The warm air blows through my hair as the boat glides back toward the shore, reminding me that I need a haircut. I don't even remember the last time I let it get this long. I always kept it shaved in prison, leaving no chance that it could be pulled from behind. I grip the wheel tighter at some of the memories trying to worm their way to the surface, wishing I could purge them from my mind permanently but knowing that I can't.
As I get closer to the dock, I see a familiar figure sitting at the end of it, but not too close to the edge. It doesn't surprise me that it's her here again. She's been here a few times since declaring that she was going to be my friend.
“Nice evening to be out on the water,” Remi says as I pull in close to the dock and begin mooring my boat.
I don't bother answering her. Instead, I get the fish, step off the boat, and head toward my house. Of course, she gets up and follows me down the dock. No matter how much I've ignored her or how much I've been a dick to her, she's still like a fucking puppy that doesn't go away.
I guess that's not entirelytrue. She never stays too long, and she always brings me some sort of treat while never asking for anything in return. And, if I'm being completely honest, there's the tiniest little part of me that actually kind of likes when she visits.
A part that starts to feel alive and jittery when she's near.
A part that had turned black and rotten over the years.
But that's just bad news.
Why would I ever want to bring her down to my level with the depraved and the evil?
So, yeah. I've tried to be an asshole to get her to leave me alone. I even put my hand around her neck to try to scare her off, for fuck's sake. But that only ended up backfiring and proving to be a mistake on my part.
Especially since I felt the most softest, smoothest skin, I have ever touched when holding her neck. Now the feel of it is etched into my brain, along with the feel of her rapid pulse beating under my fingers. And I can't get it out.
I walk into my home, shutting the door behind me before she can follow me in, and put all but the smallest fish I caught into the deep freeze. I'll be taking the others over to Ting first thing in the morning.
Next, I pull out some tin foil and place the fish on it, adding some butter, salt, pepper, and lemon juice before wrapping it up. I've made sure at the very least to always keep those items stocked for this very reason.
I grab a fork before starting for the door, only to stop after a few feet. Retracing my steps back into the kitchen, I tap my fist on the counter a few times, contemplating, then blow out a breath, say, “Fuck it,” and grab another fork before stepping back outside.
Remi is sitting on the sand over by the pile of rocks where I build my fires as if she knew I'd be making one tonight, and she's invited herself to stay. Looking up, I double-check that the camera facing that direction is recording. I feel relief when I see the little red blinking light and continue on toward the pit.
That little part of me sparks with life the moment she smiles at me when I get closer to her, but I just look away, tossing the fish onto the chair that I keep out here, and then get started on the fire. Once it's going good, I place the fish onto some rocks that are out of the flames and sit back on the chair to let it cook.
“Did you catch that today?”
Taking a quick glance at her, I notice that she's not looking at me but at the fire, and there's a peaceful look on her face. I can't help but notice how fucking gorgeous she looks with the warm glow of the fire kissing her perfect skin. It causes her hazel eyes that seem to change color with the light and her mood, and her dark hair to shine.
It pisses me off that I'm noticing it because I don't want to notice.
Turning away again, I mumble, “Yes.”
“I wouldn't mind learning how to fish,” she replies contemplatively.
“You might want to learn how to swim first.”
“That's true,” she says a little more quietly this time. Probably remembering the events of the other day when she almost drowned. I can't imagine that's something you easily forget.
When I look over at her again, she's lifting a handful of sand up and watching as the grains fall between her fingers, deep in thought.
It occurs to me that I have no idea who she really is. I don't know her last name. Why she's here, where's she's from.
Nothing.
It's best that way anyway.
Soon she'll give up on me and join the rest of the town in their efforts to get me to leave. I'm not entirely sure that this isn't just part of some scheme as it is. I guess I'll find out eventually. I just have to be shrewd until then and keep both eyes open.
“I know what it's like, having to start over. Start fresh,” she says after a moment.
“What, you were in prison as well?” I ask sarcastically.
