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“You don’t regret it? The grandparent story?” He lowered his sunglasses to look at me.
“Honestly? No. I have had the best week with you.” I smiled and took another si
p of the beer. “And I’m fishing.” I laughed.
“Hey! You’ve got one.” Beau jumped from his seat.
“What?” I was starting to feel relaxed from the sun and the beer.
He pointed to my rod, which was now bending with sudden force toward the ocean. “London, reel it in!” He was excited.
Shit. I didn’t think we’d actually catch anything. I grabbed the handle on the rod and began cranking the reel. The line was tight and I could feel whatever was on the other end fighting my every movement.
“You’ve got this.” Beau’s arms wrapped around mine, and his body formed a support so that I could lean into him and continue to reel in the fish.
I tugged, pulled, and cranked until finally I saw a sliver of something sparkling break over the waves.
“There it is! Beau, there really is a fish!” Hurriedly, I spun the handle, bringing the fish to the shore.
“Well, you are officially a fisherman.” He held up the fish for me to examine. It flopped wildly in midair.
“Don’t you mean fisherwoman?”
He laughed. “I guess so.” He unclipped the fish from the lure and carried it to our empty cooler. “Now, just catch a few more for us and we’ll have dinner.”
“We’re going to eat them?” I may have signed up for fishing on the beach all day, but cooking our victims wasn’t on my agenda.
“Of course we’re going to eat them. They’re blue fish—best eaten the day they’re caught. Don’t worry. I’ll do all the work.” He began re-baiting my line and tossed it out to sea for another try.
I smiled as I watched his arms glistening in the sun. He stepped back from the poles. “You ok with that plan?” he asked.
I realized right then that if Beau could turn slimy, stinky fishing into something fun, that I was in far deeper than I had ever planned.
“Yes.” I smiled. “I’ll do the catching and you do the cooking. And you do the unhooking and baiting part too.”
Playfully, he scooped me into his arms.
“Hey, I’m not a fish.” The skin on his chest felt warm from the sun and I tasted a hint of salt on his lips as he kissed me. He gripped my thighs, tugging me closer to him. I sighed. My heart was definitely falling for this boy—one spring break kiss at a time.
I wasn’t sure how ten days passed so quickly. Last Thursday night felt like a lifetime ago. During the course of the week, we had ordered take out from all the island restaurants that were open, combed the beach for every shell possible, watched an entire season of The Walking Dead, learned we were evenly matched at poker, soaked in the hot tub until we looked like raisins, tuned in for Love Match, watched the entire ACC basketball tournament, and my favorite, discovered shower sex was our best achievement of the week.
I closed the trunk after Beau lowered in my suitcase.
“You’re all set. I’m going to go run through the house one more time before I leave and make sure everything is turned off. I’ll probably pass you on the road.” He winked.
“Back to reality, huh?”
“Or is it?” He mocked and I could tell he was trying to make me laugh.
“Beau, how are we going to do this when we get back to Chapel Hill?” Just the thought of leaving the beach house and the week we had behind was creating panic. My palms felt sweaty. Couldn’t we lock ourselves inside? I was certain I could survive without any doses of the outside world. All I needed was Beau.
“We’re going to figure it out. We’ve got a date tomorrow night to watch Love Match, right?”
“I can’t tomorrow night. Rehearsals start up for the new play. See, this is already complicated?”
“Hold on. It’s not complicated. Change of plans, that’s all. We’ll figure it out. Be careful going home. I’ll call you later.” Before I could protest and trap him into a more detailed discussion, he kissed me on the forehead and ushered me into my car.
I backed out of the driveway and watched Beau climbing the stairs two at a time. I exhaled. This was going to work. He said we’d figure it out. I blasted the radio and pointed my car toward Chapel Hill.
