[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
and shake my head.
"I know you said you weren't hungry, but their shakes are
best. You should definitely try the date malt, or the
chocolate peanut butter shake, or both, it's my treat."
"Dates?" I crinkle my nose and make a face. "Um, I hate to
say it, but that sounds awful."
But he just laughs and pulls me toward the counter,
ordering one of each, and then carrying them over to the
painted blue bench where we take a seat and gaze down at
the beach.
"So which one's your favorite?" he asks.
I try them each again, but they're both so thick and creamy,
I remove their lids and use a spoon. "They're both really
good," I say. "But surprisingly, I think I like the date one
best." But when I slide it toward him so he can taste too, he
shakes his head and pushes it back. And something about
that small simple act pierces straight through me.
There's just something about him, something more than just
the strange magic tricks and disappearing acts. I mean, for
one thing, this guy never eats.
But no sooner have I thought it than he reaches for the
straw and takes a long deep pull, and when he leans in to
kiss me his lips are icy cold.
"Let's head down to the beach, shall we?"
He takes my hand and we walk along the trail, shoulders
bumping into each other, as we pass the milkshakes back
and" forth, even though I'm doing most all of the slurping.
And as we make our way down to the beach, we remove
our shoes, roll up our hems, and walk along the shore,
allowing the frigid water to wash over our toes and splash
on our shins.
"Do you surf?" he asks, taking the empty cups and placing
one inside the other.
I shake my head, and step over a pile of rocks.
"Would you like a lesson?" He smiles.
"In this water?" I head toward a bank of dry sand, my toes
numb and blue from just that quick dip. "No thanks."
"Well, I was thinking we'd wear wet suits," he says, coming
up behind me.
"Only if they're fur lined." I laugh, smoothing the sand with
my foot, making a flat space for us to sit. But he takes my
hand and leads me away, all the way past the tide pools,
and into a hidden natural cave.
"I had no idea this was here," I say, gazing around at the
smooth rock walls, the recently raked sand, and the towels
and surfboards piled up in the corner.
"Nobody does." He smiles. "That's why all my stuff is still
here. Blends into the tock; most people walk right by
without even seeing it. But then, most people live their
whole lives without ever noticing what's directly in front of
them."
"So how'd you find it?" I ask, sitting onto the large green
blanket he's laid out in the middle.
He shrugs. "I guess I'm not like most people."
He lies down beside me, then pulls me down too. Resting
his cheek on the palm of his hand, he gazes at me for so
long, I can't help but squirm.
"Why do you hide under those baggy jeans and hoodies?"
he whispers, his fingers stroking the side of my face,
pushing my hair behind my ear. "Don't you know how
beautiful you are?"
I press my lips together and look away, liking the sentiment
but wishing he'd stop. I don't want to go down this road of
having to explain myself, defend why I am the way I am.
Obviously he'd prefer the old me, but it's too late for that.
That girl died and left me in her place. A tear escapes down
my cheek, and I try to turn, not wanting him to see. But he
holds me tight and won't let me go, erasing my sadness
with a brush of his lips before merging with mine.
"Ever," he groans, voice thick, eyes burning, shifting" until
he's draped right across me, the weight of his body
providing the most comforting warmth that soon turns to
heat.
I run my lips along the line of his jaw, the square of his
chin, my breath coming in short shallow gasps as his hips
press and circle with mine, eliciting all of the feelings I've
fought so hard to deny. But I'm tired of fighting, tired of
denying. I just want to be normal again. And what could be
more normal than this?
I close my eyes as he removes my sweatshirt, surrendering,
yielding, allowing him to unbutton my jeans and remove
them too. Consenting to the press of his palm and push of
his fingers, telling myself that this glorious feeling, this
dreamy exuberance surging inside me could only be one
thing-could only be Love.
But when I feel his thumbs anchored in the elastic of my
panties, guiding them down, I sit up abruptly and push him
away. Part of me wanting to continue, to pull him back to
me-only not here, not now,not in this way.
"Ever," he whispers, his eyes searching mine. But I just
shake my head and turn away, feeling his warm wonderful
body mold around mine, his lips on my ear saying, "It's all
right. Really. Now sleep."
***
"Damen?" I roll over, squinting in the dim light, as my hand
explores the empty space beside me. Patting the blanket
again and again, until I'm convinced he's truly not there.
"Damen?" I call again, glancing around the cave, the distant
sound of crashing waves the only reply.
I slip on my sweatshirt and stumble outside, staring into the
fading afternoon light, scanning the beach, expecting to find
him. But when I don't see him anywhere, I head back
inside, seeing the note he left on my bag, and unfolding it
to read:
Gone surfing. Be back soon. -D
I run back outside, note still in hand, rushing up and down
the shore, scanning for surfers, one
in particular. But the only two out there are so blond and
pale, it's clear they're not Damen.
Twenty One
When I pull into the driveway I'm surprised to see someone
sitting on the front steps, but when I get closer, I'm even
more surprised to see that it's Riley.
"Hey," I say, grabbing my bag and slamming the car door, a
little harder than planned.
"Sheesh!" she says, shaking her head and staring at me. "I
thought you were gonna run me over."
"Sorry, I thought you were Damen," I say heading for the
front door.
"Oh no, what'd he do now?" She laughs. But I just shrug
and unlock the door. I'm certainly not going to fill her in on
the details.
"What happened, you get locked out?" I ask, leading her
inside.
''Very funny." She rolls her eyes and heads into the kitchen,
taking a seat at the breakfast bar as I drop my bag on the
counter and stick my head in the fridge.
"So, what's up?" I glance at her, wondering why she's so
quiet, thinking maybe my bad mood is contagious.
"Nothing." She rests her chin in her hand and gazes at me.
"Doesn't seem like nothing." I grab a bottle of water instead
of the quart of ice cream I really want, and lean against the
granite counter, noticing how her black hair is tangled, and
the Wonder Woman costume more than a little droopy.
She shrugs. "So, what are you gonna do?" she asks, leaning
back on the stool in a way that makes me cringe, even
though she can't possibly fall and get hurt. "I mean, this is
like a teen dream come true, right? House to yourself, no
chaperones." She wiggles her brows in a way that seems
false, like she's trying too hard to put up a good front.
I take a swig of water and shrug, part of me wanting to
confide in her, unburden my secrets, the good, bad, and the
completely revolting. It would be so nice to get it off my
chest, not bear all this weight on my own. But when I look
at her again, I remember how half her life was spent
waiting to turn thirteen, viewing each passing year as the
one that brought her closer to the important double digits.
And I can't help but wonder if that's why she's here. Since I
robbed her of her dream, she's left with no choice but to
live it through me.
"Well, I hate to disappoint you," I finally say. "But I'm sure
you've already guessed what a colossal failure I am in the
teen dream department." I gaze up at her shyly, my face
flushing when she nods in agreement. "And that promise I
showed back in Oregon? With the friends, and the
boyfriend, and the cheerleading? Gone. Kaput. O-V-E-R. And
the two friends I managed to make at Bay View? Well, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl chiara76.opx.pl
and shake my head.
"I know you said you weren't hungry, but their shakes are
best. You should definitely try the date malt, or the
chocolate peanut butter shake, or both, it's my treat."
"Dates?" I crinkle my nose and make a face. "Um, I hate to
say it, but that sounds awful."
But he just laughs and pulls me toward the counter,
ordering one of each, and then carrying them over to the
painted blue bench where we take a seat and gaze down at
the beach.
"So which one's your favorite?" he asks.
I try them each again, but they're both so thick and creamy,
I remove their lids and use a spoon. "They're both really
good," I say. "But surprisingly, I think I like the date one
best." But when I slide it toward him so he can taste too, he
shakes his head and pushes it back. And something about
that small simple act pierces straight through me.
There's just something about him, something more than just
the strange magic tricks and disappearing acts. I mean, for
one thing, this guy never eats.
But no sooner have I thought it than he reaches for the
straw and takes a long deep pull, and when he leans in to
kiss me his lips are icy cold.
"Let's head down to the beach, shall we?"
He takes my hand and we walk along the trail, shoulders
bumping into each other, as we pass the milkshakes back
and" forth, even though I'm doing most all of the slurping.
And as we make our way down to the beach, we remove
our shoes, roll up our hems, and walk along the shore,
allowing the frigid water to wash over our toes and splash
on our shins.
"Do you surf?" he asks, taking the empty cups and placing
one inside the other.
I shake my head, and step over a pile of rocks.
"Would you like a lesson?" He smiles.
"In this water?" I head toward a bank of dry sand, my toes
numb and blue from just that quick dip. "No thanks."
"Well, I was thinking we'd wear wet suits," he says, coming
up behind me.
"Only if they're fur lined." I laugh, smoothing the sand with
my foot, making a flat space for us to sit. But he takes my
hand and leads me away, all the way past the tide pools,
and into a hidden natural cave.
"I had no idea this was here," I say, gazing around at the
smooth rock walls, the recently raked sand, and the towels
and surfboards piled up in the corner.
"Nobody does." He smiles. "That's why all my stuff is still
here. Blends into the tock; most people walk right by
without even seeing it. But then, most people live their
whole lives without ever noticing what's directly in front of
them."
"So how'd you find it?" I ask, sitting onto the large green
blanket he's laid out in the middle.
He shrugs. "I guess I'm not like most people."
He lies down beside me, then pulls me down too. Resting
his cheek on the palm of his hand, he gazes at me for so
long, I can't help but squirm.
"Why do you hide under those baggy jeans and hoodies?"
he whispers, his fingers stroking the side of my face,
pushing my hair behind my ear. "Don't you know how
beautiful you are?"
I press my lips together and look away, liking the sentiment
but wishing he'd stop. I don't want to go down this road of
having to explain myself, defend why I am the way I am.
Obviously he'd prefer the old me, but it's too late for that.
That girl died and left me in her place. A tear escapes down
my cheek, and I try to turn, not wanting him to see. But he
holds me tight and won't let me go, erasing my sadness
with a brush of his lips before merging with mine.
"Ever," he groans, voice thick, eyes burning, shifting" until
he's draped right across me, the weight of his body
providing the most comforting warmth that soon turns to
heat.
I run my lips along the line of his jaw, the square of his
chin, my breath coming in short shallow gasps as his hips
press and circle with mine, eliciting all of the feelings I've
fought so hard to deny. But I'm tired of fighting, tired of
denying. I just want to be normal again. And what could be
more normal than this?
I close my eyes as he removes my sweatshirt, surrendering,
yielding, allowing him to unbutton my jeans and remove
them too. Consenting to the press of his palm and push of
his fingers, telling myself that this glorious feeling, this
dreamy exuberance surging inside me could only be one
thing-could only be Love.
But when I feel his thumbs anchored in the elastic of my
panties, guiding them down, I sit up abruptly and push him
away. Part of me wanting to continue, to pull him back to
me-only not here, not now,not in this way.
"Ever," he whispers, his eyes searching mine. But I just
shake my head and turn away, feeling his warm wonderful
body mold around mine, his lips on my ear saying, "It's all
right. Really. Now sleep."
***
"Damen?" I roll over, squinting in the dim light, as my hand
explores the empty space beside me. Patting the blanket
again and again, until I'm convinced he's truly not there.
"Damen?" I call again, glancing around the cave, the distant
sound of crashing waves the only reply.
I slip on my sweatshirt and stumble outside, staring into the
fading afternoon light, scanning the beach, expecting to find
him. But when I don't see him anywhere, I head back
inside, seeing the note he left on my bag, and unfolding it
to read:
Gone surfing. Be back soon. -D
I run back outside, note still in hand, rushing up and down
the shore, scanning for surfers, one
in particular. But the only two out there are so blond and
pale, it's clear they're not Damen.
Twenty One
When I pull into the driveway I'm surprised to see someone
sitting on the front steps, but when I get closer, I'm even
more surprised to see that it's Riley.
"Hey," I say, grabbing my bag and slamming the car door, a
little harder than planned.
"Sheesh!" she says, shaking her head and staring at me. "I
thought you were gonna run me over."
"Sorry, I thought you were Damen," I say heading for the
front door.
"Oh no, what'd he do now?" She laughs. But I just shrug
and unlock the door. I'm certainly not going to fill her in on
the details.
"What happened, you get locked out?" I ask, leading her
inside.
''Very funny." She rolls her eyes and heads into the kitchen,
taking a seat at the breakfast bar as I drop my bag on the
counter and stick my head in the fridge.
"So, what's up?" I glance at her, wondering why she's so
quiet, thinking maybe my bad mood is contagious.
"Nothing." She rests her chin in her hand and gazes at me.
"Doesn't seem like nothing." I grab a bottle of water instead
of the quart of ice cream I really want, and lean against the
granite counter, noticing how her black hair is tangled, and
the Wonder Woman costume more than a little droopy.
She shrugs. "So, what are you gonna do?" she asks, leaning
back on the stool in a way that makes me cringe, even
though she can't possibly fall and get hurt. "I mean, this is
like a teen dream come true, right? House to yourself, no
chaperones." She wiggles her brows in a way that seems
false, like she's trying too hard to put up a good front.
I take a swig of water and shrug, part of me wanting to
confide in her, unburden my secrets, the good, bad, and the
completely revolting. It would be so nice to get it off my
chest, not bear all this weight on my own. But when I look
at her again, I remember how half her life was spent
waiting to turn thirteen, viewing each passing year as the
one that brought her closer to the important double digits.
And I can't help but wonder if that's why she's here. Since I
robbed her of her dream, she's left with no choice but to
live it through me.
"Well, I hate to disappoint you," I finally say. "But I'm sure
you've already guessed what a colossal failure I am in the
teen dream department." I gaze up at her shyly, my face
flushing when she nods in agreement. "And that promise I
showed back in Oregon? With the friends, and the
boyfriend, and the cheerleading? Gone. Kaput. O-V-E-R. And
the two friends I managed to make at Bay View? Well, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]