Nowhere But Here
Page 70

“So are you ready for the rope swing?” Oz asks.
My head inclines to the side. “I’m sorry?”
“The rope swing. It’s tradition. Everyone who swims in the lake has to jump into the water using the swing. Then you carve your name on one of the trees.”
“Well...” I assess the rope. It dangles over the water and it’s attached to the aging tree. The one I’m assuming Olivia wanted me to find. Off to the side of the swing, in the water, are several large rocks and in the middle is a deep pool. It appears safe enough, but I don’t have time.
I can’t be caught out here. Not in the woods. Not with the darkness. “I’m okay with being the exception.”
Oz crosses his arms over his chest. “Classic Emily.”
“What?”
“Backing out of things. You engage just enough and then you skulk back into your shell.”
Uh... “It was me that kissed you.”
“Yeah, and you stopped before it got good. Think about it. You’ve been here for a month, and tell me what you’ve learned about any of us.”
“Plenty.”
“What type of cancer does Olivia have?”
Oz swears when I don’t answer.
“No one’s mentioned what type,” I whisper.
“And you’ve never asked. Day after day your body is here, you play nice, talk to your parents and then you go to bed. Like today, you spend the day with me and then I give you an opportunity to be a part of the bigger picture, part of a family tradition, and you rein yourself back in where it’s nice and safe.”
His words sting. Very much so, but how dare he throw anything in my face. “I have shared. I told you about how I’m scared of upsetting my dad by being curious about Eli.”
“And then you crawled back into your hole—proving my point.”
“Like you’ve tried so hard to get to know me?”
Oz tosses his arms out. “Why should I try? Olivia’s been busting her ass asking you question after question and you sit around giving her half-truths. Eli’s been doing this dance with you for the past seven years. Why the hell would I want to play monkey for someone who doesn’t respect anyone else?”
“Oh my God!” I shriek. “I don’t ask about you because there’s nothing to know. You graduated from high school and your job is to follow me around. I have ears. I listen. Especially when everyone thinks I’m not. Following me around is your job for some stupid reason and you are perfectly okay with that. What type of life is this? Olivia says do something, you do it. Eli calls or texts and you’re immediately on your feet. Nope, you don’t play monkey for me because you’re already doing it for everyone else!”
Oz towers over me. “You have no idea what the club means!”
A voice tells me to stop, but I can’t. A raging flood has taken over my thoughts and my emotions are being carried away by the rapid current. “And when you aren’t busy doing what everyone wants you obsess over Olivia.”
“She’s dying!”
“But at least she’s living. Can you say the same?”
“Like you know anything about living. You never take a risk!”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“But not fully engaged. When the hell are you going to step outside of yourself and experience what’s going on around you? You have a huge family I would kill to be blood-related to and you can’t appreciate it to save your life!”
“Take me back to Olivia’s.”
Oz lowers his tone and those blue eyes freeze into ice. “Not until you jump off that rope.”
He wants me to cower. He wants me to boohoo and do what he demands, but that’s not going to happen. I step into his personal space. “Can’t make me.”
His eyebrows shoot behind his hair. “I can’t?”
“You. Can’t.”
Oz stoops and before I can ask what he’s doing, his shoulder connects with my stomach and then I’m off the ground. A squeal leaves my mouth and my hair dangles over my face. I kick and Oz wraps both of his arms over my legs and locks them to him.
“Put me down!” I yell.
Oz’s response is to walk off the dock onto the grass, and he stalks around the edge of the lake toward the rope.
“I mean it! Put me down!”
He moves swiftly. Stealthily. As if my weight was nothing more than a helium balloon.
“You’ll have to put me down in order for me to grab on to the rope and I won’t do it! This is stupid.”
“You won’t have to,” Oz says. Some of the pressure releases from my legs and I wiggle for escape, but he still has a firm grip on me. “Because I’ll hold it for you.”
In less than a second, I slip down. My chest sliding against his until I’m face-to-face, nose-to-nose, lips near lips with Oz. His arm snakes around my waist and his strong hold squeezes us closer together until there’s no space left. I become aware. Very aware, and this awareness creates a warm tingle in my lower belly.
“Let me go,” I whisper, but there’s absolutely no conviction in my voice.
“I wish I could,” he mumbles. “But for some reason I can’t.”
Both of our chests rise and fall and my fingers curl into the hair near the base of his neck. My mouth dries out and I swear my blood vibrates with the beat of my heart.
The thick twined rope is by my head and Oz fists the cord in his hand. “If you don’t want to do this, tell me and I’ll let you go. I’m an asshole, but I’m not that bad of a person.”