Find Me (Immersed Book 1)

by Francesca Riley

  Morgan frowned. “What do you mean, ‘taking her deeper’? Like, forcing her?”

  “I wouldn’t say forcing.” Amber looked defensively from Morgan to Skye. “What? Morgan, it was just a bit of fun. Can’t she swim or something? We didn’t know! Why was she even in the water, then?” Amber turned away and Skye heard her mutter, “Why is she even here, more like.”

  Morgan looked at Skye, her face a study in mixed feelings. She crouched down again, whispering so the others wouldn’t hear. “I’m so sorry Skye. I shouldn’t have pushed, especially after the channel. I’m an idiot. I didn’t see you ‘til you came out of the water. I was catching a wave in, thought you’d caught one too – I didn’t realise... I’m sure they didn’t mean any harm. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. But…I still want to know – where is the guy who helped me?”

  “Skye, there was no one with you. You came bursting out from the middle of a wave, and stumbled up onto the sand. Like a mermaid leaving the water for the first time, not used to using legs,” Morgan tried to joke.

  Skye clenched her fists and wrapped her arms around her knees to still her trembling. She swallowed and took a long slow breath. Feeling steadier she looked wryly down at herself, pushing the tangled hair off her face. “More like drowned rat than mermaid.” She brushed uselessly at the sand clinging to her wet skin.

  “I’ll sit with you for a bit.”

  “No way, Morgan, I look like a total loser already. I’m fine. Truly. Go have fun.”

  Perhaps overhearing her, Morgan’s friends began to jostle and squeal, picking up where they’d left off as if nothing had happened.

  Morgan straightened, but still hesitated. “Well...I don’t know –”

  “Morgan, I’m fine. Go already!”

  Morgan looked relieved at the hint of stroppy Skye. “All right. But sing out if you need me. Come join us if you get your second wind, okay?” At Skye’s sarcastically raised eyebrows Morgan looked sheepish. Finally accepting Skye’s assurances, she ran back into the water with her friends.

  Skye moved further up to where the group’s things were, and sat sifting dry sand shakily through her hands, feeling like a stranded fish afraid of the water she needed to survive. Eventually the feel of the hot sand, and the everyday sounds of Morgan and her friends anchored her. The sea shifted, subdued and easy, as if it had done its worst. Her heartbeats slowed and settled, the sound of the waves soothing again. How ironic: from the shore, the sea sounded irresistible, her life’s essence. But in the sea, it was like the march of doom.

  “Hey, Skye. Great name, by the way.”

  Skye jumped, swearing compulsively as she did, and turned crimson-faced to catch the amused grin of one of Morgan’s friends. It was the guy she kept coming across yesterday. How long had he been there?

  “Sorry,” she mumbled, “Tourette’s, you know.”

  He dropped to sit beside her, his eyes amused but managing to run over her appraisingly at the same time. She flushed even more, conscious of her sea-trashed appearance and teeny bikini.

  “Ethan,” he held out a sandy hand. “Time we met properly. I figure you haven’t placed me yet.”

  She shook the proffered hand feeling foolish, then casually tried to pull her small towel a bit further around her shoulders. It wouldn’t give an inch. How had she missed getting a good old beach towel? This one was practically a hand towel. She tugged discreetly but hopelessly at its edges. Ethan grinned knowingly which didn’t help.

  Reaching behind him, he grabbed another towel and tossed it to her. “You can never have too many towels on, I always say.”

  Skye was unsure whether he was laughing with her or at her. “Sure, the number one fashion statement for the half-drowned, right?” she quipped as she gratefully draped the larger towel round her shoulders. It smelled of sun tan lotion and hot fresh cotton, and clutching it around herself she felt better. “Thanks.”

  He smiled, showing dimples. With the chance for a proper look at him, she had to acknowledge that Ethan was the epitome of hot surfer guy, except for the short-cropped hair which was almost the same golden brown as his skin. In true village style he wore a twist of white shell on a short cord around his neck. It was practically compulsory in local teenage mating rituals. She had found the idea of them utterly romantic when she was a child. Now she cynically wondered how many of those he’d exchanged as tokens of ‘love’.

  “So, what exactly happened out there? ‘Cause I’m on the surf rescue squad, yeah? If I’d realised you were in trouble, I would have, you know, saved you.”

  She looked at him quickly to see if he was mocking her, but although his smile was teasing, his hazel eyes were warm. He had a sort of high energy, middle of the action vibe about him perfect for surf rescue.

  “I don’t exactly know what happened,” she said in a low voice. She remembered Morgan’s friends taking her deeper, when all she wanted to do was get back to dry land. And then it was all dark, deep water closing over her, stormy breakers separating her from life. Until Hunter had helped her to the surface. “I guess it was just, I don’t know – a panic attack or something? I haven’t, uh, swum for…a while.”

  “Since your mum, maybe?” he asked quietly. Skye half-stifled an exclamation. Her cheeks burned at the thought of Morgan sharing the most personal pain in her life with strangers. “That Tourette’s thing again, right?” he smiled.

  “Funny thing is I only suffer from it around you.” She was finding it hard to breathe, but hoped her reply was cutting.

  His smile widened as if he found her amusing rather than offensive. She looked away.

  “I grew up here,” he explained. “I used to go to the same school as you.” She looked at him in surprise. “I gave you a drawing of a fish once. You liked to draw, and you liked to swim, so I figured that was the best way to get your attention. I was in your class until you moved away.”

  "Ethan – Ethan Armstrong? That was you?” She remembered that drawing, given to her by a little tanned kid, all tousled hair and dimples, constantly followed around by a troop of tiny girls like he was the pied piper. She should have guessed; this is exactly how she would have pictured him grown up. “I do remember you.”

  “You were my first crush, Skye Sebastian.” He laughed at her expression. “It’s true. You must be breaking hearts all over the city.”

  She blushed. “I doubt it.” He was very cute, but also very smooth, and she guessed he was well practised at this type of conversation. To mask her discomposure, she rearranged his towel around her shoulders. A waft of perfume came off it, almost buried beneath the scent of suntan lotion.

  “Don’t doubt it. You’re kind of...mysterious. Take right now, you’re like some kind of Ophelia, all beautiful and waterlogged.” His mock tragic face made Skye smile. “If you’d only made a scene out there, I could have swept you into my arms and rescued you, mouth to mouth, the works…” he wriggled his eyebrows suggestively, and she laughed, surprising herself. Boy, he was smooth all right, not to mention charming, and funny. She wished her cheeks would cool.

  “I nearly had my chance in the channel. Only you were so clearly alive and kicking, I thought I’d get a clip around the head if I tried to resuscitate you, tempting as it was.”

  “That was you on the IRB!”

  “Sure was,” he grinned.

  Skye felt ashamed. Her head had been too full of her other rescuer to appreciate this one properly. “Sorry. I should have recognised you. I was a little...”

  “Yeah, you were for sure. Hardly surprising.” He was silent for a moment, then continued, a serious note in his voice. “I’m just glad I got to you. No thanks to those morons – no life-jackets.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Skye said quietly. “Thanks.”

  “By the way,” he added, “just so you don’t get the idea I was egg-heading you before, we did Ophelia at school last semester. I must remember to thank Mr Johns. Who’d have thought literature would come in handy for…” he stopped
short, looking a bit busted.

  “For the most blatant case of flirting I’ve ever heard?” Skye finished for him, lightly sarcastic.

  He laughed, unremorseful. “Oh! Hey,” he exclaimed, “don’t know if you’ve heard – Harvey? The guy whose boat you were on? He’s okay.”

  “No way! He’s okay?” Relief warmed her, “Wow, that’s so great!”

  “Yeah, relief all right. So, are you and Harvey... I mean, do you know him well?”

  “I just met him that day. But, that’s awesome! You rescued him too?”

  “No, he was found by tourists. Lucky really. No one goes where he was found much.”

  Skye nodded. Lucky Harvey, the tides had been in his favour after all. “Where was he found?”

  “Ciarlan Cove.”

  She went still.

  “It’s weird actually…” Ethan frowned, but before he could finish, a shadow blocked the sun and droplets of water spotted the sand at their feet. Amber stood in front of them, flinging her wet hair about.

  “Ethan, come join us!”

  “Amber, you know Skye, right?”

  Amber looked coolly down at Skye, who felt like something unpleasant washed up on the tide. “Sure, nearly drowned, I remember. Ethan, why is she wearing my towel?”

  “My towel, Amber, that you only borrowed half an hour ago. Skye needed it, so she’s using it.” He frowned at Amber who pouted, then pranced to kneel behind him, and started territorially massaging his shoulders.

  Skye shrugged the towel off and tossed it to him. “I’m good. Thanks for the loan.”

  He looked disconcerted, but Amber called “Come on, Jasmine!” to her approaching friend. The two girls each grabbed one of Ethan’s hands, and pulled him up off the sand and down to the water. He didn’t resist, and in seconds the three of them were lunging through the waves, and splashing one another. Skye managed not to roll her eyes.

  The sun was lower in the sky. Her light cotton shirt was next to her and she shook it out and drew it on, spreading her own small towel out to dry on the hot sand. Someone had brought energy bars, fruit and bottled water for the group, and Skye had one of each.

  All along the beach low waves rolled in contemplatively. Their tumbling murmur was cocooning. She felt like a separate person from the girl who’d freaked out in those waves such a short time ago. Ethan had joked about sweeping her into his arms and rescuing her. He hadn’t done that. But Hunter had. The feeling of Hunter’s arms lingered about her. She saw his grey eyes when she closed hers. Why hadn’t he joined them? Shouldn’t he have followed her out, made sure she was all right? Something had stopped her from asking Ethan about him. She frowned.

  Morgan’s crowd tossed an inflatable ball around, splashing and yelling. It looked like a courting ritual given all the unnecessary collisions going on. Should she just go? She really didn’t feel she belonged here.

  Her attention was caught by a new group of teenagers, shoulder deep in the water not far beyond Morgan’s friends. They were quite still, half hidden by the waves, just…watching, almost waiting. They could have been invisible for all the attention they were getting. A tense energy began to buzz inside her chest.

  At times the waves dropped enough for her to see them better. Bizarrely, some of them were clothed, as if playing dress-ups from past eras. Weird. Was anyone else seeing this? Glancing around, she saw Jasmine filming her friends with her phone’s camera.

  Looking at the unmoving group again, she noticed a blond boy at their forefront, the sunlight catching his drying curls like a halo. Was he watching her? A cold shiver trickled through her. It was an effort to look away. As she did, a movement further out caught her attention. At a distance from anyone, arms flailed. Someone in trouble?

  She scrambled to her feet, but to her relief she saw that she wasn’t the only one to notice. The strange group had turned as one, and she watched them glide, oddly in-sync, towards the struggling swimmer. Surf rescuers dressing crazily for fun, she surmised, anticipating the rescue with interest.

  But when they reached the struggling figure, instead of helping, they encircled it. Watching, waiting... Alarm filled Skye. Why weren’t they doing anything? The swimmer sank out of sight for a moment, then bobbed up, arms still waving, but inexplicably not reaching towards the surrounding people. Skye’s heart thudded.

  At last she found her voice and shouted, sprinting towards the water. The swimmer, arms moving more feebly sank once more. The encircling figures sank too. But Skye’s shouts had alerted others, and in seconds nearby swimmers reached the struggling person. Between them the limp swimmer was helped to shore.

  The strange group didn’t resurface, or not that Skye could see. Perhaps they’d moved away under water, and emerged amidst others, embarrassed by their failure to help?

  To Skye’s relief, after receiving just a few minutes attention, the rescued swimmer, a girl around Skye’s age, left the beach with her friends, moving with more strength than Skye would have thought possible moments ago.

  Skye realised she was trembling, her heart still pounding. She couldn’t believe what she’d just witnessed. Had anyone else? On the busy beach, the incident had somehow escaped the notice of almost everyone. Only Jasmine nearby was watching.

  “Good call, Skye,” Jasmine called to her.

  “Did you see where those other guys went?” Skye called back. “Can’t believe they didn’t help!”

  “What?” Jasmine looked confused. “They did help. You just watched them do it!” She pointed to the two men who had helped the girl to shore, being congratulated by friends.

  “No, not them, the others. That group around her. They just watched.”

  Jasmine stared at her like she was mad, and then looked embarrassed. “I thought I saw some shadows,” she offered kindly. “Maybe that’s what you saw?”

  Skye stared at her dumbly. Then she nodded jerkily, flushing, and Jasmine turned awkwardly away.

  Skye was bewildered. Had she imagined the group and their weird behaviour? She scanned the water again, and the busy beach, but there was no sign of them anywhere. Jasmine mustn’t have seen them. And Skye must have misunderstood their whole deal. Her overactive imagination needed to switch off, she told herself, pushing down the uneasiness trembling in her stomach. No big deal, apart from Jasmine now thinking she hallucinated over shadows.

  Not wanting to interrupt Morgan’s fun, she reached a compromise on leaving. She would walk to the rock pools instead, like she used to. Something nice and normal. Running her hands through her tousled hair, she set off towards the nearby rocks, brushing the drying sand off her, trying to ignore the feeling of being watched.

  12. An Invitation

  Soon Skye crouched by a deep pool in the wide rock ledge that rimmed the hillside. Peering, she tried to penetrate the surface reflections to see dully coloured starfish, trundling hermit crabs, and darting transparent shrimp. Stepping around it she jumped onto a tiny beach, exposed between claws of rock by the ebbing tide. Hers were the first footprints on the smooth golden sand.

  Climbing onto the next rock ledge, she began to cross, leaping small chasms, water gurgling echoingly below her, and reached a short outcrop, an obvious invitation to get further out onto the water. She accepted, navigating the uneven surface, and gradually became aware of an odd sort of anticipation softly uncurling inside her.

  A gull swooped above her with a cutting cry. The air felt charged. A boulder partially blocked access to the end of the outcrop. Drawn by the strange energy pulling at her she edged around it and her heart caught, not beating for a moment.

  On the rocks at the water’s edge a young man sat, his wet skin glistening in the late sun. Still as a statue, he gazed intently into the water, unconscious of her presence. His hair was darkly wet, dripping trails of water. Her heart raced, surging with something like joy.

  Whatever held him immobile gazing into the waves must have gone. His shoulders loosened and he leaned back from the water – and went still as he caug
ht sight of Skye.

  He was striking, beautiful, like a sculpture from a chapel. The sun fell across the curve of his face, and caught the tips of blond hair, not dark as she’d first thought, drying into curls. He had an angelic look about him altogether: slender but muscular, pale skin glistening, wide blue eyes and full lips. It wasn’t Hunter, but someone else entirely. How could she have mistaken them? Her heart dropped in disappointment.

  Meeting her eyes, his own widened. His gaze travelled over her. A look slid across his face, gone in a blink, but she stiffened. Despite the smile that curved his lips into a perfect representation of friendliness, uneasiness stirred. The boy from the strange group? The disappointment sank into her stomach, knotting into something…else, like warning.

  He climbed gracefully to his feet, slowly, as though wary of startling her, and smiled up at her where she braced a hand against the boulder. His blue eyes were warm and inviting, like the smile spreading more widely over his face, his fair head tilting a little. He looked like a charming angel, and she found the shiver down her back easier to ignore.

  The sun dazzled her eyes and cast his face into shadow. She felt herself relaxing, soothed. She slid around the boulder, stepping towards him without a conscious decision.

  She couldn’t look away from his easy smile, his eyes so deeply blue they were nearly black. Or were they black? The intensity of his gaze, the dazzling light behind him, made her brain feel fuzzy. A soft warning beat under her ribs. He held out his hand to her. She looked from it to his face.

  His black eyes gleamed above the sweetness of his smile as he watched her through long eyelashes. Despite her dazed confusion she glimpsed that fleeting expression slide away again, gone even as she looked. The warning tattooed harder, prickling over her skin, closing her hand into a fist. She stepped back.