by Mary Frame
I jump away before I can do anything I’ll regret. “Anyone want sandwiches?”
“Me!” Reese calls.
“I am feeling rather peckish,” Jude says.
Beast reaches out and grabs my wrist before I can escape.
I blink down at him, not used to this perspective. “You want a sandwich?”
He shakes his head yes, then no.
“What?”
He points at himself, then me, then the cooler. “You want to help?”
A quick nod.
“Right. Yeah.” It is his thing, feeding people.
I walk over to the cooler, heart thumping like a bass drum in my chest. We’ll have to stand next to each other. All those muscles and skin will be right next to me. Maybe we’ll both reach for the mustard at the same time and our hands will brush.
Fred, it’s just sandwiches! Calm your titties!
“Right,” I say again. “Let’s do it together.”
Fitz snorts out a laugh.
Shit. My face is burning and it isn’t from the bright ball of yellow fire in the sky.
“I mean, let’s make them together.”
It’s all going to be fine. I just won’t talk or look at Beast for the rest of the afternoon. Maybe the rest of my life.
Chapter Twelve
You’re a genuinely good man. There aren’t many of you left.
–Cyrano de Bergerac
* * *
“It’s time for extra crispy chicken.” Jude claps his hands together with a loud snap.
The sharp sound lulls me out of the after-lunch doze I was enjoying, stretched out on my towel in the warmth of the sun.
Annabel wrinkles her nose at him. “We just had sandwiches.”
“Not the food, the game.”
“I should have known.” She flops back on her towel.
“How do we play?” Fitz sits up on his elbows.
“Y’all know how to play chicken, right?”
I tilt my head. “I assume we aren’t talking about the model of conflict in game theory?”
Reese laughs. Everyone else: crickets.
I sigh. “You mean the game in the water, two teams, people sitting on each other’s shoulders, fighting until someone falls?”
“Exactly right, Fred.” Jude points at me. “The fun version. And this particular variation is extra crispy chicken because the players,” he pauses for dramatic effect, “are blindfolded.”
Annabel groans.
Fitz nudges Reese with his shoulder. “Let’s go first.”
“Fine. Let’s lose fast, though. I want to read.” She puts said book facedown on the towel before standing.
But if Fitz is upset about her threat to fail, he doesn’t show it. In fact he smirks and winks at us as Jude hands out the blindfolds. I glance over at Beast, who’s sitting on my other side. He shrugs and one side of his mouth tilts up.
“You two can fight the winners of this round.” Fitz jerks a thumb in our direction.
I refuse to look over at Beast. “Maybe Grace will want to play.”
She’s still floating about thirty yards down the shore. She came up to eat the sandwich Beast made her, then she went right back to her floating.
Jude and Fitz splash into the water first. Jude hands handkerchiefs to Annabel and Reese as they join in, chest-deep in the shallow waves. The guys have to duck down to help the ladies get on their shoulders.
“This is sort of terrifying. I can’t see,” Annabel says after she’s tied the fabric around her head, clutching at Jude’s head, her hands covering his eyes.
Jude holds on to both of her legs with an arm wrapped over his chest, his other hand prying her fingers from his eyes. “That’s the point.”
She smacks him on the shoulder. “The point is abject terror?”
“The point is a slight amount of terror and abject fun.”
“Abject fun isn’t a thing.”
“Are we ready yet?” Reese asks.
“Well it is already entertaining,” I tell Beast. “But it will be over quick if Reese is set on losing.”
Beast shakes his head and points at Reese.
“You don’t think she’ll fall on purpose?”
An emphatic shake of his head.
“Why not?”
He starts signing a word letter by letter, and I track his fingers’ motions. C-O-M-P-E-T-I-T-I-V-E.
“So all this bluster about wanting to read is to lull Annabel into a false sense of complacency?”
A firm nod.
I laugh. “She’s smart, too. Dangerous combination.”
Drawn by the noise and excitement, Grace paddles her way back to watch the fight.
Jude counts them down and he’s barely uttered one when Reese pushes Annabel backward, and then without mercy or hesitation shoves her again—pushing her to the side hard enough that she slips off Jude and into the water.
Annabel comes up sputtering. “Reese! I thought we were friends.”
Surprised, I share a glance with Beast.
Told you, he signs.
“I want to play.” Grace heaves her inflatable on the beach.
Beast is already up, moving in her direction before she has a chance to ask. “Beast, be my partner?”
Annabel returns to her towel to dry off while Grace and Beast set up against Fitz and Reese. Jude stays near the water to referee.
Reese, still on Fitz’s shoulders with the bandana now hanging around her neck, flexes her muscles at Beast while Jude helps put the blindfold on Grace.
Beast moves down further into the water to match Fitz’s height so there isn’t too much disparity in the reach.
Once Grace is up on Beast’s shoulders, Jude issues a countdown to commence the fight.
Despite Beast’s secure grip, Reese is able to take Grace down by using one simple advantage: Grace is insanely ticklish. Reese secures both of Grace’s hands and then all it takes is a few pokes in her ribs, and Grace surrenders, throwing herself into the water.
“No fair, you’re bigger than me,” Grace complains.
Jude calls out to me, “Fred, you’re up. It’s you against Reese for the championship.”
“Bring it on, bitch!” Reese crows. Beast wasn’t kidding about her surprisingly bloodthirsty nature. She is really into it now. I might be concerned if she weren’t also laughing and smiling.
“I don’t have a partner,” I call back.
“Beast can be your base.” Jude waves me over.
I was afraid of this.
I try another tactic. “He was on Grace’s team.”
Jude shrugs. “He can be both. He’s like Switzerland. In size and temperament.”
I’m about three seconds away from saying something embarrassing like, I don’t want Beast’s head between my legs. But I manage to keep those words on the inside and force myself down to the water, gritting my teeth against breathlessness the whole way.
Grace hands me the blindfold as she passes me on the beach.
Beast crouches a little, submerging himself to his neck, and somehow I manage to jump and squirm and wrap my legs around his neck. He holds me in place by cupping my shins while he stands.
I yelp as he straightens to his full height, hanging on to his head.
One big hand pats my leg.
“I’m good,” I say.
I’m not good. His hands are incredibly distracting. Everything about him is a distraction, the heat of his neck, the contrast of his warm hands with the cold water. But I’m not afraid of falling. Even in this precarious position, being near him offers a strange sense of security even though I’m perched on his shoulders with his head between my crotch.
Don’t think about that.
I can’t not think about it.
Once in a stable position, I wrap the handkerchief around my head.
“Make sure it’s on tight. No cheating,” Reese says.
“This is the big championship, get ready,” Jude says. Then he counts us down.
Without any hesitation
, Reese is on me—grabbing at my wrists and yanking me to the side to try and throw me off-balance. She used the same move on Annabel, and I’m somewhat prepared for it. I jerk myself in the opposite direction while she’s clutching at me in an attempt to destabilize her.
It works—for a second. I’m still secure on Beast’s shoulders but I can’t see what’s happening with Reese. I assume she wavers, since she’s not on the attack. So I go on the offense with the shoving.
Reese leans back, tugging me with her since she’s holding my arm, pulling me forward and to the side. But I’m like a barnacle, determined to hang on. At least then when I go, she’s coming with me. Losing my center, I start to slide off, still hanging on to one of Reese’s hands. Beast grabs me before my head can go under, although the blindfold falls down around my neck. Reese has also collapsed to the side and I laugh and yell at her. “Not so tough now, huh, bitch?”
She throws her head back and laughs, Fitz watching her with an adoring, awestruck gaze.
I smile at Beast but the smile drops when I glance down at our positioning. I’m still hanging on to him, my legs wrapped around his hips, on his side. Like I’m a toddler or something.
I unwrap my legs and kick myself free, one arm grasping his shoulder, but then something in the water—something slimy—brushes against my leg and with a startled yelp, I attempt to climb him like a tree, my arms gripping him around the neck.
“There’s something down there.” My voice is high and panicked.
Jude lets out a bellow of laughter before calling out, “It’s likely a catfish or something.”
“A catfish? You mean one of those fish with the mouths big enough to eat my leg?”
Beast’s shoulders hitch under my arms.
“Are you laughing?”
He’s never laughed. Not that I’ve witnessed.
And I’ll never know if he did, because he pivots and walks us to shore, cutting through the water with ease, despite my hold making us that much wider and adding to the drag.
“I’m not letting you go.” And I don’t. Not even when we’re back on shore, standing in the sand. I’m still wrapped around him, water dripping off both of us.
After a moment, he taps me on the back.
“Sorry.” I shudder and release him. “I hate not knowing what’s underneath me. Especially when it’s slimy.” I slide to the ground, the flimsy material of my cheap swimsuit the only thing between our bodies. Despite the breeze chilling my wet skin, a wave of heat rushes through me.
I jerk away, marching over to my towel and wrapping it around my middle, sitting on the sand.
Beast stalks back into the water, deep enough for the water to hit him in the chest. The quicker to be away from me, most likely.
Grace chases after him. “Throw me in!”
He doesn’t react at first, not until she attacks him from behind, looping her skinny arms around his neck. Beast retaliates by picking Grace up and tossing her into deeper water. They do this for long enough that my arms start to ache just from watching, but Beast remains indefatigable.
After a while of lazing around on the beach, Annabel says she “forgot something” in the tent and Jude goes with her.
Totally code for sexy times.
Reese is stretched out on her towel, reading. Fitz naps next to her, lying on his back with his head close to hers, his hand on her thigh like he has to be touching her somewhere, even in sleep.
After a while, Grace returns and Beast swims down the shoreline away from our group. She wraps her towel around her and sits next to me, running her hands through the sand.
“Where’s Beast going?” I ask.
“For a swim. He won’t go far.”
I shade my eyes to pick him out amid the sparkling water. He cuts through the small waves easily. “I can’t believe he isn’t tired after throwing you around for the past twenty minutes.”
“He is a beast.” She smirks. “Hey, that was really funny when you freaked out about the plant.” She cracks up, nudging me with her elbow.
“Yep. Hilarious.”
Beast disappears around a curve in the shoreline. I frown. “He probably shouldn’t go too far. What if he cramps?”
“Stop worrying, he’s fine. He’s a good swimmer. Besides, he’ll be back in less than five minutes. He always keeps an eye on me. Like I’ll disappear with the slightest puff of wind.”
“It’s because he loves you.”
“I know. I’m lucky. Beast will never leave me.”
I lie back on my towel and Grace proceeds to bury my toes in sand.
She isn’t wrong. Beast might be overly protective of Grace, and she might squawk and complain about it, but it’s obvious she loves him, and his care. And the fact that he is as reliable as the sun rising every morning. He’ll never leave her, never pursue any dreams of his own outside of Blue Falls, not while Grace is here. Despite the heat of the sun on my face, I have to hug myself to ward off a sudden chill.
We stay on the beach until the late afternoon and then head back to start on dinner before the sun dips behind the mountains.
It’s exactly like I would have pictured a campout in the movies or something—minus the whole serial killer with a hockey mask thing. We roast hot dogs over the fire and make s’mores afterward. Jude tells stories about men with hooks for hands and ghosts living in the woods, but only succeeds in making everyone laugh.
When the fire has nearly died and the moon is high in the sky, the couples file off to their tents, followed shortly by Grace. Beast and I smother the fire and pack away the remnants of food and then say good night.
But once I’m lying in my tent with the lantern off, snuggled into the sleeping bag, I can’t sleep.
Everything is comfortable. I have a nice pad under me. There aren’t any rocks or twigs digging into my back. It’s nice and cool now that it’s dark. It’s quiet, except for the chirp of bugs, which should be soothing, but my mind won’t shut off.
I’m reliving the day, mostly the moments with Beast. His hands on my legs, how he carried me when I was too freaked out to really appreciate it. His eyes enigmatic in the firelight while Jude told his stories.
Mostly, I think about how none of that matters because I’m not staying in Blue Falls. I’m going home as soon as I find a job.
The small tent is suddenly stifling. Fresh air sounds good. Maybe I can check out the stars. I bet they’re even better here than on the roof at Granny’s.
I wiggle out of the bag and take the lantern. Outside the tent, the trees block most of the sky, revealing only a hint of the starry night above. I’ll have to go down to the beach. I grab my towel from my tent and head to the path, stepping as quietly as possible so I don’t disturb the others, increasing my pace once I reach the path.
The moon casts a glow on the beach ahead. Excited, I pick up the pace. The water is a sheet of black, reflecting the moon above. Before exiting the trees, I click off the lantern to appreciate the sky more fully. But movement in my periphery makes me jerk. On the beach, a large form looms dark against the light sand.
That lengthy figure can only be one person. He’s lying on his back, looking up at the stars. I glance back at the path behind me. I should go back. I should pretend I don’t see him, or maybe head in the opposite direction, around the bend somewhere else. I should not cross the beach toward him, the sand cool on my toes. His head turns in my direction, watching my approach.
I stop beside his towel and stare. He’s spread out on the sand like a big buffet of man-meat, dressed only in a thin shirt and sleep shorts. One hand is splayed behind his head, emphasizing the line of his bicep.
“Can I join you?”
Chapter Thirteen
All our souls are written in our eyes.
–Cyrano de Bergerac
* * *
Beast nods, the gesture a quick jerk. I might have missed it if I hadn’t been staring so hard.
I shake out my towel, setting it down next to his, and then lie down besi
de him, inhaling a deep breath and gazing up at the stars.
“Wow.” The sky is a glittering blanket above us.
It’s not exactly cold, but the air has a bite. I pluck at the bottom of my shorts. Then the hem of my tank top, trying to get comfortable.
Beast shifts next to me and then scoots closer, close enough that our heads are nearly touching and the heat of him presses along my left side. He lifts his phone so we can both see the screen, his arm brushing mine with the motion, and types on a blank note page.
Do you miss New York?
I contemplate the random question for a few seconds before answering. “Yeah. My parents. The excitement. There’s always something to do, somewhere to go. We’ve got the best art in the world and Broadway, not to mention the most diverse and innovative food that you can find. There’s something for everyone. And there’s this energy. It’s hard to describe, but the city itself has a pulse—like history has etched its heartbeat into the streets. You could watch an acrobat perform in your subway car one minute and then take a ride on a horse-drawn carriage in the park the next. There really is no other place like it.”
Beast watches me with wistful eyes.
It sounds amazing.
“Would you want to go? To New York?”
Maybe. Someday.
I nod and gaze up at the sky with a sigh. “Can’t see the stars like this, though.”
Do you miss your friends?
“Well, I miss Scarlett. But other than her . . . all my friends were Jack’s friends.”
Their loss.
“Is it a loss if we never had each other to begin with?”
Our eyes lock for second, his features exposed only by the soft glow of the phone.
Do you miss Jack?
I turn back up to the sky, unable to handle the intimacy of the moment while talking about the five years I spent in Azkaban.
“I miss feeling like I belonged somewhere. But all things considered, I’m glad it’s over. He never really understood me. We never would have been happy in the long run. When we first met, in high school, we were into a lot of the same things. Comics, Magic: The Gathering, nerdy stuff. As we got older, Jack would tell me it was all a waste of time. He was too old, too mature for the things we used to love. He worked in finance. Did I tell you that?”
