Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“Can I tag along?” I blurt out.
Our eyes meet and hold. “Suit yourself.”
18
JACK
I park in the service station lot, cut the engine, and then swiftly grab two blankets from the back seat. I feel anxious, not wanting to lose time while also hoping to somehow outrun Aaron’s questions about why I acted like an idiot and stormed out of Johnny’s bar. I have no idea why I let the situation get the best of me, and quite likely, I need to probe deeper for some answers. But right now, my brain doesn’t have the bandwidth to process it all. I knew Aaron hadn’t invited Rocco to Aqua Vista, but the guy certainly rubbed me the wrong way, and his comments felt way too much like a pressure campaign. Or maybe it was just me putting pressure on myself.
Regardless, focusing on the moon reflecting off the water tonight will help alleviate whatever the hell I’m feeling. Having Aaron so near again only adds to the tension. I was tempted to drag him into my house and have my way with him. I know he would’ve barely put up a struggle—he loves being dominated or bossed around, or hell, whatever it is that appeals to him so much. And obviously to me too. But sex isn’t always the answer.
Listen to me acting like any of those things matter. We’re only hooking up, for Christ’s sake. But somewhere along the way, I’ve come to care about him as a person, so I don’t want to make any wrong moves. Maybe Aaron is right, and we can remain friends after all this is over.
Aaron follows me to the shore. From the top of the towpath, I aim my camera and shoot. It’s like my fingers are itching to move, to do something useful, to help occupy my attention, or I’m liable to say a bunch of things I don’t mean.
“That’ll be a nice shot,” he says quietly, as if hoping not to step on my toes or add to the tension between us.
I babble about settings and angles, knowing Aaron doesn’t understand a lick of what I’m talking about, but he gets this intensity in his eyes like he’s trying to absorb it all, and damn, if I don’t like that a lot.
The glow of the moon filters through his green eyes, making them appear translucent, and my fingers itch to trace the small scar on the edge of his eyebrow. His lips are shiny as he licks them, and I want to pull the bottom one into my mouth.
I ignore that feeling and head down the steps, ready to get on with it.
I sigh when I remove my shoes and sink my feet in the sand. Yeah, it feels good. I won’t deny it, even if I take it for granted most days. But I know it’s more than that. It’s what the ocean has come to represent to me. It hasn’t been the same since the boating accident that stole my family. For a long while after, I only viewed it as a dark black hole. It took me some time to appreciate its beauty again instead of dreading its power.
I turn in time to watch Aaron pause midway on the stairs to point toward the ocean. “I can see the boat lights from here.”
A painful memory filters through—of me in just that spot, searching for any glimmers on the waves. Hoping for a fucking beam or glow representing signs of life. I ruthlessly thrust that thought from my brain.
I refocus on Aaron, whose wide grin makes him look like a little kid who’s just discovered the ocean. Without thinking, I lift the lens and begin shooting with the backdrop of the path and sky behind him.
“Hey! No fair.” He charges down the steps toward me.
“My equipment, my rules,” I tease as I twist my body away from him.
“Is that so?” When he grabs for the camera, I release my hold on it.
He angles the lens toward me and takes a shaky shot, as if unsure which button to push. “We finally got you in a shot! Probably a shitty one, but still.”
I cover part of my face as I invade his space, attempting to cover up the lens. I don’t enjoy having my photo taken. Go figure. Neither did my dad, but he still mugged for the camera in family shots. He did it for my mom. She liked organizing all the memories into photo albums and, more recently, in folders on the computer. My stomach churns just remembering how important it was to me to transfer those files.
“I concede!” He hands me back the camera. “Don’t want to break anything.”
“Looks like I have some company!” a voice comes from farther down the beach.
Aaron squints in that direction. “Beth? What are you doing here?”