He leaned closer. “Why? Do I make you nervous?”
And then I did meet his gaze. He wore a dark green hoodie, so that day his eyes looked green. He was so close, I could see flecks of hazel in them. They were shining, like those sparklers Courtney used to get Denny and me on the Fourth of July so long ago.
“You don’t make me nervous,” I lied. “You’re crowding my space. Where’d you come from anyway? No one taught you manners?”
He nodded, and his eyes locked into mine. “So, that’s a yes.”
I sighed. “Whatever.” I went back to my work.
He scooted his stool away from mine, and the space he left felt cold and empty. Inwardly, I cringed. Was I falling for this guy?
Double crap.
“So I guess I nail and glue this stuff together and call it art. Is that it?” His voice had taken on a formal tone. It wasn’t just his art stool that had moved away.
“That’s it.”
We didn’t speak for the rest of the class. Mr. Hansen came by a few times, nodding and clucking his approval. Five minutes before the bell rang, we started cleaning up. Each of us had an assigned cubby where we stored our projects. Fresh Meat’s cubby was on the opposite end from mine. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him shove his cardboard jumble into his cubby. I hurriedly put my collage away and headed back to my seat, but I wasn’t fast enough. He closed in and moved past me, his arm brushing against my side. Everything in me went on immediate alert, goose bumps rising on my skin.
It was like connecting with an electric fence. I faltered for a moment then set my face like cement and snatched up my books from the table. I could feel him studying me.
Why’d he have to come to Ocean Mist anyway? It was better without him. I left class, more intent than ever to find out why he was running from the law.
****
Denny looked better when he climbed on the bus. Not normal, but better.
“Hi, Tiff,” he said when he sat down beside me.
“Hey, yourself. How’d it go today?”
“Okay.”
I waited, but he didn’t continue. I patted his leg and then looked out the window. Even though it was spring, the afternoons were still fairly dark. Especially with gray clouds thick enough to slice like bread. Puddles bordered the streets where the drains had backed up. At least the rain had stopped. I stared at the soggy lawns as we passed down Shell Street. Seagulls perched on the posts of Old Lady Magillard’s porch. If our bus hadn’t been roaring down the road, I could have heard them.
Whenever seagulls called out their sharp cries, I wanted to hole up somewhere alone. Since I was little, their stinging sound had made me sad. Courtney used to tell me they were calling to their mates, so there was no reason to be sad. She tried hard to make me feel better.
It didn’t work. Those were the days when Courtney and I liked each other.
The bus rolled up beside Ocean Park Condos and let Denny and me off. Denny rushed ahead to shove open the door, and I followed him in. Courtney was on the phone. When she saw us, she held up her hand for quiet.
Like I’d be jabbering at her.
Denny headed straight for the kitchen. He opened the freezer and pulled out a soft vanilla ice cream bar that somebody had donated to us after the funeral. I threw my backpack on the floor then started upstairs. I climbed slowly, wanting to overhear Courtney’s conversation.
“I know, Aunt Marge,” she was saying. I paused with my hand on the railing. “The man told me Dad would have legal custody. There was no divorce.”
My heart jerked to my throat, and my mouth dropped open. No divorce? Mom and Dad had still been married? For all those years? I stumbled back down the stairs and stood in front of Courtney. Denny had stopped eating, and drips of vanilla ice cream ran down the side of his hand.
“Well, it’s true,” Courtney said. “I know, but that’s what the guy told me, and he’s a lawyer, so he should know.”
Denny’s eyes were as big as plates. Mine were the same.
All those years. I worked to wrap my mind around it. All that time, they’d still been married? But Mom had hated him. She wouldn’t even let us mention his name. Why hadn’t she divorced him?
“Aunt Marge, the kids are home.” The kids? Really? Like she was so much older.
Denny sidled up against me, leaning on me as if he would fall over.
“Yes, I told you. It’s all in order… No, don’t come. You don’t need to.” Courtney sighed and ran her hand over her forehead. “Aunt Marge, no. Don’t come. Thank you for offering, though.” She paused, listening. “Okay, I will. We love you, too. Bye.”
She held the phone out, looked at it, and then turned to us. “I guess you heard.”
“They were still married?” Denny asked, and his voice cracked.
“Seems that way.”
I shook my head. “Why didn’t she tell us?”
“How would I know?” Courtney strode into the kitchen and started pulling containers out of the fridge, throwing them onto the counter.
Denny’s ice cream continued to melt, and rivulets of vanilla coursed down his hand.
“Denny, eat it or throw it away,” I snapped.
He winced then stared stupidly at his hand.
“Oh, here. Give it to me.” I snatched the ice cream from him and took it to the kitchen where I tossed it into the sink.
Courtney was leaning over the counter, breathing hard with her eyes shut.
I hesitated. She didn’t move, just continued to breathe, her chest heaving in and out. I looked at the jumble of plastic containers crammed with leftovers. Finally, I picked up two of them — one was mashed potatoes and the other was green beans with onions. I stuck them both in the microwave and punched it on.
“Denny, grab three plates and forks, would you?” I took three glasses out of the cupboard and filled them with tap water.
Denny put the dishes on the table. The microwave dinged.
“Sit down. We’re eating,” I announced.
Denny slid into his chair. His face still held a stupefied expression. Courtney hadn’t moved from the kitchen.
I globbed some potatoes onto my plate and slid the container to Denny. “Dish up.”
“Tiffany,” he whispered, “I’m not hungry. What’s wrong with Courtney?”
I grimaced. “She’s upset. And you have to eat, so dish up.”
Denny skimmed the surface of the potatoes and put a spoonful on his plate. I helped myself to the beans and pushed them Denny’s way, too. He scooted them back to the center of the table.
Something cracked in me. “Denny, you’re eating whether you want to or not. I can’t have you getting sick on me. Now, take some beans!”
I shoved the container toward him. My aim was bad, and the beans hit his glass of water, spilling it all over the table and him. He jumped up, flailing his arms, and knocked his fork onto the floor where it skidded to a rest beside the kitchen cabinets.
That roused Courtney from her stupor. She dashed in, took a look at the mess, and started yelling. “You see? You see what I mean, Tiffany? There’s no way you two could survive without someone here. That’s why Dad has to come!” Her face was red. “Now, get a towel and clean this up.”
I wasn’t a total dolt. I’d already run for the towel and was wiping up the mess. Courtney stood with her hands clenched on her hips, her lower lip jutting out like a bulldog. Denny swiped at the water all over his pants.
I paused and gazed at his crotch. “Denny Phillips, did you wet your pants?”
Denny looked down at himself, and I started to giggle. It wasn’t even funny and the timing was off, but once I started, I couldn’t stop. Denny’s shoulders shook, and for a second, I thought he was crying, but when he glanced up at me, he was laughing, too. We got louder and louder, going into near hysterics. Courtney glared with fury at us both.
And then her scowl turned toward a smile, and she started to chuckle, too. Within seconds, the three of us were howling with la
ughter.
Had anyone walked by our condo at that moment, they would have thought the world was coming unglued. We bellowed for a good five minutes, and then we collapsed on each other, falling to the floor. All of us gasped for air, holding our stomachs.
Our gasps turned to heavy breaths and then whimpers.
“Denny, next time you have to go, just use the bathroom,” Courtney squeaked out.
All of us were smiling at each other. I couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.
“Okay, guys. Enough.” Courtney stood up and shook herself, straightening her shirt over her hips. “Let’s get this cleaned up and eat dinner.”
Courtney was back. Denny and I got up and finished cleaning the mess. I retrieved a new fork for him, and the three of us sat down to eat cold potatoes and beans with onions.
****
After dinner, Courtney and Denny settled into the couch to watch some show on TV. I’d had enough family time. The walls were closing in.
“I’ll be back later.” I pulled on my coat and headed out the door.
“Where are you going?” Courtney called out. “When will you be back?”
“I’ll be back when I’m back,” I answered. I shut the door behind me, not in the mood for any more mothering.
Just because we had a moment before dinner didn’t mean everything was all right now. Sometimes I wondered how Courtney and I were even related.
I inhaled the cold night air. Even though I was still a distance from the water, I could smell it all. The sand, the decaying seaweed, the bunches of slimy kelp, the foam that sat on the waves as they crashed onto the shore. I loved it.
In middle school, I skipped class a lot, escaping to the surf where I’d sit and smoke and wish I were free.
I crammed my hand in my pocket and felt Serena’s cigarettes. I used to smoke a lot. It was hard to get the money for cigarettes, though. And then Rider’s Corner Mart started getting anal about checking ID’s. I was screwed. Serena stole her cigarettes from her aunt who kept cases of them under her bed. She always said that if her aunt’s apartment ever burned, it’d smell like one massive cigarette.
I grinned. Her aunt was loony, but at least Serena got cigarettes for free. I pulled the pack from my pocket. I hadn’t smoked for months, but maybe Serena had been right. Having a mom drop dead was a good reason to start again. I knew Serena wouldn’t care if I smoked every one of them.
A gust of wind blew a strand of my hair into my face. I shook it aside, pulling on my hood. That helped. I increased my speed, almost running down Main to the beach approach near the boardwalk. How many hundreds of times had I run this route, fleeing to the water?
The wind picked up, and the dune grass swatted at my legs as I neared the wooden steps to the walkway. I sucked in a huge breath of ocean air, feeling it clear down to my gut. The planks on the boardwalk were damp and slippery. I stepped my way to the edge closest to the water and sat. The wet soaked through my jeans, but I didn’t care. I shook a cigarette from the pack and grabbed the lighter.
I lit up and took a huge drag, feeling the familiar nicotine buzz. A fleeting rush of peace filled me. The wind whipped the smoke behind me and a light mist came off the ocean, settling over me. I took another drag and hung my feet off the walkway. The mist grew heavier, covering my face, sticking to my lashes. I blinked, knowing mascara was probably already making its way down my cheeks. I didn’t use the waterproof stuff. It gunked on like cement then chipped off in chunks that always got in my eyes.
I rubbed my hand over my face to clear the wet. This soppiness wasn’t fun. I threw the cigarette into the sand below my feet. The Hang wasn’t far. It’d be a lot drier there as long as the mist didn’t turn into a full-blown downpour.
The crashing waves always sounded louder in the dark. There was a hollow feeling in the air. The gulls were quiet, and what little traffic there was in town couldn’t be heard down by the surf. I hugged my coat tighter and slogged through the wet sand toward The Hang. Maybe Serena would be there.
I smirked. Serena hated the wet. She’d never be there.
In my back pocket, my phone pressed against my butt with each step. I could call her, but I wouldn’t. Being alone suited me fine.
I bent my head against the wind and kept walking.
“Hey!”
I looked behind and could barely make out a shape moving toward me.
“Hey!” he called again.
I went stiff. I knew that voice. He was gaining on me fast. I turned around and kept going. The Hang was up ahead, and I was tired of the wet. It didn’t matter if he followed me anyway; Serena had already made sure he’d be there on Friday.
I ducked under the overhanging bush and entered the clearing under the fir trees. It was completely dark inside, but I knew where every tree was positioned. In truth, I practically knew the position of every pine needle. I also knew where we kept a lantern for such unplanned occasions.
The rustling behind me told me he was coming in. “Much drier in here,” he said.
I shoved the hood off my head and tried to make out exactly where he stood.
“Is this The Hang Serena was talking about?”
“Yeah.”
He stepped closer. “So what’s so great about it besides it being drier?”
“Nothing.” What a stupid question. Like asking someone what’s so great about their car, their house, or their pet dog.
Another step closer and now his shadow loomed in front of me. “You’re Tiffany, right? I haven’t followed some pervert into the forest, have I?”
Despite myself I smiled, glad it was too dark for him to see it. “Oh, I’m a pervert all right.”
“Then I’m scared.” He tossed back his head and laughed — something he did a lot.
Which was annoying.
“What are you doing walking in the rain?” I asked. “It could frizz up those curls of yours.”
Crap. I did not just say that.
He drew closer still, leaning down into my face until even in the dark I could see the gleam in his eyes. “You’ve noticed my curls, then?”
I stepped back and felt my spine press into the bark of a tree. Tiny branches snapped off as my body hit them. “No. Haven’t noticed a thing about you.”
“Right.” He drug out the word, making it sound more like a caress.
“I have no interest in you.” I spoke quietly, but in the hollow of the trees, it echoed with force. Even the rain seemed far away from inside The Hang.
“Good. We’re even because I have no interest in you, either.”
He was within inches. I felt his very essence drawing me against my will. Every muscle stiffened as I told myself he was nothing. Just some stupid intruder who happened to be standing in front of me. I’d dealt with guys like him before. Lots of times.
But I didn’t move away. I held my ground, staring at him through the dark. I heard him chuckle, and then he put his hand behind my head and pulled my mouth to his. His lips were hard on my mine, insistent, hungry.
I slapped both hands on his chest and shoved him back, but he wouldn’t let go. He kissed me harder, pulling me closer, and his tongue explored my mouth. I was no match for his strength.
Warmth flowed up my legs and pooled low in my stomach. I stopped fighting him. I twined my arms around his neck and held on.
A crack of thunder and a jag of lightning roared through the sky. We jumped apart.
I wiped the back of my hand over my mouth.
“Sorry,” he said, making no move to touch me. “Not sure what happened there.”
I pulled my hood back over my head, breathing heavily, working to steady myself. “Whatever.”
Still shaking, I maneuvered past him and left The Hang, stumbling straight into a major downpour. I wasn’t stupid, the ocean and lightning weren’t a good mix, but I wasn’t about to stay in there with him for one more second.
People didn’t get close to me, and that was the way I liked it. He’d gone too far. W
ay too far. I pushed ahead into the sheets of rain, and my feet slipped in the wet sand. I bent straight into the wind, but my progress was slow.
I’d made out with guys plenty of times and never felt much of anything. Which was also the way I liked it. But that, back there? What was that?
I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it at all.
The streetlamp in the approach parking lot was a blurry ball of light through the pounding rain, but it guided me to Main. I hurried to get under the eaves of the tourist shops and started running, my wet shoes sloshing over the pavement. A car inched toward me, its headlights making it look like a barge on a river.
Courtney. She had come for me.
She pulled over, crossing the lane of traffic to stop by the curb. Rolling down the window, she hollered through the rain, “Get in! Hurry up!”
I ran around the car and pulled open the door. I dropped into the seat, spraying water like a wet dog. Denny was in the back, huddled in the corner.
“What were you thinking?” she asked, her voice loud over the drumming rain on the roof of the car. “Walking in thunder and lightning?”
I wiped the wet off my face. “It wasn’t thundering when I started out.”
“Denny and I’ve been up and down the streets, looking for you.” She eased to a stop at a red light. “We were worried.”
“I never asked you to come.” I knew it was good of her, but somehow she always made me want to strangle her. I looked over the seat to Denny. “Sorry, my man. Didn’t mean to worry you.”
He shrugged, but said nothing. I gazed at him for a long minute. I missed the old Denny, the one who talked and joked. The one who evidently died along with Mom.
“Well, you’re safe, so I guess all is well.” Courtney glanced in the rearview mirror. I knew she missed Denny, too, and was worried. But then, Courtney worried about everything.
We were quiet the rest of the way to the condo. By the time we pulled into our parking space, the rain had lessened to a regular Ocean Mist downpour. The three of us ran under the porch overhang, and Courtney fumbled with the lock before she got the door open. Once inside, we all went our separate ways.
The Return: Death, Runaways, and Romance (Ocean Mist Book 3) Page 4
