by Ward, Tracey
I spin around with my heart in my throat. Dad is there in the doorway to the kitchen, watching me stare into nothing by the sink. An empty coffee cup dangles from my hand, an equally empty coffee pot sitting cold on the maker’s base in front of me. I’ve been standing here waiting for coffee to brew. Coffee I never made.
I need to get it together.
“Uh, yeah,” I mutter, putting the mug down and stepping away from the counter. “Lawson and I hung out for a while after work.”
“He drove you?”
I’m so grateful to him for that – for asking what he already knows. What the entire town already knows. He’s giving me the chance to lie about it if I want to and even though we’ll both know it’s a lie, I know he’ll let me have it.
“Yeah,” I answer honestly. “He surfs down there all the time. He offered to drive me down and back while my leg is healing.”
“Could take all summer.”
“I know.”
“Does he?”
“Yeah.”
“Huh,” he mutters.
I suppress a sigh. “What?”
Dad shakes his head, grabbing his lunch bag out of the refrigerator and heading for the back door. “Long commitment for Lawson Daniel,” he says evenly.
He pulls the door closed hard behind him.
I’m surprised by the relief I feel when Lawson pulls into my driveway ten minutes later. A part of me, small but persuasive, was convinced he would disappear after what happened last night.
An even smaller part kind of wanted him to.
I don’t know what to do with this. With what happened. I don’t know what it means or if it means anything other than the fact that we’re attracted to each other and it felt good. Really, really good. I’m no stranger to sex. I’ve had good, I’ve had bad, and I’ve had a lot of in between, but last night was something singular. It was intense and natural as the tide, and I imagine it was just as inevitable.
But was it a one-time thing? Was it a mistake? Are we going to pretend it never happened?
Are we going to do it again?
He doesn’t get out of the car when I come outside. He doesn’t open my door the way he has before. He doesn’t even look up. As I approach the passenger door I can see him through the windshield, his head down over the phone in his hands. He’s texting quickly, his fingers flying over the keys.
When I open the door he looks up, a forced smile on his face as he deftly darkens his phone’s screen and drops it into a cup holder. “Hey,” he greets me warmly, his tone more genuine than his smile.
“Hi.”
“How are you feelin’?”
I lower myself slowly into the car and pull the door closed behind me. “Okay. Tired.”
“Wild night?”
I shrug. “Pretty boring, actually.”
“Really? Nothing fun or exciting?”
“Stayed home. Read a book.” I lift my hands and dance my fingers for him to see. “Painted my nails. What about you?”
“Same old, same old.”
“You surfed?”
He grins. “Banged a chick.”
I laugh, swatting him hard on the arm. He pretends to cringe from it but then he’s rushing toward it. He’s leaning over the console, he’s in my space, and his lips are on mine silencing my laughter and replacing it with something else entirely. Something far more raw and rough. It’s not invasive, he doesn’t involve his tongue, but it’s intimate. He kisses me with feeling, intensity, and I melt into the seat like hot butter even as my skin explodes in goosebumps.
“I thought about you all night,” he mumbles against my mouth. “I haven’t slept. I haven’t showered. I can still smell you on my skin.” He licks a line along my lower lip, making me shiver. “I can still feel you.”
I feel my body respond to him and his words, but this is not the time and my driveway in broad daylight is absolutely not the place. I put my hands on the sides of his face and move it back, away from mine. I come up for air before he can pull me any farther under.
“I have to go to work,” I remind him.
He grins, crooked and boyish and unashamed. “You sure you don’t want to blow it off and spend the day with me? Take a cooler down to the water. You in that purple bikini—“
“How do you know the colors of my bikinis? I was wearing a yellow one the night you saved me.”
He sits back in his seat, popping the car into gear. “I know because I’ve seen you in probably ten of them at the beach. I like the purple one.”
“I’m scared to ask why.”
“It makes your eyes look warmer.”
“Ha,” I laugh shortly. “Not buying it. Try again.”
“It looks good with your blond hair?”
“Nope.”
“It makes your ass look tight.”
“There it is.”
The drive down to Malibu is quiet. Quiet, but not awkward. The silence isn’t an avoidance, it simply is. It feels easy being here with him. Simple when I thought it’d be complicated. I’m enjoying just being with Lawson, and if I’m not reading him wrong, he’s enjoying it too.
He reaches over every now and then and touches my hand. He doesn’t take it in his to hold it. He only touches it. Caresses it lightly, a faint smile on his lips as he drives, like he’s getting something from it. Something small but saccharine, and it’s right and just because it gives something to me in return. It gives me a calm I didn’t know I needed. Being with him like this relieves an anxiety in my blood, a tightness in my bones and my heart that turns me to liquid and sets me free. It feels dangerous and wild but I like it too much to care. I’m too comfortable to know how afraid I should be.
“You’re off at four?” Lawson asks as he pulls up in front of Ambrose Surf.
“Yeah, four today. I close again tomorrow. Good news is we get to sleep in.”
He grins. “I don’t sleep in. I’ll be up at five to get out in the water by six.”
“That’s insane,” I mutter, shaking my head.
“You’ve never surfed that early?”
“I’ve only surfed a handful of times and, no, it was never before noon.”
“I’ll come get you tomorrow morning. We’ll hit the beach before the sun and you’ll see what I’m talking about.”
I feel my face fall as my stomach drops out. He sees it, he has to, but he doesn’t react. He waits, watching me.
“I think I’d rather sleep in.”
“You mean you’re scared of going in the ocean again.”
“Mostly that, yeah,” I admit, figuring what’s the point in lying?
His eyes tighten at the edges. “You gotta get over that. If you don’t do it now it will be harder later.”
I rub my hand absently along my thigh. “I’m not ready yet, Lawson. You need to leave this alone.”
He looks away, nodding reluctantly. “Alright, fine. I’ll drop it for now.”
“Forever.”
“For now,” he chuckles. “But you gotta give me the beach in exchange for my silence.”
“Your eternal silence.”
“Temporary silence. There’s a party tonight. Bonfire, beer, music – the whole deal. And you’re going.”
I’m already shaking my head. “I told you, I’m tired. I’m going home tonight and going to sleep.”
“How are you gonna get there?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re driving me.”
“Am I?”
“Lawson Daniel.”
He laughs, bringing his eyes back to mine. “Am I in trouble?”
“You will be if you don’t drive me home tonight.”
“I will. After the party.”
“I told you—“
“And I’m asking you,” he interrupts. “I’m asking you to try. Not the water, just the beach. Go past the parking lot. Sit by the fire, have a beer, and let it be okay to be there for a few hours. That’s all I’m asking.”
I sigh, feeling frightened and defeated becaus
e I know he’s right. I’m a coastal California girl. The Pacific is in my blood. I need it to live, to breathe, and deep down I hate that I’m afraid of it. I feel like I kept my life and my leg that day but I lost something else. I lost my heartbeat, my spirit, and being with Lawson… I don’t know exactly what it is about him, but he gives me that missing piece back, if just for a moment. Maybe it’s because he is the sea. He’s the waves and the water. The warm sun on my skin and the soft sand under my feet.
Sand that shifts in the wind and slips away with the tide.
His phone beeps several times, the sound of text messages pouring in. He frowns down at it in the cup holder. He looks annoyed, an expression I can’t believe I’ve never seen on him before. It looks so odd, his strong features looking sharp and angular. Angry.
“I gotta get inside,” I tell him, opening my door. “I’ll see you later?”
He glances up at me, his eyes distant. “Yeah. Have a good day.”
“Thanks. You too.”
I look back over my shoulder when I get to the front of the store. His car is still parked there on the street, his head hunched down. His fingers probably working furious over the keys on his phone.
***
I call Katy on my lunch break. She’s just about to go to start work herself down at the grocery store and I catch her making a mad dash across the parking lot trying not to be late.
“You’re serious?” she asks breathily. “You’re going to the party tonight?”
“Apparently, yeah.”
“Don’t be excited about it or anything.”
“I would be if it was my choice.”
“How is it not?”
“Lawson is blackmailing me.”
“You’ve gotta be one of the only girls in Isla Azul who has ever told that boy no,” she says with admiration.
Not anymore.
I think about telling her. I can’t right now because she’s going to be late and the fact that I slept with Lawson is more than a quick conversation. It’s a Congressional Meeting. A goddam UN Summit. It’s definitely not something you drop on someone and run away.
Maybe it’s not something you tell anyone at all. Ever.
I still don’t know if it’s going to happen again. I want it to, I so massively do, and it’s obvious Lawson does to, but what will that mean? I have no idea. I’m leaving at the end of the summer and not looking to start a relationship, and let’s be real – Lawson Daniel doesn’t do relationships. So what is it then? A fling? I could handle a fling. It might be good for me. One last goodbye to Isla Azul. One last kiss from California to get me through the long dark winter in Boston.
“Shit,” Katy curses under her breath. “I gotta go. My boss just saw me coming in and she’s glaring at me.”
I look down at my watch. “You’re not late yet are you?”
“No, but that bitch thinks anyone not here ten minutes early is late. I swear, I do not get paid enough to work for this woman.”
“You should take this job when I leave. It’s cake. You just have to sit there and look pretty.”
“I might take it from you now.”
“Over my dead body. I need a plane ticket first.”
“Good luck with that. I’ll talk to you later.”
She’s gone before I can say goodbye.
Chapter Eleven
Lawson’s phone beeps with messages the entire drive back home. We’re nearly there, nearly to the shore, and my nerves are so shot that I can’t take it. When it beeps again I have to bite back a scream.
“Are you going to answer that?” I snap.
He casts me a frown, surprised by my vicious tone. “No. I’m not going to text and drive.”
“Well can I answer it then because it’s driving me crazy?”
“No,” he laughs. “I’ll turn it on silent if it bothers you that much.”
“It doesn’t bother me.”
“I’d hate to see you bothered, then,” he mutters, reaching down and silencing his phone.
I sigh, trying to force myself to calm but it doesn’t come. My good leg is twitching. My hands are clasping and unclasping anxiously in my lap, over and over. Luckily I’m on the land side of the car as we head north, Lawson sitting next to the water. The world on my side is all brown earth and yellowed bushes. Thirsty, tired trees leaning away from the road, pushed by the wind all their lives until they’re practically growing sideways. They’re leaning away from the water, like they know. Like they’re just as desperate to avoid it as I am.
“It’s Aaron,” he tells me quietly.
I choke on my breath, my eyes bugging out of my head as I spin around to look at him. He isn’t fazed. He sits there calm as anything, his arm up on the door and his fingers lightly touching his temple as his other hand steers us up the winding coast.
I haven’t heard Aaron’s name spoken in almost a year. Not from anyone but Katy and she’s been trying very hard not to say it anymore. She tries even harder not to think it, but I don’t believe she succeeds. I’m pretty sure she thinks about him every single day. I just hope she isn’t crying every day anymore.
“How is he?” I tread softly, as though I’m speaking to a beautiful bird that could take flight and disappear forever if I’m not very, very careful.
Lawson coughs, shifting in his seat. “He’s okay. He’s bugging me.”
“About what?”
“Everything. You’re lucky you’re an only child.”
“Not always. It gets lonely.” I pause, not sure if it’s okay to ask more. I wonder if I’m allowed to say his name too. “Is Aa—“
“I just didn’t want you to think it was a girl,” Lawson explains in an odd rush. He chuckles, relaxing his features and giving me an easy grin, his entire demeanor changing in an instant. “I’m not a total asshole. I wouldn’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Be with you and hit up another girl. That’s a dick move, even for me.”
I shrug, pretending not to care but in reality I relax a little inside. “I don’t expect anything from you.”
He doesn’t say anything to that, but the tone in the car shifts perceptibly. The air gets heavier, tighter. More violently strung like a piano wire tuned too hard, but when I sneak a glance in his direction I find his face a mask of utter calm.
I do not, however, bring up his brother again.
When we pull into the parking lot at the beach I’m immediately looking for Katy. I want to run to her, to tell her what Lawson said, but then I really think about it. What will I say?
Lawson talked about Aaron. He’s alive! He has a cell phone that he’s not calling you with. He’s okay. He’s annoying.
That’s really all I know. Not enough to soothe any open wounds Katy still has. In fact, it’s just enough to rip them wide open. To pour sea salt inside that will burn and fester for days, bringing tears to her eyes and sleepless nights to her mind. It’s the last thing she needs, so as wrong as it feels to hide it from her, I know I can’t tell her anything.
“You okay?” Lawson asks quietly.
I give him a half-hearted smile. “Yeah, just tired.”
“You don’t really have to do this. Not tonight. If you want me to take you home I will.”
I gaze out through the windshield to the group gathering by the fire pit. His boys are there. Wyatt, Xander, Baker, Kinnser. Katy’s car is in the parking lot but I don’t see her. There are other girls though. Lots of them. All with perfect bodies in perfect bikinis. Body’s that are whole and unhurt. Untattered and unbroken. They’re not afraid of the water. They’re not afraid to get wet and walk around in the surf like nothing matters but the boys on the beach and the golden glow of their skin. They’re undamaged and uncomplicated, just looking for a good time and a pretty face to smile at over the fire.
“Do you want to take me home?” I ask, unwilling to look at him. To let him see the vulnerability in my eyes.
“No,” he answers quickly, no hesitation. “I want to sit w
ith you and have a beer.”
I grin. “I think I’m good with that.”
“Maybe walk down by the water.”
My grin disappears. “I’m less good with that.”
“Go in close. Let the waves come up and cover our feet.”
“Nope.”
“I wanna get you on my board and bob around out there, far away from the shore and everybody else.”
I chuckle nervously. “Now you’re talking crazy.”
He looks at me seriously. “We’ll do it before the summer is over,” he promises. “We’ll sit on my board and you’ll put your feet in the water. I’ll put my arms around you and you won’t be afraid. You’ll feel good because it’s where you belong.”
“In the ocean,” I clarify slowly.
He ignores me, opening his car door and swinging his long legs outside quickly and easily. “I’ll help you walk down the beach. The sand could be rough on your leg.”
It’s not as bad as I thought it’d be. Getting down to the beach and being on it, it doesn’t kill me like I worried it would. Wyatt immediately hands me a burger, Katy gives me a hug and a beer, and they plop me down on a log on the far side of the festivities. I’m nowhere near the ocean, and even though the dark waters are coming in, sneaking up the shore like a snake in the grass, it can’t get me. I’m safe.
The party is nothing exciting, but the fact that it’s chill and low key is exactly why I love it and I’m glad Lawson talked me into going. I find out fast that I have a sort of celebrity status with the surfer crowd having been bitten by a shark. Everyone, guys and girls, want to see the scars, and not because they want to stare and rubberneck my pain, but because Lawson wasn’t lying – scars are better seen, not heard. They share theirs with me and they ask me to tell them what I remember from what happened.
No one is more surprised than I am that I do. All it takes is three beers and one hit off the smoothest joint I’ve ever tasted and I’m unraveling my bandages and recounting the whole damn story.
Lawson helps me tell it, filling in the fuzzy parts, and when the bandage is off my leg he’s the first to lean in close, check it out, and inform me it’s ‘gnarly’. His admiring tone tells me it’s a compliment. His heavy, hot hand on my knee tells the other guys to look but not touch.
