentangle her friend’s dress, and was half propping her up. Luc was about to tell them both to go home when a couple tucked away in the corner caught his eye.

A girl with long blond hair braided nearly to her waist stood with her back to him. Something about her—her back, the messy braid—struck Luc as familiar, and he felt a small thrill go up his spine. She was talking to Mike Ditson, a junior basketball player and first-class asshole. Judging by the way Mike was frowning, something big was going down.

Maybe he was getting dumped.

That thought made Luc smile.

Mike nodded to her and said something else before turning and disappearing down the stairs. The girl stayed where she was, staring out over the bay, her shoulders rigid.

Wisps of her hair kept coming loose from her braid. She reached up to smooth them down. He could see her long, graceful fingers from where he stood, but there was no polish on her nails. All the girls he knew wore it, even Jas.

It was strangely compelling to see bare nails.

She moved closer to the railing and leaned out a little. The silk wraparound skirt she had on billowed around her legs. She smoothed it down over her hips and he forgot everything—what to think, what to say, how to breathe.

Everything about her was amazing. The way she tilted her head to the side, like she was listening for something. The curve of her neck right at the shoulder, a spot he wanted desperately to touch.

Someone jostled him from behind, breaking his train of thought. God, what the hell was he doing? What the hell was he thinking of doing?

Karen. He had to find Karen. He took a long drink of beer.

He was tired of being alone tonight.

He glanced back at the railing, but the girl was gone.

He headed downstairs to the hold. Hardwood floors gleamed in the light of a dozen candles, and softer music played against the background of the thumping bass from above.

Lily, one of Karen’s best friends, was leaning against the gleaming chrome sink, talking animatedly to another girl with identically tan skin, blond hair, and the look of someone who spent most of her life on vacation.

“So the next time you go to the Vineyard, you have to check out this new art nouveau coffee shop that makes the most to-die-for cappuccino. You seriously can’t get anything like it here.”

Luc barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. He cleared his throat.

“Have you seen Karen?” he asked.

Lily swung around to face him, her high ponytail swinging around her head like a pendulum. Sparkly blue makeup covered her narrowed eyelids. “Why would she want to see you after you ditched her last night? That makes, what, twice in the last two weeks? Way to be a boyfriend, Luc.”

Of course Karen had told Lily. “Look, I had a family emergency. It’s none of your business, anyway.”

“She’s my best friend, so yeah, it is my business.” Lily’s makeup made her look just like a bug. Like a large, skinny insect. “A word of advice, Lucas: You’re not the only guy who’s interested. You might want to try a little harder.”

Heat surged up the back of his neck. Lily was one of the few people who outwardly disliked him, although as far as he knew, he’d never done anything to make her feel that way. Usually he just ignored her, but tonight, he just wasn’t in the mood to take it.

“A word of advice, Lily: Keep your nose job out of it.”

“Cute. Very original.” She turned her back to him.

Past the kitchen was a short hallway that led, Luc knew, to the boat’s three bedrooms. A cord hung across the hallway, with a neatly lettered please keep out sign attached to it.

Everyone respected Karen’s rules. Luc hesitated, debating whether he should look for her there, but in the end he decided against it. She was hosting the party. She wouldn’t be hiding out in a bedroom.

He went back upstairs and wound back toward the prow, where there was a smaller deck. In the shadows, where the spiral staircase led to the upper deck, was the girl he had seen before, the one with the braid.

The same flicker of recognition tugged at him. He still hadn’t seen her face, but the way the light shone behind her outlined the curves under her cream-colored shirt. She was thin—a little bony, even—but he could tell by the way she accepted a beer from one guy and at the same time easily laughed at something a different guy was saying that she was confident as hell.

Her tank top dipped low in the back, he noticed, exposing her tanned shoulder blades.

Luc swallowed hard.

Suddenly, the crowd seemed to clear. The two guys disappeared up the stairs, leaving the girl with the braid alone in a pocket of shadows.

Something leapt inside Luc’s chest, like when space opened up on the field and he knew he had a shot. There was no thought involved, just his body moving toward the goal. He had to see her face.

A breeze lifted strands of hair that had escaped the braid hanging over her shoulder. They danced wildly around her head, and this time she let them.

He smelled flowers mixed with the salty sea air as he approached.

He must have made a sound, because she spun around and pinned him with her stare. Gray eyes. A flare of hot recognition leapt in his gut.

It was the girl from the accident; the girl who had run away.

“Hey—hey again,” he stammered. Shock kept his brain from telling his mouth what to say, and he stood there like an idiot with his mouth hanging half open. He had hoped to see her again, but now that she was right in front of him, all his game was completely gone. “You’re here.” Idiot.

Her eyes appeared to grow darker. Those eyes—like there were shadows moving underneath them. She said nothing.

He ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat. Get a grip, man.

“So, you know Karen?” Of everything he could have asked, why had that question been the one to pop out? He could have asked where she had run off to, if she was okay, a hundred other questions that weren’t about whether or not she knew his girlfriend.

“I’ve … seen her before,” the girl answered cautiously.

Her voice had a musical lilt to it. He found himself moving closer without intending to. She smelled like flowers—lilac. The word popped into his head. It was intoxicating. He wanted to bury his face in her hair and breathe her in. Do more than just breathe her in.

His gaze ran over her face, stopping at the spot on her temple where, the day before, a small gash had leaked blood. Now only a tiny mark indicated she’d even been hurt.

He had a sudden vision of that poor lady: that form he’d seen hunched over the steering wheel. He’d never seen a dead person before.

“Why did you run away yesterday?” he asked, his throat dry as sandpaper.

She frowned. “Why do you care?”

Now, that was a good question. He chalked it up to guilt, for not making sure she was okay … but standing there so close he could feel her breath against his face, he knew it wasn’t guilt. Not at all.

“Why are you avoiding my question?” He inched closer. She tried to back away, but the railing kept her from going any farther. The space between them grew smaller; the smell of her, that insane smell of flowers, intensified. “Look, I was worried. The woman who was driving—”

“I didn’t know her,” she said quickly. “She was just giving me a ride. There was no reason to stick around. She—she just worked at my school.”

Luc exhaled. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath. “That’s so intense,” he said. “I’m really sorry you had to see that.”

She just stared at him wordlessly. He ran a hand through his hair. “Let’s try this again, okay? My name’s Lucas. What’s yours?” He extended his hand. “Can we do this? Can we start over?”

The girl stared at his hand as though she’d never seen one before. Then, thankfully, she laughed. Her laugh was deep and beautiful, like a low note on a piano. “Corinthe.”

He stared at her mouth and fought the intense desire to hear her whisper his name instead. Light from the paper lanterns hit the dangling crystals at her ears, and bright dots danced over her neck like tiny fireflies. She craned her neck to look past him and he almost reached up to run his fingers down the curve at her shoulder.

“Corinthe. Good. Great. Well, Corinthe, I’m glad you’re okay,” he said.

A look of puzzlement passed over her face. “Thank you,” she said stiffly, as though the words were unfamiliar. She moved a few steps away from him, and he panicked. He didn’t want her to disappear yet.

“Can I get you a drink? There’s—”

“No thanks. I’m fine.” She held up the beer she clearly hadn’t even taken a sip from, then turned and wrapped her free hand around the railing, tipping her head back to look up.

Luc moved next to her cautiously, worried she might suddenly run off again. “What are you looking at?” he asked.

“Stars.” She fell silent for a few moments. “It’s amazing you can still see the stars with all the smog, but you can.”

He didn’t need to look up to know which constellation would be overhead, which stars would be the brightest this time of year. “Do you have a favorite?”

She glanced at him for just a second. “No. How can you choose just one? They aren’t anything special alone. But together …” She swept her hand in a wide arc, but he kept his eyes locked on her face.

She was so beautiful.

For a few minutes, they stood in silence. Luc found, weirdly, that the lapse in conversation didn’t feel uncomfortable. He was actually enjoying standing next to her without speaking, listening to her quiet breaths, watching the light trace the outlines of her hair and her throat.

Corinthe spoke abruptly. “It wasn’t intense.”

“What?”

Corinthe turned to face him. “The accident. It wasn’t intense. And I’m not sorry I was there. Death is the balance to life.” She said it matter-of-factly, but he thought he saw a flicker of uncertainty cross her face. He had a sudden image of his mother—alone, kicking in an alley. At least, that was what his father had told him once, in a drunken stupor. Neither of them had brought it up again, and Luc was thankful for that. He shoved the thought away.

“You sound like you’ve been around death before,” he said.

She looked up at the stars again. “Yes, I have.”

He didn’t push her. But he wanted her to know he really understood, if she needed to talk.

“Look, Corinthe …” The words died on his lips as she turned toward him, her wide eyes darker than he remembered. Without really thinking, he lifted his hand and ran one finger over the spot where the cut had been.

Corinthe froze under his touch. For a second, he thought she was going to bolt. Their eyes met and an electric current ran through his whole body. He felt a humming in his ears as he leaned forward. He couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. The look in her eyes made it hard to think about anything except kissing her.

Then she jerked away and stumbled a few steps backward. She looked toward the water, where a faint green light buzzed in the distance.

“I need to go.” Her voice sounded hoarse. She brushed past him and started back toward the front deck.

“Wait!” Luc followed her blindly along the narrow walkway, where the music was louder. Even more people were packed onto the lower deck, and he had to push his way through the crowd to follow her. He didn’t know what he was doing, could think of nothing but being close to her again.

He followed her when she went down the steps into the cabin, past Lily, who was now ranting to some other girls about how she’d almost drowned in a hot tub in Vail. He’d heard that story at least a dozen times.

When Corinthe ducked under the gold rope blocking off the hallway to the bedrooms, he hesitated.

“We’re not supposed to—” he started, but she cut him off.

“You don’t have to follow me,” she said neutrally, with a quick glance over her shoulder.

Damn it. He was acting like an idiot. But he still ducked under the rope and went down the hall after her.

“So you didn’t say before exactly how you know this crowd,” he prompted.

Corinthe had stopped in front of a closed door. She didn’t answer him. She turned the handle and the door swung inward silently.

“Occupied,” a guy blurted out. In the darkness Luc made out that same faint glow again—a tiny pinprick of greenish light, humming and crackling as it made its way across the room.

Corinthe hit the light switch. Someone screamed. Luc froze. The images bombarded him like stills, like pictures lit up by a flash: one after the other, disjointed, senseless.

Karen.

Mike.

Together.

On the bed.

Mike’s hand slid out from underneath Karen’s black silk tank top. Her eyes were wide and her lips were swollen, as if she’d been kissing for a long time. Normally, her layered honey-brown hair was smooth and neat, but now it was tangled and wild.

“Luc!” Karen cried out. She looked from Mike to Luc and then back to Mike, who was now staring at Corinthe.

“What the hell are you doing?” Luc heard himself say. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. Even his voice sounded slow, distant.

Karen reached out to him. For a moment he focused on her hand, her perfectly manicured pink nails.

Mike sat on the bed with his polo shirt unbuttoned. There was pink lipstick smeared on the side of his chin.

Rage consumed Luc, dizzying, like a hot black tide. It roared through his body and he rocketed forward, grabbed Mike by the collar, and slammed him against the wall hard, driving an elbow against his windpipe. Karen screamed again. There were other voices, too—people shouting his name, a confusion of sounds …

And then a hand on his back: Corinthe, saying, “Wait.”

The sound of her voice and the pressure of her touch pierced the dull fog in his brain, the blur of anger and hurt.

No more fighting. Not worth it. He released his hold on Mike, who slid down the wall and thudded to the ground. Karen immediately crouched down next to him.

“I didn’t know you two were still together,” Mike said, wiping the corner of his mouth. “She said—”

Karen cut him off and turned an accusatory stare at Luc.

“What the hell are you doing? What are you trying to prove?”

The venom in her voice caught him completely off guard.

“Prove? Jesus, Karen. You’re my girlfriend—”

“Was. Was your girlfriend.” Tears made her eyes shine in the soft light and a lump rose up in his throat. “You promised, Luc. Promised you’d show up on time, promised you’d actually be here. I can’t do this anymore. You don’t want to be with me and we both know it.”

He swallowed. The anger slowly seeped away, leaving a deep hollow in his stomach. And, even deeper than that: A momentary lifting. A sense of relief.

It was only a flash. Then he felt empty again, as though he’d been carved out from inside.

“Karen …” He reached for her. She was everything he thought he wanted. Why couldn’t he just love her? “Please.”

“Leave, Luc.” Karen choked back a sob. “Just go home.”

He hesitated. Mike was watching him warily, as though he expected Luc to lunge for him at any second. But Luc just felt tired. Too tired to fight.

“Please,” Karen said. Her voice was strangled.

People had crowded into the hallway, trying to get a look. The girl, Corinthe, was gone. Everyone was deathly quiet but he knew that soon the whispers would begin. Luc pushed through the crowd with more force than was necessary. By Monday, this would be all over school.

Perfect.

He needed to get out of there.

He pushed through the kitchen, avoiding Lily’s triumphant gaze. He took the steps two at a time and gulped in lungfuls of cool night air when he burst onto the deck. He doubled over for a second, panting, fighting the sick feeling in his stomach. Jesus. He’d been a first-class asshole. He hadn’t seen it coming.

“You okay, dude?” Tyler clapped a hand on Luc’s shoulder and laughed. “Looks like you need to take it easy on the brews, man.”

Luc yanked away from Tyler’s touch and pushed his way through the people still laughing and partying on the deck. They’d know soon enough that the golden couple had broken up. News like that spread faster than a California wildfire.

As soon as he landed on the boardwalk, he started to run. Luc had no idea where he was going; he just needed to get as far away from everyone as possible.

There was little traffic on Marina Boulevard, and after a few minutes, he slowed to a walk. His lungs hurt, as if someone were squeezing them. The image of Karen and Mike swirled around in his head. Weirdly, he didn’t feel mad anymore. He felt strangely detached, as if he were watching a movie from someone else’s life. Already he regretted swinging at Mike.

Luc jammed his hands into his pockets and hurried across the street, cutting down Baker. Ahead, the lights from the Palace of Fine Arts reflected across the lagoon.

The place always felt peaceful to him. He and Jas used to go there a lot when they were younger. With Mom. Luc hadn’t been back since she left. His mother had loved the rotunda. She said it was a magical place. Jasmine would sit curled up in her lap, wide-eyed and silent, as she told stories about fairies and knights and beautiful princesses rescued in the nick of time.

After their mother left, Luc had stopped believing.

There was no such thing as happily ever after.