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Seriously? I don’t know how many more zings my poor balls can take before they turn turquoise.
Hands clasped, we get back downstairs, but before leaving, Brooklyn takes a few selfies of the two of us, then asks the guy kicking us out to take a pic from a distance.
Damn. This is progressing suspiciously like a date—with a kiss and everything.
This is when it really hits me. We kissed. A part of me still can’t believe it. And it was the most amazing kiss ever. Unless… is the vodka making me think so? Beer goggles are a thing, so maybe?—
“Almost forgot,” Brooklyn says, grabbing her artwork as we pass by the ticket booth.
Does this mean she’s sobering up, or is it the opposite?
The feeling of this being a date strengthens as we stroll hand in hand, chatting about everything and nothing. I tell her what I like about surfing, she tells me why she loves to work with animals—and that she wants to do more of it in the future, preferably by becoming a vet.
“I could totally see you as a vet,” I say. “You should do it.”
Her smile falters. “Maybe one day.”
Ah. Right. She’s on vacation, and I’m reminding her about work and responsibilities.
Speaking of reminders, she’s here merely on vacation. Until now, the haze of alcohol had made me forget that and the fact that I’m not very datable.
As if on cue, the lights on the boardwalk and the bridge ahead of us come on, creating an extremely romantic atmosphere.
Fuck me.
Brooklyn waves at the merry people on a passing boat, and I use that moment to instruct Boone to meet us on the other side of the bridge. I also tell him that I’m going to pay electronically, so we can avoid discussing money in front of Brooklyn.
“Would you want to go on a boat ride tomorrow?” I ask after I put my phone away.
She gapes at me. “You have a boat?”
“No.” Not yet anyway, but purchasing one is on my to-do list. “My dad has one, and I can borrow it anytime.”
She looks wistful. “You and your dad are close?”
I nod. “When my mother passed, he didn’t take it well, so for a short time, it almost felt like I was the dad and he the kid, but now it’s all back to normal. He takes me fishing and gives me unsolicited life advice.”
Brooklyn’s wistful look turns downright dejected. “I haven’t spoken to my father—or mother—in seven years.”
Oh, fuck. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”
Her eyes glint. “It’s not your fault. It’s theirs. Their love was conditional, and as soon as I did something to displease them, it was withdrawn.”
What the fuck? What kind of parents are those? She’s better off without them if that’s how they are. Tamping down the surge of anger on her behalf, I squeeze her hand. “It’s their loss.”
She gives me a weak smile and points across the street with her free hand. “Can we get another drink there?”
Curse this area and its million and one bars. We really shouldn’t imbibe anymore, but given what she’s just told me, I can’t refuse.
“I’m buying,” she warns me.
“Fine,” I grumble. “But just one drink.”
“Or its equal volume in shots,” she says.
Before I can voice my opinion, she drags me to the bar and, once inside, orders four shots “as a start.”
I down three of the four shots, mostly to make sure she doesn’t get alcohol poisoning. After she orders four more, I drink three again, and then I sneak the bartender an extra-large tip and whisper-beg that she not take any more orders from Brooklyn.
