Harper looks surprised by my reaction. “I can’t enjoy the view because of some stupid birds. You don’t think that’s ridiculous?”
“Irrational, maybe, but if that’s how you feel...” I shrug. “I don’t know. It’s not that big of a deal. So what if you’re scared of birds? I’m scared of swimming in the ocean.” I gesture a hand out to the crashing waves in front of us. With Harper’s fear of seagulls and my fear of the ocean, it isn’t often you find us on the beach.
“Yeah, but you can still go to the beach. You just don’t go swimming.” She pauses to look around, like she’s afraid a bird is going to swoop in and peck at her.
“If you grabbed my hand and dragged me into the water right now, I’d probably start screaming like a five-year-old.”
The corner of her lip quirks up.
“Care to test out that theory?” I offer her my hand.
I would let her drag me into the water if she really wanted to. If it would bring a smile to her face and make her forget howTom laughed at her, I’d do it, even if it meant getting my clothes soaking wet and dealing with whatever creatures waited in the water.
“I’m not dragging you into the water.”
“Why not?” I wiggle my fingers, tempting her to take my hand.
“Because it’s freezing.” She gestures to the winter jackets we’re both wearing. When I roll my eyes, she continues. “And if I throw you into the water, you’ll drag me in with you.”
I pretend to think about it, putting a hand to my chin in a contemplative pose. “Yeah, probably. But only because that’s how my body would react. My brain would never do anything to hurt you.”
I get rewarded with another smile.
“If I had a change of clothes in the car, I would throw you in the ocean,” she says with a mischievous grin.
I cock an eyebrow. “Don’t you mean if webothhad a change of clothes?”
“No,” she says simply.
I laugh. “Well, let’s get moving then.” I start walking back toward where we parked.
“Why?” she says, coming up by my side.
I want to reach out and take her hand, but I keep my hands to myself. “We need to leave before you change your mind and we’re both standing here in wet clothes.”
She laughs, and I know whatever moment we almost had—or the moment I contrived in my head—is over. We make our way down the beach, keeping an appropriate distance between us. When we reach where we started, I turn toward the parkinglot, but Harper lingers, her eyes on the massive rock structure in front of us.
“Harper?” I ask when she seems frozen in place.
“Can we go look one more time?” Her voice is full of longing.
“Of course.” I follow a few steps behind, letting her take the lead.
There’s a bigger crowd of people taking photos at the octagon-shaped rocks than there were before. A few people are perched up on the pillars for photos, but Harper walks past them, rounding the corner to where all the birds are flying and making nests on the cliffside.
She keeps her gaze downward, like she can forget they exist, but their high-pitched calls fill the air. Harper’s back is to me, so I can’t see her face, but she moves forward, only looking up enough to see the spires of rock coming out of the ocean.
I don’t say a word, afraid of breaking her focus and making her run in the other direction again.
A seagull lands on the sand in front of her, and Harper comes to a halting stop, backing up a step or two until she bumps into me. I put both my hands on her shoulder, steadying her.
“You’re okay,” I say softly.
Harper doesn’t say a word as the seagull takes a few steps toward her, sees she doesn’t have any food, and then flies off again. The encounter is over almost immediately.
I drop my arms. “Doesn’t seem like you’re afraid of birds to me. Maybe you were just afraid of weird British guys.”
“Ha ha,” she says with heavy sarcasm.
