Page 43 of Fish Out of Water

“Oh, yeah, teenagers sneaking out to the beach to get drunk on wine coolers are a sign from Mier now, right?”

“Spare me your snide remarks,” Robbie said, still not bothering to look back even as Jake trailed behind him, leaving the parking lot and his car behind. “I’ll see you tomorrow, and this time, we’re not swapping spit just because you keep having wet dreams about me that make your already troubled brain starved of sleep.”

11

GOOD OLD FASHIONED HOSPITALITY

Robbie was trying too hard. Jake had finally gotten to him, and he allowed a self-satisfied smile to creep across his face as Robbie disappeared around a street corner.

Then his smile faded. Robbie had gotten to him, too. There was nothing sadistically pleasing about that.

Jake turned around, deciding it was best to make the slow trek back to his car before it got any later. Isabel would almost certainly be wondering what happened by now, but he would come up with some feeble excuse to feed her on the drive home.

He did just that, and before he knew it, he was walking through the door, clothes still covered in sand and dried sweat, calling out his apology for being so late.

“We stayed and talked forever,” he told her as he strode through the house to his room, only now taking time to glance down at his clothes. He’d done his shirt back up one button off, and he rushed to fix it before Isabel noticed. “We… had a lot to discuss.”

“You and Robbie?” Isabel sounded surprised, but also maybe a little hopeful.

Jake stopped and closed his eyes, not daring to turn around and face her. “Yeah. He’s okay, I guess. You were right.”

“I told you.”

That phrase made Jake wince, and he shut his bedroom door quickly behind him, gathering up pajamas and a towel so he could take a shower and slip into bed as soon as possible.

The hot water was a balm to his sticky skin, and under the sharp precision of the water droplets that hit his back, he allowed himself to relax for the first time in hours. His mind was a tangled mess of Robbie, and he hoped—knew—that Robbie was dealing with the same thing.

Jake ran his hands over his hair, lathering it up with shampoo. Robbie had been the one to touch his hair last, and he could still feel where his fingertips dug into his scalp now, as though his own fingers were Robbie’s. If only.

He needed to let it go. When the time was right, it would happen. Until then, he would have to suppress his nagging lust and remember that once it was over, it wasover. That was the deal.

Even now, in the absence of any exertion, Jake’s heart was racing as fast as it had been on the beach. He stepped out of the shower, blood pumping in his ears and his head swimming, and sat down on the closed toilet lid, resting his face in the soft, dry towel.

When he lifted his head a minute later and stared down at the towel, he noticed something curious: when darkened with water, it was almost the exact same shade of blue as Robbie’s eyes.

“Goddamn it,” he muttered, wishing he could slap himself into some kind of sense.

He left the bathroom feeling worse than before. A warm bed sounded amazing, but Jake already knew he wasn’t going to fall asleep easily, no matter how much he messed with the blankets.

The top quilt was on the floor when Jake finally gave up and sat up straight in bed, turning on the bedside lamp. It was nearly eleven, and all the lights down the hall were off when he checked. Isabel’s door was shut, the light in her room off too. She’d long since gone to bed.

Quietly, Jake tiptoed down the hall, cringing every time he forgot to watch his step and a floorboard creaked. He unlocked the front door and stepped out onto the porch, the welcome rug scratchy on his bare feet. It was pleasantly cool and so unbelievably quiet outside.

The city Jake had left had trains and sirens and car horns going all night. He’d grown used to it there, and for the first week or two out here, he’d missed falling asleep to their chaotic lullaby. But now, standing out on Isabel’s porch watching the stars twinkle, everyone else in the entire town fast asleep in their cozy little houses, he could finally see the appeal of living in a place like this.

He sat down on the first step and rested his head against the porch railing. His eyelids were growing heavy. He wondered if Robbie was asleep yet.

Robbie probably slept in a massive canopy bed, with one of those fancy mattresses and silk sheets. He probably had a bedroom the size of Isabel’s whole house and decorated to perfection like an undisturbed dollhouse, left high on a shelf for display only—no touching.

Jake’s stomach growled. He hadn’t eaten since lunch; back too late for a sit-down dinner and too preoccupied to get anything after his shower. He went back inside and foraged in the fridge until he found some leftovers that would do. He ate them cold and straight out of the container.

Robbie probably had stacks and stacks of homemade leftovers in his refrigerator. The food he made probably tasted pretty decent too, if he cooked as often as he let on. Did his housesmell like cooking all the time? Or did it smell like him: light and aquatic with a hint of sandalwood?

Jake padded back down the hallway to his room. He could barely keep his eyes open now, and though he should have brushed his teeth again before collapsing into bed, he simply couldn’t.

He awoke late in the morning when the sunlight that filtered in through the curtains got too bright to bear.

“Damn those flimsy curtains,” he muttered, turning over so his eyes were better protected and he could pretend it was still nighttime.