Mrs. Anderson pressed a hand to the side of her head. “He’s on his way. Sorry, Grace. I was supposed to tell you that. Zac mentioned something happened to your phone?”
“It fell in the pool.” It was currently sitting in a bowl of uncooked rice. My mom’s idea. On more than one occasion, her phone had found its way into the dishwater at Zen. Rice was apparently the cure for waterlogged electronics. I hoped. I didn’t have the money for a replacement.
Gotcha,” Mrs. Anderson said as she placed the fish place in the fridge. “He’s been on the road for a couple of hours, so he should be here in what, another hour?”
I nodded, but inside, my heart pitter-pattered knowing Zac was on his way. After I fished my phone out of the pool (it was way more cooperative than the suicidal dragonfly), I called him from the house’s landline but only got his voice mail. So I left him a message telling him my phone was recuperating.
But none of that mattered, because Zac was on his way. And best of all—we weren’t broken up.
“I take it this is good?” Chloe nudged me in my side with her elbow.
I chewed my bottom lip, in a weak attempt to stop myself from grinning.
Chloe rolled her eyes. “You look like a goof with that smile.”
I put my hand to my mouth, and Chloe laughed. I felt flushed and tingly, almost numb with anticipation. Spring break was turning around. It would be Zac and me together at the beach, like I’d imagined.
I waited on the porch for Zac.
The sky was indigo, embroidered with a few tiny stars. I sat in the cushioned porch swing and stared out at them.
Over the dune, the surf ebbed and flowed, repetitively fizzing out like some giant glass of soda. The combination of that sound, the dark, and the movement of the swing would have rocked me right to sleep. Except I was too excited to see Zac.
I curled my feet onto the swing and drew my sweatshirt up and over my bare legs. The swing continued to sway. We would hang out on the beach and maybe even go to the art expo.
We could do whatever we wanted.
Headlights swept across the porch. I untangled my legs from my sweatshirt and hopped off the porch steps as Zac’s truck parked in the gravel driveway.
We could do whatever we wanted.
Those were Reed’s words. Or Reed quoting me? Whatever. Crap. In all my excitement, thoughts of Reed had completely left my brain. What was I supposed to do with that information? I’d considered it resolved, but that was before I found out that Zac hadn’t actually said he wanted to take a break.
His headlights blinked off, and the driver’s door creaked open.
Was I supposed to tell him? I pressed a hand to my middle. I had no idea. I wanted to do the right thing, but I wasn’t sure what the right thing was, and there was no time to ask Chloe. I’d have to wait. Right now, there was nothing I could do other than leave what happened at Happy Hills in the past.
Then Zac pulled me into a hug, and the rest went away.
“I missed you,” Zac said into my neck. He held on to me so tight, my toes almost lifted off the ground.
“Me, too.”
I took a deep breath, inhaling soap, his cologne, and just the faintest scent of yummy coffee.
“Are you smelling me?” Zac laughed, running his hand down my left arm until he had hold of my hand.
“Maybe.”
His fingers twisted with mine, then he swung our connected hands between us, and we walked up the wide porch.
“I’m sorry about your parents, Pinks.” He sat on the porch swing.
I joined him.
“Thanks, but I’m okay. Really. This was a long time in the making. You know what it’s like,” I said, thinking of his parents who’d been divorced for years but still occasionally did the random make up and break up thing. This bugged the crap out of Zac, because he didn’t want them screwing with Lily’s feelings.
“Yeah,” Zac said, then we both stared into the almost darkness. There were no streetlamps, only a few porch lights glowing dimly in the distance. I thought of the ocean only a dune away and envisioned the murky water blending into the dark sky to complete one big ball of obscurity.
Zac and I were together. And alone. I dropped my head to his shoulder.
“I can’t believe you’re here. “Did you finish your portfolio?”
“No, but you were right. I need to take a break.” He put his arm around me and squeezed. “So now that I’m here, what are all the big plans you had for me?”
Fiji popped into my head. I couldn’t think of anything else. A vision of Zac kissing me—alone in the big Shore House—played over in my mind, and all of my beach plans got swept away in one hot, tropical gust.
Except, technically, we weren’t really alone. So I cleared my throat, but my chest felt a little tight like it no longer knew how to contract and get air.
“Aren’t we supposed to go hang gliding or collect shells or something?”
Instead of answering him, a small sound squeaked out of my throat.
Zac leaned forward. “Hey, you okay?”
I nodded.
“I thought you had all this planned out. The boat rides and beachy outings specifically timed to avoid sharks or waking too early? I can’t remember the details. Only that you couldn’t wait.”
A smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
I scooted back to see his expression. “Are you making fun of me, Zac Anderson? Really? Let’s rewind that conversation. What exactly was it that you said when I said I couldn’t wait for this trip?”
Zac dropped his head to the back of the swing, but he was grinning.
I tapped my finger on my chin. “Oh, I know. I think your words were, ‘My mom is going to be home soon.’”
Zac raised a palm as if he were offering me a high five, or possibly surrendering. I pressed his palm with mine, and his fingers curled over mine.
His eyes were dark, a deep ocean blue, and his focus on me sent a shock of heat into my middle. He tugged me closer. The swing creaked. Zac’s hand touched the curve of my jaw, his thumb grazing my bottom lip. His lips skimmed mine, briefly.
I shivered. My breathing sounded uneven in the quiet.
I watched the rise and fall of Zac’s chest, before my gaze traveled upwards. His lips already looked thoroughly kissed, and I placed my finger on them. They felt warm, full.
He grabbed my fingers and held them a moment before letting them go.
“That tickles.” His voice sounded low, hoarse. “I like this spring break itinerary.”
I placed my palms flat on his chest. Heat radiated through his T-shirt. The swing swayed a little.
He kissed me again. This time, gently. Then there was no other sound except for his breath, or mine. I couldn’t tell which was mine anymore.
I loved every second of being with Zac, but I could only imagine what more would mean. Because I didn’t know. I was pretty sure that if we slept together, it would change things. I just couldn’t be sure in what ways. Kissing Zac was awesome, so more had to be more awesome. It was the unknown parts or the aftermath that was scary. Yes, I was curious, but I was also a little afraid of too much change.
Change wasn’t always good.
As he kissed me, I forgot everything. The midnight sky, the dots of stars, the rhythmic whoosh of the nearby ocean, the Shore House, the swing below us—they all went away.
I was in a Zac World.
And I could live there forever.
Chapter 16
Sand on the Tongue, Relief Engraving
“Come on, Pinks,” Zac said. He waded deeper into the Atlantic, bouncing up as waves rippled up toward his shoulders.
I shook my head. My feet firmly sunk in the sand, and the water was no higher than my knees. A small shark might swim to the shallows, but I could still run if the water was only at my shins. Besides, the ocean was freaking cold.
Zac leaned back, floating on the water.
“Stop, Zac. You look like a seal floating like that. A
shark will think you’re lunch.”
Zac stood. The ocean rolled, pushing water near his neck. “There are no seals here, Pinks.”
I threw my hands up in the air. “My point exactly. If you’re the only thing that resembles a seal for miles around, well then, you are a prime target.”
Zac dove toward me, riding in on a small wave.
“Well, I think you’re a prime target,” he said once he stood in front of me.
“How do you figure?”
He placed a quick kiss on my lips. “Because you taste good.”
I pushed at his chest, sending him falling into the water. Immediately, Zac was up and after me. I felt my feet lift up and out of the water, and I screamed, then laughed as the blue sky swirled above me.
This moment was one more scene in our very own personal movie montage. Hanging out with Zac like this was everything I pictured spring break to be and more.
Although, there was still something gnawing at me.
Zac put me down, and I scanned the beach. I couldn’t see Chloe. She either went back to the house or was hiding out somewhere far away from pail wielding children. But I just wanted reassurance that I was doing the right thing.
Well, again. Because Chloe had already assured me earlier that morning I could confidently move forward in my relationship with Zac. Of course, that was after she inadvertently unhinged all my regrets with one mention of Happy Hills.
“Hey you two, isn’t it enough I had to watch Love, Texas?” She’d grumbled after seeing Zac kiss me more than once as I set the table for breakfast.
“Chloe, that was all you,” I said turning back to the counter between the table and the kitchen.
“Love, Texas?” Zac grabbed butter out of the fridge. “You mean, woman with bad southern accent falls for dead man walking?”
Chloe dismissed Zac with a wave of her hand. “It’s more than that.”
“Sure.” Zac slid syrup and butter across the counter to me, then took my hand and planted a kiss on my palm.
“Ugh,” Chloe said from behind me. “Do you two have to rub it in? You’re so giddy. It’s like you’re drunk with love. You been drinking Happy Hills’ Donkey Punch?”
“Chloe…” I moved closer to her, hoping my wide eyes would get her to stop talking. Surely, she knew anything close to the subject of Reed was off limits.
“What’s Donkey Punch?” Zac asked.
I twisted around. Zac was next to the stove, tossing a spatula from one hand to the other. Waiting for me to answer.
I sniffed the air. “Is something burning?”
Zac stopped his juggling and swiveled back to the stove.
I chewed my lip. He totally trusted me. Somewhere in the shallowest part of me, I imagined I could hear the heavy clunk of my guilt anchor.
“I guess you didn’t tell him about Reed?” Chloe whispered.
I shook my head, shooting a glance at Zac and sinking into the chair next to Chloe.
“And I’m not going to, so no Happy Hills talk, okay?”
“Okay, but you guys were broken up. What’s the big deal?”
“Um, except we weren’t broken up.”
“What?” Chloe asked a little too loud, and Zac turned.
I waved at him, and he smiled, then continued pouring batter and tending to the pancakes. “Apparently, I misunderstood him on the phone. He meant we needed to take a break on the Jenny conversation, not on our relationship.”
Chloe raised her eyebrows. “Huh. That’s a big difference.”
“Yeah.” I fiddled with a napkin. “So am I supposed to tell him?”
“Hmm. Well, usually I would say, honesty is the best policy, but in this case, it would make the Reed thing a bigger deal than it is. Plus, it might just be unkind.”
“Right.” Unkind. It was such a vanilla word to describe a scenario that would not be pretty. I couldn’t even let my mind go to the idea of Zac kissing another girl.
“But…if he ever found out…”
“How is he going to find out?”
Chloe nodded, miming twisting a key in front of her lips. “Not from me. No worries. It was just a kiss, Grace. Some girls drown their sorrows in a pint of Ben and Jerry’s. You had Reed.”
“Right,” I said, thinking of Reed, the slow dance, and well, that kiss. All of it morphed into one surreal moment that ended when someone dumped a tub of water over our heads. But that kiss that made me feel wanted and like all was right with my world when it had sucked only moments before.
It was a very confusing kiss. Ice cream would have been easier.
But it didn’t matter. Reed was at Happy Hills. It wasn’t like I was going to see him anytime soon, if ever.
“It was an in the moment kind of thing,” I said to Chloe, and I one hundred percent believed it.
“Yeah, there’s no reason to get Zac all riled up.”
I tried to envision how he would take the news of me kissing Reed. Only I couldn’t. I was sure he wouldn’t be happy. I wouldn’t have been if the situation were reversed. Could Zac shrug off the whole thing as a consequence of him making me think he broke up with me? Or would he want to break up with me? I had no idea. There was no precedent. The closest we got to a fight was the whole Jenny thing, and he’d ended up leaving Jenny and his portfolio behind to be with me. How would jealousy look on Zac?
I didn’t want to think about Zac and jealousy anymore. Too much was unknown. Scary. I got up and crossed the room to grab the orange juice, but Zac intercepted me, planting a kiss on my lips.
Everything would be fine.
Or at least that’s what I thought. But now, back on the beach, guilt had surfaced again, circling like those imagined sharks I so desperately avoided.
“Do you forgive me?” he asked, throwing his towel over his neck before dropping to the sand next to me.
“For what? Pretending to be shark bait?” I squinted at him and instantly winced. My skin felt tight from a day in the sun, especially at my cheekbones.
“No, I kind of feel stupid for going all psycho about my portfolio. It really can wait a week. I know I’ve been neglecting you, us.”
I stood and a gust of air tossed my ponytail across my mouth. I shoved my toes into my flip-flops and picked up my towel. Sandy wind swirled around me, making it almost dangerous to inhale. And I needed to. “Um, of course. There’s nothing to forgive. I was jealous about Jenny. I should be asking you for forgiveness.”
Oh crap. This was getting too close to a confession. Sure, I’d decided to put Happy Hills and the break that actually wasn’t a break behind me, but guilt seemed to have a mind of its own. Should I just tell Zac about the kiss? Get it all over with once and for all?
I swallowed, feeling sharp bits of sand on my tongue.
“Pinks, your reaction was normal.”
I stared at him. I could get rid of the guilt right now. Tell him and get it over with. I scratched my neck. Ouch. I was sunburned there, too. “Zac…”
It might just be unkind. Chloe’s words. She was right, wasn’t she? This unloading would only benefit me.
“Okay fine. I forgive you. You good?”
Zac tipped his head, but because the sun was directly behind him, his movement temporarily blinded me.
I blinked. By the time I focused, Zac was rummaging through my beach bag. I’d missed his reaction. Was he happy? Relieved?
“I’m so thirsty.” He pulled out my reusable water bottle and shook it. There was only a little left. He held it up to me.
He was thirsty. But he was also smiling.
“You drink it.” I cleared my throat. Why did his expression seem so innocent? Because I felt the opposite? Ugh. “We’ll be home in a few minutes anyway.”
Zac chugged the last of the water, and we walked down the weathered wood bridge over the dune. With every step I took, sand exfoliated my toes.
When would it wear away at the guilt?
Zac dropped the bottle back into the bag. “I’m starving, too. What is it abou
t the combo of sand, wind, and ocean water that makes you hungry? It’s like the elements tricked my brain into thinking I just swam a leg in a triathlon.”
“I don’t know. Maybe there are some leftover pancakes.”
Zac patted his stomach. “Why does that sound so good?”
I half laughed, but the wind sucked it away.
Chapter 17
Shades of an Apocalyptic Undertow, Pastels on Velour Paper
“You’re not helping,” Zac whispered in my ear.
“Right. Sorry.” I set my pencil on the coffee table and focused on the game instead of my paper. We were playing Pictionary, and Lily, our teammate, was up, drawing on a dry-erase board propped up on a bookshelf against the wall.
Although drawing wasn’t exactly accurate. She’d placed a very small dot in the middle of the board.
“Dot? A period?” I asked, but my gaze dropped to my pad of paper and the field of wildflowers I’d doodled. I was distracted. I kept thinking about the art expo. Before dinner, Chloe, Zac, and I had walked by the exhibits. At first, I kind of scurried down the boardwalk. I was in this strange, conflicted space, where I was curious about the art work but then not. I couldn’t figure out if I belonged there as a participant or spectator. Or if I wanted to be connected to any kind of art at all. But once I got a peek at the colorful, quirky painted surfboards, the butterflies in my gut woke up. So when we started playing Pictionary and I found a pencil in my hand, my first instinct was to sketch. First I drew a flower, then dozens more, until my page looked like a Virginia meadow.
Happy Hills? Ugh. I flipped the pad of paper over.
Oh, guilt, you are good.
“Zac already said that.” Lily sighed, loudly.
“Oh. Sorry, Lil. What’s the category again?”
“Difficult!” Lily threw her arms up, then tapped on her dot. As if pressing that dot, that was apparently not a dot, could tell us the big secret to its mysterious, minimalist existence. On the other side of the coffee table, Mrs. Anderson and my mom tried not to laugh.
Chloe displayed a large grin.
“Time’s up.” She pointed at the sand trickling through the plastic hourglass.
The Art of Second Chances Page 11
