Forbidden Boy

by Hailey Abbott

  “I won’t lie, that’s pretty sweet. If my family had crazy powers we’d probably just sort our laundry into whites and darks telekinetically. Or teleport ourselves back to work from the dinner table to get a few more hours in.”

  “Nothing like really utilitarian powers, I guess.” Jules unscrewed the cap of her Nalgene and took a huge gulp before offering it to Remi.

  He shook his head, but his eyes lingered on the spot on the rim of the water bottle where Jules’s lips had just been. “I mean, it’s not as boring as it sounds,” Remi continued. “My family’s actually really great. We’re just not that, um, original. We’re more Leave It to Beaver, I guess. You know?”

  Julianne didn’t really know what he meant, and said so. “Not really, now that you mention it. My family’s always had a sort of free-form, go-with-the-flow way of approaching everything.” Even Chloe’s compulsive volunteering and studying were organic; they were things she did because they made her feel alive. Jules tilted her head toward Remi thoughtfully. “I can’t really imagine a family being structured any other way. My family’s a little bit ‘follow your bliss,’ if you know what I mean. As long as Chloe and I are doing the best we can and doing it for the right reasons, our dad is pretty much happy with whatever.”

  “What does your mom think about that?” Remi looked at her as if she were describing a totally different world.

  Julianne paused, setting her water bottle down at the base of her easel. “Not much. She’s actually dead.”

  Remi’s jaw dropped like someone had released a little lever inside of his face. “I’m…I’m…sorry,” he stammered.

  Jules wiped a bead of sweat from in between her blue eyes and shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Sorry to be so blunt, but you didn’t say anything wrong.”

  Remi reached out and touched her wrist, then sheepishly shoved his hands into his back pockets.

  “So, what are you doing on this beach?” Julianne asked, feeling a familiar blush starting to creep up her neck. “I mean, other than looking for more innocent victims to terrorize with your demolition derby moves?”

  “I think you’re safe for now—there isn’t a keg in sight.” Remi laughed a deep, rich laugh. “I was surfing with some guys I met down at the boardwalk earlier, and then I was just exploring the beach, really. You saw my brief attempt at a second run in the water. I haven’t been in town long; I don’t know where anything is, but I really love this beach. What are you doing down here?” He laughed again, gesturing at Julianne’s easel. “I mean, obviously I know what you’re doing right now. But what’s your usual beach routine?”

  “I live down there.” Julianne gestured vaguely over her shoulder, toward her family’s small cottage. “But I come here to paint. I’m starting my summer job next week, so I won’t have access to afternoon painting light much longer.”

  “Can I see what you’re working on? Or are you one of those super-secretive artists?” Remi asked with a sly wink.

  “Oh, super-secretive. Definitely. That’s why I would never in a million years work in the middle of a public beach where everyone could see me.” Julianne laughed. She took Remi’s hand and led him back around the easel, where her landscape was still sitting deserted and unfinished.

  Remi was silent for a minute, looking at the easel and squinting his eyes. He even crouched down to take in Julianne’s painting from a different angle. Then he took a few steps back and squinted at it again.

  “It’s not anywhere near finished,” Jules started. “I’m having a lot of trouble with the light. The highlights on the water, especially. I don’t know what my problem is; I’m usually not this—”

  Remi cut her off midsentence. “This is good. Like, really good. Julianne, you’re really good.” He crossed his arms over his chest, impressed, and stepped back to view the painting again from a distance. Julianne noticed that for a skinny guy, he was in no way lacking in muscle definition. She felt a little bit embarrassed at her blatant check-out but, really, that’s what he got for standing there and being so unapologetically attractive.

  “I bet you say that to all the girls…” She smirked, her eyebrows arched.

  “Not all the girls.” His eyes twinkled as he countered her teasing. He walked back around the easel and plopped down in the sand, staring at the waves in front of him. “So, will you tell me about it?”

  Julianne walked over and slid down in the sand next to him, hugging her knees to her chest. “Tell you about what? How good I am? I mean, clearly I’m fantastic.” She rolled her eyes playfully.

  “Well, duh,” Remi replied, a smile creeping across his face. “And I’d love to hear about just how much you completely rock some other time. Maybe over coffee or something? But I was actually referring to your painting.”

  “Oh.” Julianne’s breath leaked out of her slowly. She was sitting barefoot on her beautiful beach, splattered in paint, with a gorgeous guy who genuinely wanted to talk about her work. And she was ninety-eight point nine percent sure that he had just asked her out. She took a deep breath and started to talk about her painting.

  “So, you know I told you about my mom?” Remi cocked his head and nodded. “Well, she was an artist. A really incredible artist. She showed her work all over the country—and in pretty much every gallery in Southern California. She also lectured at all these different universities and illustrated all of my dad’s children’s books. There was really nothing she couldn’t do. When she first got sick, she still went outside and painted every single day. I mean, every day. But when she died, there were six paintings she never had a chance to finish. I’ve finished up three of them—I made two of them into multimedia things, that’s more my style. That and photography. But this one I’m trying to re-create as if she’d had the chance to finish it. Her paint, her light, the whole nine.” Julianne felt herself getting antsy—she had a hard time sitting still when she was talking about her mom—so she circled back around the easel and walked a few feet down the beach, picking up seashell fragments. “One of the other pictures is this really bright portrait of our house in November. The light is really ethereal and the beach is all vacant—it’s really cool. So I expanded it on a larger canvas and intercut some of my photography, prints, and etchings with it.”

  “Wow. What are you doing with the other one?” Remi asked.

  “It’s hard to explain,” Julianne started. “But I guess you could say I sort of rebuilt it.” She described how she had sliced it up into strips and installed it, strip by strip, into a huge wood-and-wire sculpture. The whole piece was huge—she had constructed most of it standing on a step stool smack in the middle—and Julianne loved the feeling that she could live inside of it. Both had won regional art shows in their respective years. The portrait of their little beach cottage was even on display in the lobby of the Chamber of Commerce.

  “Wow.” Remi looked at Jules with pure astonishment. “That’s amazing. You and your mom must have been close.”

  “Very. Our whole family is.” She stared ahead at the ocean.

  “So, is that why you’re an artist? Because that’s what she did?” Remi leaned in, scooting a little closer to Julianne.

  “Nope,” she said thoughtfully. “I mean, not really. I’m an artist because I can’t not be. It’s like breathing, you know? I’ve been doing this since I was too young to understand that it was what Mom did. But I guess she’s become a part of it. Knowing it’s something we share, even if she’s not here anymore. Continuing her legacy, or whatever.”

  “But you don’t want it to be all about the loss,” Remi said softly.

  “Yeah, exactly.” She stared at him, hard, her blue eyes locking with his big brown ones. “That’s exactly what I was going to say.”

  Remi leaned in toward her and draped his arm across her shoulders. Julianne leaned into his side and breathed him in, surprised at how natural and easy it felt.

  Suddenly, fat raindrops splattered everywhere, shooting down in rapid fire. Julianne and Remi propelled t
hemselves up from the damp sand and ran around trying to collect Julianne’s things. Julianne quickly found her flip-flops and slid them on, then hurried over to pack up her palette and brushes. Remi had already disassembled the easel and was lifting her canvas gingerly off the sand. “You know what?” Jules began, an idea forming in her brain.

  “Hmm?” Remi asked, still packing up.

  “This looks like it’ll blow over in a few minutes. Let’s just toss a cover over the painting and wait it out. We’ll be fine,” she suggested.

  Remi grabbed a tarp from Julianne’s art supply stash and covered her painting gently before sliding back down beside her in the sand.

  They sat side by side and took in the sights of the beach in the rain. When she squinted, Julianne could just make out her house in the distance. Even dwarfed by the huge glass-and-metal McMansion that had sprung up next door, Jules thought her house was beautiful. Even from down the beach it looked warm and cozy—small, but completely charming. She silently fumed looking at her new neighbors’ pretentious monster home, but then she took a deep breath and decided to let it go. She turned to Remi and said brightly, “You know what? I feel the rain letting up. I think I’m going to start setting my stuff up again. I’ll be able to do some really neat stuff with the light after the rain clears out.”

  Remi nodded and smiled, obviously impressed with Julianne’s dedication. “Since I took all of your stuff down, I think it’s only fair that I help set it back up. Sound like a deal?”

  “Deal,” Julianne said, grinning back at him.

  They got up from the sand and walked in small circles, gathering Jules’s discarded art supplies, just chatting. As he turned and checked out the full panoramic view of the area, Remi’s face lit up. “Oh—I totally know where I am!” Great, Jules thought. If Remi is figuring out his way around already, he’ll definitely be able to find his way back! The tiny hairs on her arm prickled at the realization that her hand was nestled in his. Standing on this familiar stretch of sand with Remi, the beach looked more gorgeous than ever. Just as Jules had predicted, the rain was weakening, the clouds brightening and clearing. By the time Jules and Remi had reassembled her work spot, the afternoon storm had all but cleared up. Surveying the horizon, Jules noticed that most of the surfers hadn’t even come off the water when the rain started.

  As Julianne removed the tarp from her painting, Remi plunked down on the sand next to her, his surfboard sitting by his side like a loyal dog. Jules eased down into the sand beside him and he scooted just a millimeter closer. They were near enough that she could practically feel the tiny goose bumps dotting his arms. She was tempted to rest her head on his shoulder and recreate the cozy scene that had been interrupted by the rain a few minutes earlier, but Remi beat her to it, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. Julianne was shocked and giddy—it was like he could read her mind. The heat of his body touching hers seemed to electrify the air, and Jules half expected the wooden legs of her easel to go up in flames.

  “So, you surf?” she asked, breaking the silence with a question she could have answered herself.

  Remi laughed. “No. Not at all. I just carry around this surfboard to impress the ladies. It was pretty awkward in Seattle, but I think it could work magic down here. What do you think?” he joked.

  “Oh, yeah,” Jules replied, looking from the surfboard to Remi’s bathing-suit-clad body. “Definite chick magnet.”

  “How about you?” Remi asked, turning his head toward Julianne. “You’re a California girl. Do you surf?”

  “I’m okay,” Julianne admitted, shrugging, “but not great. My best friend, Kat, is a fierce surfer, though.” Her blue eyes sparkled wickedly as her gaze locked with Remi’s. “Maybe you could show me a few moves? Help improve my game?”

  Remi took his arm down from around Julianne’s shoulders and gestured toward his board. “Have time for a lesson?”

  Julianne felt the tiniest bit shy as she peeled off her tank top and lay down on Remi’s board. “Okay!” she called over her shoulder. “Surf school is now in session.”

  Crouching next to her, Remi laughed. “So, show me how you usually paddle out.”

  Julianne windmilled her arms above her head, imitating her freestyle stroke. She could feel the muscles of her back moving as she fake-paddled, and she couldn’t help but laugh. She also couldn’t ignore the irony of Remi, who was new in town and from a city basically devoid of ocean and sunshine, giving her pointers on surfing. Not that Julianne minded. Sneaking a glance at Remi, who was paying complete and total attention to each movement of her arms, Julianne didn’t mind one bit.

  “Good,” Remi instructed. “Now, push up!”

  Julianne tucked her arms back within the perimeter of the board and, in one strong, fluid motion, used them to lift herself off of her stomach and onto her feet. Once she was up, she readjusted her bandana, put her hands on her hips jauntily, and turned to Remi. “How am I doing, Coach?”

  “Your form’s pretty good,” Remi answered earnestly, standing up. “I think you might want to use your upper arms a little more when you’re pushing up, though. It’ll give you more momentum. Can I show you?”

  “Sure. Do you want to demonstrate, or…” Julianne trailed off.

  “Nope. Get back down on the board, and I’ll show you, as you’re doing it. That way you can feel it while it’s happening,” Remi suggested.

  Giggling silently, she hopped back down onto her stomach, already giddy with anticipation. She situated herself on her stomach in the middle of the board. Remi leaned across her, and Jules shivered slightly, both from his shadow creeping across her back and from the proximity of his body to hers.

  “Okay, now move your arms in like you’re going to push up,” Remi instructed. As Julianne began drawing her arms inward, she felt his hands on her shoulders. She was momentarily afraid that her arms would give out under her, and she’d belly flop on the surfboard. Talk about embarrassing! “Now,” Remi coached, his hands never leaving her shoulders, “move your arms a little bit farther apart, and try pushing up again.”

  As Julianne prepared for her second try, she heard a series of quick beeps, and Remi’s hand suddenly flew off her shoulders.

  “Crap!” Remi muttered. Julianne rolled over and looked up at him.

  “Sorry,” he explained sheepishly. “The alarm on my cell went off. I’m supposed to be home for dinner with my folks in ten minutes. I guess I, um, lost track of time.”

  “Then I guess I should get off of your surfboard,” Julianne suggested regretfully. Why did it feel like they were always interrupted before the best part?

  “In a minute,” Remi agreed, sliding down next to her. He lifted one hand to Julianne’s cheek and wiped away some sand. “But not quite yet.” He leaned in and softly planted another mind-numbing kiss on Julianne’s lips. Jules felt her pulse quicken as she kissed him back. This was definitely the best part.

  Reluctantly, Remi pulled his lips away. “Um, I guess I should be getting home.”

  Now it was Julianne’s turn to act on instinct. “In a minute,” she said. She scrambled up off the surfboard and dashed over to her abandoned easel. She grabbed one of her tiny paintbrushes and dunked the end in blue oil paint. “So it might be possible that I, maybe, lost your phone number on the beach the other night.” Julianne approached Remi with the paintbrush. “Maybe. A little bit.”

  “Oh, really,” Remi said, feigning offense.

  “And it’s definitely possible that I don’t want to make the same mistake twice,” Jules continued. She reached over and took Remi’s arm by the wrist, turning it so the underside of his forearm was facing up. “So this time, I’m giving you my number.” Julianne took the paint-brush and jotted her phone number in blue oil paint along the inside of Remi’s arm.

  “That tickles,” he protested halfheartedly.

  “Yup,” Julianne responded in mock-seriousness. “I know. And it will until it dries. So the tickling will remind you to put my number in your phone.
”

  “Very clever.” Remi laughed. “I love a girl with foresight.” He leaned in and gave her a soft peck on the cheek, as if to illustrate his point. Julianne sucked in her breath involuntarily. Even his kisses on the cheek made her shiver.

  “So I guess you’d better head home, huh?” Julianne asked.

  “Guess so. And I guess you’d better get back to painting before you lose the light?” he replied.

  “Guess so,” she answered, even though she’d forgotten about the painting entirely. “Call me sometime?” she asked, half teasingly.

  “Absolutely.” Remi smiled. “If for no other reason than because I don’t have any turpentine in the house—your number will probably be on my arm for the rest of the summer,” he joked, picking up his surfboard.

  “That’s what I like to hear.” Jules grinned back. “Enjoy dinner.”

  “Thanks! See you later.” Remi smiled at her one last time before turning and jogging back up the beach.

  Julianne wiped sand off her arms and turned back toward her easel, determined to keep her cool and not check Remi out as he jogged away. She picked up her paintbrush and got exactly two strokes onto the canvas before she just couldn’t resist. Trying to be as subtle as possible, she turned slowly and looked for him on the horizon.

  She spotted his lanky figure several hundred yards in the distance. Her eyes locked on to him just in time to see him place his surfboard gently on the ground, dust himself off, and walk right through the giant glass door of the Moores’ giant glass house.

  Chapter Four

  Several hours later, Julianne was still in shock. Every part of her churned in confusion, even as she tried to focus her attention on hanging out with Chloe. She’d thought that some quality sister-time would be just the thing to help her get it together.