I lifted my head. “What—” It came out as a croak. Clearing my throat, I tried again. “What do you think you’re doing to me right now?”
His eyes were so sad. “I’m trying to keep you safe.” He got up. “I need to go now. I’m sorry.”
“No!” I tried to clutch his arms as he stood, but he pulled himself out of my grasp.
He made it to the door, turned to give me one more pleading look, then left before I could say another word.
I FULLY intended to keep after Walter until he got it through his thick skull that he was good for me and we were meant to be. But after a few months of my emails, calls, and letters going unreturned, I gave up. That was when I shifted my goals around relationships. No more romance for me—I became the king of casual hookups. Partying hearty and keeping things light were my modus operandi, because it would be a cold day in hell before I ever again let a man screw me over the way Walter Elkins had.
October 2016
AT THE last moment, I broke away from Jonathan and headed for the door of the bar, not able to stomach Walter ignoring me yet again. “I need some air. Don’t say anything to anyone, ’kay? I mean about Walter.”
“I won’t.”
I stumbled out of the bar and stared unseeingly at the Key West palm trees. Was Walter going to say anything to Jonathan? Doubtful, unless both he and Jonny had changed their introverted personalities. Still, why should I care? God. It had been years, but the hurt was still fresh. I thought I’d gotten over that asshole ages ago. Obviously I hadn’t.
“Hey. Anthony, right?”
I jolted out of my stupor and glanced over to find Botticelli Boy—Miles—slouching against the outer wall smoking a cigarette.
“Right. Hey there, yourself. Got another one of those?”
I didn’t normally smoke, but I needed to do something radical. My body was still vibrating from the sight of Walter Elkins. Maybe I should have thought out the smoking thing, but I wasn’t thinking at all right then. I took the cigarette, accepted Miles’s light even though I wasn’t up for his sultry hold-my-hand-while-he-did-it maneuver, and inhaled deeply.
As I hacked out the smoke—ack! Cigarettes are vile!—Miles took another long inhale, the picture of cool, and drawled, “You okay?”
“Not really,” I forced out in between coughs. I dropped the cigarette on the ground and stamped it out. “Jesus.”
“Better pick it up,” Miles advised. “Walter is a pain in the butt about litter and crap like that.”
“Sure, sure.” I picked up the butt and threw it in the can Miles pointed to.
Walter. So it was really true—that was frigging Walter Elkins on the other side of the wall. A delusional part of me had been hoping I’d mistaken his identity. I mean, who instantly recognizes someone after not seeing them for twelve years? Who, indeed? Me, apparently—the guy who’d vowed that romance wasn’t for him. It felt like I was in a Disney movie gone wrong.
“How’re ya doin’? You look kinda shaky.” Miles blew out an insouciant stream of smoke that wreathed his head, turning him into a sinful angel. Man, was he beautiful, the little creep.
“Yeah.” I opened my mouth to tell Miles all—I have a slight problem with oversharing—but something held me back. Some feeling… something…. Drat. Was it embarrassment? I usually sailed through life with no regrets. Out and proud and loud as hell, and ready to tell the whole scandalous adventure—that was me. But I already knew the Walter-Anthony story was the one tale I wouldn’t be able to carry off with a shrug and dramatic eye roll. So instead I decided to pry some info out of Walter’s devilish employee. “Um, so Walter’s a real stickler, huh?”
“God, don’t get me started. Everything has to be perfect. Every fucking thing has to be in its place or there’s hell to pay. I mean, I thought being sent to an alternative school was bad. It was nothing compared to Walter.”
“Really.” I filed away the alternative-school thing to ask Miles about later, but what he was saying about Walter totally fit my recollection. He’d made the best lab partner ever, and I’d gotten an A in that class—all due to Walter’s insane attention to detail, rigor, and precision. The Bionic Nerd, I used to call him. I couldn’t imagine how he’d ended up working at a Key West dive bar. “Is he head bartender or something?”
“Or something. He owns this place and the dive shop across town. Best dive shop on Key West. Everybody says so.” Miles affected a shrug, but I detected a little pride too.
“Oh.” A horrible thought occurred to me. “Oh, shit. Um, I mean, hmm! My cousin and his husband are here to scuba dive. What’s the name of Walter’s dive shop?”
“Back Bay Dive and Sail.”
Of fucking course. Marco had investigated the local places, and Back Bay Dive and Sail had won his seal of approval as the best one. We’d all laughed at the “Back Bay” part, since that was the section of Boston where Marco and Jonathan lived. But Marco had raved about the place’s reputation, and he was another one of those sticklers.
“Back Bay, huh? I think that’s the one we’re going to use. Well, not me, of course. You couldn’t get me to go under the ocean with an oxygen tank if you paid me. Is Walter going to be the dive instructor?”
“Naw, he doesn’t do that anymore. Someone had a scare—like almost drowned—and he quit doing the lessons. I’m not sure why. It wasn’t his fault that the dude panicked and didn’t follow directions, but it freaked Walter out.”
“Hmm.” Walter didn’t do well with people almost dying on him. I could attest to that.
Miles took another drag. “I wish he hadn’t quit. He was totally the best at it. But now other people do the hands-on stuff while he runs the office and this place.”
“And you work for him.”
“Yeah. Off and on. Here and there. I’m trying to create a social-media presence for him. The guy is hopeless with that stuff. Never knew a more antisocial person in my life, so it’s funny he has a bar and a dive shop. Like, those are both businesses where you deal a lot with people, know what I mean?”
I nodded, totally agreeing with Miles at the oddness of Walter choosing these particular business paths. Back when I was still obsessively googling him in a pathetic attempt to feel connected, I’d seen that Walter had completed his PhD in chemistry at MIT and was working as a researcher for one of the top pharmaceutical firms in Boston. That had seemed perfect for Walter—Mr. Scientist-Egghead-Introvert. Peering into a microscope in a secluded laboratory was way more his speed than mixing drinks or teaching scuba diving.
Miles leaned languidly against the wall. If Walter was such a stickler, how come Miles got away with being so casual about work? Off and on. Here and there. And he goes from dancing to hanging outside smoking a cigarette? What kind of employee was he? I narrowed my eyes. Maybe Miles was trading on his beauty to get perks from the boss. I could see only too well how an outgoing cutie like Miles could twist Walter around his little finger. After all, I’d done it myself back in twelfth grade. I couldn’t help glaring at Miles for a second. That little hussy!
“Well, I gotta run.” Miles flipped his butt into the can. “How long are you staying in the Keys?”
“A few weeks.”
“Good. Come back and dance with me again.” He all but batted his eyelashes at me.
“Okay. Sure.”
Miles sauntered to the door, threw me a killer smile, and disappeared.
The door opened again and Sophia poked her head out. “There you are! We were wondering where you’d disappeared to.”
“Are you guys ready to go?” I had a sudden hope they’d come out and relieve me of having to enter and lay eyes on Walter again.
“No! Come in and get your mudslide. Then I need to dance with you again. Unless that cute guy has already claimed you.” Sophia gave me her trademark smirk.
I tried to return it, but my heart wasn’t in it. “Honey, no one has a claim on me. Except you, of course.”
Laughing, Sophia held out her hand. I let her pu
ll me back into the bar, dread pouring off me till I was sure I reeked of it.
WALTER KEPT his back to the bar patrons and pretended to pour drinks, but his hands were shaking too much to do anything but make a hash of it.
Anthony Vallen. Anthony. Here, in his bar, thousands of miles away from where he’d last seen him twelve years before. Walter was a scientist and knew probability. The odds against this moment ever happening were staggering. Anthony had loved teasing Walter about their differences back in high school—him the dreamer and Walter the earth-bound realist. But now Walter wanted to believe in dreams—more specifically, that his glimpse of Anthony Vallen had been some sort of night-time illusion.
He manned up and turned around slowly, but Anthony wasn’t there. That was Anthony’s cousin Jonathan, though. Walter recognized him despite his complete change in appearance from the boy Walter had known in high school. Jonathan was standing with his arms around a tall man as they chatted with a girl who appeared to be the man’s sister. When Jonathan glanced over and met Walter’s eyes, he nodded slightly but gave no indication of wanting to start a conversation. That was fine by Walter. In fact, this would be a great time to exit the premises and get back to his houseboat.
Walter called Bootsie over and let her know he was leaving. “If things get busy, get Miles to cover.”
Bootsie snorted at that. “Sure. If I can find him.”
Five minutes later, his twisted gut signaling his cowardice, Walter left the bar through the kitchen back door and got on his bike to cycle to the houseboat. Even though Garrison Bight was clear across town from the bar, Key West was a small city and Walter could usually make the trip in under ten minutes.
He reached the marina and walked his bike along the dock. Moonlight shone on the silky water, and the wind stirred softly, the whole romantic scene making a mockery of Walter Elkins. Of anyone in the world, he was the least likely candidate for a romance. He’d tried to tell Anthony that back when they were seventeen and Anthony had inexplicably decided Walter was the one he wanted. But Anthony had been so lively and fun and, well, downright adorable. Who could have resisted him? Not Walter.
As he locked his bike, a memory began to replay in Walter’s head like a well-worn movie reel he was helpless to stop.
September 2003
“WELL, HELLO there!”
At the light, lively voice, Walter turned on the chemistry lab stool. When he saw who was taking the stool next to him, his mouth grew dry.
“I’m Anthony!”
Walter knew that. He’d been aware of Anthony Vallen since their freshman year at Franklin Prep. No one could miss Anthony. He stuck out like a… Walter couldn’t think what, but some kind of vibrant creature. A flamingo, maybe. He was tall and skinny, and his hair color seemed to change every few weeks. Despite his outrageous mannerisms, or maybe because of them, Anthony usually had a crowd of kids around him, laughing and enjoying themselves.
But even though they’d been in the same school for three years, Anthony was showing no recognition of Walter. Why should he? Walter had never wanted to draw attention to himself.
He focused in on what Anthony was saying.
“I guess we’re lab partners. You look smart too!” Anthony leaned in, which made Walter uncomfortably aware of his lemony smell—fresh but not unpleasant—and said in a loud whisper, “Thank the Lord I didn’t get Ramona again this year. She’s even ditzier than I am, if you can believe that. No help at all.” Anthony sat back with a big smile, and Walter tried to reciprocate, although smiling felt unnatural to him. “So tell me your name, doll! I don’t know you, do I?” Anthony fluttered his eyelashes at him. “I’m sure I’d remember a hunk like you!”
Hunk? That seemed unlikely—even though Walter had experienced a growth spurt over the summer, with an attendant broadening of his shoulders. He generally ignored his body, though, preferring to lose himself in his thoughts. And he had no clue at all how to relate to other people, especially not outgoing whirlwinds like Anthony Vallen. Who had shut up and was staring at Walter with an expectant expression as though he’d asked him a question. Shoot.
Going with the most likely probability, Walter cleared his throat. “I’m Walter. Uh, Elkins. Walter Elkins.”
“Well, Walter Elkins, I’m so happy to have you as a lab partner. Please tell me you’re as smart as you look.”
“What?”
“Because, believe me, I’ll need to rely on you for this chemistry stuff! I’m hopeless in science. You should have seen me and Ramona last year. Tragic! We squeaked by with a C-minus by the skin of our teeth. But you—you’re like one of those divine science nerds who does computations in your head all day. Am I right, doll?”
Walter chuckled. He couldn’t help it. Anthony’s beaming face, his sparkling eyes, the glitter in his hair, and his companionable, confiding air as he focused on Walter as if no one else existed in the world… all of it was alien to Walter’s experience, but it made him feel happy.
“Well, I got an A in that class,” he admitted.
Giving a small squeal, Anthony squeezed Walter’s arm. “I knew it!” Then he drew back and put a hand to his mouth, his eyes round. “Wait! You were here last year?”
“Um, yeah. I’ve been here the whole time you have.”
Anthony actually looked stricken. “Oh my God! How could I have not noticed you? I am so, so sorry. But I told you, I’m a ditz.” Anthony shook his head and tsked. “Well, we’ll just have to make up for lost time.” He leaned his arms on the lab table and put his chin in his hands, staring up at Walter with bright blue eyes. “Tell me everything about yourself.”
Everything? Walter’s stomach clenched. He hated talking about himself. What was there to tell? Luckily he was saved by Mr. Andrews finally calling the class to order.
October 2016
WALTER OPENED the houseboat door. Anthony. The guy who’d turned Walter’s life around, helping him transform from a shy and lonely nerd to… well, he’d still been a shy nerd, but he hadn’t been lonely anymore. Not even close. If Walter’s life were a landscape, up until that first day in senior chemistry it had been gray and black. Anthony had brought the colors—every color in the rainbow—and every smile, laugh, and spark of adventure.
Anthony was his first in everything, and they’d had a whole school year together, the best months of Walter’s life. That was ironic, given Walter had barely let himself enjoy them. He’d never believed that he could be happy—and when happiness came, Walter couldn’t relax into it. It had frustrated Anthony, the way Walter had always been on the lookout for worst-case scenarios and preparing himself to protect Anthony from them.
Protect Anthony? In the end, Walter had put Anthony into danger and he’d almost died.
Never again.
Walter poured himself a shot and noticed his hands were still shaking. Ridiculous. He opened his laptop to complete his daily log. When in doubt, stick to the familiar routines. After logging the weather and tides, he checked the dive-shop calendar for the next day. A snorkeling cruise for four was booked under the name Pellegrini.
Walter paused. Anthony had used that name when he’d called out to the man at the bar, the tall man that Jonathan had been hugging after Anthony ducked out. Keep your pants on, Pellegrini! The sound of that lively voice had given Walter his first clue that Anthony Vallen was back in his life.
Walter continued to study the calendar. Anthony snorkeling? After he’d almost drowned? Then his eye fell on a booking blocked out over three days for later in the week: Scuba Dive, instruction and sail—Pellegrini. Scuba diving seemed even more unlikely for the Anthony Walter remembered. He peered at it more closely and saw it was for two. Aha, probably for Jonathan and his boyfriend, then. Patricia would be fine for that. But the snorkeling? Better to be safe than sorry. Walter picked up his phone and sent a text. Change director for Pellegrini snorkel from Patricia to me. Thanks. Walter.
Chapter TWO
I WOKE up when sunlight pierced my eyelids li
ke two ice picks to the brain. Who the fuck had left the window shade up? Oh. Me, probably, since I was sacked out by myself in the bedroom I’d taken at our fancy condo. I caught a glimpse of bright blue sea, groaned, and pulled the covers over my head, determined to go back to sleep.
The door banged open and I opened one eye. Sophia sailed in, a cup of what had better be industrial-grade cappuccino in her hand. “Morning, caro! Time to wake up! We’re going snorkeling today.”
I levered myself to a sitting position, but it was painful going. “Why’d you let me drink so much last night, cara? I can’t do anything today.”
“Darling, last night is gone. Finita! And it’s gorgeous outside! The least you can do is go snorkeling. Shake it off, old man. We can sleep when we’re dead!”
“Ugh. Why are you young and energetic?” Sophia was twenty-two and tended to run circles around me. “What gives you the right to plague me in my old age?”
Sophia smiled without a trace of sympathy and handed me my cappuccino. “You were energetic enough for the two of us last night.”
I grunted.
Going back inside with Sophia had been anticlimactic. Walter had no longer been behind the bar, but my mudslide had been waiting for me. Jonny and Marco had already disappeared somewhere, and I hadn’t even wanted to think about what they were doing—those sex maniacs. Miles had been nowhere to be seen.
Might as well dance and drink my troubles away, I’d decided, like I’d done a million times before. I’d gulped down the mudslide, ordered another as a backup, and plunged back onto the dance floor with Sophia. I’d scoped the place for a likely hookup, but pickings were slim. My head was paying now for the third and fourth drinks I’d guzzled as the night went on.
In Over Our Heads Page 2