“He thinks he can. He tries hard enough.” Jamie reached over and took my hand. Our fingers entwined, his hand so warm and solid. While my feet barely dangled in the water, his were submerged half way up his calves.
“Well, just so you know, I don’t go around letting random guys kiss me either. And I don’t consider you random. You probably don’t remember, but one day last summer you came up to me and Noah when we were hanging out at the beach. I kind of noticed you then.” And I’d thought about him every day since.
“I remember. I wasn’t that thirsty,” he said, his eyes full of the unspoken words. “When I found out you were Marshall’s daughter, I thought it safer to keep my distance.”
“Why would that be safer?”
“Because you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”
How could mere words from his perfect lips make my insides turn to absolute jelly?
“So, this is a thing?” I ventured, just shy of telling him he was the prettiest boy I’d ever seen, but that would have sounded insane, because Jamie wasn’t a boy and he wasn’t pretty so much as absolutely magnificent.
“Yeah, I’d say it’s a thing,” he said, his eyes intent.
“Well, I should probably tell you I kissed Noah at the party.”
His thumb, which had been stroking mine, stilled. “Noah told me.”
“He did?” When he didn’t say anything and just kept staring at me in that quietly confident way of his, I added, “We are friends. And I had to see if, you know… if there was anything there.”
“And?”
“There’s not.” Of course he knew that, otherwise he wouldn’t have come here.
“He’d be better for you,” Jamie said, his thick lashes hooding his eyes.
“You’re better for me.” My voice strained around the whispered words.
“Marshall won’t think so.” He lifted his gaze back to me. “How are we going to handle your dad?”
“I don’t know. Maybe we don’t. He doesn’t have to know.” I knew even as I said the words that Jamie would never go for that. And really, neither would I.
“Yes, he does.” His tone was stern, unyielding.
“He won’t approve, Jamie,” I said, feeling a sense of hopelessness. This could be it, the insurmountable.
“I won’t do this unless he approves. He’s my CO. This is important to me. I won’t hide. I respect Marshall too much to do that. I respect you too much to do that.”
“And what if he says we can’t see each other anymore?” I asked, trying to pry my hand free from his, but he held fast.
“We keep working on him until he says yes. I can be very persistent when it comes to what I want. “
“Yeah, well, my dad’s pretty stubborn too. He won’t wear down easily. I could be eighteen before that happens.”
“I can wait.” He lifted our linked hands and pressed his lips to the back of mine. “I’m not going anywhere.”
And he didn’t. Not for hours. Not until he nudged me awake from where I’d fallen asleep with my head on his shoulder and his arm cradling my back. I stumbled back to my room, half asleep and giddy, as the sun was coming up.
I’d just spent the night with Jamie.
Chapter Seven
Unknown: I forgot to kiss you last night.
Me: who is this?
Unknown: Jamie. who else could it be?
Me: no one. you said you didn’t have a phone
Jamie: I do now. when can I see you again?
Me: I have practice after school. where will you be tomorrow at 5:15?
Jamie: where ever you are.
Me: where would you like me to be?
Jamie: the beach behind my house?
Me: see you then.
I pulled into Jamie’s driveway at 5:06. I grabbed the plastic container from the passenger seat, tucked it under my arm, and got out. Noah was in the garage. It felt a little weird that I was here to see Jamie and not him. Half of their two-car garage was set up as a kind of a gym with a bench and weight rack and an assortment of weighted plates. Noah and his friend, Jeb, grunted their way through bench-pressing a barbell with an extraordinary amount of weight on it.
“Hey, Erin,” Noah said. I could tell by the way his lips twitched and his eyes gleamed he wanted to play the asshat little brother and tease me about being here to see Jamie. “Jamie’s on the beach.”
“Wait,” Jeb said, stalling in his lift. He set the bar on the rack and sat up, sweat trickling down his abdomen and the sides of his face. “You’re here for Jamie?”
“We’re going to hang out for a while,” I said as nonchalantly as I could. The idea made me giddy and the goosebumps on my arms had nothing to do with the Gulf breeze coasting over my skin.
“That’s why he took a shower,” Jeb mused, hitting me with a toothpaste—commercial smile. “How did that Neanderthal bag a girl like you? You’re breaking my heart, Erin.”
Oh, I’m sure.
As far as reputations went, Jamie was known as the fierce, driven one. Noah was the one you wanted to break out of his shell. But Jeb was the one you avoided at all costs lest you become another notch in a really long string of notches on his belt.
“You’re too pretty for me Jeb.” His hair too glorious. His smile too bright. He was slightly taller than Jamie but not nearly as big, his frame more lean than bulky, but no less defined. “I’d end up being jealous of my own boyfriend.”
“If you tell me you brought food, I’ll get down on my knees.”
“It’s for Jamie,” I said, hiding a smile and clutching the container like a prize. I made for the path that led to the beach, leaving them to their workout.
“You’re too good for him,“ Jeb called, and I waved over my shoulder.
Even though the Jacobs’s house sat on a piece of government-owned land that doubled as a state park, not many people visited, so they pretty much had their own private beach.
The sight of Jamie waiting for me on a blanket made my heart skip a beat or two. When he turned his head and smiled at me, my heart threatened to stop altogether.
“Hi,” he said and stood when I approached the blanket.
“Hi.” I waited a few beats so my voice wouldn’t tremble when I spoke. I’d forgotten how different he looked when he was on the beach, as though he owned it—his dark hair, the light green eyes, the absolute wonder of him. “What is all this?”
“I thought you might be hungry after practice. It’s just a snack.” He wiped his hands on his boardshorts. He was shirtless, which was how I preferred him, and looked nervous, which I found adorable.
“That is more than a snack. It’s a feast.” I sat on the blanket, holding my humble plastic container in my lap almost embarrassed to give it to him with all the food laid out in front of me.
“My mom makes really good ceviche,” he said as he sat, the food tray between us.
Like most days, the breeze was steady, catching the loose hairs of my ponytail. I’d reapplied deodorant after practice, and splashed my face with water, but I was still in my black spandex shorts and tank top. I wasn’t exactly dressed for a date, and this felt and looked date-like. The perfect date. A picnic on the beach with the perfect guy, who was thoughtful enough to go to the trouble to feed me. The “guys” weren’t the only ones swayed by food.
“I’ve never had ceviche,” I said. ”What is it?”
“It’s just fish and vegetables. Your dad mentioned you like to eat clean, especially during the season. Here.” He picked up a tortilla chip from a small basket then dipped it in the ceviche and held it to my lips. I opened my mouth and when my lips closed around the chip, my mouth exploded in deliciousness.
“Oh my God, that’s good.” My hand came up to cover my mouth as I chewed. I took another chip and swiped a generous amount of ceviche. One of the chips broke and fell on the container, reminding me of the brownies I’d brought. “I made you something, too.” I held out the container.
He took it from me and popped th
e lid open. His eyes leveled on me, the look in them ravenous. “You made me brownies?”
“Yeah. You said you liked them.”
“I think I said I loved them.” He picked one up and stuck the whole thing in his mouth. He ate two more in quick succession, and I figured he’d stop there, but he kept going and my mouth fell open. He ate every last one, then picked up one little crumb between his thumb and index finger and ate that too.
I peered into the empty container. “Jamie, there were two dozen brownies in there.” He’d inhaled every last one.
“They were delicious. I spent most of the day in the water today. Takes a lot of calories to make up for that. I could probably eat another two dozen no problem.” He snagged one of the bottles of water off the blanket and chased down the brownies.
“Good thing I didn’t offer any to Noah and Jeb,” I said, picking through a bowl of grapes and strawberries and cantaloupe.
“Don’t you be giving my brownies to those losers.” He stuck another chip in his mouth. He was sitting cross-legged, as was I, and as pretty as the beach was today, with the sun about to set at his back, he still commanded my full attention.
“Where did you go today?” I asked, curious what exactly he did all day. I knew he worked out every morning and he spent time in classes with my dad on various days of the week, but I didn’t know a lot of specifics. Like what would keep him in the water all day.
“New Orleans.”
“You swam to New Orleans?” I paused mid-bite.
“Well, not exactly New Orleans. I can’t tell you the exact location. Marshall needed some eyes on the ground. Or in the water. I can do it more discreetly than a chopper and in more detail than a satellite picture. And I can pick up on things a picture can’t. Smells. Sounds.”
“You’re not doing anything dangerous, are you?” I knew he would eventually. The point of his training, the whole point of the team, was to get him ready for potentially dangerous assignments. The idea didn’t sit well with me, and suddenly the whole Special Ops thing didn’t seem so glamorous anymore.
“Not yet,” he said with a little too much relish, as though he couldn’t wait for the dangerous stuff. “It’s mostly tests and games. But we treat them like they’re real.”
“So why military?” I asked, wanting to sit here until he told me everything about himself, until I’d gobbled up every bite of information and there was nothing left but a small crumb, and then I’d pick that up and swallow it too.
“Because I can make a difference. I have skills not many other people have and your dad convinced me to use them.” He paused and took a bite of cantaloupe, his expression thoughtful. “I needed a sense of purpose and direction and your dad offered me that.”
I couldn’t imagine Jamie directionless. Even in those days right after his dad died, when I would catch a glimpse of him, he’d always seemed so sure of himself, always confident.
And then to my shame, I was afraid he was going to ask me if I’d talked to my dad yet. I hadn’t. I chickened out. Over breakfast. And after dinner when we’d sat down to watch an episode of Friday Night Lights on Netflix. I didn’t want to speculate why I chickened out. I’d never been afraid to talk to my dad about anything. To my relief, Jamie asked about practice.
“How was practice?”
“The usual.” I shrugged, spearing my own piece of cantaloupe with a toothpick complete with yellow, festive curls on top.
“Are you any good?”
I laughed, unsure how to answer. “If you’d paid attention that day by the pool, you’d know the answer to that.”
“You think I wasn’t paying attention?” He looked at me askance and huffed, stabbing a strawberry with a toothpick. “I was paying attention. To the way the guys looked at you. To Donovan. And when he hurt you, I wanted to beat the crap out of him even knowing it was an accident. I had to leave, I was paying so much attention.” Then he cocked his head and offered me a crooked smile and my insides turned to jelly. “I know you’re good in a pool. Are you good on a court?”
“Yes, I’m good on the court,” I said. “After this year, I’ll probably quit playing for the school and play year round on a travel team. That’s the best route to getting to play in college. I’m probably not good enough for a division one university.”
Jamie scoffed, and it reminded me of my dad. He always said if I wanted to play for Florida State, or University of Florida, or Alabama, all I needed to do was work harder. His opinion was: if you’re going to set the bar, you might as well set it high.
“But I’ve already had a few smaller schools show interest,” I finished, stuffing another chip in my mouth.
“When’s your next game? Can I come watch you play?” Jamie reclined on his elbow, his long legs stretched over the blanket with his feet in the powdery sand. I could just make out the silvery membrane between his big toe and second toe.
“I’m not sure that would be a good idea. Not until I talk to my dad.” I averted my gaze. Waves rolled onto the shoreline in peaceful, quiet succession. I could feel Jamie’s eyes on me.
“We could go right now and talk to him together,” he suggested, an eagerness to his tone, ready to tackle any challenge head-on, confident in the outcome. Jamie had that air about him, despite his youth, as though he were used to getting what he wanted. And not in a spoiled way either. He knew what he wanted and was more than willing to work to get it. I’d witnessed that plenty of times. He clearly expected to get his way as it pertained to my dad and his rules of whom I was allowed to fraternize with. I didn’t share his optimism.
“I’d rather talk to him by myself first, Jamie. Give me a few more days. The time just hasn’t been right yet.” It was an unfair request, but this required a delicate hand. If we marched over and dropped this bomb on my dad without warning, he’d fall into retaliation mode and might never give us his blessing.
“I see him everyday, Erin. I don’t like being dishonest with him.” His eyes met mine, bright in their intensity.
“And I live with him. I’ll talk to him. I promise.” And I would, because sitting here with Jamie with only a warm breeze and carefully selected snacks between us, I knew I wanted this. I wanted us, something real and honest.
He looked as if he might argue, and I so didn’t want to argue on our first date, even though he was right. Thankfully, Noah and Jeb came down the path, distracting us with their feet squeaking through the sand as they ran by in a race to the shoreline. When they hit the surf, jostling ensued as they wrestled their way into the water. We watched until they disappeared completely. They might be gone for hours.
“You can go with them if you want,” I said, watching his expression, his longing. I’d asked Noah plenty of times what it was like to breathe underwater and spend hours swimming. He said some things couldn’t be described, that they needed to be experienced.
Jamie’s eyes softened, like actually changed to a paler shade of green. “I’m right where I want to be.”
Chapter Eight
Jamie: I forgot to kiss you again.
Me: I think you’re a tease.
Jamie: dock 3 minutes
Me: you can’t get here in three minutes
Jamie: time it. I’m on my way.
I set the timer on my phone then dilly-dallied on my way down the stairs. I checked to make sure my dad was in his study. The door was cracked and Band of Horses played through the speakers hooked up to his computer. He was leaning back in his chair, his feet on the desk, glasses pulled down to the end of his nose, fully engrossed in whatever it was he was reading. My dad wasn’t an idiot. This sneaking around stuff wouldn’t last long.
I tiptoed through the kitchen and slid quietly out the back door after disengaging the alarm system. When I got to the dock, Jamie was already waiting for me. I looked at the clock. Two minutes and twenty-three seconds.
“No way,” I said. “You weren’t at your house.”
“I was.” He descended on me, three long strides that shook
the dock. He took my face in his hands, and I had to crane my neck back to look at him. He hadn’t seemed this tall on the beach earlier. “I’ve been forcing myself to wait to do this again.”
I thought he’d kissed me before, but this was different. This was possession. This was deep. The touch of his lips, the invasion of his tongue, reached into my soul, branding it. My hands clutched at his hard and unyielding biceps, and when he lifted his mouth, I might have whimpered. We were both breathing heavily. His cool eyes burned into me while his fingers on my jaw were gentle. All I cared about in that moment was his mouth, and getting it back on me.
“Again,” I said.
He picked me up, hands on my waist. My arms slid around his neck, legs wrapping around his hips. I’d never been held like this before. He was a mountain, and I clung to his strength, my mouth waiting for his. His next kiss was gentler, a slow exploration of tongue and lips that went on forever but was over too soon. Then he set me down, releasing me. I swayed into him. He backed up a few steps, his smile as possessive as his kiss. He poised himself on the end of the dock, toes curling over the edge.
“Tell him,” he said and dove into the bay, leaving nothing but a quiet ripple behind.
Chapter Nine
I was having the worst game of my life.
Warm-ups were all good. I was relaxed. I smiled at my teammates when we went through our pre-game ritual of circling up in the center of the court, arms linked around each other’s shoulders and chanting our way through ten cheers. We closed it out with a collective, “Teamwork,” then headed to the bench for a final drink before taking the court. That’s when I turned around and saw Noah walk through the gym doors, which was all well and good. He often came to my games, but this time, Jamie was with him and Donovan and Tate and Lassiter. And it was as if they sucked all the air out of the already stifling gym. I watched, a little shell-shocked, as they climbed the bleachers to where my dad sat and offered a him series of fist bumps.
Summer's Last Breath (The Emerald Series) Page 6
