by Marta Brown
I start to gnaw on my fingernail as I stare out at the vast ocean. “Never sounds fine with me. I mean, who needs that nice of a computer anyway? I’ll just use the computer lab. It’ll be fine,” I say, half joking, half serious as Oliver moves behind me, presses his chest against my back, and starts to unclip my harness. “Whoa. First date, remember?”
Oliver’s hand freezes above the clips. “Oh… sorry.” He drops his arms to his sides and takes a step back. “The harness can be a little tricky.”
“So we’re done then?” I say, turning around to face him, relieved he’s decided never sounds fine with him, too.
Oliver laughs. “Nice try. We’re still going in. I just figured you’d want to take off your clothes first.”
Oh. That. Nope, not really. But thanks for checking.
Digging my feet deeper into the sand, my heart picks up speed until Oliver’s soft voice breaks through the panic. “Katie, it’s just me.”
I pick my head up and glance around the still-deserted beach—thankful Brad and his brother aren’t DPers too.
“You’re not the only one who’s scared, you know? I haven’t been in the water since my accident, but,” he says, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear, “at least we’re scared together, right?”
He has a point. About the water. But the bikini’s a whole other thing. I suck in a deep breath and let my nerves settle, reminding myself it’s just Ollie before finally unzipping my shorts and letting them fall to the ground.
“You know, if you want to keep the tank top on, it’s no big deal,” Ollie offers, his cheeks already looking a bit sunburned. “We can always go back to your house and change after this if you want.”
I consider keeping the top on like it’s a really fancy one piece as I scan the beach but decide he’s right. We’re in this together. And I should probably get used to it given that I have a feeling there are a bunch more dawn patrol sessions in my future.
With my entire outfit—except for the pink and purple string bikini I have on—lying in a sandy heap at my feet, I let Oliver slip the harness back over my shoulders and clip it closed, his eyes never once straying from mine.
Without a word, I follow him into the water, keeping my focus on the kite and the lines, and not my fears, or his, until we’re knee deep and ready.
“Do you trust me?” Oliver finally asks after moving behind me to hook his vest to mine, his lips pressing against my ear and speaking just loud enough so I can hear him over the waves.
“Do I have a choice?” I answer back, despite trusting him with my life as the cool ocean air mixes with his warm breath and leaves goose bumps across my skin.
“Nope.” He smiles before wrapping an arm around my waist, guiding us further into the surf and putting that trust to the test.
Chapter 14
Oliver
The ocean hasn’t changed.
What surprises me is I have. What once felt like second nature, cutting through the currents, the pull of the wind in the kite’s sails, the drag of the water against my body, now feels disconnected and clumsy—foreign in a way I never would have believed possible, even after not riding in almost a year.
But thankfully, Katie doesn’t seem to notice. She also doesn’t seem to notice my heart hammering in my chest, which is good because I’m not sure if it’s from getting back in the water for the first time in forever, or from the pink and purple string bikini she’s sporting.
Either way, getting called out—even if it was only a ploy to keep herself on dry land for a little bit longer—was worth it since we have just over a week left to get ready for the contest and it looks like we’ll both need every second in the water we can get. Maybe me more than Katie at this point.
But for today, I’m done.
Dripping wet and exhausted from teaching Katie how to first body drag and then board drag, I slip off my harness and let it fall to the sandy ground with a thud. Katie, on the other hand, is ready for more.
“Come on, Ollie, let’s go out again. I think I’m ready to actually get up on the board this time, don’t you?” Her face is pink from the sun and her smile just as bright.
“Yeah, you’re definitely ready. But we have plans, remember?” I say, giving her a crooked smile since she doesn’t exactly know what those plans are—despite her best effort on our way to the beach. “So, looks like riding is gonna have to wait for another day.” I shrug because even if we didn’t have other plans, I’m not sure I could handle another minute—let alone another hour—with my arms wrapped around Katie in that teeny-tiny bikini.
“I guess you’re right.” Katie takes a deep breath before snatching up the towel I’m holding out for her and falling into the sand beside me, looking pretty wiped out, too. “Since you won’t tell me what we’re doing for the rest of the day—”
“And night,” I interrupt.
“And night,” she repeats with an arched brow, “I sure hope food is involved because I’m starving.”
I hop up and offer her my hand as my stomach grumbles right on cue. “Food is definitely in the plan.”
“Good,” Katie says, taking my hand and getting to her feet, her sun-kissed smile giving me the extra jolt of energy I need to pack up the kite quickly and get going with the real parts of the fake date I have planned for us.
“So, are you finally going to spill what we’re doing now?” Katie finally asks as we head into the historic district of Old Town on foot, upholding my promise to Grandma Betty to reduce my carbon footprint by walking. Good thing the island is small.
“I’ll give you three guesses,” I say as we round the corner on Whitehead Street, but even before the two-story house with the white and gold shutters and the colony of six-toed cats comes into view, Katie is bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“Is this really part of our date?” she asks excitedly, peering over the low brick wall and taking in the lush gardens surrounding the famous home.
“Sorry.” I shake my head no, and her smile falls flat. “We’re just taking a shortcut through Ernest Hemingway’s backyard. You know, since it’s the quickest way to Taco Bell and all.”
“Taco Bell?” she says, eyeing me with a fair amount of doubt, but not fully committed to calling me on my BS.
I walk up the stairs leading from the street to the front yard of the famous writer’s home-turned-museum, stopping when I reach the top. “You said you were starving, didn’t you?”
Katie glances at the front entrance, looking slightly disappointed before forcing a smile back on her face. “Completely starving. And tacos sound great,” she concedes.
Walking around the side of the house, I slip my backpack off my shoulder and drop it to the ground. “That’s good,” I say, pulling out a red-and-white checked blanket of my mom’s and laying it in the grass. “Otherwise,” I grab the three plastic Tupperware containers of chicken, beans, and grilled veggies, “you really would be starved, because this is all I got.”
“Ollie,” she says as I toss a pack of soft tortilla shells onto the blanket and sit down. “I can’t believe you packed us a picnic. Although, I really would have been fine with Taco Bell, you know?”
“I know it’s your first date and all, but give a guy a little more credit than that,” I say, pulling out two small cans of Coke.
Katie nibbles on her lip as she sits down. “This really is amazing, Oliver. I’ve wanted to come here forever, but Jess always vetoes the idea for something less ‘lame’ as she puts it,” Katie says, mimicking her sister perfectly.
“I remember. It was one of the last days on the island last summer and you guys ended up going to Dry Tortugas instead, right?”
“Yes, I can’t believe you remember that,” Katie says, picking up the can and fiddling with the tab. “Dry Tortugas did end up being amazing, but I promised myself I would come here this year no matter what. Even if I had to come alone.”
Popping the top of my Coke, I watch the fizz rise up before taking a small sip. “Why woul
d you come alone?” I ask, despite already having a pretty good idea why. The same reason she never asks me to hang out when she wants to browse the bookstores, or why she never really talks about college around me either. I’m just her dumb jock friend. “You know,” I drop my eyes to the blanket and start to mess with the Tupperware, “I would have come with you if you asked.”
Katie gives me a soft smile, like one reserved for a small child or new puppy. “That’s sweet of you, but I’m sure you would rather spend an afternoon out surfing than staring at ancient typewriters and listening to me droll on about The Old Man and the Sea.”
And there it is—said as flowery as a Hemingway novel. I am just her dumb jock friend. “You might be surprised,” I say, swallowing down the fact I’ve been here three times this year researching a paper I wrote about Hemingway for my American Lit class.
“You know, Ollie,” Katie says, glancing at our little picnic set up. “You might just be right.” She lifts her can of soda in the air. “To surprises?”
Smiling, I lift my can, knowing I have a few more surprises up my sleeve for her later tonight before clinking it against hers. “To surprises.”
…
“So a fake date, huh?” Big Pop says, wrapping his arm around his wife’s shoulder before sharing a knowing look with her. A look I’m getting pretty familiar with since Megan gave me the exact same one less than an hour ago when I ran home to change for the second half of mine and Katie’s date.
“It’s more like a practice date. You know, so Katie won’t be nervous for her real date with Brad tomorrow,” I say, giving Katie’s grandparents the same rambling answer I gave Megan, while trying to convince myself in the process that that’s really what this is. For Katie at least.
For me? It feels like more.
“So, how’s that working out for ya?” Katie’s grandpa asks, his voice gruff with age, but his tone light and teasing.
Fidgeting with the dozen pink roses clutched in my hand, I’m kind of wondering the same thing myself. “It’s… oh… going as planned,” I offer, hopeful that the perma-smile on Katie’s face when we finished the walking tour of the Hemingway house, and then grabbed frozen snow cones for the walk home, was a good sign.
“Since Oliver won’t tell me where we’re going, I hope this is okay?”
Shooting off the couch at the sound of her voice, I turn around and realize her uncertainty is completely unnecessary. She. Looks. Beautiful. And unlike last night at the kickoff gala, I don’t hesitate to let her know immediately.
“Katie, you look stunning,” I say, taking in the light blue dress that seems to float with every step she takes towards me. “These are for you.”
With a smile as tentative as her reach, Katie takes the bouquet from my hand and buries her nose in them—the same way she did with the flowers she thought belonged to Megan at the airport. “Ollie, I can’t believe you got me flowers.”
Surprised that she’s surprised, I shrug. How can she not see I meant what I said at the airport that day? She’s the kind of girl flowers we’re made for. “I… hope you like them.”
“Like them? I love them, Ollie,” Katie says, throwing her arms around my neck and drowning me in her perfect scent. After a few seconds—which is definitely not long enough—she unwraps herself from my arms and heads to the kitchen with a huge smile on her face, leaving me wishing I had a hundred bouquets to give her if they would all make her this happy.
“You know,” she says, grabbing a tall vase from under the sink, filling it with water, and then delicately slipping the roses in like they’re something precious or breakable, “you’re setting the bar pretty high as far as first dates go. Breakfast at dawn, a surprise picnic, and now flowers—I’m not sure what else you have planned, but if it’s anything like today, you’re leaving poor Brad with not much left to do.”
I choke back a smile. That’s the idea.
Glancing at the clock hanging on the wall between the kitchen and the living room, I realize if we don’t get a move on, we’re definitely gonna be late—which Katie hates—and would also totally ruin the surprise I have planned.
“Speaking of plans, we better go if we want to make our reservation.” I head towards the door and pick up the light blue scarf lying next to a silver sparkly purse that matches Katie’s heels.
“And you made reservations, too?” Grandma Betty asks, still tucked under Big Pop’s arm, her smile full of mischief. “You’re one heck of a catch, Oliver Hayes, and one day some lucky girl is going to figure that out.”
“I sure hope so,” I say under my breath as Katie’s grandma gives me a stealthy wink and I usher Katie out the door.
“You know she’s right,” Katie says as we stroll down the palm tree-lined street towards our dinner destination, the warm night air blowing through the fronds and creating a soft rustle.
“If only all the girls thought I was as big of a catch as your grandma does, I could be as big of a player as Bra—”
“Ollie, are you kidding me?” Katie says, cutting me off before I could finish my thought. Which is probably best since I was just about to rip the guy she’s into, and pissing her off isn’t really the best way to kick off the second half of the date I have planned. “You act like I don’t see the way girls look at you.” Katie nudges me in the side and smiles. “I’m actually surprised there aren’t more girls strolling around the beach with neck braces on to be honest. Everywhere we go, they practically break their necks checking you out. Have been since you were thirteen and I was twelve.” Katie laughs softly before glancing down at her outfit and shaking her head. “It’s the same way guys have been looking at my sister since forever too. I figure you two must be so used to it, you can’t even see it happening anymore.”
I press my lips together, struck with the fact Katie sees everything but what’s right in front of her face. How can she not see the only reason I don’t notice other girls checking me out is because I’m too busy looking at her?
“Used to it, huh?” I say, placing my hand against the small of her back and guiding her down a small, pebbled walkway. The smell of the perfume drifting off her sun-kissed skin at our nearness is making me feel bold. “Maybe I just have my sights set on something more important than a meaningless hookup or a quick summer fling.”
“Oh, Ollie, I didn’t mean to imply—”
“Trust me. I know you didn’t,” I say quietly, stopping us at an old, black, industrial-sized door. Katie glances around as I knock twice, pause, and then knock once more, but this time with my foot—the beat distinct and planned to let them know we’re here. “Especially since no one knows me better than you do.”
“For someone who supposedly knows you better than anyone… you sure have managed to surprise me every second of today. So… ” Katie lowers her voice to a whisper as she takes in our surroundings. “What are we doing here of all places? I thought we were getting dinner?”
“We are.” I smirk as the door opens. “Surprise.”
Chapter 15
Katie
Surprise isn’t quite the right word for it. Stunned is more like it.
“Oliver,” I gasp, taking in every inch of the Butterfly Conservatory lit with hundreds of twinkling lights filling every tree and shrub under the cathedral-style glass dome.
“Do you like it?” he asks as he presses his palm gently against the small of my back, his touch as intimate as the setting and his smile as big as the room.
Do I like it?
Spinning in a slow circle, I’m awestruck by the sheer beauty of hundreds of multi-colored butterflies flittering around us as the soft sounds of water, babbling near the large, white gazebo set in the middle of the indoor tropical paradise, steals my breath. “I absolutely love it,” I manage to breathe out, never having been to the conservatory at night or without a crowd. “How did you ever?”
“I actually volunteered here a couple of hours a day last winter.” Ollie shrugs like it’s no big deal. “So I called in a favor
or two to get us in after hours.”
“I can’t believe you did all of this for me,” I say as he grabs my hand and guides us down a small, pebbled path to the gazebo where a table for two is set up for dinner.
Helping me to my chair, Oliver glances around the arboretum, looking sheepish. “I can’t take all the credit,” he says, sitting down across from me and putting his napkin in his lap. “There was a wedding here last night, so we can thank the bride and groom for all the lights, and the food is courtesy of Lombardi’s. I hope you’re in the mood for spaghetti.”
As if on cue and proving more than just a favor or two has been called in to pull this all off, a young guy dressed in black pants, a white button-up shirt, and a thin, black tie strolls in quietly. He sets down a family-sized bowl of spaghetti and meatballs in the center of the table, a steaming basket of garlic bread, and two glasses of sparkling water.
“Deritviti,” he says with a quick nod to Oliver, and an even quicker wink to me, before disappearing down one of the winding paths until Ollie and I are alone again.
“Oliver…” I shake my head, almost at a loss for words but managing to find a few that will work. “This is all… perfect.”
“Molto bene,” Oliver says with a smile as he loads his plate with noodles and three huge meatballs like he didn’t just spit out perfect Italian.
“Okay…” I grab a breadstick, snap it in two, and shake one end at him accusingly. “What have you done with my best friend?”
“What do you mean?” he asks with his fork hovering halfway between his plate and his mouth, his brow creased with concern.
“Earlier today you knew more facts about Ernest Hemingway than the tour guide did, and now you speak Italian? What the heck is going on here?” I laugh and take a bite of the garlicky bread since I don’t have to worry about being kissed at the end of the night or anything. “Am I being punked?”
“No, you’re not being punked. Promise.” Oliver flattens his lips into a thin line before letting his fork fall to his plate with a small clang and taking a deep breath. “Unless… you think me taking college classes online is a joke? Which it probably is… or I am…” he mutters before taking a long sip of his drink. His uncertainty is clear.
