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He hops off the bike first, staring off toward the water. I hop off next, take back the helmet I gave Jonah, and hook it onto the handlebar. Then I come to his side, sharing the view for a while. I glance at him, watching the wonder in his eyes, my heart growing light just looking at him. I love seeing my world through his eyes.
I give him a nudge. “Wanna go down?”
He’s about to answer me when suddenly he pauses, squinting through the dark across the sand. “Uh … are we not alone? It looks like someone’s already down there.”
I follow his line of sight. Oops. I laugh. “Sorry. I forgot to mention one small detail about Cottonwood Cove.” I lean into him. “It has one semi-permanent resident.”
Jonah lifts an eyebrow at me. “Why am I getting the feeling there’s something up with this ‘semi-permanent resident’?”
I give Jonah a playful jab in the ribs. “Why don’t we go and find out for ourselves? He doesn’t bite unless you ask him to.” I start the trek down the long stretch of rock and sand. Jonah follows right behind me.
Other than the moon and the twinkling stars—and the lighthouse when its giant yellow eye circles around each time—there’s one more source of light on the beach. It comes from a shack near the water, where several bright lanterns burn, their glow giving life to a few things: a chair, a workbench, several metal workout weights and trinkets, fishing poles and colorful tackle boxes against the side of the shack, and a surfboard. Beyond the shack standing in the water is the reclusive yet high-spirited, one-of-a-kind, musclebound mystery named Dylan Poole. He’s tatted all over, from his arms to his chest, back, legs, and butt cheeks. His face proudly wields a thick yet well-groomed dark beard, but of course you can see nearly none of that in the darkness out here.
But there is something you do notice: he’s naked.
Head-to-toe naked.
Jonah stops, apparently making the discovery himself. “Oh. Are we, uh … invading his—?”
“Nah,” I quickly assure him. “He probably won’t even know we’re here. Difficult to hear anything but your own thoughts over the roaring of the waves out here.”
“Good point.” He watches Dylan for a moment. “Why does he live all the way out here, though, and not closer into town, or on the northwest side where everyone else is?”
“I think the answer’s in your question. Dylan likes just being by himself. I’ve seen him drop by a few bonfires now and then, but he mostly keeps to himself. Strange guy. No one really understands his thing.”
Jonah crosses his arms. “Hmm. Sounds sad.”
“He’s actually pretty cheery, if you ever talk to him.”
Jonah finds that funny somehow. “I guess I’ll have that pleasure if I ever catch him not in a nude state.”
“That’s not very likely. The dude literally never wears clothes.” Jonah shoots me a skeptical look. “Seriously. Not ever. Break into his shack right now, you probably won’t even find a sock or pair of underwear, I’d bet you my bike.”
He snorts. “I doubt that. So what is it? An exhibitionist thing? Or did he come here from a nudist colony or something?”
“No idea. I don’t think it’s an exhibitionist thing, not exactly. He doesn’t ‘get off’ on being naked or anything. I guess if you’ve got it, flaunt it, or something.”
“I wonder if this was the ‘nude beach’ I read about. I was wondering where that was.”
“Well, it’s not exactly a nude beach, but people have been known to come here and kinda ‘bare it all’, in the spirit of good ol’ Dylan.”
“He … You can’t just … I mean, he’s gotta have at least one …” Jonah laughs. “I know he owns at least something. Like, what does he wear when he goes to work? Where does he work?”
“I dunno, and I dunno. Sure, I’ve heard some things, but I don’t like speculating, know what I mean? Leave the gossiping to Cooper and Mars and all the bar bunnies.” I gesture toward the water. “We could chill here for a while, if you want. Maybe meet Dylan if he spots us. Or if you’re ready, I can show you the real secret of the island.”
Jonah stares at me. “You mean this wasn’t it?”
“Nope.”
“There’s seriously more?”
“Hell yeah, there’s more. There’s always more.” I give him a playful nod. “You up for a little hike?”
Jonah quirks a suspicious eyebrow.
A moment later, the pair of us are heading up the dirt path that winds up one of the rocky hills. “Ooh, is it the lighthouse?” asks Jonah as we go. “Is that where we’re going? I’ve never been to one. Are we going to the top? Are we allowed to do that?” I only smirk coyly and keep leading the way as we climb higher and higher. The air blows stronger, too. Each time I glance over my shoulder at Jonah, all I see is the joy of anticipation and excitement in his eyes. There’s something so inexplicably infectious about his energy. It makes me feel hopeful and light about everything in my life.
