“I’m sorry about Smother,” I say as we follow several paces behind the lovebirds. I cringe and shove my hands in the back pockets of my cutoffs. “I say that a lot, huh? ‘Sorry about Smother.’”
His lips twist in the slightest of smiles, and I quickly look away. I can’t focus on his lips. Or his hair. Or his body. Especially not his eyes that are downright hypnotic right now in the dusky evening light. I blink and force my attention to the cobblestone path beneath us.
“Your boyfriend does not like me I think,” he says.
I snort a laugh. “My boyfriend? Logan?” My gaze shoots back up, and I try to ignore the effect of Christian’s as he studies me. “He’s not my boyfriend. That was our first date and you saw how it went. There won’t be a second, trust me.”
“Ah. Because he is not your… type?”
Because he’s not you.
“I mean, he’s a nice guy but…” I stop and swallow the rest. The “but” is too complicated to explain in any language. “Anyway, how’s your arm?”
He seems surprised by my question, like he’s forgotten his injury. We look in unison when he holds it out, and my stomach constricts at the tapestry of scabs and cuts. I take his wrist, turning it slightly for a better view. “Ouch. I’m so sorry, Christian.”
He shrugs. “Not so bad. Doesn’t hurt now.”
I run my fingers along the edge of the damage, noting his flinch when I get too close. Of course he’s lying. I expected as much, and my pulse hammers when he doesn’t pull away. I let my fingers continue to explore, pretending to be interested in the wounds I caused, not the searing heat he’s responsible for now. I don’t want to let go—it feels so good to touch him again—like that time in the pool and all the “accidental” collisions that prove our skin’s uncontrollable attraction to each other. And also like those times, the ruse becomes too obvious to ignore. It’s not fair to either of us the way my fingers slide down to graze his before letting go. His stare settles on me in the spark that follows. Hot and poignant, it waits for an explanation. An invitation? Anything, I think, as he tries to piece this moment together. My heart pounds as we search each other, and I have to tear my gaze away before I confuse things further by blurting every messy truth tangled in my head. This was a huge mistake. Touching him. Being here. All of it. There’s no casual encounter with an explosive supernova. Now to fix it without hurting everyone again.
I force a quick smile and take a step back. “Hey, I wanted to look at sundresses while I was here. Boring girl stuff. So, um, I’ll catch up with you later?”
I add a shrug for good measure, careful to avoid his eyes. With a slight wave, I skip forward to catch up to Harper and inform her of my plan. She gets the same story, and I promise to text her when I’m finished. Maybe she buys it, maybe not, but I’m feeling downright victorious when I retreat into the crowd with all the energy of someone excited to shop. See? I can do this. I can be a functioning human adult who does human adult things like not melt down in public places for no reason. No fights. No tears. No shattered hearts standing in shock on pavements. The trick? Do it all without a single look at Christian.
I clean up in the first floor community bathroom the morning after my night in the basement. I inspect the space carefully, knowing it will probably be one of the many areas under my care. It certainly won’t be an easy task keeping this room clean when the building is packed with university students but hard work doesn’t scare me.
I splash more water over my face and blink the cold drops from my eyes. I look better today after some quality rest. The dark circles under my eyes have faded, and if I smile the right way, I almost look happy. Content, at least, which should be plenty for the image I need today. I’m good at that: looking like things. I can look however I need to. Right now, I settle on resolved and confident. Filip, the building supervisor, will want that—expect it after my introductory speech yesterday. I pull in a deep breath and grip the edge of the sink one last time.
Resolved.
Confident.
Content.
I set myself for today’s mission, and push away from the mirror.
I didn’t actually need a sundress, nor would I have purchased one at the overpriced tourist shops even if I did. Shopping alone for something I don’t want gives my brain plenty of time to badger me, though, and it’s becoming more and more obvious that staying away from Christian isn’t a workable solution either. At this point, I’m not convinced there is one.
I’ve been wandering aimlessly for what feels like hours, but every time I check the time it’s only been a few minutes. I’ve browsed every shop that remotely interested me and watched the stupid street shows that didn’t. And to think, I could be at home right now, doing anything besides this. I try not resent Harper for dragging me out here. It’s not her fault I’m the poster child for avoidance.
The sun has finally set, and with the dark, a different crowd begins to emerge around me. I’m not exactly nervous, but maybe it’s late enough to convince Harper to release me from her date. She’s probably ready for a private make-out session with Jakub anyway.
I send her a message and start toward the fake harbor when she tells me to meet them there. My heartrate picks up with each step, each second closer to facing Christian again. He must know I’d left to avoid him. A spontaneous sundress emergency? It seemed like a good idea at the time. Maybe it even worked in the short term, but now we have to face a more awkward reunion. I pull in a deep breath and ignore thoughts of his searching gaze. I can do this. I just need a friendly smile for him and fabricated reasons to focus on Harper. We can probably get through the rest of the night without another word to each other. Maybe I should buy one of those strange souvenir trinkets to show off. How long could we talk about a weird-looking turtle made out of shells?
I can’t bring myself to waste money I don’t have, so personal pep-talk it is. I feel like a crazy person reciting encouragement to myself as I search for my friends in the large crowd that’s gathered on the boardwalk. Hey, maybe I’ll luck out and won’t be able to find them. I don’t mind waiting by the car for the rest of the night, but eventually Harper flags me down. I draw in a deep breath and push my way toward her.
“There you are! Just in time,” she says, pulling me into the small circle. Wait, too small.
“Where’s Christian?”
Hopefully my question doesn’t sound as shaky as it feels.
“Oh, he went off by himself shortly after you did. He said he’s on his way back, though. Right, Jakub? I hope he hurries or he’ll miss the fireworks.”
My heart stops. “Fireworks?”
She lifts a brow. “Yeah? They have a show every night starting in June. It’s a pretty good one from what I’ve heard.”
Shit! “Does Christian know about the fireworks?” This time I can’t keep the panic from my voice.
“I don’t know. I mean, we didn’t talk about it. Why?”
I shake my head, fists clenched. “Did he say where he was going?” She shrugs, and I grip Jakub’s arm to get his attention. “Is Christian okay with fireworks?”
“Fireworks?” he asks.
“Yeah, the big fiery blasts in the sky?”
He still looks confused, passing a glance between Harper and me. I add hand gestures and sounds to explain, but quickly give up as the urgency sets in.
“Never mind. I have to go!” I pull out my phone and start pushing through the crowd.
“What? Where? Emma!”
“I’ll be back!” I call to Harper as I tap out a text to Christian. I’ve just pressed send when the first explosion draws a cheer from the crowd. Then another. And another. I’m practically running by the time I escape the mass of spectators and the sky explodes into a massive, inescapable fire.
Gray Dolphin
I pull up a map of the shops as soon as I get Christian’s text and locate the name in a cluster of shops near the boardwalk. He must have been almost back to us when the show started, and I weave
as fast as I can through the maze of storefronts and tourists. Blast after blast rocks the air around us and cast eerie reflections on the landscape below. I keep checking my phone, but nothing else comes in from Christian.
Blood pounds in my ears as I search the faces and windows for any sign of him, but it’s a half-hearted look. Somehow I know he won’t be anywhere obvious. I’ll find him in the shadows, hiding from his fear more than the fire. I saw it that day on the pier after the bonfire, the way he fought to conceal his terror and protect the mask that had slipped in front of me. It’s why we can’t let go, isn’t it? The reason we keep finding ourselves burrowing through each other’s walls again and again. Once we touched the vulnerable core, there was no going back to pretending we could be anything less.
I catch a glimpse of a cartoonish dolphin on one of the buildings and push my way toward it. It’s the last store of the strip, and I know I won’t find him inside. Instead, I circle around to the side of the building and stop cold.
“Christian…” The nerves, fear, everything falls away when I see him crouched against the wall, gripping his head in his hands. I rush forward and wrap my arms around him, holding on as he collapses into me. He’s shaking so hard, I have to brace myself against the wall to keep us upright.
“It’s okay. Just breathe,” I whisper against his ear.
He flinches with every new explosion, lifting and crashing against the violence in the sky that’s forced its way into his head. I run my fingers through his hair, stroking gently as I hold on. I give up on words, knowing there are none for nightmares like this. Once the voices start screaming (Run, Emma!), there is no shutting them out.
His body is granite in my arms, every muscle tensed for battle—against the blasts, but himself most of all. I feel the anger radiating off him, the fury at himself for his weakness. It’s the same self-hatred I know every time my lists aren’t enough or become too much. I drown in it when I can’t hide, and here he is exposed and broken in a way I fight just as desperately to escape. So I hold on, clinging to the one whose darkness can consume and withstand my own.
How do you let go of the person who’s touched your soul?
You don’t. You can’t. And now, huddled in the dark, the fire in the sky triggering echoing explosions in our veins, the truth hits me stark and heavy: I will never be able to let go of Christian Lukáč. I’ve fought and lost and will continue to lose because Christian is not just on a list.
He’s become the list.
The firework show lasts fifteen minutes. Fifteen eternal, torturous minutes that changed destiny when it forced its truth on me.
Christian’s eyes are huge, exhausted when he finally lifts his head and leans it back against the wall. Ragged breaths filter in and out of his lungs in a frightening rhythm. He closes his eyes, and I grasp his hand, subtly encouraging calmer breaths by squeezing to the tempo of my own. When he raised his head, I had also noticed the wet streaks on his cheeks for the first time.
I reach over now and rub my thumb along the track, absorbing tears that feel like my own. Am I crying too? I think maybe I am, and his expression when he finally meets my gaze confirms it. We lean in at the same moment, latching our arms around each other and melting into one. I cling to him, resting my cheek on his shoulder and breathing in the strange, beautiful scent of sun in this brutal darkness.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry.”
He pulls tighter, and I can’t imagine how I’ll ever let him go again.
“I want you, Christian. I want this.”
I feel the shift before his response. The subtle movement of his head. The catch of his breath.
“I do too.” His words settle into me, warming my body and spreading light through the shadows around us.
“I’ll stop running if you do,” I say.
A slight smile curves on his lips, and I trace it with my finger. He closes his eyes as if absorbing my touch, and it’s enough to make me brave. No, not brave because courage is a choice and I’m powerless against the sudden need exploding inside me. He must sense it when those devastating eyes open and lock on me again.
Tentative, I move in and brush my lips against his. He tastes like an intoxicating mix of mint and ocean from our salty tears. My whisper of a touch left plenty of room for retreat, but when his fingers thread into my hair, his choice is clear. It mirrors mine and there’s no going back.
Our kiss deepens, exposing the ache and drawing us into that irrecoverable place we’d been afraid to face. Now though, I can’t imagine being anywhere else, and soon I’m straddling him, locking him into the same need that’s destroying me. My body starts to move on its own, rocking to the rhythm of our mouths, and a moan presses against my throat at the burn lowering through my belly. He hardens beneath me, and I sink onto his hips to meet him. His own groan as he shoves our mouths together tells me he’s as wrecked as I am.
“Stay over at my place tonight?” I murmur against his lips.
“Áno.”
“Does that means yes?”
I feel his smile. “Yes.”
“Good.”
Filip had me helping the painters most of the day. Exhausting work for sure, but that part I didn’t mind. It feels good to have purpose again, to know I’m working toward something instead of escaping something else. My muscles ache as a badge of honor that I can’t wait to brutalize again tomorrow.
I’ve just finished my shower in the same communal bathroom as this morning when Filip walks in. After securing the borrowed towel tighter around my waist, I return his greeting and continue to the sink to finish cleaning up.
“How’d it go today? The foreman said you did good.”
“Thanks. I enjoyed it.”
“Yeah? Well lucky for you, there’s plenty more where that came from. All the fun you can handle.”
I hear the smile in his voice, but don’t want to encourage more conversation. He seems nice enough, and I’m sure it must be lonely here without the chaos of dozens of university students. Still, talking isn’t exactly my thing.
“I’m ready for whatever you have. I don’t mind hard work.”
“I can see that. You’re a tough kid.”
He quiets, and I glance over to find him studying my pile of dirty, paint-splattered clothes.
“You have clean stuff in that little pack you came with yesterday? What about food?”
I swallow and force my head up a little higher. “I was just about to wash those. They should be mostly dry by tomorrow if I hang them near the ventilation fan in the basement.”
“Oh yeah? It can get cold down there at night.”
“I’ll be okay.”
His gaze settles on me. “I imagine so. Still, it doesn’t help me much to have a sick assistant on my hands. You look to be about the same size as my son. Stay here while I grab some of his things for you, then we’ll get some food. When’s the last time you’ve eaten?”
The earlier wave of panic starts to crest in my stomach. “What? No, that’s not necessary. I’m fine. I just—”
“Stop. You need to listen for a second.” I pull in a quick breath when his gaze narrows on me. Strangely, though, his face softens, despite the hard tone. “I know kids like you. Hell, I used to be one. Tough as nails, accept nothing loners who have suffered enough to learn life is cruel and unforgiving. It’s true, sure, and it’s essential for survival. But no matter how hard things get, how dark, at some point on your journey you will encounter angels of mercy.” He holds up a hand to stop my instinctive protest. “You will. So fine, be tough. Be strong. But don’t ever let yourself harden to the point where you don’t recognize them when they reach out a hand.”
Chapter Fifteen: Devastating Introductions
Gram. Forgot about Gram in my desperation to ravage Christian. I remember her on the drive back to the apartment, however, which gives Harper yet another thing to snicker about. She’s already been unbearable since Christian and I reappeared as a couple, flushed and clearly
enamored. Although Harper and Jakub didn’t say much with words when we met them at the car, their knowing looks were just as irritating. We had to split up for the ride to our place, and now I wish I’d insisted on going with the guys.
“Lust is a good look on you,” Harper says, and laughs when I return a playful smack. “Careful, I’m driving!”
“Then stop being ridiculous.”
“What? Christian’s hot. So are you. The two of you together…” She makes an explosion gesture with her fingers.
“Keep your hands on the wheel,” I mutter. “Anyway, I forgot about Gram when I invited him back. Do you think we should reschedule or go to their place?”
“Neither. I think you should introduce your boyfriend to your grandmother.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I say on instinct.
“No?”
Is he? I think we’ve established I don’t want anyone else to have that title. “Fine. But he may not want to be.”
“Um, I saw his face when you too came back hanging all over each other. Trust me, he wants to be.”
“Ugh, whatever. I just…” What? Harper waits, and I draw in a deep breath. “It’s complicated.”
“Duh.”
“Is Jakub your boyfriend?”
High Tide Page 15