Bridgeport Academy » COMPLETE

27

Amped up from their cheer, the Bridgeport Owls beat the St. Lucius Geese 6 to 3. As soon as the final period's buzzer sounded, Alex hustled to her dorm room. There, on her bed, was her cell phone. Had she left it on her bed all this time? On it were three unanswered calls (all from her sister) and one text message: I'm in port. Come by if you want. – Michael.

She quickly pulled on her most flattering, pointiest thigh-high leather boots and sprinted down to the waterfront. Michael stood on the white sailboat's small deck wearing khakis and a long-sleeved polo. He was holding binoculars up to his eyes and was gazing at something in the trees. A fishing pole was propped against the boat's railing.

When he heard her behind him, he turned around, the binoculars still pressed to his eyes. Alex instinctively covered her chest, as if they were x-ray glasses.

"No football game for you?" he asked, putting the binoculars down.

"Nah."

"Isn't the football game the biggest part of the day?"

Yeah, except her ex-boyfriend happened to be the other team's star quarterback. Alex wasn't exactly sure if Quincy had even gotten the I-need-a-break message she'd left on his voicemail, but she kind of didn't care. "I'm not really into football," she replied coyly. "May I have permission to board?"

He laughed. "Yeah, sure."

"So..." She ran her hands over the boat's chrome rails. "Does this thing have a name?"

"Not yet. She's brand new," Michael answered, his piercing eyes on her. "What field hockey position do you play again?"

"Oh, center," she responded, as if it didn't matter, even though she'd played field hockey since she was seven and had scored two of the six goals today. He chuckled, then picked up the fishing pole. "Why is that funny?"

"It's not. It's just, I can't imagine you in a field hockey outfit."

"Have you tried? Imagining it, I mean." Alex smiled coquettishly. She was being bold, even for her.

"Maybe." Michael's eyes were on her. "It's a pretty short kilt. I bet you girls shorten them, don't you?"

"Of course not!" Alex lied. "They're that short to begin with!" 

She sat down on one of the captain's chairs and stared out at the glistening water. Bridgeport's chapel spire peeked up through the elegant, blue-green trees, and the owls criss-crossed overhead, as if magnetically drawn to the yacht. Even the water smelled sexy. 

"So, I wanted to thank you for the other night," she finally ventured. "The plane. Dinner. Seeing your family's house. It was really fun."

He removed the binoculars from around his neck. "I'm glad."

A cheer rose up from the football stadium in the distance, and the band started to play. Alex glanced over in its direction, wondering who had scored. Quincy was probably on the field right this second. 

Alex looked over at Michael. Biting her lip, she stood up and took a tiny step in his direction. "So, yeah, it was fun, but..."

"But what?" Michael paused. Alex thought she detected something funny in his voice. She felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff that overlooked a giant sea. It was either turn around and head back to the bungalow or dive off the cliff. She took a huge gulp of air.

"Do you think that there was something maybe that could've been funner?" Alex asked, twisting her head to the side.

"Funner isn't a word," Michael smirked. Water lapped at the side of the boat.

"Yeah, I know," she whispered, lowering her eyes, feeling young and dumb. Go back to the bungalow! Now! Fighting her better judgment, she batted her eyelashes and stuck out her chest. She had no idea where she was getting these moves from. Kae, maybe? She heard Michael breathe in sharply. 

Fuck it. She was diving. She walked right up to where he stood, still fishing. He was a few inches taller than she was and he had a tiny scratch on the side of his nose. He propped his fishing pole against the railing again. 

"Maybe this could be...funner?" Then she leaned her entire body against his and kissed him. Ahh, yes. 

His mouth felt amazing. Alex tried to restrain herself, but part of her wanted to devour him. She kept kissing him, softly at first, willing his lips to part until finally his strong hands circled her waist and his lips melted around hers. He pulled her closer and her mouth opened. Alex worried that she tasted like sweat from the game, but she didn't care. Nor did she care that they were in broad daylight, on Bridgeport's campus, on Black Saturday, and the whole school was only half a mile away. 

She stopped kissing him and took a step back, smiling shyly. Michael licked his lips. It looked like he was trying to hide a grin. "Um, well. That's, uh, definitely..." He took her hand in his, and his eyes met hers. He chewed on his lower lip a little. "I think...I think I should go back to my office for a while."

"Great. Let's go," Alex replied, smiling. "Now."

He steeled himself against the railing. "I mean, I think I should go back to my office and I think you should go back to your football game," he whispered, his hand brushing her ear.

Alex stepped away from him and looked frantically back in the direction of the stadium. Michael stepped off the yacht. He reached out for her and helped her onto the dock too. 

"If I come to your office, you won't regret it." She'd never said anything like that to anybody in her life.

"I realize that," Michael sighed. "Believe me. I most definitely realize that. But, um..." He looked down at his navy blue boat shoes. "I think...I think I should go. But thank you."

And with that, he stuck his thumb out, touched her on the chin, and turned, leaving Alex and her beautiful black pointy boots, standing on a stupid boat dock, alone.