Wilder (The Renegades) by Rebecca Yarros

to.
    This was incredible.
    I’d always loved the water. Even…after, when it had become more of a prescription than an enjoyment, it had always welcomed me home with open arms. There was something about being infinitely weightless, of living in a world without walls, that was simply blissful.
    We swam through the fish, across the wreck, explored the shallower shorelines, and seemed to find a perfect harmony together without uttering a word.
    After over an hour, when we broke the surface for the last time, we both removed our mouthpieces and masks, facing each other as we treaded water about thirty feet from the boat.
    “Worth it?” Paxton asked.
    “Every second. This is amazing—seriously one of the coolest things I’ve ever done. Thank you.”
    The smile he gave me was more beautiful than the scenery around us and more intimate than a kiss. It was soft, open, with a touch of vulnerability that was sexier than any of his performances. “I’m glad that you enjoyed it. You know, if you’re stuck with me the next nine months, you may as well get perks. If there’s something you want that’s not on the excursion list in any port we come to, just tell me. I know it’s going to suck for you at times, and that you got yanked into my world without having a fair choice, but I swear I won’t let you regret it.”
    “And what about you?” I asked. “I’m your tutor. You’re stuck with me for study sessions and test prep and papers. None of this was what you agreed to. You don’t have to spend your free shore time entertaining me. I know there are a lot of…demands on you.”
    The brief internet search I’d done on him hadn’t only turned up his X Games medals, but pages of party pictures with tons of different women. Add that to the mug shots from the few times he’d been arrested for jumping off things he shouldn’t have, and it painted a different picture of Paxton from the one swimming in front of me.
    He tilted his head, making the tattoo along his neck flex and ripple. “No bullshit?”
    My chest tightened in a way I knew had nothing to do with the workout I’d just had. “No bullshit.”
    He moved closer, until only a couple of feet separated us, until I could imagine crossing the distance and finding out how a saltwater kiss tasted. He took a deep breath, like he was trying to decide how much to say. “I like being around you. I can’t explain it any better than that.”
    As much as I wanted to analyze that comment, decipher what he meant, the immediate fear that slid into my peaceful afternoon stole the show. “Don’t play games with me, Paxton.”
    “No games,” he promised. “Just my…friendship. Nine months is a long time not to get to know someone.”
    That pause meant nothing, right? That pause is everything.
    “Right.” I silenced the joyful thirteen-year-old girl who was dancing around in my stomach with the reminder that Zoe had come out of his room a few days ago. “I’d like to be friends,” I admitted. But no further. No deeper. No chance for him to rip through my scars.
    Then he led me back to our ride, helping me up the ladder onto the smaller ski boat. As we headed toward the dock, he gave me that smile again—the one that felt like it was only for me—and those damn butterflies were back. Why did he have to have such different sides to him?
    Wilder I could shut out. He was a pompous, reckless ass who would no doubt get me hurt in more ways than one.
    But Paxton? Yeah. I was defenseless against him, and that was even more dangerous.

Chapter Six
    Leah
    At Sea
    I glanced at the door as Dr. Westwick droned on about the principals of inertia. Physics had to be the most frustrating class I’d ever taken, and honestly, I didn’t care when the ball I’d rolled would stop rolling.
    Unless that rolling ball would explain to me where the hell Paxton was.
    We’d been at sea four straight days, and he had already missed two of our World Lit classes, one of World Religion, and now