I give a small laugh and roll my eyes, but my shoulders tense up at the reminder of his rising star, of my fear that I’m barely keeping up, of what that could mean when the summer ends. I try to halt that train of thought. I went to him with the intent of finally giving this date thing a try, and I need to do just that.Try.And that probably means giving the worries a rest for a few hours.
Our driver arrives and Benny crawls into the back seat after me and confirms that we’re going to a place called GoldenGardens. Sounds like a retirement community to me, but I’m going to trust that my date knows what he’s doing.
My date. Be still my totally-off-its-rocker heart.
We ride most of the way in comfortable silence, each of us looking out our window. I don’t know about Benny, but I haven’t seen much of Seattle yet, outside of the journey from the airport to the dorm to Friends of Flavor and to Seb’s house. Once we get out of downtown, the scenery changes substantially. There are still hills, but instead of skyscrapers, they’re covered in a mix of evergreen trees, Craftsman-style homes, and freestanding restaurants and shops. We cross a bridge over Lake Union, where there are people on everything from yachts to paddleboards floating past the rows of houseboats along the banks. The urban fades into suburban, and before long, into a long stretch of marinas along Puget Sound. Sailboats on sailboats on sailboats, belonging to people who very likely earn more in a day than I will all summer.
Then, suddenly, we’re at a drop-off point at the end of a parking lot, and the driver slows to a stop. Benny thanks him before exiting the car and offering a hand to help me out. I have a couple of seconds to decide that his hand feels nice on mine before it’s gone again.
“Not too shabby, eh?”
I follow his gaze to the sandy beach. Lazy waves lap at the shore, and off in the distance, huge, snowcapped mountains glow in the evening sun. There is a distinct lack of elderly people playing shuffleboard.
My jaw drops. “I’m definitely not in Kentucky anymore.”
Benny laughs, looking back out at the mountains and sliding his hands in his pockets. “If I have my bearings right, those should be the Olympics, out on the Olympic Peninsula.”
He starts walking toward the beach at quite the clip, and I nearly have to jog to catch up. “Is there a reason we’re running?”
He lets out a single loud laugh but slows his pace. “Sorry. I just want to make sure we have a lot of time out here before sunset, which should be around nine-oh-eight.”
Benny rattles this off without checking his phone or anything, his words coming even faster than his steps were. He was like this all day, come to think of it—talking a mile a minute while we did some organizational tasks around the office assigned by Aiden and Margie. I thought he was just on edge because menial filing jobs aren’t his thing, but the way the anxious-puppy energy has persisted, I’m not so sure.
“Wow. How do you fit this stuff in there with all those recipes?” I tap the top of his head and he elbows me in the side.
We walk until we get to a sidewalk that borders the sand and follow that. The beach is busier than I’d expect for a weeknight, but it doesn’t feel crowded. There are people playing volleyball, kids chasing each other and throwing Frisbees, dogs sniffing for anything dropped by the many picnickers. A few people dip their toes in the water, but no one’s really swimming. Benny, Pacific Northwest trivia pro this evening, tells me that Puget Sound is frigid for most of the year. It’s a pleasantly warm evening for now, but I wouldn’t mind having a jacket. Maybe we’llfind our way to one of the pits with bonfires burning farther down the beach.
I’m starting to wonder if we’re ever going to walk on the actual beach when it occurs to me that I can take matters into my own hands. I split off from Benny and step down into the sand and out of my sandals. He does the same and I stand there wiggling my toes while he rolls the bottoms of his khakis a couple of times. When he straightens up with a smile, we keep going, down to the waterline.
“I don’t know if you want to—”
“Shoot,that’s cold!” I yelp, hopping back toward dry ground the second the water meets my skin.
“I tried to warn you,” Benny says ruefully.
“It’s a beach! How could I not get my feet wet?”
He looks amused. “That must be a Southern thing. Like presweetened tea.”
I give him a small shove and he skips backward, laughing. He gestures to a long piece of driftwood that looks just shy of being purposefully placed. But I take a seat anyway, stretching my legs out and burying my chilly toes in the sun-warmed sand. Benny plops down beside me and stretches his arms over his head.
“Are you about to accidentally-on-purpose drape one of those arms over my shoulders?” I ask, surprising myself with my flirty tone.
“Wasn’t the plan, but would it work if I did?”
“Maybe.”
“Noted.”
He brings his arms back down to rest at his sides and I feel him watching me as I look at the gently rolling waves. A seagull drifts down and lands a few feet in front of us, pecking delicately at something in the sand.
“You know, I always thought seagulls were just all one kind of bird, but there are over a hundred species native to Puget Sound alone,” Benny says.
I can’t keep my head from tilting back, my eyes from rolling upward, or the next words from coming out of my mouth. “You know, I enjoy these fun facts. I do. But is there a reason you’re, uh, sharing so many this evening?”
“Ah.” Benny chuckles softly, his chin dropping toward his chest. “Too much, huh?”
“Maybe a little. I mean, I’d never been to the West Coast or seen the Pacific before this summer, so it’s cool, but I would’ve thought it’d all be less…fascinating to someone who’s, like, been to Italy and France and lives on the coast, too.”
