Leaning over, I whispered to him, “You could have told me there were going to be kids here.”
“Why is she here? Is she our teacher?” a boy asked, whacking me in the belly. I shot him a dirty look before I remembered that he was like seven and likely had less impulse control then I did, which was saying something.
“Miss Nichols is my assistant today. Do you know what an assistant is?” Liam asked the group. They quieted and stared at him with confused faces.
“You talk funny,” one yelled.
“Aye, I’m from Scotland, bonnie lass,” he said, over-emphasizing his native tongue. Most of the kids giggled at him.
“An assistant,” a boy piped up, “is someone who helps because they don’t know anything.”
I bit back a laugh at this nugget of wisdom, even though in this case he was right. I knew about as much as they did about tide pools. Unless, of course, they had been studying them in class before today, in which case I knew less.
“Today, we’re going to learn about the sea life you might find in a tide pool. We’re going to start by watching this video,” he explained as the teacher guided the students into a semi-circle on the floor. The video started, explaining how pockets of water were left in the wake of the tide. It was oddly absorbing, but Liam snuck up behind me midway through.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the class. I forgot they were coming this morning,” he admitted, following his confession with the crooked grin I was beginning to love.
“It’s fine, but I should go. I’ll just be in the way.”
“Nonsense,” he whispered. “Maybe you’ll find your true calling amongst the anemones.”
I doubted that. Even though I’d spent my whole life living near the ocean, I wasn’t keen on touching something that looked like it might suck my fingers off.
As it turned out, Liam was gifted at holding the attention of seven-year-olds. Something I was sure I would suck at. They hung off every word he said as he explained the correct way to touch the various creatures in the tide pool tanks. The class split into groups, and the little girl tugged my hand to come with her. Her name tag read “Sarah,” and I reluctantly followed her, but stood back, amazed by how fearless the kids were as they used one finger to gently feel each animal.
“Come on, Miss Nichols,” Liam said, grabbing my elbow and dragging me closer to the tank. “It’s your turn.”
I held back and shook my head as I peered into the water.
“What are those?” I asked as I pointed to a worm-like creature with warts covering its body.
“Sea cucumbers!” Sarah told me.
I made a face at Liam. “Do you eat them?”
“It’s considered a delicacy in Asia,” he said, laughing a little at my reaction.
“Remind me to steer clear of Asia.” I dipped a finger into the tank and braced myself, but the sea cucumber felt like a squishy leather tube.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Liam said. “Let’s all give a round of applause for Miss Nichols being brave.” He clapped his hands in a huge circle, and the kids mimicked him enthusiastically. A few weeks ago, I would have pegged him as the world’s biggest dork, but I had to admit that he actually looked pretty sexy. This was the guy that made waffles naked in my kitchen, after all. Embarrassment wasn’t likely to hold him back.
By the end of the hour, I’d gotten brave enough to touch a sea urchin and an anemone, which lazily wrapped its small tentacles around my finger. Liam came up beside me at the tank and carefully squeezed my hip just once. “Next step: diving,” he murmured, his blue eyes trained on me.
I didn’t have the heart to tell him there was no way I was capable of diving, so instead I nodded, my nerves humming with the electricity passing between us.
The insistent tug of a student on Liam’s t-shirt broke the connection between us, and I spent the rest of the morning watching him explain all about the natural sea life near our city’s shores. When the kids finally marched back toward the bus, Liam let out a weary sigh.
“They were energetic,” I said.
“They always are.” He smiled and took my hand, knitting our fingers together. “Do you have class or can we grab a bit of lunch?”
I checked my watch, surprised to see it was only eleven. “I have an hour and a half.”
“Fish and chips?” he offered. It was impossible to resist his imploring eyes.
Outside the air was crisp but still warm enough to not need a jacket. It was an atypically clear day for the rainy Olympic Peninsula without a cloud in the sky. The aquarium was stationed across from the city’s main boardwalk, which emptied onto the primary boat dock. We ambled along it toward the walk-up fish and chips counter. Liam ordered for us, and within minutes, I was cradling a newspaper-wrapped order as we found a spot to sit on the pier. I swung my legs over the side, my feet dangling inches from the water.
“I love this place,” Liam said as he opened his order with reverence. “They do it right. Like back home.”
He bit into a battered plank and moaned.
“You’re going to make me jealous,” I teased, but I had to admit the greasy food hit the spot.
“Only two things elicit moaning from me.” He held up the fish and then leaned in to kiss me. It was an oily kiss and not at all sexy, but butterflies fluttered in my chest anyway.
“What are you going to do when you get back to Scotland?” I asked him. “I mean, when you’re done with your degree?”
He stared at the calm water. “I want to get a position on a research ship. There’s a lot of interesting work going on in the Arctic right now.”
“The Arctic?” I repeated. I couldn’t imagine willingly sailing the frigid seas there.
“I’m interested in climate change,” he explained. “And that’s the best place to start.”
“Oh.” It was strange to see the serious side of Liam, who made waffles and grimaced at green tea ice cream, and I could almost hear Tara bemoaning my own lack of focus.
“That’s months away,” he said, pulling me into him, “and who knows what will happen between now and then.”
I didn’t want to think about that. Of course, he was going back to his home thousands of miles away, but there was no need to talk about it. I wasn’t even certain why I had brought it up in the first place. I abandoned my lunch and crushed against him, finding his lips eagerly. His hands fisted into my shirt, drawing me closer as his tongue slipped into my mouth. I let my own hands trail down to the waist of his jeans, hooking my fingers over it.
Liam withdrew first, his eyes glazed over just a little. I knew this look, and it sent a throb pulsing through me.
“You have class,” he reminded me.
“Screw class,” I said in a low voice, angling my face towards his.
But he didn’t budge. “Jills, I was serious about going slow.”
I dropped back, turning my attention toward the water rippling under my feet. “I know.”
It had seemed like a good idea when he said it. Going slowly meant I wouldn’t get in too deep. If I couldn’t stay in control of my body, how was I going to keep control of my head?
“Hey.” He tucked a finger under my chin and drew my gaze up to meet his. “It took me a while to catch you. I’d like to keep you now.”
“I don’t do relationships,” I said slowly, trying to get the words right. “If anyone fucks this up, it’s going to be me.”
“That’s the nice thing about relationships,” Liam said.
“What?”
“There’s two people involved. If you fuck up, I’ll be around to help you back on your feet.”
A smile slid over my face despite the pressure I felt in my chest. I wanted to believe him, but I wasn’t sure if that was selfishness or optimism. I was well-acquainted with one, but not so much the other.
“So sea cucumbers,” I began as Liam stood and pulled me to my feet. “Have you eaten one?”
“Yes,” he admitted.
“Wa
s there ranch dressing?” I asked.
“It was sashimi-style,” he said with a laugh. “Although I wouldn’t put it past Americans to put ranch dressing on sushi.”
“I bet ranch dressing is excellent on sushi.”
“I will break up with you if you put ranch dressing on sushi,” he warned me.
My iPhone beeped at me and I cursed silently. “I need to use the restroom.”
I dashed toward the public restroom, grateful that I didn’t have to actually use the toilet. As soon as I was inside I popped my pill and counted to thirty, washing the grease from lunch off my fingers. Liam was lounging against the side of the building when I came out, his body silhouetted by the late afternoon sun. Against the bay’s backdrop, the lines of his muscular body were sinuous and inviting. He looked glorious and I had to remind myself that we were taking it slowly and that I would probably get an STD if I jumped him in a public toilet. He held out his hand, and I squinted to see two tiny pills resting in it. My breath hitched at the sight. Had he gone through my bag? Had I left them out?
“Chiclet?” he asked. “I hear it’s the greatest gum in the world.”
I let out a nervous laugh, thankful that for now my secret was safe, and stole them from his hand. I popped the Chiclets in my mouth and relaxed. He was going back to Scotland in a few months, there was no point in telling him. I’d become adept at hiding the truth, even from myself.
Chapter Seventeen
Interpersonal Communications took on a decidedly more romantic vibe the next day. Now instead of awkward in-class activities, Liam and I spent the time flirting with each other. Even Markson managed to keep his snarky commentary to himself despite catching us holding hands under our desks. I felt a bit like I was back in high school—giddy and wild and hoping Liam would press me against a locker after class. Too bad there were no lockers on campus.
“What are you doing tonight?” he asked me, knitting his fingers through mine as we exited at the end of the hour.
“I received a cryptic text from Cassie directing me to meet her at a tattoo parlor,” I told him.
“You should get one right here.” He patted me on the butt. “On second thought, don’t mar that perfect ass.”
“No ink?” I didn’t add that there was no way I was subjecting myself to a needle willingly.
“Nope. It’s cool,” he added. “Vivian begged me to have dinner with her tonight at the house. She wants all the dirty details about this weekend.”
“You aren’t going to tell her…everything, are you?”
“I’m a gentleman,” he said. “I’ll tell her we went to the movies and that I kissed you finally.”
“Yeah, ya did.” I bobbed my head enthusiastically, as memories of the number of kisses we shared this weekend flashed through my mind.
“Of course, she knows I wasn’t home all weekend,” he said.
“Tell her we kissed a lot.”
“I like that, because it’s not a lie.”
Liam walked me all the way to my next class, stopping at the door. “I have class over in Williams.”
“That’s on the other side of campus,” I pointed out.
“I’ll run.” He leaned over and kissed me full on the mouth, leaving me too breathless to say anything when he turned and jogged away. I watched as he ran away from me, clutching the doorframe, and wishing for the next kiss.
The tattoo parlor’s walls were covered in prospective art ripe for Cassie’s choosing. I couldn’t help but notice a fair number of "Just Divorced" options, many featuring broken balls and chains. I guess you could celebrate any event in your life with a permanent reminder. Cassie was busy filling out the medical release form, and despite the fact that she was about to willingly let someone drag a needle repeatedly through her flesh, she seemed calm.
"What ya thinking, hon?" The tattoo artist—who introduced himself as Jimmy—asked as he laid a variety of painful-looking instruments onto a stainless steel table.
"I have something with me." She dropped the clipboard onto her lap and rifled through her purse. It was a bit of a surprise. Cassie hadn’t struck me as the tattoo type, and when she called to ask me for moral support, I sort of expected her to chicken out. But here she was with art in hand.
"This is nice," he said. "You draw this?"
"No." Cassie’s eyes flickered to me. "My boyfriend did."
"Shit, Cass, you aren’t getting his name tattooed on your ass, are you?" I couldn’t keep the annoyance out of my voice. She had it bad enough for Trevor to do something stupid. I could only hope she wasn’t about to do something that she would regret every time she caught her reflection in a mirror for the rest of her life.
"Fuck you, Jills," she said in true Cassie style, which elicited a laugh from Jimmy. She handed me the paper, and I was surprised to see a tastefully drawn image of a sparrow with the words "live free" penned under it.
"This is pretty," I said, giving it to Jimmy.
"Don’t sound so surprised." She finished signing the paperwork and left it on the counter.
"No one’s drunk, right?" Jimmy asked. "I can’t ink you if you’ve been drinking."
That should have been my first clue that Cassie was serious about getting a tattoo. I’d suggested a round of drinks first, but Cassie had rejected the idea. She had actually done research.
"You sure you want to do this?" I asked her. I had a hard time wrapping my head around getting something permanently etched into my body.
"Fuck yeah." Cassie’s enthusiasm spilled out of her and onto me. She was literally bouncing on her heels waiting for Jimmy to call her into the chair.
"You know it’s going to hurt like a bitch, right?"
"Jills, you suck at moral support," she said, adding a groan for emphasis.
"Jess would be worse," I pointed out.
"Jess would be checking that everything was properly sterilized."
She had a point. I peeked back into the room where Jimmy was prepping his tools. The artwork was unfolded on the table and he was studying it carefully. I was more than a little amazed that he was going to transfer the intricate drawing onto Cassie’s skin.
"Looks good to me," I said, like I’d done a brief inspection.
"How thorough," Cassie said. She was biting on her perfectly manicured nails now, and as Jimmy took his time, she began to pace. There were the nerves I was expecting from her.
"What about you?" Jimmy asked when he finally beckoned for us to enter.
I blinked at him. There was no way in hell I was getting a tattoo. "No, thanks. I could never pull one off."
"A lot of girls your age get them here." He pressed a doughy finger to the small of his back.
I stifled a laugh. A tramp stamp? He was definitely barking up the wrong tree.
"I’m on medication," I said in an apologetic voice. There was absolutely nothing about my pills that would interfere with a tattoo, but it seemed like a good excuse to avoid the needle.
Cassie climbed into the chair, and Jimmy began prepping her arm, asking her a variety of questions about color and placement. She wanted it on her wrist. I refrained from telling her that there was no way she could ever hide it there. Jimmy started the outline after a few minutes, and Cassie’s eyes rolled up to meet mine as she mouthed "Fuck!"
I clutched her free hand and squeezed it. It oddly reminded me of sitting at someone’s sickbed, except Cassie was inflicting this on herself. The world was a strange place.
"Distract me," Cassie ordered me. She squeezed her eyes shut and muttered a string of curse words as he began filling in the tattoo with color.
"Did I mention how much sex I’m getting these days?" I asked her.
"Careful," Jimmy said. "You’ll distract me."
Fantastic, a dirty old man was going to listen in, but if any topic could distract Cassie, it would have to be sex.
"Excellent. Details."
I tried to share things that wouldn’t cause Jimmy to accidentally tattoo half of her arm. Mostly swee
t things, but I ended it on news of Liam’s plan to slow things down.
"What the hell does that mean?" she asked me. "He’s not one of those secondary virginity types, is he?"
There was no greater offense to Cassie than guys who screwed you and then wanted to pretend like it had never happened. Each of us had experienced a guy like that in our time at Olympic State. Jess tried to tell us it wasn’t an insult, but I tended to side with Cassie.
"It’s nothing like that," I reassured her. My hand was starting to go numb from how hard she was squeezing it. "But we sort of jumped into bed before we knew each other’s last names."
"And what’s wrong with that?" Cassie asked through gritted teeth.
"Nothing, but I don’t know…he’s sensitive."
"Hmmmmpfh." It wasn’t even a word, but Cassie made the noise whenever she disapproved of something. It was a distinctly Tara thing to do. "Let me know how long that lasts."
"It’s going well," I told her.
"For how long?" It was a pointed question and I knew it, because Cassie had been there when I went on my first date with Liam.
"A few days."
"Yeah, I give you a fucking week," she said.
"Thank you for the vote of confidence." If I was being truthful, I gave us less than that.
"Ok, new distraction," Cassie begged.
I made the mistake of glancing at her wrist in time to see Jimmy wipe away the slight pool of blood forming over the newly inked skin. My stomach turned over a little, but I shot Cassie a brave smile.
"When did Trevor draw that?" I asked her.
"He doodled it in a notebook. I didn’t even tell him I was getting this," she confessed. "He doesn’t like people to know he’s artistic."
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