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Chapter Nineteen
Deanna
When I was a kid, I loved the ocean. I loved racing through the surf, wading into the water, diving under the waves.
Dad never loved the beach. Mom was the one who loved the Pacific, who came to California to be near the ocean (and the entertainment industry).
She loved spending weekends at the beach. Sometimes, Dad joined. He sat under his umbrella, reading books in rash guards, breaking to adore Mom or us.
Sometimes, she brought her guitar, and the two of them took turns singing as Lexi and I raced through the waves.
Sometimes, she brought a book and read with him.
Other times, she braved the waves with us. She wasn’t like most adults. She dove under the water, embraced every cold drop.
Then she died, and we didn’t go to the ocean anymore.
I didn’t remember my love of it until I was in high school, until my friends started using the beach as a spot to hang. It was more of a make-out point than anything, and I wasn’t cool enough to hang at most of those parties (or inclined to swap studying for socializing), but I found my love all the same.
The roar of the crashing waves, the deep blue-green hue of the water, the blue sky bleeding into the ocean. An obvious contrast during the day. A subtle one at night.
I feel like that now. Like the sky above the ocean at night. Like I could dissolve into the water, stay one with it forever.
For the first time, in a long time, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
And then I find River, and I wrap my hand around his wrist, and, somehow, I’m even closer to where I’m supposed to be.
He pulls my body into his, pushes off the sand, wraps himself around me. “Your turn.”
I laugh as I carry him toward the sand. “You’re too heavy.”
He releases me and dives under a wave.
Even though I dive just in time to feel the perfect pull of the current—a light sway, toward the depth, then toward the sand, just enough to keep me exactly where I am—I feel a different sort of pull.
Towardhim.
I like him.
That complicates things.
Or maybe it simplifies things.
Maybe this is what we both need. A little fun that cures him of his feelings for Lexi and ends my long dry spell.
I want him.
I feel it everywhere. And the more I watch him swim, those feelings expand. Even though he’s awkward in the water.Becausehe’s awkward in the water but loves it anyway.
That’s what I need in a partner, someone who knows how to have fun, even when things aren’t perfect.
Because I can’t do that. I need someone else to lead.
So, when we finish swimming and he asks if I want to go home, I say no. I insist on lunch at my favorite nearby restaurant, and I spend the drive lost in images of the two of us together.
…
River tears into his carne asada tacos with gusto. “I forgot good Mexican food existed.”
