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Hunter leaned in to speak over the bass line. “You want to dance?”
Becca drew back and rubbed her neck, his closeness making her flush. “Not now. It’s kind of hot in here.”
“Let’s go for a walk then.”
The outside air felt ten degrees colder than it really was. Wind blew across the water to ruffle her hair and whisper across her skin. The entire back patio was surrounded by white holiday lights, opening to a path illuminated by tiki torches, just like she remembered it. Some guys were grilling burgers, though they seemed more interested in turning the tongs into a branding iron—then chasing each other with it. At the far end of the patio, there was a short break of grass before the landscaping revealed the end of the driveway—where eight or nine guys were doing more roughhousing than playing basketball.
It was too dark to make out Drew, and she didn’t look too hard.
Becca gestured in the opposite direction. “Let’s walk down by the water.”
“Sure.” He hung close. “You won’t be too cold?”
She’d probably be freezing, but she didn’t want to stand here in the patio lights, waiting for Drew to notice her. “I’m good.”
They walked toward the water. The sand was tight and hard beneath her feet, reluctantly giving way to her heels. She wrapped her arms across her stomach, regretting the inch of flesh that the cropped top revealed.
Hunter steered her to the far side of one of the fire drums where some folding chairs sat empty. There were other kids there, too, mostly seniors, no one she knew. Voices were hushed, beer bottles pushed into the sand haphazardly. At the fire drum a bit farther down, some kid had a guitar.
Hunter pulled two chairs together, and she sat, grateful for the fire licking heat across her cheeks. “Thanks,” she said.
Water lapped at the sand ten feet away. She fingered the rocks strung along her wrist, running her thumb over the sharp edge of one, the rough side of another. She couldn’t tell which was which from the feel, except the hematite, which was smooth and round. Her fingers kept seeking that one, rolling the slick stone between her knuckles.
Becca fixed her eyes on the fire, suddenly aware he was looking at her. “So—are you into a lot of ... ah, new age stuff?”
“Not really.” He sounded amused.
“How do you know so much about the rocks?”
“I grew up with it.” He paused, as if he planned to say more, then thought better of it.
She glanced over at him, studying his profile. His lips were parted slightly, and the fire had turned his green eyes almost golden, sparking light from the rings in his brow.
“You don’t have to tell me,” she said.
“No, I don’t mind. I just want to explain it the right way.” He fingered one of the rocks on his own arm, the way she’d been doing with hers. She wondered if he sought a particular one.
When he spoke again, his voice was quiet. “You have a favorite color, right?”
“Blue,” she said without thinking.
“Always, right?” he said. “You just like it. No one ever made you like blue.”
“Sure.” She thought about it for a moment. “A favorite color is a hard thing to screw with.”
“All right then.” He glanced over. “You ever walk through a jewelry store and find you’re really drawn to something? Like maybe you’re into platinum, where someone else likes gold, or you like emeralds, while someone else might prefer sapphires?”
Becca nodded. She was personally drawn to amethyst, but since it was one of the stones he’d strung on her wrist, she didn’t want to volunteer that.
“My mother believes everything in existence has a consciousness,” he said. “An awareness. As in, maybe it’s not what you like.” He reached out and touched her finger, which was still resting on the hematite. “Maybe it’s what favors you.”
His touch stole her voice. She watched the fire flicker across his cheeks.
A smile found his lips, and he drew back. “When I was little,” he said, “my mother had a box of stones like these. All different kinds. She’d let me play with them.”
He was playing with them now, absently lining the remaining stones up along his wrist.
“When I turned six,” he said, “she told me to pick the ones I needed, because she was putting the rest away forever. I told her I wanted them all, but she told me that would make me sick.” He laughed a little and looked away, almost sheepishly. “Like too much candy, right?”
