Beautiful.
The sand curves in a perfect, undisturbed sweep all the way to the turquoise waves crashing on the shore. Tufts of native grass sway in a breeze that rises and falls just enough for my sundress to flutter against my legs.
I start down the dune, holding my arms out for balance as my feet sink into the warm sand. I glance from side to side. There isn’t much shade. A lone, wind-bent tree clings to the beach closer to the water. Spotting my only chance of avoiding coming home redder than my beach bag, I kick off my flip-flops and head straight for it.
I fan out my towel under the tree. I don’t bother taking off my sundress. Maybe I’ll read for a bit? I rummage around in my bag to find my book, but when my fingertips trace over the leather cover, I pull my hand back.
I don’t want to read.
I need to think.
What now?
That is such a big question. I’ve been avoiding it, hoping an answer would materialize through some random series of events when I could suddenly point to one thing and shout, “Yes!Thisis my path!”
Life is never that simple, though, is it?
With a defeated sigh, I scoop up a handful of sand. The heat of it trickles through my fingers, falling in a soft stream that blends effortlessly into the beach. The opposite of me.
What is the path for the awkward, shy girl who grew older but not braver?
I have my qualifications, and I’ve certainly earned my parents’ dissatisfaction by refusing to make use of them. The phone calls every Sunday night get shorter. I don’t appreciate their “guidance.” I just want them to love me regardless of what I choose to do next.
Not that I have any idea what that is.
More study? Teaching? I like kids. I taught a few tutorials at the university. A small group is okay, but presenting…in a room of teenagers… My heart races. Okay, if teaching’s a no-go, maybe it’s time to start from scratch and become a…a…Ugh.
Frustrated, I huff out a breath, wrap my arms around my knees, and gaze out at the ocean.
I’m hopelessly stuck on what to do next.
16
Humidity rising after a near-death kiss
“I thought I’d findyou readin’ a book.” Sawyer’s bare feet sink into the sand beside me. “What you doin’?” He drops a cooler next to the tree.
I shield my eyes with my hands and glance up. He’s changed into blue board shorts and a white T-shirt, and the sight of so much extra skin is almost enough for me to forget the indecision clawing at my chest. I swallow.
He flicks out his towel and parks on the sand beside me. “Well?”
“I was thinking.”
“Yeah? What about?”
“Everything.”
He smirks. “That narrows it down.”
We’re on the same page then. “What have you got in the cooler?”
“Uh…” He scrubs a hand over the back of his head. “Thought you might be hungry…or thirsty…or…”
I scramble over my towel, kneel in front of the cooler, and flip the lid open. “Wow. Okay.” I lever a bottle of wine out of the truckload of ice he’s tipped into the cooler and present it to him with a raised eyebrow.
The crest of his cheeks flushes pink. “You had wine at the bar that night… There’s a glass in there somewhere.”
Ice crunches around the bottle when I jam it back into the cooler and free a beer instead. “This is fine.” I hold the bottle out to Sawyer. “Don’t suppose those gigantic hands of yours can open this?”
