“No one you know.”
Mack shrugs and puts out his hand, like he’s never seen me before. “Stay away from this guy. He’s a troublemaker.”
“I’ve heard that,” I say.
Mack strolls back into the marina office. I smile at Pete. How can I do anything else? “Thanks for calling me a woman.”
“Thanks for being one,” he says.
The wind picks up and throws my hair in my face. The more I try to smooth it down, the more it flies. I give up and accept that I’m going to look like a fury. I say, “Bobbie told me that the comedian and the jerk won the scholarship.”
He nods. “They did.”
“I’m sorry I was a jerk,” I say.
“I’m sorry I lit into you.” He takes me by the shoulders, his mouth lifting at the corners, his voice low. “I read your proposal. You have a good mind, Myra. A very good mind.”
“Thanks. I’m going to keep it.”
“No. You’re going to grow it. I can hardly wait to talk to you when you get back.”
“Will you be here when I get back?”
Pete smiles. “I’ll be here.”
“Hey, Pete,” yells a guy from a boat tied to the dock. “You gonna kiss her or what?”
Pete and I both look at our audience. The men have dark tans, bad hair, and worse tank tops. They already have their cooler open. “Pirates,” I say.
“Aye,” says Pete.
Then, in front of a galley of drunk boaters, Pete puts his arms around me and looks into my eyes. I don’t look away. He cocks his head to one side, waiting. “Are you sure this is okay?”
Somebody actually has a cowbell on the boat. “Are you?”
I lean in and press my lips to his. He kisses me back, gently, but pulls me close. I touch his neck with my hands and then wrap my arms around his shoulders. We fit together, but not perfectly. He pulls away and then kisses me again. Longer, and better this time. The pirates hit the ship horn and scream bloody murder. We lean away from each other just enough to get them to lay off the horn.
Pete says, “Uh, yeah. I’ll be here.”
Overhead the gulls call to each other, soaring and diving. I breathe in the salt of the lake in Pete’s clothes and on his dark skin. I let myself relax in the imperfect space that we share. I feel myself begin to tilt and spin and disappear in the warmth of his safe arms. But I don’t. I stay on my feet, ready to fly.
Girls Don't Fly Page 22