I’m just trying to focus on today.
And today, the beaches are so crazy, we don’t even want to be out there. We’re on Marcos’s balcony. It’s a few rows back from the beach, which is why we’re here. There is so much music and noise and more drunk people than you could find in any bar in Texas, so none of us have the urge to hang out closer to those crowds.
We ate dinner with Marcos’s family tonight. He’s got two little sisters and there was so much activity and conversation and food. Samson looked like he was right at home with Marcos’s family, and it made me wonder what he’s like when he’s around his own family.
Do they have family meals together like my father and Alana like to do? Would they accept me if they ever met me? Something tells me they wouldn’t or he wouldn’t be so secretive about them.
I felt accepted tonight, though. Accepted and well fed. My goal to gain weight this summer has been crushed. I’m not sure I can even fit into the one pair of jeans I bought when I got here. I’ve worn mostly shorts and my bathing suit this whole summer.
The sun just set, but the fireworks started before that. They’re picking up now that it’s finally dark, and they’re coming from all over the peninsula.
“The Galveston fireworks will start in a few minutes,” Sara says. “I wish we could see them from here.”
“Marjorie’s roof would have a good view,” Samson says.
“You think she’d let us use it?” I ask.
Samson shrugs. “Depends on if she’s awake or not.”
Marcos stands up. “No one can sleep through this noise.”
We all make our way to Marjorie’s, along with P.J., who was waiting beneath Marcos’s house.
Marjorie is sitting on her porch when we reach her street, watching all the commotion on the beach. She sees us approaching and says, “I figured you’d be here sooner than this.” She waves a hand toward her front door. “Be my guest.”
“Thanks, Marjorie,” Samson says.
Once we’re inside, he waits for Sara and Marcos to climb the stairs first, then me. When we reach the roof entrance, Sara is on her hands and knees as she crawls out the opening. Marcos tries to help her, but she shakes her head. “It’s too high. I can’t move.”
Samson laughs. “Try to get to the center of the roof. You’ll only see the sky instead of the ground.”
Sara crawls to the center of the roof. We all follow and I sit down next to her. Samson sits next to me.
“How do you walk around up here?” Sara asks him.
“I don’t look down,” Samson says.
Sara covers her face for a minute as she tries to lessen the dizziness. “I had no idea I was afraid of heights.”
Marcos wraps an arm around her. “Come here, babe.” She moves closer to Marcos, and seeing him hold her like that makes me very aware that Samson and I aren’t even touching. I glance at him, but he’s looking at fireworks that are being shot from somewhere down the beach.
“Is Marjorie lonely?” I ask him.
He looks at me and smiles. “No. She has a son. He’s a lawyer in Houston. He comes to visit her a couple times a month.”
That makes me feel good.
Samson sees the relief on my face, and then he leans toward me and gives me a quick peck. “You’re sweet,” he whispers. Then he grabs my hand, threading his fingers through mine, and we watch the fireworks in silence.
The more time that passes, the more there are. We can see them all around us, in the bay, coming from Galveston. Somehow, there are even fireworks being shot from way out in the ocean.
Marcos looks at Sara and says, “This would have been a great marriage proposal moment with all these free fireworks in the background. Too bad we just met over spring break.”
“Bring me back here next year,” she says. “I’ll pretend I forgot this conversation.”
They make me laugh.
After a few more minutes, Sara tells Marcos she needs down because she’s feeling nauseous. They leave, but Samson and I stay on Marjorie’s roof.
I find myself watching him more than I’m watching the fireworks. He looks enamored with everything.
“I’ve never seen Darya look this beautiful,” Samson whispers.
Wait. What? Darya is the name of the girl he said broke his heart.
“Look how the fireworks reflect off of her,” he says, pointing out at the ocean. I look at where he’s pointing, then back at him, confused.
“Are you calling the ocean Darya?”
“Yeah,” he says, matter-of-fact. “Darya means the sea. It’s what Rake used to call her.”
“You told me Darya was the ex-girlfriend who broke your heart.”
Samson laughs. “I told you Darya broke my heart, but I never said I was talking about a girl.”
I try to think back on that conversation. This whole time, he was talking about the water? “How does an ocean break a heart?”
“I’ll tell you on—”
“August second,” I finish with a roll of my eyes. I adjust myself and reach into my pocket for my phone. “I’m taking notes. You owe me a lot of explanations.”
Samson laughs. “Can I see the list?”
I hand him my phone after I add the last one. He starts reading off the list.
“Why don’t you like talking about your father’s rental houses? Who was the guy that interrupted our dinner? What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done? Why don’t you like talking about your family? What’s the whole story behind Rake? How many girls have you had sex with?” He pauses and looks at me for a beat, then goes back to the list. “What’s your full name? How did the ocean break your heart?”
He stares at my phone for a moment, then hands it back to me.
“Ten,” he says. “But I really only remember nine. My memory of one of the girls is fuzzy.”
Ten. That’s a lot in comparison to me, but not much compared to what I assumed his past was like. He could have said fifty, and I don’t know that I’d be surprised. “Ten isn’t very many.”
“Compared to your one it is,” he says teasingly.
“I just thought there were more. The way Sara talked about you, it seemed like you slept with a different girl every week.”
“I rarely slept with them. I have no idea how many I’ve made out with, though. Please don’t ask me that question on August second because I won’t be able to answer it.”
A huge blast of fireworks begins shooting off straight in front of us. Samson’s attention gets pulled away from me, but I continue to stare at him.
“Sometimes I wonder if I even want all the answers to my questions. I think the mystery that surrounds you might be one of my favorite things about you. While simultaneously being one of my least favorite thing about you.”
Samson doesn’t look at me when he says, “You want to know what my favorite thing about you is?”
“What?”
“You’re the only person I’ve ever met who would probably like me more if I were poor.”
That’s the honest truth. “You’re right. Your money is definitely my least favorite thing about you.”
Samson presses a kiss to my shoulder. Then he looks back out over the water. “I’m glad you showed up this summer, Beyah.”
“Me too,” I whisper.
TWENTY
I don’t like birth control. I’ve been on it almost a week now and I feel like it’s messing with my emotions. I’m starting to feel things even more than I did after showing up here. There are moments I severely miss my mother. Moments I convince myself I’m falling in love with Samson. Moments I feel excited to have a conversation with my father.
I don’t know who I’m becoming, but I’m not sure I like it. I doubt it really has anything to do with the birth control, but it feels good to have something to blame.
Samson has been gone most of the day. Sara and I spent time without him and Marcos on the beach. It’s past time for dinner and we’re hungry, so we start packing up just as three guys be
gin to set up a volleyball net on the beach between our house and Samson’s. When Sara and I drop our chairs in the storage compartment on the stilt level, I look back at them.
There’s a weird pinch in my chest, like volleyball is something I miss.
I never thought that would happen.
“I’m going to ask if I can play with them,” I say. “You want to play?”
Sara shakes her head. “I want to shower. I have sand in my crack.” She heads for the stairs. “Have fun, though. Kick some ass.”
When I reach the guys, they’re just about to start a game of one-on-one.
One of them is sitting on the invisible sideline while the other two are in position to start their game. “Hey,” I say, interrupting them. All three of them turn and look at me. Now that I’m closer, I’m a little bit intimidated. I might make a fool of myself now that I’ve seen the size of these guys. “Need one more?”
The three of them look at each other. There’s a smirk on the tallest one’s face when he says, “You sure about that?”
The smirk annoys me. “Yeah. I’ll even make it fair and team up with the worst one out of the three of you.”
They laugh. Then two of them point to the guy still sitting down. “He’s the worst out of the three of us.”
The guy in the sand concurs, “It’s true. I suck.”
“Great. Let’s play.” P.J. is standing next to me, so I walk him over to a spot where he’ll be out of the way and tell him to sit.
The guys introduce themselves to me before we start. The one on my team is named Joe. The tallest one is Topher and the other one is Walker. Walker serves the ball right to me and I easily bump it over the net.
Walker sets the ball for Topher and he attempts to spike it right at me. Before he knows it, I’m up at the net successfully blocking it.
“Impressive,” Topher mutters after I get my first point.
I get three hits in before Joe even touches the volleyball.
I haven’t worked out in a while, so I notice myself getting winded quicker than I normally would. I’ll blame that on the birth control, too. And the sand. I’ve never played on sand before.
They score two more points before Joe and I finally side-out. I’m about to serve the ball when I see Samson standing on his balcony.
He’s staring down at me, watching us. I wave, but he doesn’t wave back.
Is he jealous?
He pushes off the balcony and walks back inside his house.
What the hell?
It actually pisses me off. Samson knows I play volleyball. I should be able to play an innocent game of volleyball without him assuming I’m flirting with any of these three guys.
My anger fuels my serve and I hit the ball harder than I mean to. Luckily, it’s in, landing right on the line.
This is what I was worried about. The more time I spend with Samson, pieces of him might come to light that I don’t necessarily like. Jealousy is definitely something I don’t like.
We finish a short rally before I steal a glance at his balcony. He still hasn’t come back out.
I put all my anger and energy into the game. I lunge for the volleyball and fall to my knees. I fall three more times before Joe even touches the ball again. I’m going to be the color of an eggplant by the end of this game.
We score a point on them and tie it up four to four. Joe walks over and high-fives me. “This might be the first game I ever win,” he says.
I laugh at him, but my smile fades when I see Samson walking down his stairs. If he comes over here and makes a scene, I’m going to be so angry.
He is. He’s coming this way.
And he’s carrying a…chair.
“Heads up,” Joe yells. I look up and see the ball flying at me, just barely out of reach. I go for the dig and receive a mouthful of sand when I hit the ground, unintentionally shanking the ball.
“Get up, Beyah!” I hear Samson yell.
I jump to my feet and look in his direction. He’s walking over to us, holding his chair. He drops it in the sand next to P.J. about five feet from the net and takes a seat in it, sliding his sunglasses from his eyes to his head. Then he cups his hands around his mouth. “Go, Beyah!” he yells.
What is he doing?
The ball goes to Joe this time and he finally sets the ball perfectly at the net for me. Little do they know, I was the best outside hitter on my team.
I spike it directly between Topher and Walker. When it hits the sand and we get a point, Samson jumps out of the chair.
“Yes!” he yells. “More of that, Beyah!”
My mouth falls open when it hits me. Samson remembered what I told him—that no one has ever come to any of my games.
He came out here to cheer for me.
“Who the hell is that dude?” Joe says, staring at Samson.
Samson climbs up into the chair and starts chanting. “Beyah! Beyah!”
It might possibly be the cheesiest thing I’ve ever seen. One guy, alone in an invisible audience, yelling at the top of his lungs for a girl he knows has never been yelled for.
It’s the most touching thing anyone has ever done for me.
Topher serves the ball and I’m shocked I’m able to hit it back through the cloud of tears in my eyes.
Fucking emotions. I’m blaming this moment on the birth control, too.
For a long stretch of time, Samson doesn’t shut up. I think he’s annoying the three guys I’m playing with, but I’m not sure I’ve ever smiled this much in my life. I smile through all the falls and all the points and all the times I get the breath knocked out of me. I smile because I’ve never enjoyed a game of volleyball this much. I smile, because Samson has made me realize just how much I miss it. I’m buying a volleyball today. I need to start practicing again.
Not that I’m as terrible as Joe. He’s doing his best, but I’m single-handedly keeping us in this game. At one point, he’s so out of breath, he just steps aside and leaves me to do all the work for a good thirty seconds.
I’m somehow miraculously one point ahead when the game almost reaches the final point. If I can get one more, I win.
I notice Samson is quiet as I lift the ball to serve it. He’s staring intently at me, like he’s really into this. All he does is give me the smallest of smiles and a cheesy thumbs up and I suck in a breath, serve the ball and pray it hits the sand on the other side of the net.
It’s short. Both Topher and Walker dive for it, but I know neither will be able to reach it. ACE! When the ball falls to the sand with a thud, Samson jumps out of his chair. “You did it!”
I stand here in shock.
I did it. I would say we did it, but Joe really wasn’t a lot of help. I high-five him and then receive the handshakes the other two offer me.
“You’re really good,” Topher says. “Want to go another round?”
I glance over at Samson and shake my head. I work to catch my breath and say, “Not tonight. But I’m around if you guys come back tomorrow.”
I wave goodbye to them and then run over to Samson. He meets me with the biggest smile on his face. I throw my arms around his neck and he picks me up and swings me around. When my feet are back on the sand, he doesn’t release his hold on me.
“You’re a fucking legend,” he says. He wipes dirt from my face. “A filthy legend.”
I laugh and Samson pulls me to him. He presses his cheek to the top of my head and squeezes me.
I realize at the same time he does what’s happening between us. I can feel his whole body take a pause, like he’s not sure if he should release me or hold me tighter.
My face is pressed against his shirt.
I pull my arms from around Samson’s neck and slip them around his waist. I close my eyes, absorbed in the closeness of him.
I feel his own grip tighten around me, and he lets out a sigh as he runs a hand down my back. He adjusts himself just a little so that I somehow fit against him even better.
And then we just stand this w
ay while the world moves around us. Him holding me. Me allowing it.
Me wanting it.
I had no idea how good it would feel. Any of this. All the moments I spend with him are charged and exciting and I feel them right in the center of my chest. It’s like he wakes up a part of me that’s been asleep for nineteen years. I appreciate so many things I didn’t think I would ever be able to appreciate.
I like being kissed by someone who actually respects me. I love that he’s so proud of me, he picked me up and swung me around. He went out of his way to scream like an idiot on the sidelines of a silly beach volleyball game just to make me feel good.
At some point during this hug, I started crying. It’s not a noticeable cry, but I can feel the wetness sliding down my cheeks.
I honestly don’t feel like we’re close enough, even though we can’t possibly get any closer. I want to melt into him. Become a piece of him. I want to see if I make the inside of his chest feel as alive as he makes mine.
It’s as if he can tell I don’t want him to let go. He lifts me until my legs go around his waist, and then he walks me straight to his house, away from the beach, away from the guys.
When we reach his stilt level, he lowers me to my feet. I reluctantly pull back to look up at him, but with the sun setting and being under the first floor of his house, I can’t see him as well as I wish I could. There’s very little light left, which is casting a shadow over his eyes. He takes both of his thumbs and brings them to my cheeks, wiping them dry. Then he kisses me.
We taste like a mixture of tears and grains of sand.
I pull away. “I need to rinse off. I have sand everywhere.”
“Use the outdoor shower,” he says, motioning toward it.
I don’t let go of his hand as we walk toward the shower. My whole body is sore and I’m still a little out of breath. Samson takes off his shirt and drops it to the ground before walking into the shower. He turns on the water and steps out of the way so that I can stand beneath the stream. I open my mouth to rinse some of the sand out of it. Then I drink some of it.
Heart Bones Page 17