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When he sets me down, my heart beats like it’s trying to escape my chest. I look up at his glittering eyes, and it’s like he wants to kiss me. If he were to try, then I’d let him.
“Kiss!” someone from the crowd shouts, and the spell is broken.
I take a step back and smile shyly. “Thanks,” I say. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
Chapter Ten
James
I wanted to kiss Alexis more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my entire life, but it clearly wasn’t the time. Still, I definitely saw that desire in her eyes, the same I felt within me. She wanted me to kiss her, if only for a moment.
She exits the water, and Tammy is holding her boys’ hands at the edge of the water. I go to Hector, and he pats me on the back. “That was awesome,” he says, eyes alight with excitement. “I don’t know how you did it. I’ve lived here my whole life and wouldn’t touch any shark with a twenty foot pole.”
I shrug. “I didn’t think I could, either, but when Alexis told me to do it, I did.”
Hector laughs. “I guess she’s pretty terrifying when she needs to be.”
I nod, although that’s not it. The desperation in her eyes had been what convinced me. She needed to save the shark, and I needed to help her do so. It was that simple.
We go up and dry off, and when everyone else gets back up, I say, “Let’s get dinner to celebrate. On me.”
Hector pumps his fist. “Lunch from our mafioso. I’m in!”
Alexis seems unsure, but she and Tammy exchange a look that I can’t decipher, and she agrees. That’s the second time Tammy has had some sort of opinion of me that I can’t figure out, and it worries me just a little. Does she think Alexis made a mistake bringing me? Is it bad that she invited us in the first place? I do my best to eschew these thoughts, picking up chairs and umbrellas. At the edge of the beach, we rinse off the sand coating our skin, and Alexis puts her cover back on. I do the same with my tank top, taking her cue.
After packing up Tammy’s car and mine, we walk up the beach until we find a restaurant. It has a similar vibe to the one by Chéri. There must be hundreds of ocean and beach-themed decorations all along the walls, and the ceiling is covered in palm fronds despite the place having a tin roof overhead. It must be a Florida beach thing, which I’ve never really noticed since I always have catered meals or go to five-star restaurants. The atmosphere is lively, and the woven-blade fans overhead cool us as well as they can.
People keep glancing our way, some of which I recognize from the beach, and others I don’t. Nerves swell inside me, just like every other time I’m out in public. It was only by mere chance that Alexis was in the restroom when I was spotted the other day, and I was able to avoid a scene by paying for everyone’s meal. I’m not just here with Alexis, though. I’m here with a whole group, so someone here will find out my identity if we’re approached. Already, I can spot people whispering out of the corners of my eyes.
The waitress clearly recognizes me, because her eyes go wide when she approaches, and her hands tremble on her notepad. “Welcome to the Shark Shack,” she says, her voice shaking. The restaurant is named appropriately for our day, at least. “How can I help you today?”
I smile, staying as friendly and unassuming as possible. “Everyone can order whatever they want. It’s on me,” I tell my table.
Everyone orders a soda, which makes sense after such an exciting and hot day. The cold and sugar will help everyone energize.
“I’ll be back,” I say, leaving the table. I go up to the bar, and a man with aManagername tag is already waiting for me.
“How can I help you, Mr. Preston?” he asks, nervous and excited. People are definitely staring, and I’m glad the bar is around the corner from our table so I can’t be seen.
I smile back at him. “You can call me James,” I say. “I’m having an afternoon lunch with my friends, and I just wanted to make sure we aren’t approached.” I feel like a jerk doing it this way, and I’m very much the spoiled rich guy people assume. I also know that some people want to talk to me, but I’m not ready for Alexis to know who I am. Not yet. “I’d like to pay every tab in the restaurant for the rest of the day, including a hefty tip for each server to ensure we aren’t bothered, or that my status isn’t implied at our table.”
I lay down a card made for just this type of occasion, and I write a note with the tip amount for every meal, and his eyes practically bulge out of his skull when he picks it up. “Of course, sir. Thank you, from me and everyone at Shark Shack.”
I smile. “No problem. And thank you and your staff for your discretion. I’ll be back tonight to sign any receipts that need it. Oh, and Alexis, the blonde girl at my table and I, are allergic to shellfish.”
It will be a bit of a hassle to come back, but if it allows me to have a nice afternoon meal with Alexis and our friends, it’s so worth it. The money is nothing, especially in comparison to this time we get to spend together. However, if Camilla were to find out how many lower-price seafood restaurants I’m attending with my deadly allergy, she might make me regret ever leaving Miami. She’s already so anxious about anything that could go wrong, but to me, it’s worth the risk.
“Sorry,” I say when I get back. “Haven’t used the restroom since before I left home this morning.”
When our server comes back, she’s perky and excited, probably because she now knows she’ll be walking out of her shift with her year’s college tuition paid, or whatever she wants to use the money for. “Here are your drinks,” she says, passing them out. “Are we ready to order? A generous patron has paid for everyone’s meal for the rest of the day.” She gives me a tiny glance, but otherwise doesn’t say anything.
Alexis frowns, and I wonder for a moment if I’ve been caught. Two free meals in a week are definitely suspicious, but she shakes it off and orders a burger. It’s not the cheapest item on the menu this time, which makes me smile. I make note of her order in my mind. This is what she’d get if she weren’t constantly scrounging for money, then. Good to know.
“And I have a—“ Alexis starts, but the server interrupts her.
“Shellfish allergy. Your friend told us.” She points her pen at me, and everyone’s eyes turn toward me.
“I’d rather neither of us go into anaphylactic shock during lunch,” I say defensively, although I’m not sure why I even feel the need to be defensive.
Alexis puts a hand on my bare arm, and electricity runs up my body. “Thanks,” she says with a gentle smile.
That’s why I’m doing all this.
When the server leaves, realization dawns on me. I’m not doing all this because I’m trying to make it up to Alexis. I’ve more than accomplished that. It’s because I like her. It should be obvious based on how much I wanted to kiss her earlier, but I don’t think I realized just how deep my feelings ran until just now. In fact, after all the time we’ve spent together, at work and outside, I might even be starting to fall for her.
