“We were.”
“So?”
I let out a frustrated breath and turn to her. “I don’t have time for dating or a boyfriend or any of that stuff. And what’s the point anyway? In a few weeks he goes back to Slovakia and then what?”
Her eyes narrow at me. “You know, not everything has to fit on one of your lists. Sometimes you can just do things because you want to. Because they’re fun and you like the way you feel when you do them.”
I shake my head. “I’m not like that.”
“Everyone is like that. You just punish yourself.”
She jumps up and moves toward the lifeguard stand, leaving me to stew alone. My heart pounds at Christian’s smile when he leans down to engage with her. I strain to hear their conversation. Something about Jakub, of course. Just the sound of his voice makes my blood rush to forbidden places.
Harper had clearly closed the bar last night with her date, and then some. Apparently, Jakub is an incredible kisser, which, since they’re friends, means Christian would’ve been too according to her logic. I don’t quite understand the science behind her conclusion, but it wasn’t worth the debate. What does it matter now, anyway? I sunk that ship before it left the dock.
Several girls who can’t be more than sixteen give new meaning to the word flaunt as they bluster their way through the patches of beachgoers to the empty space right in front of Christian. Irresponsible if you ask me. How is he supposed to get to the water to rescue a drowning toddler with their skinny butts in the way?
Not your problem. I swallow and try to focus on my book.
Giggles spew from the girl-cluster, along with way too many glances back at him. Do they think they’re being subtle? Even the three-year-old beside us must be wondering why those big girls are frolicking as loudly in the sand as he does. Harper returns to our spot, a scowl on her face.
“The vultures have landed,” she mutters. “Look at them. Unbelievable.”
Not your problem, Emma. It appears I have a new mantra.
“Any updates on Jakub?” I ask, changing the subject.
“I was just checking to see if he said anything about me.”
“Christian wouldn’t tell you if he did.” Harper stills, and I look over. “What?”
“How did you know that?”
“What?”
“That he wouldn’t tell me anything.”
I shrug. “He doesn’t seem like the type.”
“You got that from one conversation?”
“Apparently?”
She grunts. “I’ll never understand you.”
“Now what?”
“You clearly have something with him, and you’re just going to let it go?”
“He lives halfway across the world.”
“He’s right there.”
He is. So close. So… I refuse to look.
“Yeah, for now. What about when the summer ends and—”
“You know what? I’d buy that, except you always have an excuse. If it’s not on one of your stupid lists, you don’t let it into your life. If he wasn’t from Slovakia it would be something else.”
“There’s nothing wrong with having a plan.”
“There is if it means you can never let yourself be happy.”
Violent shrieks pull our attention toward the lifeguard chair. A child witnessing her first flock of seagulls? A shark attack victim? Nope. That would be the gaggle of teenage girls trying to capture Christian’s attention. Don’t they know he’s way beyond them?
“What the hell are they doing?” Harper asks, pushing up from her towel for a better view.
“Looks like they’re building something in the sand.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know. A bus depot?”
Harper snorts a laugh. “I think those are supposed to be legs, not buses.”
Something seems to press on my lungs at the way they claw for his attention. “He’s not going to fall for that,” I say, attempting casual, which isn’t easy through clenched teeth.
“Well, he doesn’t exactly look mad about it.”
His smile… I remember that smile directed at me, those eyes searching deep, tempting in a way that made my heart race. Maybe I want it back. Maybe I hate losing it to other women, even silly girls who couldn’t possibly hold his attention for more than a second.
One of them jumps up now, her face and hair more prom-ready than beach appropriate. Plus, her bikini barely qualifies as clothing. She smiles up at Christian, flipping her curls over her shoulder, and asks what the green flag waving behind the chair means. His answer is clearly fascinating because then she has to know about the yellow and red and—oh my god, has this girl never driven a car? Oh wait, probably not.
“Green, yellow, red. It’s not rocket science,” I mumble.
“You think she actually cares about the flags?” Harper says. “Your boyfriend is hot. If you don’t make a move, pretty sure he won’t be alone for long.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“He should be,” she mutters to herself.
Another girl joins her friend, and when this one pretends she has a problem with her shoulder that Christian needs to inspect, I’ve had enough.
“He’s not a damn preschool teacher. He’s supposed to keep people from drowning,” I snap, slamming my book shut. I ignore Harper’s satisfied smirk as I shoot up from my chair and start toward the commotion. Christian has climbed down to examine the needy patient and lifts his head when I approach. That smile. Damn it’s even more beautiful when it’s for me.
“Excuse me, sir. Can you tell me what the purple flag is for?” I ask.
Amusement plays on his lips, and I hate that I imagine my own playing along. I wonder if he’s the incredible kisser Harper thinks. I wonder… never mind.
“Wait, there’s a purple one too?” the other girl squeals out. Yes, squeals like she just discovered the world’s first unicorn farm.
“Yeah, it means, no one under the age of eighteen is allowed on the beach, right?” I ask him.
Christian pulls off his sunglasses. Crap, the smile is in his eyes too. Focus, Emma.
“Well… Actually, no, it’s—”
“No, I’m pretty sure that’s what it means. That’s a great sandcastle, by the way,” I say to the girl. “If you need more tools the little boy over there has a whole bucketful.” Her glare is reward enough but the humor that flickers across Christian’s face seals the deal. Damn, he’s cute. And maybe I’m jealous. So what?
“That is not what purple means,” he says when the girls finally stalk away. I’m even happier that they continue all the way to the water. His expression brings me back to that bench last night, the feel of his hand in mine. I stare down at it now, resting on the tall support of the chair. Can fingers be sexy? Yes, when your eyes continue scaling the path of flexed muscle to land on a breathtaking gaze that sees only you. If only I were telepathic and could capture his thoughts right now. If only I hadn’t messed up so badly.
How can you miss something you never had?
“How are you today?” he asks. Maybe it’s the accent, but there’s a sincerity to the question that tugs at me.
“Fine. You?”
He shakes his head with another smile. “You Americans. You are always fine?”
“No. We just say that because the person isn’t usually asking.”
“But I just ask how you are?”
“Yes, but it’s a formality. Um… like a longer hello.” He lifts a brow, and a lightness begins to spread through me. “Okay fine. Maybe it doesn’t make sense. So how do you say it in Slovak?”
“Hello?”
“’Hello, how are you?’”
“Ahoj, ako sa máš?”
“’Ahoy? Thank you so much?’”
He laughs. “No, no. Not ‘thank you so much.’ Ako sa máš.”
“Well, it sounds like thank you so much!” Heads turn at my exclamation. Even Harper shoots a look, though her expressi
on is less critical than the old couple behind us. See? This is what Christian does to me. Walls crumble and release a college version of the squealing sandcastle girls. That smile, though, his laugh. It makes me… I don’t know. Light. Yes, that’s it. I haven’t felt “light” in a long time.
The whir of an engine cuts into our conversation, and Christian tenses.
“Do frasa,” he mutters to himself. “I’m sorry. One moment, please?” he says to me.
Following his gaze, I see a jeep pull to a stop behind us. A middle-aged man climbs out, eyeing Christian with a scowl as I retreat. Tan and slightly overweight, the guy flaunts a swagger usually reserved for Heads of State.
“Christian, Christian, Christian,” he belts out. At that volume, mine isn’t the only head turned in their direction. They’ve taken center stage by the time I reach Harper, my skin already crawling from this stranger.
“What have I said about focus? You are here to watch the ocean, not the pretty girls.”
My chin drops, fire climbing up my neck. Are you kidding me?
A muscle moves in Christian’s jaw. “I was just—”
The dude clucks his tongue. “Don’t. I saw everything.” He circles to the front of the stand. “And what did I say about the box? It stays on the right side? How many times are we going to discuss this?”
“It’s on the right—”
“No, this is the right.” The asshole moves the box all of an inch and a half, then steps back to review his artistry. “Maybe there’s a language barrier?”
Christian’s fists clench, but he says nothing. My own heart races as a sick feeling swirls through my stomach.
“Well, someone took his dick pills this morning,” Harper mutters to me.
“Is he for real?” I whisper back. She rolls her eyes and lifts a subtle middle finger in the supervisor’s direction. Everything in me wants to intervene, but I sense I’d only give this jerk more fuel. He’s enjoying this, I can tell. The power he has over his charges.
I wish I could tune him out, but the bastard makes sure he’s loud enough for all of us to hear Christian get berated for everything from the angle of the flag to allowing someone to post an umbrella four inches past the accepted line. Safety first, you know. They’re there to save lives. Maybe Christian needs to do less partying and more training.
I glance toward the water and smirk at the one old lady wading up to her knees. What exactly is he supposed to be guarding at the moment? I suppose she could cut herself on the shells she’s collecting.
Calm down, Emma. Not your problem.
By the time the man finishes his monologue, refills Christian’s water bottle, and loads his portly self back into the vehicle, my pulse is pounding in anger. I don’t dare to approach him with that idiot still in visual range, but Christian makes his way to me, eyes instinctively scanning the landscape as he walks, because—news flash—he’s actually a pretty good lifeguard.
I straighten when he arrives. “I’m sorry about that,” he says.
His apology only angers me more. “You’re sorry? I’m the one who’s sorry for getting you in trouble. Plus, that guy is an asshole.”
He clearly tries to hold in a smile with his shrug. “You didn’t. It’s okay. He is like that always.”
“He always treats you like shit?”
“Not just me. Everyone.”
“Why didn’t you stand up to him?”
“Stand up?”
“Argue with him. Tell him he was being a jerk and you weren’t doing anything wrong. Because you weren’t!”
“Emma, please,” he says quietly, looking around.
Okay, so maybe I’m overly defensive, but everything about that scene screamed abuse of power. Clearly this guy gets off on it, and Christian just took it. Stood there in silence. I should have spoken up, done something. This is on me too, and maybe that’s why I’m pissed.
“What do I say?” he asks finally. “Tell him he’s wrong. Then what?”
Then he gets fired and sent home. Shit. Now I hate this guy even more.
“What’s his name?”
“Who? My supervisor?”
“Yep.”
“Kenneth. Why do you ask?”
I cross my arms. “No reason.”
“Emma…” But he doesn’t get to finish his thought when a mother and son approach with another jellyfish “emergency.” He leads them back to the stand to tend to the child.
“When are you seeing Jakub again?” I ask Harper.
A grin spreads over her lips. “Probably tonight. Why? You want him to bring Christian?”
I watch the gentle way he cares for the boy right after getting slated himself. “Yes.”
My lungs burn, filling with crisp forest air. After holding it in for an extra few seconds, I release it with a bite through my raw throat. Today was a hard day. The fire blazed in my mind from the moment I woke, hot and angry, pulling at my eyes to draw tears. But I couldn’t cry, not in front of my teachers, my friends, certainly not my grandmother who believes thirteen is too old to show emotion. “You must be strong. You must never let others know your fear.” Maybe, but today I’m not strong. Today I’m a child who lost everything and isn’t allowed to have a void. I am less. I am weak. I am empty and broken and have no choice but to run because I can’t hide.
I lean against rough bark, hands on my knees, drawing in breaths at a frantic pace. I don’t know yet that there’s a name for this inability to breathe that makes your limbs tingle and head spin. Everything has a name, which makes it easier to fix, but I’m thirteen now. And I’m not allowed to be broken.
I hide as long as I can, until the sun is setting and my breathing returns to a safe rhythm. The fire still rages, but it’s securely veiled again.
“Where have you been?” my grandmother scolds when I finally return home, shivering and hungry. It’s already dark. I knew she’d be upset which made me linger even longer to avoid the consequences. “I suppose your homework isn’t finished?”
“No, ma’am. I’ll do it now.”
“Oh no you won’t. You’ll do it after you finish your chores.” My stomach rumbles, making her laugh. “And don’t even think about dinner. I’ve already put it away. Maybe next time you will show more respect for the time.”
I blink and stare at my muddy shoes. She hasn’t noticed that yet. She will. I slip them off in the hallway outside the apartment door. If I’m lucky, we can avoid a confrontation about that until tomorrow.
“Well, don’t just stand there and let the cold in! Next time you can sleep with your precious stars.”
Chapter Five: Sunset Rendezvous and Sheep Farms
Christian is quiet as we walk several paces behind Harper and Jakub along the beach. I wonder where his head is as he stares at the sand, the horizon, the lazy waves… pretty much everywhere but in my direction. I wonder if he doesn’t want to be here. I wonder if he misses home.
“You okay?” I ask.
A warm breeze tickles my skin while I squint into dusk’s pink canvas over the water. This setting is perfect. Sight, smell, sound, it’s all there, and yet, impossible to enjoy. Touch. That’s what’s missing.
Taste.
“Fine.”
“You Slovaks. Always fine,” I tease, referencing his earlier critique of Americans.
I earn a small flash of amusement for that, and it scares me how much I crave more.
“I’m sorry for what happened at Smother. And today,” I say.
“Today?”
“With your supervisor, Kenneth.”
“Ah. Is not a problem.”
Our hands brush together, and I swear he flinches away.
“Did you not want to come tonight?” I say quietly after another long silence. It would be for the best, I suppose. My list for why this is a mistake is a mile long. Clearly his is also. I’m sure I’ll be relieved when it ends, finally able to get back on track and move on from this pointless crush. Embarrassing, even, the way he makes me ignore my rule
s.
Harper shrieks with laughter when Jakub tackles her to the sand ahead of us. Christian frowns, his eyes dark with something I haven’t seen before.
I draw in a breath and stop. “Look, you don’t have to do this, okay?”
He stares down at me, his gaze fixed on mine and yet miles away at the same time.
“Do what?”
“Pretend to want to hang out with me.”
“I do not pretend.”
Why don’t I believe that?
I shake my head, wanting to look away but how can I with the breeze molding his shirt against his chest? With the last remnants of sun pulling the green from his eyes that are now fixed firmly on me. Those buried secrets draw me in, sparking memories of our brief connection on the Smother dance floor that make my blood rush and heart pound. They make him unbearable to look at right now. I’ve never felt such an excruciating need to touch someone.
“Christian, I…” What? You’ve ruined any chance you have with him.
“Yes?”
I remember his hand in mine. His gentle smile for that little boy. His quiet strength at Kenneth’s bullying. His shy amusement, his earnest curiosity, his pensive looks that do more than hint at the depths of his intelligence. I remember how beautiful his language sounds coming from his lips.
“I’m sorry about Smother. I wish I’d…”
“You wish what?” he says when I stop. His voice is softer now, closer, and when I look up he’s inches away.
My pulse races. “I wish I’d gone back in with you that night,” I nearly whisper.
He smiles, and I can’t help it anymore. I need more than this and move closer until I’m almost against his chest, waiting, hoping. I feel him pull in a breath of his own. Are there others on this beach? It doesn’t matter right now. There’s only one I sense. One I want to explore.
Finally, finally, his fingers brush my cheek and my eyes close on instinct. Relief, maybe, relief to have that connection back no matter how brief.
“I would like…” I open my eyes when he hesitates and watch him search for words. “To kiss you.”
Damn. Something fires through me, hot and violent. “Me too.”
High Tide Page 4