The water feels nice, lapping against my feet, instantly cooling the inferno that was building inside me. Today I push myself and make it to where the waves reach just above my waist before I chicken out and turn back.
As I dry myself, my gaze drifts to the little shack further down the beach. I haven't really looked at it since the storm the other night, and now I notice that there is also a dock there with a boat attached. I figure today is as good a day as any to take that walk and check it out. That's yet another thing that I'm loving about being here away from my parents; having no schedule except for the one Iset.
Throwing on my cover-up, I forgo any shoes and start my walk along the beach. The closer I get, the more I lean towards thinking that maybe it's not someone's home, but possibly just a fishing shack or something since it's so small.
There's one window and a door on the side facing me. And call me nosy, but I step onto the wooden path that runs along this side of the structure to see if I can look in the window. Unfortunately, there's a curtain blocking my view of the inside. Do fishing shacks have curtains?
The wooden planks creak underneath me as I walk along the side of the shack toward the ocean. There's a slight breeze that sends strands of hair flying across my face as I walk. Once I push them back out of the way, the sight of someone standing in the water has me stopping, freezing mid-step just as I've turned the back corner of the shack.
It's not just anyone standing there either. I'm almost certain it's Jacob Stark. The same build and height as the man I saw, and the same dirty blond hair that I saw peeking out of his hood. Is this seriously his place? It must be.
Shit.
He's naked, too. Well, not naked; he's in boxer briefs, but otherwise naked.
Jacob is standing knee deep in the water, with his head tipped back, looking up at the sky. The stance he's in has the muscles in his back – that I had suspected were there when I saw him clothed – flexing in a tempting way, and I'm annoyed at myself for noticing them at all.
I force myself to look away from him and to the dock where the boat is attached, which isn't very far away from where he's standing.
When my eyes drift back to him again, he's no longer looking up at the sky but out at the ocean. His body, however, is slightly turned as if he's taking one final look before he's going to get out. Shit, shit, shit.
I back up, quietly making my way back around the corner to the side of the house again. I'm suddenly very aware of my surroundings. There is nothing else around here, no other houses or people. So no one would be able to hear me.
Is he on his way back up here right now?
I wouldn't want to find myself alone with him. By the looks of the muscles I just saw piled onto his body, he'd have no problems holding me down and taking whatever he wanted.
A shiver runs through my body at the thought, and I decide that it's time for me to get the hell out of here.
It's only now, as I go to leave, that I notice the camera high above the front door, almost hidden. Then, taking a closer look around, I notice another one about midway along the side of the shack, facing the direction I first came from. And another one above where I'm standing, facing the front door.
My eyes flick between the three as I walk slowly along the wooden planks, wondering what the hell he'd be using them for. As soon as it occurs to me that he'll know I was here, my heart beats increase even further, pounding against my chest. The thought doesn't scare me exactly, but rather, it pisses me off that he actually has me on camera.
Something that I have been avoiding.
One of the reasons for coming here in the first place.
Why does he need all of them? And from all the different angles? Maybe this is a way for him to scope out more victims?
Looking up into each of the cameras, I raise both hands and then flip him off, waving them in each one. You don't scare me, Jacob.
After that, I run off to the dunes and make my way back to my house as quickly as possible.
CHAPTER 4
Remi
I don't know whether it's a gift or a curse, but no matter what happens or who's at fault in a fight, I have this deep-seated need to make up and apologize right away. I'm always the one to reach out and say sorry first, even if I have nothing to be sorry about. I can't help it.
It's the reason I sent a text to my mom and apologized for leaving without saying goodbye. And it's the reason why I still feel bad a week later after flipping Jacob off in those damn cameras. It's so stupid, really. But whether or not he deserved it, I shouldn't have done it. I'm better than that.
I still don't think much of him as a human, but as I've said before, I'm a big believer in second chances, even for people like him. Maybe he really is trying hard to turn his life around. And dammit, I'm still so curious about him.
A thunk on the counter behind me rips me from my daydream and absent staring out into the parking lot. And, of course,it would be him. I didn't even see him enter the store. It must have been when I was busy refilling some end shelves a few minutes ago.
Despite the fact that it would have been clear as day that it was me on the cameras, andI've been feeling bad about it and felt like I should apologize, I now decide to act as if nothing has happened at all. I blame it on the fact that I wasn't expecting to see him right this second and wasn't prepared. If he mentions anything, I'll apologize.
“Would you like a bag?”
