Off in the distance I see a few people surfing. Squinting, I realize one of them is Peter, the blond guy I met in the administrative suite. The one who gave me the not-so-sexy once-over.
“Hello!” calls a man standing knee deep in the water.
I switch my attention off of Peter and over to the man. “You know him?” I ask Abbie.
She glances up. “Oh, yes, that’s Mr. Hamns. He owns a bunch of fishing boats and the Windbreaker Café. We all hang out there a lot.” She waves a hello as he comes toward us. “Riel works there. You know Riel, right?”
I nod. “He’s my peer mentor.”
“Well, he can mentor my peer anytime,” she suggestively whispers.
Immediately, I think of his gorgeous amber eyes. Then I think of his hands. His legs. His accent. And all kinds of warmth spreads through me.
Mr. Hamns reaches us and with a sunburned face, he shoots us both a big smile. “Back-to-school party this weekend at the Windbreaker.”
Abbie introduces us. “Mr. Hamns, this is Viola.”
I take his outstretched, rough hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Where you from?” he asks.
“Tennessee.”
“I love the hills. We go once a year to Gatlinburg.”
“Yes, sir. Gatlinburg’s beautiful.”
“Dad wants you to take him deep sea fishing when he comes to visit,” Abbie says.
Mr. Hamns nods. “Sure thing.” He waggles his finger at her. “Maybe you’ll come along this time.”
Abbie lets out a half-hearted chuckle. “Not likely.”
Mr. Hamns nods toward me. “Maybe if your friend came with you?”
Abbie glances over at me, and excitement dances through me. Deep sea fishing? That sounds like fun. “I’ll go.”
“There, see.” Mr. Hamns takes a step back. “All right, I gotta go. My wife’ll wonder if I’ve drowned. Stop by the back-to-school party, and tell your dad The Quest is at his disposal any time.”
With that, Mr. Hamns heads off.
“The Quest?” I ask Abbie.
“One of his many fishing boats.” She rolls her eyes. “I can’t believe you said you wanted to go. You were supposed to have my back on that one.”
Her sudden irritated tone takes me off guard, and I’m not entirely sure how to respond. “I do think it sounds fun, and if you don’t, then just tell Mr. Hamns, or your dad, since he’s the one who wants to go.”
She gives an annoyed sigh and goes back to her studying, and confusion muddles through me. What is wrong with her? I stare at the side of her face for a few seconds, thinking she might realize she’s being weird, but instead she totally ignores me.
Fine. I get up off my towel, and I head down to the water. But as I wade in, I get the odd sensation that someone is watching me. Turning, I look back up to the beach where Abbie and the other girls still lay. I gaze beyond them at all the dunes. Then I turn back to the water and look at Peter and the other people out surfing.
Everything seems normal. Still, I rub my hands up and down my arms, warding off the chill that is creeping into my body.
Chapter Six
Stalker
She thinks she’s so much better than everyone else.
Look at her wading in the water.
I plan on keeping an eye on her.
I plan on staying close.
Chapter Seven
After the beach I go back to the dorm, and as I’m stripping down to head to the shower, my cell rings. Without looking at it, I answer. “Hello?”
“Hey, baby.”
My heart drops at the sound of my ex-boyfriend’s voice. In our last conversation two short weeks ago, he told me how disappointed he was with me.
Didn’t I love him enough to stay? Wasn’t I guilty about leaving my sisters? But the best one—I’d always thought I was better than everybody. I only cared about myself.
Guilt over my sisters weighs heavy on me nearly every day, but the rest? Not so much.
Besides, my momma has her many flaws, but she’s always tried with us. Her latest boyfriend seems all right, and my neighbor and also Levi’s mom will be looking in on my sisters. My neighbor will call me if anything goes wrong. Levi’s mom will call.
“How are you?” Manny asks.
I detect depression in his voice, but I know him and it’s all an act. “I’m fine.”
He expels a long breath, and I’m so, so glad we’re hundreds of miles away from each other.
A solid moment passes. This is the part where I usually give in and say something, anything to make him feel better. Anything to make the impending argument go away.
He clears his throat. “I’m sorry I was so rough on you last time.”
I take in what he’s just said, unable to wrap my brain around the fact he’s apologized.
Apologized.
“I’m worried,” he says. “You’re my baby.”
I squash the brainwashed urge to soften. “I’m fine.” My heart picks up pace with what I’m about to say. “Please don’t call me again.”
Another solid minute passes, and I wonder if he’s hung up.
He finally grunts. “Hm, aren’t you just the little bitch?”
Familiar anxiety clenches through me, and it only irritates me. I’m done with him, I remind myself.
“Who you sleeping with?” he demands.
The hand that’s holding the phone starts to shake, and that irritates me, too. “Goodbye,” I try to calmly say, but it ends up coming out as a whisper.
“Don’t you hang up on—”
I move the phone away from my ear and hit end. Then I stare at my phone, breathing, willing my hand to stop shaking. Wishing he didn’t affect me this way. Wishing I would’ve seen his true self sooner. Wishing I wouldn’t have given him my virginity. Wishing he hadn’t had such control over me. Wishing—
I blow out a breath, knowing my thoughts are going down a self-destructive road. Tomorrow I will change my number.
The phone rings again, and I jump. I look at the caller ID. It’s not Manny. The area code says it’s from here, yet I still hesitantly answer. “Hello?”
“Viola, this is Riel. Is this an okay time to call?”
I tense up. “Is something wrong?”
“No, not at all. We’re required to have one peer mentor meeting a week. Do you have time to in the morning?”
“Oh.” I immediately relax. “Yes. Is there anything I need to bring?”
“No, we’ll go over standard stuff. Plus, there’re a couple of concerns.”
My nerves kick back in. “Concerns?”
“Let’s just talk about it all in the morning. I’m kind of in a hurry right now. Eight o’clock in the library okay?”
“Yes.”
“Great, good night then.”
“Good night.”
I listen to him click off, and I sit for several long minutes replaying that last word. Concerns.
Concerns.
Concerns.
I don’t like that word. At all.
Chapter Eight
I toss and turn with “concerns” floating through my brain, driving myself nuts with what that might be. I get up hours early to do homework, and by the time eight o’clock rolls around, I’m so wound up I can barely breathe as I walk to the library.
Riel sits in the back corner meeting with another girl. Maybe someone else he mentors. I don’t know. He doesn’t see me, and I don’t want to just hover, so I leave a note for him with the librarian and head outside where my tech crew faculty advisor is.
It’s eight thirty now, and I stand beside my advisor, staring up at contract workers on the roof as they install a satellite.
“You okay here for a few minutes?” my advisor asks.
“Sure thing.”
“Be back in a few then.” He hands me the clipboard and heads off.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Riel come through the front door, look around, and then head straight toward me. I take a breath
and turn to face him.
“Viola, did you forget our meeting?”
I lift my hand, shielding my eyes from the morning Florida sun. “You were with some other girl, so I left a note with the librarian. You didn’t get it?”
“No, I didn’t get a note.” Riel glances at his watch and, with a hurried sigh, opens his binder. “Let’s just have our meeting here.”
My eyes track down to his binder and the paper he’s looking at, but I can’t make out what it says.
“Concerns,” he starts, and my pulse picks up pace. Here we go. The moment he tells me he knows I’m a fake. The moment he tells me to pack up my stuff and leave. The moment—
“Okay here it is.” He taps the paper and glances up at me. “There’ve been complaints that the new dorm doesn’t have Wi-Fi yet. According to my notes, you’re in charge of that particular project on the tech crew. Correct?”
It takes me a second to realize his “concerns” have nothing to do with me personally. Once I digest that, I let out a relieved breath followed by an equally relieved smile.
His brows twitch in amused confusion. “Correct?”
“You’re right. The new dorm is on a different network from the others. We’re waiting for a hub to connect the two.”
“Okay, do a formal announcement so everyone’s in the know.”
“I was planning on sending an email today. Will that be all right?”
“Sounds good.”
“Hey!” a worker shouts. “Watch out!”
I whip around at the exact second Riel grabs my arm and yanks me toward him. Our bodies slam together as the satellite sails from the roof, whistling through the air, and crashes to the ground.
In stunned silence, I stare at the broken satellite, unable to believe I was just standing there.
“Holy shit,” Riel says.
Holy shit indeed. I could’ve gotten seriously hurt.
I keep staring, gradually regaining my equilibrium, and the more I stare, the more aware I become of my body pressed completely against Riel’s. Of his arm wrapped around my back. Of his warmth. His muscles. His cologne. My racing heart. And of his breath stirring against my ear.
Shifting, I look up into his gorgeous face. I take in his clean-shaven hard jaw, the way his dark hair lays in these awesome short waves, and then my eyes flick up to meet his amber ones.
They flare with something I can’t quite peg. An awareness. A confusion. A heat that he immediately pushes away by closing his eyes and taking a step back.
I move away, too. Just as confused.
“Everything okay down there?” the worker yells, and I wave to let him know we’re good.
When Riel opens his eyes again, they look normal. Friendly. Approachable. Definitely no heat. “You okay?” he asks, and I nod.
Then he closes his binder, turns, and walks off, leaving me standing in the parking lot staring at his back. I definitely was not expecting Riel in all of this. No, I definitely was not.
Chapter Nine
Late that afternoon, someone knocks on my door.
“Hey,” greets Abbie. She’s wearing heels that make her already towering stature seem like she’s seven feet tall. I have to crane my neck to look up. She should probably play volleyball or basketball or something. Or maybe she does.
“We’re all headed downtown for a bit,” she says. “Want to come?”
“Um.” I’m a little surprised she invited me after getting annoyed with me on the beach. “I thought you were irritated with me.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because of what happened on the beach?”
She makes a face. “Sorry about that. It was more to do with the thought of spending an entire day with my dad. I lose my temper pretty quick when it comes to him.”
“Oh.” I get it. I do. The thought of spending a day with my reject of a father would spark my irritability, too.
“So, you coming?” she asks. “We’re not going to be gone long. Maybe just an hour.”
I smile. “Sure.” Everyone deserves a second chance, and I do want to make friends while I’m here. I can spare an hour.
Minutes later, we all pile in a BMW and head downtown. We find a place to park, and they head toward the Windbreaker Café, the place Mr. Hamns owns. Where Riel works. Automatically, I scan the parking lot for his Jeep, but don’t immediately see it.
“Aren’t you coming?” Abbie asks.
I look out over the adjoining marina, and I spy Mr. Hamns on one of the docks. “I’m going to go say hi to Mr. Hamns. I’ll meet you inside in a few.”
She gives me a little wave before heading in, and I turn toward the dock. I’ve never walked a dock before. This should be fun being up close with all the power boats and sailboats.
I pick my way down, dodging buckets, washrags, and rope. I pause for a second, gazing up the side of a blue-and-white yacht so large and fancy I wonder if someone famous might be on board.
A slight breeze rolls through, bringing a scent of salt and fish, and I continue on. Mr. Hamns is just up ahead, kneeling near what I assume is one of his fishing boats.
A heavy-set worker sits on the bow coiling rope. He has a tattooed bald head, a braided beard, and glasses so dark I have no clue where he’s looking. Sweat dampens his filthy shirt and even though a lit cigarette dangles from his lip, he still lifts a beer bottle to his mouth and downs what has to be half of it. Then he lets out a watery belch.
Ugh.
I step around a toolbox to greet Mr. Hamns. “Hey.”
He glances up from his crouched position and recognition immediately dawns. “Viola, right?”
I smile. “Yes, sir.”
“What brings you to the docks today?”
I motion up to the Windbreaker Café. “My friends are up there. But I saw you down here and thought I’d say hi.”
“Well, that’s mighty nice of you.” He nods to the boat’s hull. “Rammed an oyster bar this morning.”
I eye the missing chunk. “Oysters do that?”
“Yep.”
“Mr. Hamns!” Someone yells from the dock house. I recognize that voice, and things inside me do a nervous little backflip as I glance over my shoulder to see Riel. He gives me a quick glance and then turns back. “Need you to sign those papers!”
Mr. Hamns waves. “Be right there! Listen,” he says to me, “feel free to wander around. This’ll take a while.”
“Oh, okay.”
Mr. Hamns strolls off, Riel gives me one last look, and then he disappears back into the dock house.
It’s a small island, small academy, small everything. I suppose I’m going to be running in to Riel just about everywhere I go, and it is absolutely obvious I’m attracted to the guy. But the facts are: I’m here on a scholarship that used to be his; he’s my peer mentor; I need him to sign off on my probationary period; I need to fly so far under everyone’s radar that I could be invisible if need be; but most importantly, I am here for school—I am not here for boys. Boys can come later. Much later. Like after I graduate MIT and have a job later.
With that resolve, I turn and look at the marina again. The sun shifts from behind a cloud, and I lift my face to feel the heat on my cheeks. Another breeze drifts by, and despite the warm weather, it feels almost cool against my bare arms.
Across the way a gray-haired man lays stretched out on his boat reading a book. A few slips over I see a young woman tying a sail. At the end of the dock, a boy hoses down a cushion. Beyond him, a small row boat cruises to shore. Wind whistles through the ropes, knocking them against the hollow masts, and making me smile.
Another watery belch cuts through my moment. I glance over my shoulder and up to the man still sitting on the bow of Hamns’s boat. Even though he’s still wearing those dark glasses, I get the distinct impression he’s looking right at me.
I smile a little.
He doesn’t smile back.
I lift my hand in a tiny wave.
He doesn’t wave back.
Abbie comes through the door. “There you are. We’re going to head back. Riel’s not here, and he’s the whole reason I came. You staying or coming?”
I should tell her Riel is in the dock house, but I don’t. “Coming,” I say instead and head toward the BMW.
As we pull from the parking lot, I give in to my urge to look again, only to find weird bald guy still watching me as we drive from the lot.
Chapter Ten
That night, Abbie invites me out to a movie with the same group of girls. Afterward, we stand in the parking lot, and I listen to them making plans for the weekend. None of them think to include me in the conversation, so I’m not sure if it’s just a given I will hang out with them or not.
“White trash,” one of the girls mumbles, and I glance up to see a skinny woman in flip-flops and a stained T-shirt. With her limp ponytail, barefoot baby on her hip, and toddler trailing behind her, she has to be younger than she looks.
The ice cream shop they all emerge from has probably been the highlight of their whole month.
White trash. How many times have I been called that over the years? Too many to count.
All the other girls I stand with snicker, and I feel so ashamed to be standing with them.
Abbie glances at her watch. “Everyone ready?”
They pile back inside the BMW, and I wave them off. “I’m going to walk. It’s such a pretty night. Y’all go on. It’s only a half mile back to the academy, anyway.”
And frankly, I don’t want to be with them now.
Abbie closes the door. “You got my cell if you need anything, right?”
I nod and they pull away. How different my life is now than it was just weeks ago. It almost seems unreal.
Watching You Page 3