The Secrets We Keep

by Kimberly Blackadar

“You awake?”

  I do not recognize the guy’s voice, yet it sounds vaguely familiar. It’s not Ryan or Ian, so I ignore it. The voice, however, is persistent. “Come on, wake up.”

  I search to put a name with the voice, and then it hits me about the same time the hands grasp my shoulders. I sit up and shove him in the chest. “Stop that!”

  “So…you’re not a morning person.” Doug plops down in the sand next to me. “You mind if I sit here?”

  What if I had said yes?

  I lean forward and search the waves for Courtney. The tide carried her down a bit, but her bright board is easy to spot. She catches a wave and rides it gracefully toward the shore.

  “You surf?” Doug asks.

  “Nope.”

  “That’s okay. I’m not that into it either. I mean, I can and all, but I don’t live for it like these barneys.” He inches closer to me. “What do you like to do?”

  I shrug. “Play basketball.”

  “Yeah, that’s cool. I still try to get out on the courts every now and then. I hurt my knee a few years back and…”

  “Uh-huh,” I say in a disinterested tone, totally not into the guy or his conversation, but Doug does not read signals well.

  “…I used to play center in middle school…”

  In my head, I start singing the lyrics of my favorite song, trying to drown out the most annoying person in human history. Yes, more annoying than Courtney Valentine.

  “…but then in eighth grade, I started playing football….”

  I consider the possible categories in The Guinness Book of World Records for Doug: “Man Who Holds the Longest One-sided Conversation” or “Man Who Bores Woman to Death.” I cannot help but smile at my own musing—and then worry a little about my impending demise.

  “Aw,” he says, “I got you to smile, didn’t I?”

  Crap, I say to myself.

  “Douglas,” a voice comes from behind us.

  Doug greets the newcomer with a lifeless greeting: “What’s up, man?”

  “Not much, Parker,” says the newcomer. I turn, wanting to confirm my suspicious hopes, and yes, it is Ryan—also known as Swoosh, Mr. Green Eyes, and the star of my dreams. He steps closer to me, his bare feet inches from my towel. “What? You’re not going to say hello to me, Miss Williams?”

  “Hi,” I say softly and glance up at him, stealing a peek at him and wondering if my memory has deceived me. Nope, he is really that gorgeous.

  He smiles down at me and his grin sends warmth into my heart, and my pulse accelerates. My throat turns dry, and I swallow down the expanding knot of nervousness. While I suffer the classic symptoms of infatuation, I wish our encounter could play out differently—like in my fabulous daydreams. Of course, in my mind, Ryan never wears a shirt, and our conversations always remain brief and end the same way—with a big, juicy kiss. Mind romances are much easier.

  “Doug, you been out on the water yet?” Ryan asks, and I welcome a few more moments to concentrate on breathing before Ryan speaks to me again.

  “Nope, just been sitting here…talking nice, but she won’t speak my language.”

  “Your language?”

  “Yeah, man, tell her I’m one of the good guys.”

  “You want me to lie to her?” Ryan returns, and I suppress my laughter.

  “No,” Doug begins, “what I want is for you to leave us alone.”

  “Well, Dougie, what really matters is what Miss Williams wants.” Ryan pauses. “Callie would you like me to leave?”

  I twirl a tendril of hair on the nape of my neck and shake my head.

  “Hmm,” he pauses. “Do you want Doug to leave?”

  I nod, barely, still working on the whole inhale-exhale routine since Ryan’s presence causes some serious malfunctions in my involuntary systems.

  “All right, Dougie, you heard the lady. Well…,” Ryan begins with a low chuckle, “she didn’t exactly say anything, but you can read signals, right?”

  Doug gets up, brushes off the sand, and then plants a palm in Ryan’s shoulder, shoving him back a few steps. “Read that, punk!”

  Ryan recovers his footing. “Don’t start, man!”

  “Why not?” Doug closes in on Ryan. “You too afraid?”

  Ryan just shakes his head, and then they start to circle like wild dogs about to attack on one another.

  “Hey!” I rise up and wedge myself between them, aiming my angry words at Doug. “What are you eight? C’mon, Doug. This isn’t the elementary school playground. No one needs to start some stupid fight.”

  “Don’t worry, sugar.” A sultry grin transforms his lips. “I’m a lover—not a fighter.”

  “C’mon.” I roll my eyes. “Get lost, Doug. How many ways do I need to say, ‘I’m not interested’ before you hear me?”

  “Ooh,” Ryan encourages from behind me. “That’s it, girl. You tell him.”

  “And furthermore, I’m tired of you and your…,” I search for an appropriate word, “pathetic, stupid, cheesy come-ons.” Apparently, I had plenty of synonyms.

  Doug leans in. “Your little tirade only makes you hotter.”

  I shake my head. “Mission unaccomplished.”

  Doug just smiles as he strolls backward a few steps. “See you soon, sweetheart.” Then he turns and relocates to a group of unsuspecting girls down the beach.

  I plop down on my beach towel, shaking my head. Ryan sits down in the sand, leans forward, and rests his forearms on bended knees. “You okay?”

  I push out a breath, anger at Doug replacing my nervousness for being with Ryan. “Yeah. Sorry you had to witness that.”

  “No need to apologize, and I have to agree with Doug on one thing.” My curious eyes drift toward Ryan as his grin reaches his eyes. “His last line was pretty damn accurate.” I replay Doug’s words in my mind as Ryan continues, “I hope that doesn’t offend you, Callie.”

  I bite down on my lip. “No, not when it comes from you.” Abashed at my honesty, I turn toward the ocean, finding Courtney’s board among the throng of surfers.

  “By the way, he’s not a good guy.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I turn toward him and offer a soft smile. “He’s a jerk, but he does have one thing going for him.”

  “Yeah, what’s that?”

  “He has determination, and until meeting Doug, I never thought that was a bad thing.”

  Ryan laughs. “You know what? You’re kinda’ funny, Callie Williams.”

  “Well, thank you, Ryan…uh…”

  He holds up a hand. “Nope, not yet.”

  “Listen, I’m just going to think that your last name is something terrible—like one of those names with lots of consonants and no vowels. And you cannot say it without spitting on someone.”

  He chuckles a little. “Great. I’m trying to create mystery and—”

  “Yeah, it’s not working for you. Maybe you should hang out with Doug and pick up some of his smooth lines.”

  “You like those, huh?”

  “Oh yeah, doesn’t every girl?” I flick my head at Doug, who has now moved on to another group of girls.

  We both laugh for a moment, and then Ryan offers, “Maybe we should stop picking on the guy.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. It’s just too easy. I prefer a challenge.”

  “So…” The word slides out flirtatiously. “You like a challenge, huh?”

  “Don’t even go there.”

  “You can dish it, but you can’t take it, girl.”

  “Whatever, boy with no last name.”

  He laughs again and then lifts his sunglasses. “So, uh, how long you been out here?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. Why?”

  “Because you’re getting burned.”

  I press a finger into my stomach, watching the skin lighten and then color again. My white stomach had not seen much sun with a summer at basketball camp.

  “Maybe we should get you out of the sun for a while.” He flicks his head at
the houses along the shore. “My house is right up there. You wanna’ come over for a bit?”

  “Sure,” I return, trying not to sound too eager, but this is going so well. I don’t even feel that nervous around him anymore. I grab my towel and stand up. My excitement squashes all thoughts, so I don’t dwell on how little I know about him and that I’m heading toward his house with no one knowing where I’m going. I pretty much would follow him to the ends of the earth if he asked me.

  As we stroll toward the row of private piers, I walk closer to Ryan. He pauses at the bottom step and places a hand on the railing. His other hand bids me entrance, and I slide in front of him, fully aware that he is now behind me. I consider everything about my walk. I try to move like a girl, with one foot right in front of the other, and not like a basketball player sauntering off the court. My eyes remain on my feet, but as we reach the edge of his flagstone patio, I glance up and notice his house. I feel like a fairy tale princess beholding her prince’s castle for the first time. It’s huge with countless windows and an actual rounded turret on the back.

  “Uh, nice,” I turn and say.

  “Thanks.” He smiles and gestures at the patio table. “Have a seat.” I drape my towel over the back of the chair and sit down under a massive umbrella. “Can I get you something to drink?” Ryan asks.

  “Don’t you have servants for that?” I tease.

  He laughs. And I really like his laugh. It’s a deep laugh, not sinister, but playful, and I decide to make him laugh even more.

  “Yes, water, please.”

  He retreats into the house, and I gaze at the waves, seeing life from Ryan’s perspective. I soak in the view for a few minutes, enjoying the cool breeze.

  He returns with two tall glasses of water and sets them on the table between us. “Hmm, you look familiar.” His voice dips lower, and he offers a goofy grin like a guy picking up a girl in a bar. “Have we met before?”

  “Oh c’mon, it was not a pick-up line, and I was not hitting on you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because.”

  “Because why?” He narrows his eyes at me and a devious smile takes over his lips. “Because you don’t like guys?”

  My jaw drops. “No, I’m not a…you know?” I try to recover with a reason. “Listen, I’m just not that forward, okay?”

  “Yeah, I get it. You wait for guys to hit on you.” He pauses. “You’re more, uh, old-fashioned?”

  “I guess.” I take a sip of water, feeling the heat rise into my cheeks.

  “But,” he begins, “what if you really liked a guy? Would you let him know?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  He leans across the table. “Um, because I have this friend…”

  I point at him. “Now that’s a lame pick-up line!”

  “C’mon.” He starts to laugh. “I do know this guy who likes you.” I start to frown. “And his name is Doug. Doug Parker.” He pauses and shakes his head. “But he’s not my friend.”

  “Yeah, I can tell. So what’s that all about?”

  His eyes narrow. “Let’s just say we did not meet under the best circumstances.”

  “Huh…?” I want to know more, but I decide to let it go for now.

  “Well, he should leave you alone now.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “Because he’ll think you’re with me.” He leans forward with an adorable grin.

  “Am I?”

  “You are at the moment.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “I don’t like to give answers.”

  “Just questions, huh?”

  “Yep,” he leans back, content. “You know me so well, girl.”

  “No, I don’t. I barely know you at all.”

  “Hmm,” he pauses as his lips curl into a smile of pure, unadulterated sexiness. “How well do you want to know me?”

  My mouth drops open. “You’re such a flirt! You know that, Ryan Whatever-Your-Last-Name-Is? You are a total flirt.”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “Depends,” I pause. “How does your girlfriend feel about it?”

  “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  “Yeah, ‘a’ being the operative word.”

  “Hey, I’m not some player.”

  “Then what are you?”

  “I’m just a typical guy. I try to do the right thing, but I mess up every once in a while.” He shrugs, then takes a sip of his water. His eyes drift toward the ocean as his thoughts travel many leagues away. Then he turns, suddenly. “But enough about me, girl. Let’s talk about you.” He leans forward, placing his glass back on the table. “What’s your story?”

  “My story?”

  “Yeah, your story.”

  I shrug. “Well, my story was pretty awesome until…I don’t know...” I grab the glass of water and take a few sips. “Until Friday.” I shake my head, struck by a memory flash. My mom’s in my face, crying. “That had to be the worst day of my life.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  I shake my head. “Nothing. Just a bad day.”

  “Callie,” he starts gently, his green eyes softening, “if you want to talk about it…”

  “I don’t.”

  “You do, but,” he pauses, “you’re afraid of what I’ll think?”

  Of course I am, but I shake my head. “No, that’s not it.”

  He smiles. “But if you don’t tell me, then I’ll just think the worst of you.”

  “Yeah, and what’s that?”

  “I dunno…that you’re some psychotic serial killer.”

  “Yes,” I hiss and smile darkly. “And you are my next victim.”

  His eyes widen, then narrow as he looks me over. “Then where are you hiding that murder weapon?”

  “Weapon?” I lift my hands and rub them together. “I’m highly skilled in martial arts.”

  He shirks back in mock fear. Then we both start laughing. Our conversation downshifts to basketball, and we start swapping big-game stories.

  “…And there were two seconds on the clock, you know?” he pauses and looks at me, his eyes widening with each word. “I aim. I shoot. And I…”

  “Score!” I fill in.

  “Nope, I missed. We lost the game and did not make it to Regionals my sophomore year. But if I had made the shot, then it would have made a good story, huh?”

  “Well, I like the story.” I pause, searching for the words. “It shows you have a humble side. It’s nice.” I want to add comforting since he seems less intimidating with a few mistakes marring his perfect veneer.

  “Yeah, well,” he begins, sitting back. “I’ve had lots of lessons in humility—and everything else—this past year.”

  I nod, not knowing what to say next, hoping he will divulge more. He does not and starts drilling me instead. “Does your boyfriend play basketball?”

  “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  “But you had one?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And?”

  “It ended badly.”

  He nods. “I figured that.” He pauses, putting the pieces together. “And that’s why you came here for the week…to get away from him.”

  “That’s part of it.”

  “The rest of it?”

  “It’s a really long story—one with a crappy ending.”

  He nods, his silence shows understanding. “Then why don’t we talk about something else—like what happened with you and your ex.”

  “You don’t want to hear about that!”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m considering a degree in psychology, and I need to practice on someone.” He rests his elbows on the table, letting a smile slip across his lips. Then he leans back in his chair and folds his hands on his lap. “So…where should we begin today, Miss Williams?”

  I smile, thinking he would make a good therapist and how I would have gone back to Mr. G, the bald man with death bre
ath, if he looked more like Ryan. “I don’t know, Mr. No Last Name,” I tease, wondering how we got here so quickly—from strangers to two people who share inside jokes. I also wonder how we got to be so comfortable around each other. This kind of comfort takes time, and rather than going forward and letting the conversation flow naturally, doubt stops me. “Hey, can we just talk about basketball—and not my personal life?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m not normally like this.”

  “Like what? Real? Genuine? Honest?”

  “You have a way with words, Ryan. Maybe you should consider being a lawyer instead,” I mumble.

  He laughs.

  “I told you.” I let out a sigh and fall back into the chair. “I broke up with my boyfriend.”

  “Yeah, how long were you together?” He asks, reeling me in with an easy question.

  “A little over four months—we started dating right before prom.”

  “How’d you meet him?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. I’ve known him for years, because he used to be my brother’s best friend.”

  “Used to be?”

  “Yeah, used to be.” I press my lips together.

  “What happened?”

  “Well, my ex—that’s Mike—used to date this…” I pause, not wanting to call Amber what she really is—a two-timing whore. “…this girl named Amber. But after they broke up, Amber started hooking up with my brother Landon. It got a little complicated—made for some awkward double dates, but we all acted like it was okay.”

  “Sounds like a soap opera if you ask me.”

  “Yeah, it was and to make matters worse, I was off at basketball camp for most of the summer. My session is first, but then I coach the younger kids in August. At the beginning, I would come home on the weekends, but then my mom and I…”

  “What?”

  “Started fighting all the time.” I shake my head, wishing I had a conversational backspace button: I would retract that last statement—and probably a dozen others. His words, on the other hand, I would never omit. “So…can we please talk about something else?” I say and then I take a sip of water, getting nothing but ice.

  He reaches across the table for my glass, “Let me refill that for you.”

  After he walks off with my glass, my eyes drift out to the ocean. I spot Courtney and wonder if she notices my absence. But really, does Courtney ever notice anything—and does she really care about anything or anyone? I mean, will she care when I move to Tennessee?

  And why can’t I tell anyone about the move? People move all the time. One of our good friends, Christina, moved away our sophomore year. She now lives in Virginia and has this new life and new friends. But I don’t want a new life: I just want my old one back. I want my house and my family all back together again. And I don’t want to leave Riverside—the one place where happiness once lived.

  Ryan returns, setting the glass down on the table, and starts in with a question. “You said you and your mom fight a lot, but what about your dad? You get along with him okay?”

  I shrug. “I don’t see him much.”

  “Oh, are your parents…?”

  “Divorced…yep.” I push out a breath. “But it’s probably for the best.”

  “For them? Maybe. But not for you, right?”

  “Yeah, for me, it sucks.” I gesture at his house. “I used to live in a house like this.” I look at him. “Don’t take it for granted, okay?”

  “Okay,” he sighs. “But I think we all take things—and people—for granted. Sometimes we don’t appreciate what we have until it’s gone.”

  “Yeah, I couldn’t agree with you more.”

  He forces a smile. “Talk about light conversation, huh?”

  “Yeah, where did we go wrong?” I pretend to consider the answer. “I’ll blame you—and all your questions.”

  He musters a laugh. “Okay, one more question.”

  In dire protest, I cross my arms over my face. “No!”

  “C’mon, this one’s important.”

  I frown.

  “Tell me, did Mike hook up with Amber again?”

  My eyes fall to the table. “Yeah.” I take a sip of water.

  “That’s what I thought, but listen to me…okay?” He waits for me to look at him, and my eyes shift slowly in his direction. “Not all guys are like that, you know, and what he did probably had nothing to do with you—and everything to do with him. People cheat because they’re insecure…that’s all. They think they’ve got something to prove by being with whomever they can get.”

  “Hmm,” I say and conjure up a picture of middle school Mike. Braces, pimples, and gangly—a sharp contrast to the guy he became his senior year. Maybe that little insecure boy was still inside him, and maybe Ryan was right. I take a sip of water. “Well, in the end, it didn’t really matter, because we were going to break up anyway.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “He’s going to Florida State in the fall.”

  “And what? You don’t date outside your zip code?”

  “I didn’t say that,” I retort. “I’m not against long-distance relationships, but what’s the point if you don’t have what it takes?”

  “And what does it take?”

  “You know.”

  “No, I don’t know. I’ve never been in one…” He winks. “Yet.”

  I smile, feeling hopeful, but my hopes gets squashed when I consider the impending distance between us.

  “So tell me, girl, what does it take?”

  “It takes a future.”

  “Ah, c’mon,” he says, shaking his head. “How are you supposed to know that? Most relationships seem promising in the beginning, right?”

  “Yeah, but…” I stop and think in terms of Rob and Chloe. “Some relationships are different. If it’s meant to be, then you can look at the life you want to have, and the person you want to become, and you can imagine that other person with you—every step of the way.”

  “Yeah, I get it. So…what do you see in your future?”

  “More questions from you.” I smile at him, and he gives me a huge grin. “Why don’t you answer a few for a change?”

  He falls back in his chair. “Okay.”

  “What’s your last name, Ryan?”

  “Why is that so important?”

  “It’s more annoying than important.”

  He glances at his watch. “Ooh, look at the time.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, I hate to cut this Q & A short, but I have to mow the lawn.”

  “Oh, I get it. You don’t live here. You’re just the yard boy.”

  “Yeah, you got me, girl. Tomorrow I’ll be a few houses up. Perhaps you can set your towel farther down. All kidding aside, I really need to let you go.” He stands up. “I promised my mom I’d get this done before she got back.”

  I stand up and remove my towel off the back of the chair, forcing a smile, not really wanting to leave. “Thanks for the water.”

  “You’re welcome.” He curls a finger at me. “Come here.”

  I stroll toward him. “Yeah?”

  “Any time you need to talk,” he begins, resting a hand on my shoulder. His eyes connect with mine. “You know where to find me.” My insides twist with warmth, and more than anything, I want to step into his arms and let him hold me.

  “Thank you, Ryan.”

  “I mean it, girl.”

  “Okay...” I turn slowly and start walking down the pier, but soon the insecurity demons launch an all-out attack on my sensibilities. I forget all the smiles and winks as the “demons” point out the things that I should never have said. I should never have told him about my past—about Mike, about my parents. I completely unloaded on him. I barely know him, and now he’ll think I’m some emotional freak.

  Man, I need a book. No, I don’t like to read. I need one of those internet articles—short and to the point, telling me the things never to say to a guy. I am sure that
talking about your ex cheating on you tops that list.

  “Callie! Hey, wait up!”

  I turn and see Ryan jogging toward me. “Yeah?”

  As he moves closer, he slows down and starts pulling off his shirt, exposing the ripples of definition. And if there were ever a moment in my life that I’d like to freeze and put in super slo-o-o-ow motion, it would be this exact nanosecond.

  “You might need this.” He hands me his T-shirt, and I have to force myself to look at his face and not his abs.

  “Huh?”

  “So you don’t get burned out there.”

  “Oh… thanks,” I mutter, since my gratitude is being overshadowed by my disbelief. I mean, he actually took the shirt off his back and gave it to me. Isn’t that just a saying—like ‘It’s raining cats and dogs’ or ‘Curiosity killed the cat’? Aren’t those just quirky little phrases—idioms I think they’re called—that mean something else? But what does it mean if a guy actually takes the shirt of his back and gives it to me?

  “Or do you want me to get you something else—something clean?” He gestures toward the house.

  “No…no, this is great, Ryan.” I slip his shirt over my head and catch a quick whiff of him. His cologne—clean, crisp, and absolutely sexy—is completely unfamiliar. He’s not one of those guys who bathes in the all-too-popular brands from the department store. No, he finds something unique to define him. I add it to my accumulating list of things I adore about him.

  “All right, girl. Take care of yourself, okay?”

  “Okay,” I offer, standing there with my eyes glued to him.

  “And I’ll see you later.” He offers a quick wink and starts walking backwards a few paces.

  Then he turns around, and I watch him stroll down the pier, shirtless. I examine the lines of his body, my eyes dropping from his broad shoulders to his tapering waist.

  I turn, slowly, whispering a latent “See you later,” and even though I want an exact time for “later,” I remember that I still have him with me. His scent covers me, and rather than going back to the beach and Courtney and whoever else might still be there, I hurry back to the beach house.

  I enter the house, which is empty except for the warm rays of sunshine splaying across the terracotta tile. I stroll into the front bedroom and climb back into the unmade bed. Ryan’s scent awakens my imagination, and soon daydreams about Ryan turn into real dreams. I am sound asleep—again.

  *****