Never (Never, #1)(13)
He’s forgotten me completely already.
“I hae t’ go break this up,” Jamison starts. “Would ye fancy a dander? See the town?”
I give Peter one last look, but I know in the centre of me that in this moment, I am less than nothing to him, so I give Jamison a singular nod.
“Did yer fall hurt then?” he asks, staring straight ahead, shoving a hand through his hair.
“Yes.” I throw him a look. “Rather.”
He bites back a smile. “Yer welcome, by the way.”
Jamison cocks an eyebrow as he leads me off the boat, down into the streets, and something about how the village looks gives me a nervous-excited feeling, like maybe I might love it here. It feels like I’ve fallen into the past and through it into a dream. My grandmothers took me earlier this year to Disneyland. Have you been on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride? It’s rather comparable to what their town is like, but incomparable is Jamison Hook who, unlike the filthy robots on that ride, looks more like he might belong in an art gallery, perhaps right next to the Venus de Milo.
“For what?” I ask him, my eyebrows up again.
He gives me a look as he leads me off the boat. “For saving ye, you hallion.”
I roll my eyes exaggeratively. “Hardly.”
He grabs me by the waist and moves me backwards towards the water. “I can clod you back in if ye’d prefer?” He smirks playfully. “Unsave ye.”
“You wouldn’t!” I tell him, my nose in the air, liking his hands very much on my waist, but hoping he doesn’t know it.
He shrugs. “I make no promises for what I would and wudnae be willing to do to see ye all wet again.” He gives me a cheeky smile, and I smack him in the arm.
He’s fun to touch. Have you ever had a person who just feels fun to touch?
He laughs again. He thinks he’s so suave and so charming* that the only response I consider appropriate is to race ahead of him and make him walk after me—remind him of the sexual revolution that’s taking place on my planet (and that I’m currently losing on this one).
“So yer one of the Darling girls.” He calls as he walks after me, just as I wanted him to.
“Yes,” I tell him, my nose in the air.
“It’s been a wee while since one o’ ye were here,” he tells me, and I keep walking ahead. “What happe—Oh. Morrigan. How ’bout ye?”
I glance back at him, and there’s a rather lovely girl? standing next to him with two loaves of bread in her arms. Long, wavy auburn hair flowing over her shoulders, pale skin that’s freckled like crazy in the sun, and eyes that are watching me coldly, but I imagine they look upon Jamison Hook rather warmly.
She doesn’t say hello back to him.? She just looks from him to me and back to him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He throws her a sort of lazy, indifferent smile.
She gives me a long look.
“Who’s this?” she asks him and not me.
“Morrigan, this is…” He looks over at me. “This is Daphne Tallulah Bowing-Darling.”
I glare at him because I know he got that wrong on purpose. The way he’s smiling at me, he’s being facetious; he’s done it to annoy me. And unfortunately, it does annoy me.
“Pleasure.” I ignore him and extend my hand to her, but she doesn’t shake it, just eyes it instead, which is quite rude, no? And it’s definitely awkward, me with my hand extended for a good four seconds before Jamison takes it and gives it a merry shake, all pleased with himself, which I, frankly, am grateful for, but I don’t think it endears me any more to his friend.
Her eyes pinch.
“And how do you know each other?”
Jamison opens his mouth, but I cut in.
“I just dropped in.” I shrug breezily. “I got in a spot of trouble, and Jay-muh-son”—I pronounce it wrong intentionally and look at him as I do; he rolls his eyes, but he’s fighting a smile—“was kind enough to help me.”
She eyes me suspiciously. “Pan’s latest?” She nods in my direction though the question isn’t directed at me.
“Aye.” Jamison nods and catches my eye. “Sure, but the fairest one yet, wudnae ye say?”
“If you like skin and bones, I s’pose.”
She tosses me another unimpressed look. A bit like how you might look at a spider in your bedroom if you were particularly unfond of spiders.
And then she walks away.
Hook watches after her before he looks down at me, eyebrows up all amused. “D?nnae mind her.”
“Girlfriend?” I ask nosily.
“Are we together, ye mean?” he clarifies, and I nod. He scoffs like the absolute arsehole I’m positive he is. “Aye, sometimes, but strictly in the biblical sense.”
I give him an unimpressed look, and the way he smiles at me for a second makes me forget that I flew here with a boy who has forgotten me already, who, for all I know, thinks I’ve drowned and isn’t even bothering to search for my body.
And then there’s the sound of glass smashing, and two men tumble out into the street.
A rowdy crowd follows them, and it all happens so quickly.
A fight breaks out, and there’s shoving. Calhoun’s in the middle of it, and Jamison’s on the outskirts looking in, hovering close behind me, and I find myself watching him, not the unfolding mess, and I decide I like how his mouth looks when he goes serious.