High Tide

by Alyson Santos

  Harper squeezes my hands, studying me with gentle patience.

  “I can’t do it,” I whisper. “I can’t.”

  Her expression doesn’t change as she nods. “Okay, then we don’t.” With a gentle squeeze, she lets go and settles into her seat. “Do you need to use the restrooms before we head back?”

  Tears of gratitude spring to my eyes, and I return a wobbly nod of my own.

  I’m not sure what happens on the prisoner side of things when your planned visit is a no-show. I can’t think about that—or any of the other implications that arise after my epic list-fail. Harper refuses to let me wallow though, so here we are, at the beach like yesterday never happened.

  It’s funny what power the coastline has over tattered senses. Feel perks up beneath the sun’s warmth and humid breeze. Sound reignites with the steady crash of waves and call of ocean birds. Smell overwhelms with the salty air and gust of sunscreen. I find myself turning my face to my shoulder just to inhale an extra blast of soothing coconut as we climb the stairs to cross the dunes.

  Harper hesitates when we reach the top and catch a view of the landscape. I immediately see why. It’s like my gaze is magnetized to the large white chair protruding from the sand. More specifically, the sun god perched casually on top.

  Christian hasn’t been assigned to our part of the beach since that incident with his supervisor, which also means I haven’t seen him like this since my feelings for him had started to get out of control. There’s something seductive about the way he sits on his pedestal, aloof and untouchable. Enigmatic and statuesque in his oblivion to the commotion around him. I almost sense the hidden depth radiating off him as he stares over the waves. I think back to the amused smile that initially drew me in, and it hurts to think I had a part in taking that from him.

  “You want to go up a few more blocks?” Harper asks. Her concern is a far cry from the woman who practically threw me at Christian just over a month ago.

  I pull in a long draught of sensory-rich air and tighten my grip on the bag. “No. We can’t play that game for the rest of summer. It will be fine.”

  She doesn’t look convinced, but follows me down the steps anyway.

  We make our way across the sand and settle as close to our usual spot as possible. My skin burns from more than the southern summer sun as I ease the bag from my shoulder. Yes, I feel the moment he sees me. Feel it in a way that has my heart pounding and tiny wings assaulting my stomach. I can’t stop my gaze from drifting back to lock on his, and all those saturated senses from a moment ago converge into one all-consuming rush. Even from this distance I’m hopelessly lost in that green-flecked gaze that says everything and nothing. I don’t know if I’ll be able to talk to him, but it already feels like we’ve had an exhausting conversation.

  Harper is staring at me, jaw slightly open, when I manage to tear my eyes away.

  “Holy…”

  I silence her with a look, and she shrugs. “Sorry, but that right there”—she waves her hand around me—“was freaking hot.”

  “What was?” I focus on arranging my towel to hide any further evidence of my traitorous blood.

  “Damn. I think I need a cold shower from that look you two exchanged.” She fans herself, returning to the Harper I’m more accustomed to.

  I shove her. “You’re ridiculous.”

  She lifts her arms in an am I? gesture, and I shake my head.

  “Go for a walk?” she asks, already making her way to the water. It wasn’t actually a question, and I feel on display once I’m alone.

  Is Christian still watching me? I pull off my top, imagining his scorching gaze climbing over my body like mine does to him every time we’re close. In an overly cruel gesture, I adjust my bikini top, just enough to show a flash of extra skin as I follow Harper. He has to be looking at me now that I’ve cemented myself in his line of sight. It’s only fair for what I have to endure watching him in his “uniform” all day.

  “North or south?” I ask my roommate as I join her in the surf.

  “Actually, maybe we can just stay here.”

  I rest my hands on my hips, doing my best to ignore the race of my pulse. “So… we’re not walking?”

  She turns and peeks over the top of her sunglasses at me. “No, I just wanted to get out of auditory range of a certain lifeguard.”

  Crap.

  But I refuse to show weakness. My arms adjust into a pretzel over my chest. “Okay. So what’s up?”

  “You tell me.” She glances behind me, and I have to steady my breathing. “I let it go for a while, but now we need to discuss this. What happened with Christian?”

  “Nothing. We both agreed things were getting too serious and it’s better to end it now.”

  Harper always has lots to say. She’s charming when she wants to be, sweet when that’s appropriate, and pushy when required. The thing with people who always have a lot to say is that their silence speaks even louder.

  Now, my best friend stares at me loud-and-clear in that rare nothing, eyebrows knitted in all kinds of silent critique. Guidance too, as she waits patiently while my anxious brain fills in the gaps and does what my brain does all too well. She’s quiet while my head screams and screams because, yes, I hear it now. I hear it perfectly over the crash of waves and shouts of children. But she doesn’t understand. How can she? How can anyone? Ironically, Christian seems to be the only one who does.

  “So let me get this straight,” she says finally. At least I can also count on her words to burst out eventually. “You and Christian stopped seeing each other because it was getting too serious.”

  “Right.”

  “And it was serious because you really liked each other.”

  “Sure. I guess.”

  “So you liked each other so much you broke up?”

  Okay, so maybe it sounds worse when it’s oversimplified and out of Emma-brain context.

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “No?” Now her arms are crossed over her tiny bikini top. “Explain it to me then.”

  The gaze I’d been fighting so hard to keep from crawling back toward the beach suddenly fires a direct strike at the lifeguard chair. It’s enough to confirm that the flames ripping through me are burning just as hot a dozen yards away. Does he lie awake at night convincing himself we made the right decision? Did he also make a disastrous choice afterwards to prove just how okay he is? What decisions haunt Christian Lukáč? Because I know from our short time together that he guards a graveyard of them. I push away thoughts of that overwhelming gaze, the way I get lost in its current. We made the right choice. The list… that blew up in my face.

  28. Set up a meeting with Dad.

  “Hello,” Harper draws out, waving her hand in front of my face. “Are you going to share whatever’s going on in there with the rest of us?”

  I blink at Harper, my chest heavy with more than this conversation now. “It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s over.”

  “Well it does because it’s been forever since you’ve connected with someone like you do with him.”

  “Yeah, exactly so—”

  “So you don’t push away the people who make you happy, Emma.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “You keep saying that, but it is that simple. You like a great guy. He likes you back. You have fun together. I get that there are challenges. The language barrier, the culture, the distance, the—”

  “I was falling in love with him.”

  She freezes. Yep, there it is. Dropped like an anvil in the sand between us, and her gaze even flickers as if she just watched it fall.

  “Oh my god. Emma.”

  I suck in a ragged breath, fighting the rising emotion. Is this what she wanted? Is she happy now? Will she finally accept this disaster for what it is?

  No. Because instead of laughing it off, she pulls me in for a hug.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize,” she whispers against my ear. I clench my eyes shut to bloc
k the tears. That’s just what I need right now. To become a sobbing mess on a public beach over a man who’s being paid to watch me.

  “He can see us.” My voice is too weak to have any power over the moment. Harper just holds tighter. “He understands. I don’t know how, but he does. He’s special, Harper, and I can’t lose someone else.”

  She pulls back and searches my eyes. “I get it.” Her gaze drifts past me again and wrestles with an image that’s all too familiar to me. I don’t have to look to see every detail.

  “So you understand why we broke it off?” I breathe out.

  “I do.”

  I thought I’d be relieved to hear her agree. Validation, that’s supposed to bring comfort. But if anything the finality of it sinks heavy and painful in my stomach.

  She reaches up and squeezes my arm, expression soft with compassion. “I do get it, Emma. It’s just.” Her teeth sink into her lower lip as she studies my face. “What if you wouldn’t have to lose him?”

  I try several places that evening, but all are either full or too expensive. I have to be smart with the little money I have left. I can’t blow it all on one night of accommodations. For a brief moment, I stare at my phone, considering a call to Kozy to see if he knows anyone in Bratislava where I could crash. But I quickly abandon the idea. He’d worry, or even worse, tell his parents I’m in trouble. I don’t need anyone coming after me or trying to convince me to go back. No, I don’t need anyone else, and the last he heard things were great and our plans were on track to meet up in two weeks to move into our dorms. Two weeks. I can figure anything out for two weeks.

  I find an empty alcove off the main street and tuck myself against the door. The business is closed now so I should have several hours of peace to rest and work out a plan. Maybe I’m kicking myself for leaving Nadeja. It’s easy to think I could have endured for another two weeks when I’m lying cold, hungry, and alone in an alley. But it wasn’t a choice when I woke up this morning. It wasn’t a choice yesterday, or the day before, or the day before when I realized I didn’t even like her. I’m not sure she liked me either. She just hated being alone more and the nurse in her would never kick a desperate soul onto the street. I’d rather be homeless than someone’s pet.

  I tug my jacket tighter around my shoulders, unsure if the chill is on the inside or out. Either way, the jacket is doing little to fight the gnawing cold. Harder though is the hunger. I know from experience it will get worse before it gets better. But the pain will eventually subside. Eventually my body will accept its state, and if I’m careful, I have enough money to eat every couple of days between now and when Kozy arrives. That’s also when I’ll be able to start my job doing custodial work for the dormitory. At that point I’ll have freedom, food, a roof, and work to pay for it. Everything I need is right there waiting for me in just under fourteen days. I’ve been worse off than this. Much worse because anything without freedom is unbearable. This? Just another challenge. No, I don’t need anyone or anything. I never have. I never will.

  I fall asleep with a smile on my lips.

  Chapter Twelve: Poolside Lies

  Gram is pretty forgiving when I tell her about the prison visit fail. It’s evident in her response that she never expected me to go through with it anyway. She offers something generous like, “well, it means a lot that you tried.” Tried. That’s the problem. I tried, and I’m not a person who tries. I do. That’s the point of the lists. Those pages are stocked full of successes because only sure-wins make the cut. The lists are law. They’re order. A risky prison visit slipped through security and look how that turned out. This is also why relationships with Slovak lifeguards can’t be included. Not that the stupid part of my brain always agrees.

  While logical brain is busy sorting and filtering, stupid brain keeps replaying yesterday’s beach visit. It remembers every detail of Christian’s face when he saw me, his posture when I fought my reaction. I did well ignoring the thunder of blood as I passed near him on my way back from the heart-to-heart with Harper. I doubt he even knows how every neuron in my brain crackled when his eyes grazed mine. How twenty-four hours later small surges still rush through me with each flash of that moment. My brain and body are so at odds that when Harper asks if I want to go to the beach, my brain says no while my lips say “sure.” Sadly, Harper goes with my lips on this one, so here we are, settling way too close to the lifeguard chair when today’s guardian turns out to be her ridiculously-hot iguana boy.

  Jakub flaunts a wide smile as we pass, and I’m just grateful my drama with Christian hasn’t impacted Harper’s relationship with Jakub. It must be nice to hang out and have fun and not agonize over questions of soul-connections and forevers. A summer fling. Such a normal, acceptable reality for a college student. But I’ll never be attracted to playboys like Jakub or Tanner who make flings possible. No, apparently I need haunting enigmatic puzzles that burrow into unsafe recesses of your heart, and when Harper drags me to lunch with Jakub, I’m stuck in an awkward confrontation with my ghost.

  Christian’s expression was unreadable when his gaze rested on me after meeting up with us at a resort pool deck between where the guys are stationed. It didn’t help that Harper and Jakub had immediately scurried off to do heaven knows what for the hour break, leaving us alone. Now, Christian and I sit awkwardly at the pool’s edge, watching our feet dangle in the water. His homemade lunch remains untouched in the plastic bag beside him. If his stomach feels like mine, he won’t be eating it.

  “How have you been?” I ask, trying not to focus on how amazing he looks in his fitted tee that seems to further reflect the colored specks in his eyes when they catch the sun. It’s funny the things you forget when you’re trying to forget someone.

  “I am fine. You?”

  I smile to myself, imagining him practicing this conversation in his primary school English class. Who played the love-sick American girl in that textbook script?

  “Fine.”

  He nods, gaze fixed on something off in the distance. I focus back on the pattern his feet cut in the water. Mine move as well—in the opposite direction as if to avoid an accidental collision. Even our bodies are seated with careful distance. Close enough that I can smell the sunscreen on his skin, but far enough that there’s no chance of touching it. My fingers tighten around the concrete ledge as the need to do so grows. My brain chooses the worst possible moment to remember what it felt like to be close to him. To explore the muscle flexing beneath his shirt as he works through his own demons. I remember how easy it is to get lost in his gaze that shouts and whispers secrets I’m still desperate to know. Can I be friends with this man? I don’t think I can. My grip tightens to a painful level.

  “It was good to see you back at our beach yesterday. I was surprised.”

  A brief smile spreads over his lips. Polite, I guess, because there’s no evidence of it in his eyes. “Someone was sick. They need me there.”

  I nod. “Where are you today? Is it far?”

  He shakes his head. “A few chairs down.” His hand even waves in the general direction to give our exchange more dimension. Geez, why don’t we just discuss the weather or something?

  Hot today.

  Yep. Like every day.

  Yep. Fewer clouds though.

  Good point. Fewer clouds.

  I watch our feet swing in the water. Small ripples overlap in the closest contact we’ll ever have with each other from this point on thanks to me. I should say something else to fill the void, but my brain is shouting too loud. Does he hear it? My shoulders tense in an effort to block the silent screams.

  Christian, I can’t stop thinking about you. You haunt me day and night. I think maybe I haunt you too. I wish things were different. I wish I could be like Harper and just tackle you right here and hold you and touch you and discover everything I can about you in the now. I wish now was enough for me. I wish I had room for a “fling” on my list because I want you so much. So much it freaking hurts and I...

>   “You can eat your lunch if you want,” I say. “You must be hungry.”

  He glances down at his bag. “Thanks. I will eat.” But he doesn’t reach for it, so I’m not sure what that means. His gaze is distant as well, and I get distracted by the way his dark lashes accent the multi-colored irises. Damn, he’s breathtaking, even more than I remember. My stomach drops when those eyes lock on mine. Caught, I scramble for an explanation for my gawking.

  “Your face is looking a little red,” I lie. “Maybe make sure you put more sunscreen on this afternoon.

  “Okay.”

  It’s nice of him to accept my lie. Are his insides ripping apart as well? Is he imagining me pushed up against the pool wall beneath him, desperate and aching? Who knew playing it safe could be so dangerous because I’m one more fantasy away from shoving him into the water. Instead, it’s me who’s slipping off the edge into the coolness, hoping to soothe the burn. My top and shorts cling to my body as I sink to the bottom, allowing the curtain to envelop me. It feels good to disappear for a moment. To escape the torture of his presence. When I come back up, though, no amount of cold water can tame the fire in his gaze as he watches me. He’s burning like I am. Wanting the same forbidden fruit that’s become even more tempting now that it’s off-limits. Now that we’ve both agreed it’s poisonous.

  But… what if?

  I can’t stop my arms from pulling my wet tank over my head and dropping it on the ledge. My bikini top does its job of holding his attention, until I start to wriggle out of the tight denim shorts. Those join the pile of saturated clothing beside him where his gaze follows, then lands back on me. He still hasn’t moved, but I notice the clench of his jaw, the way the lines of his defined biceps are now rigid from his own grip on the edge of the pool.

  “Want to cool off for a little?” I ask. Innocently, too. I’m not trying to seduce him. I’m not trying to do anything because I’ve lost control of my brain—both parts, gone. Blown up and vaporized in the heat of his presence.