by Natasha Boyd
I didn’t say anything. How could I respond? No it’s ok, Jazz. It’s just that he’s super famous and despite the fact you and I tell each other everything, and I am forever in your debt for helping me through all the deaths in my family, I am going to keep this huge whopper of a secret from you, even though he’s actually someone you’ve had a crush on for, like, five years.
I wished I had never brought it up.
I knew part of me looked at Jack and saw Max. The situation was a little surreal. Big time Hollywood actor at the mercy of small town girl. I mean technically he needed me, he’d either starve or blow his cover. It was probably pretty natural to project a sappy ‘romcom’ outcome of that particular scenario. I wasn’t letting myself go there though. The fact of the matter was, whatever I thought of Jack or why, it was on my side entirely and it would be me who dealt with it when he left, as he surely would in exactly three weeks time. In the meantime, I would have to steel myself against his obvious charm.
I was just so inexperienced with men.
I had been kissed approximately once, two years ago by Jasper. It was fine. A bit awkward, but over quickly and had not, thank the stars, ever happened again after I told him I didn’t feel that way about him. I understood this was a little unusual for a girl my age in this century—to have only kissed one boy. The truth of the matter was no boy I knew lived up to the fantasy I’d created from the many books I’d read, and I wasn’t going to settle. And I for sure wasn’t going to have sex with any of them.
I was inexperienced, but I wasn’t naïve.
“What’s his name?” Her question caught me completely unaware. I hadn’t really thought anything through about what to call him.
“Um...” I wondered if I should make one up but what if I forgot it? “Jack?”
It couldn’t hurt to be truthful about this one thing. There were plenty of Jacks in the world.
“Jack. Okay, you don’t seem sure. Keri Ann, are you okay? You are acting really odd, it’s wigging me out.”
“I’m fine. Totally fine. Just tired.”
She seemed to buy that. “Okay, let’s get done here and I’ll drop you home.”
After she pulled up at my house, she made me promise to be careful of Jack and call her in the morning. I was already trying to be careful. It was a confusing situation, made more so by the fact I couldn’t tell if my feelings were based on anything real.
I’d felt my phone buzz with a text while Jazz and I were finishing up at the grill, but had forgotten to check it. Pulling it out, I went inside and closed the door. The text on the screen made my stomach dip.
Late Night Visitor: Walk you home?
Shit. I checked the time, fifteen minutes ago. Had he been waiting outside for me? I quickly texted back.
Me: Sorry, got a ride with Jazz, didn’t see this.
My phone buzzed back immediately, searing my palm, or perhaps my nerves. I pressed my lips tightly together, keeping my breath tightly inside me a moment.
Late Night Visitor: Noticed. No problem, have a good night.
So he had been outside. I was surprised, warmed, and regretful all at once that I hadn’t checked my phone right away. I bit my lip and tapped out a reply.
Me: Thank you. You too.
I waited, staring at my phone. Would he text back again?
E I G H T
I woke up at eight, right on the tail end of a dream that was ending way too soon. I was out on the marsh, my bright orange kayak stark against the glittering water as I glided my paddle in and out of the water in perfect rhythm with my breathing.
The sudden sound of ripples and a puff of air had me looking to my right to catch the sight of a dolphin as it dove back under. In it’s wake, my eyes were drawn to the paddler in the kayak next to me.
Jack was there, his chest bare and tan, smiling at the dolphin. He looked up too, catching my eye. Slowly his smile faded, and his gaze became intent. “I want to kiss you,” he breathed quietly across the water.
His words and the intense way he said them, pounded into me, each one a fist that slowly took ahold of something deep inside. My breath caught. I stared back at him. I think I tried to form some words after a few moments but couldn’t, and then he faded away. The glittering of the sun on the water grew brighter. I blinked a few times and opened my eyes as the morning light in my bedroom crossed my face.
It was another warm fall day. I shifted my gaze out the windows where the light filtered through the branches of the huge Live Oak in the front yard. The draped Spanish moss slowly swayed in the breeze. At least the air was moving more today, maybe it wouldn’t be so hot.
I thought about Jack in his bed and whether he had remembered to close the blinds. If he had, he may not wake up and get over here before I had to leave for work.
We hadn’t really worked out a plan of how and when he would come over today. Riding his motorcycle might draw too much attention. I guessed he would jog over again, but maybe I should go and get him. I dropped that idea as soon as it crossed my mind. If he showed up, that was great. If not, then I guess that meant he was getting his shopping done elsewhere. That thought filled me with the appropriate dread expected of a miserable groupie.
I hadn’t heard back from him after my last text.
I sat up abruptly, mentally pulling myself together. I had made it through some pretty traumatic experiences in my life. I was definitely beyond being a sappy little mess who was grateful for a scrap of time and attention from a divine being like Jack Eversea.
I would reap the benefits of our little arrangement as long as it lasted. I would be thoughtful and courteous of Jack’s time, and I definitely would not expect us to form any deep or emotional bond of friendship when our time was up. The fact that electric heat tended to zap through my veins at the sight or thought of him, something I liked to think of as the “swoon-effect’, was just a hazard I would have to weather.
I needed a run. I threw on a sports bra and my running shorts, grabbed my iPod and earphones, and jogged out to the truck.
Normally, I would go straight down Palmetto to the public beach access and start my run by turning right. But, I didn’t want to run past Jack’s house, so I went further down to the Islanders’ Beach and after parking and jogging down the boardwalk, I turned left. It would be a short run that would end at the inlet, but at least I was getting some exercise and clearing my head.
The sea was getting cooler even though our days were still warm. There was a haze over the water. One or two people were out with their dogs, but the beach was mainly empty.
I got into a great rhythm, my strides long and sure, my breathing even and deep. I made it about half a mile before an approaching figure in black shorts and a white t-shirt with familiar aviators came into view ahead. I slowed a tiny bit, wondering if it was Jack. Shit, I knew it was. Should I acknowledge him or stop and talk to him? Damn it. This was supposed to be a Jack-free run. I should have gone kayaking instead.
I could tell when he noticed me, as he did the same thing where he slowed slightly, and then picked his pace back up. When he was about fifteen yards away, I gave up my internal battle about what to do and smiled politely at him. He didn’t slow like he was going to stop. So I didn’t either. Seriously? Were we really just going to run right past each other without saying hello?
My spirits sank with disappointment when he passed me, much as I hated myself for it. But then a few seconds later he appeared up alongside me. I snuck a sidelong glance at his profile trying to form a question with my eyebrows. His dimple quirked but he didn’t say anything. Okay then. I affected a nonchalant shrug, turned my music up and picked up the pace.
He’d obviously already run to the inlet and was headed home, and he was going to have to double his run to keep me company. I wasn’t sure what to make of it, but I wasn’t going to try and talk and break my running mojo. When he was around I didn’t think I could walk and chew gum at the same time, let alone run, talk, breathe, and try not to trip over my ow
n feet.
Jack kept pace with me, our footfalls finding a rhythm. We got to the inlet and I turned quickly and headed back. I was sure that had probably been a natural place to stop and rest and I don’t know... say hi, like a normal person. But I didn’t act normal around him. Following my lead, he smiled at me. As we headed back, I cursed the fact he had his sunglasses and I didn’t. And of course, because of his glasses, when I repeatedly glanced at him, my eyes were drawn straight to his mouth. Ugh. I squinted inelegantly back into the sun.
As we approached my exit, I was heaving with exertion, and probably looked my best again. I slowed and got ready to peel off with a wave, but Jack slowed too and before I could react he reached toward me. I paused, surprised, as he lifted my earbud out of my ear and held it up to his, listening to my music.
“The Cult? I seriously don’t think I’ll ever figure you out,” he said, laughing and gently placing the bud back in my ear. Then he jogged backward for a few steps and gave me a two-fingered salute like he had from his motorcycle that first day, before he turned away and ran off.
* * *
All day Saturday at the grill I was mentally at home and bodily at work. I guess I was technically ‘mooning’, despite giving myself a mental kick in the ass earlier. Having never gone through ‘mooning’ over someone before, I wasn’t quite sure if that’s what I was doing. Whatever it was, it was embarrassing.
I kept thinking of our run and how hardly a word had been exchanged and how it still felt like an important moment. I was totally reading into it, I knew.
Hector kept catching my eye and winking. I’d told him what the arrangement was between Jack and I, swearing if I heard even one rumor, I would know it was him and tell Paulie I saw him stealing silverware. He had clutched his chest in outrage. “Tienes mi palabra,” he muttered, which I believe, from what I remembered of high school Spanish, meant something along the lines of I had his word. At least I hoped it did.
I had texted Jack right after I showered from my run, letting him know the back door was unlocked. He never responded. In the quiet moments between the lunch and dinner rush, I had almost given in to the temptation to pop home and see if he was there. It was like some kind of bizarre reality home-makeover show, or worse, I was being punked. I expected a camera crew to jump me at any moment.
* * *
On Sunday morning, the only evidence I had that Jack had been in my house was half missing wallpaper, and a grocery list on the counter along with a request for spackling and sandpaper. His handwriting looked like he’d missed his calling to be a doctor.
We hadn’t talked about whether he’d continue working on the house Sunday and I hadn’t had a chance to tell him about Jasper coming by.
I decided to run over to The Pig to get his groceries while most people were in church. Driving straight to his place afterward, I piled the bags outside his door. I rang the bell, and without waiting for a response, maturely hopped down the stairs and back into my truck. It was only when I pulled out of the driveway and noticed his bike wasn’t there that I realized what an ass I was being. I quickly grabbed my phone and texted him.
Me: Your groceries are outside your front door. Sorry I had to run, a friend coming over for lunch today.
My phone chirped back by the time I got to the end of the street.
Late Night Visitor: Thank you.
I hated the prick of disappointment I experienced at his simple text.
* * *
When Jasper arrived at lunchtime armed with my favorite chicken salad and ‘everything’ on nine grain, I thought I might finally have reached a calm and stoic state of mind.
“Wow, you’ve gotten so much done,” Jasper said as he walked around the house.
“Yep, been working hard,” I said from the kitchen where I busied myself getting plates so I didn’t have to meet his eye. “Grab some waters, would ya? Let’s sit on the porch swing, it’s a stunning day.”
We headed outside and chatted comfortably on the swing as we ate, although he did look at me curiously while I picked out the onions on my sandwich. I loved onions. I noticed what I was doing and resolutely stuffed one of them back into what was left.
“So there’s a guy?”
“What? No!” Jeez, I’d have expected that kind of pointed observation from Jazz. The fact that Jasper noticed meant I was definitely not fooling anyone, or maybe Jazz had told him about Hoodie Guy.
“Right. Do I know him?”
I sighed. “No, you don’t. And it’s not like that anyway.”
“You mean for you or for him?”
“For either of us. He’s the one who’s helping with the inside of the house.” At least I could come clean about that.
“Keri Ann, I know I’m not your best friend, but you know you can talk to me, right? I wish I could take back that kiss two years ago. I totally made it awkward between us, which I regret. You should know there’s someone else I like, a lot, so if you need to talk to me about anything, you don’t need to worry about hurting my feelings.”
I looked at him, surprised. Liz?
“Don’t ask me who it is Keri Ann, I’m not ready to even talk about it.”
I grinned. “Well, I’m not ready to talk about this guy either.”
“Ok, then, so we agree not to talk. Awesome. We’re so healthy.” He laughed.
“Is she the reason you decided to go to law school so nearby?” I asked.
He looked off into the front yard, and sighed. “Yeah, partly. But also, I need to keep an eye on Dad. I’m sure you’ve noticed he has a slight weakness of the alcohol variety.”
I nodded. “What does your mom say?”
“Well, apparently it’s not the first time. Now that I know that, I have vague recollections as a kid before he got some help. Let’s just say, I’d like to stick around.”
I’d had a feeling that was why.
Part of the reason I stopped going to church, aside from how angry I was at God for letting Mom and Dad die, was that Nana didn’t go.
One summer when we were visiting, I may have only been eight or so, I overheard Nana and my mother arguing quietly. Nana said something that, at the time I didn’t understand, about Mrs. McDaniel not doing a good enough job of hiding the marks if she expected Nana not to get involved. She had never elaborated, but it stuck in my mind, especially when I went to Church every Sunday with my parents after we moved to Butler Cove permanently.
I felt bad for Jasper and laid my hand on his arm just as I heard the rumble of a motorcycle in the street. Jack, with his helmet on, wearing a pair of faded jeans and a white t-shirt, slowed to a stop beyond the front picket fence. Before I could react or even let out the breath I’d sucked in, he kicked the bike into a roar and headed off. Hot blood rushed to my cheeks as I realized I’d snatched my hand off Jasper’s arm.
Jasper laughed. “It’s not like that, my ass.”
Oh shit. I had it bad. It would be obvious to anyone who knew me.
“Shut it, Jasper. Otherwise, I’ll tell Liz how you feel.” The look on his face was priceless. “Relax, I won’t,” I added. “But you should.”
He swallowed. I had never seen him look so nervous and unsure of himself, yet so hopeful. It was kind of adorable.
“Really?”
“Yes, really. You keep my secret, I’ll keep yours. Deal? Now, let’s get some work done.”
It was the last thing I wanted to do. My pounding heart was telling me to jump in my truck and go after Jack. I couldn’t believe he had come by. Surely he wasn’t checking up on me? Why would he do that?
N I N E
I got a text just after the lunch rush on Monday.
Late Night Visitor: Hi
The flutter in my belly made me grit my teeth.
Me: Hi
Late Night Visitor: Are you planning on getting a dumpster for the carrot I left outside?
Huh?
Late Night Visitor: Carpet! Autocorrect. Sorry.
I couldn’t help it, but getting
a text from Jack made me ridiculously and annoyingly giddy.
Me: Oh, thought you’d gone off your vegetables again. I’ve got roofers coming for the cottage this week, so I can use theirs.
Hector’s nephew had called the night before and given me a price I could live with and would start the next day. The hurricane had weakened back to a tropical storm, but it was still on a projected path our direction by later in the week. At the very least it was sure to bring heavy rain. I was relieved to be getting the roof done.
Late Night Visitor: You’re funny. Mrs. Weaton’s place?
Me: How do you know?
Late Night Visitor: She came by. Nosey lady, but nice. Don’t worry she didn’t recognize me. She seems to care for you a lot.
Me: Sorry, should have warned you she’d probably come by. She and Nana were close. Who did you say you were?
Late Night Visitor: That I was a friend doing you
My eyes widened.
Late Night Visitor: A favor! A friend doing you a favor! Sorry. Damn phone. Banging head on wall ...
I bit my lip, trying hard not to laugh out loud. A warm buzz ran through me. I bit my lip even harder to pull myself back in line while thumbing the keys, wondering how to respond. A few seconds later another text chimed on my phone.
Late Night Visitor: If only we had a wheelbarrow, that would be one thing ...
What on earth?
And then I got it and grinned. It was a quote from The Princess Bride. It just happened to be one of my favorite movies. I used to watch it with Nana all the time. I racked my brain to come up with an appropriate quote back.
Me: Go away, or I’ll call the brute squad!
Late Night Visitor: I am the brute squad!
I giggled and put my phone away just in time to see Hector smiling at me.
“What?” I asked.
“Nada.” He shrugged his shoulders.
* * *
It was almost midnight Monday by the time I jogged up my back steps. I was a little disappointed Jack hadn’t offered to walk me home again since Friday night, and then mad at myself for being so.