Nerd Girl

by Lee, Sue

  Ryan came back inside, looking distracted. “Sorry about that,” he said.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked with concern.

  Ryan took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair. “My mom just spoke to Catherine.”

  “Oh,” I tried to sound surprised. “So she knows then about you guys breaking up?”

  “She does now, yes.” He looked up at me guiltily. “I hadn’t told her, but she called Catherine about something and Catherine gave her the CliffsNotes version.”

  My fears were warranted. Ryan’s family and Catherine were very close, close enough that they called one another regularly. His mom had no reason to think anything was wrong or anything had changed between Ryan and Catherine. Until now.

  “Does she know about me?” I asked cautiously.

  “Yes, I just told her.” Ryan looked irritated. He saw my hesitation and his face softened from frustration to gentle concern. He walked up to me, placing his hands around my waist. “Jules, this isn’t something I want you to worry about, okay? My mom will get over it. I won’t lie to you and say that she isn’t upset about Catherine and me, but that doesn’t mean she won’t come to love you like I do.” He crinkled his eyebrows like he was debating whether or not to say something more. He then blew out a long breath as if the topic was exhausting for him. “At the end of the day, I’m her son and she ultimately wants me to make the choices that will make me happy, not her or anyone else.”

  I noticed he called me “Jules” for the first time. I liked it because it sounded intimate. Only the people closest to me called me Jules. I snuggled in closer to him, playing with the top buttons of his shirt. I thought about his reply to my question; despite the strength of his argument, something still bothered me. It had been a week since he had broken it off with Catherine. Why hadn’t he told anyone?

  Unable to share what was truly bothering me, I looked away and tried to shrug it off. “I get it. There’s a long history with your family and Catherine. I’m okay. I understand that your mom and Catherine were close. I can deal with it.”

  Ryan tilted my chin up, forcing me to look him in the eye. He didn’t look convinced and gave me a quizzical gaze.

  I sighed heavily and decided to confess to him what was really bothering me. “I guess I’m just wondering why you waited to tell her. I mean, breaking off your engagement is a pretty big deal. Were you afraid of what she or others might think of me? Of us being together? She disapproves, doesn’t she?”

  His eyes widened, surprised by my comment. He then gave me a thoughtful, hard look. “No. She has no reason to disapprove of you. Any dishonesty was done on my part, not yours. She won’t judge you like that. It’s me she’s disappointed with.” His mouth creased into a tight line. “She just needs some time to adjust.”

  In an attempt to reassure me, he tilted my chin up with his fingers and bent down to kiss me. Kissing him was all-consuming, so it distracted me from thinking about anything other than his lips and his tongue. I kissed him back with fervor. For the time being, I pushed all my questions and insecurities to the back of my mind and focused wholeheartedly on the task at hand.

  Our kiss continued and I slipped my hands under his shirt to feel his hard abs, my hands greedily exploring his chest and stomach. He placed his hands on my hips and lifted me up onto the countertop, wrapping my legs around his waist to secure him there. He pulled me into him as close as possible, molding every part of my body into his. My nipples, even under my shirt and bra, went taut and I could feel his excitement press into my stomach. Unexpectedly, though, he pulled away and stopped kissing me, leaning his forehead in so that it was touching mine. We were both breathing heavily and I was unhappy he had pulled his lips away. I pouted, wanting his warm, sensuous mouth back on mine, but he held steady and gazed at me with quiet intensity. He wanted to say something.

  “Julia, this is happening between you and me. From the moment I saw you, I wanted you; more than I’ve wanted anyone or anything in my life. You don’t have to worry about what anyone else thinks about us. You only need to know how I feel. I’ve fallen crazily in love with you. You are everything I want and I am completely at your mercy. “

  My heart pounded in my chest and my breath hitched. He kissed me thoroughly, full of tenderness, passion, love and reverence. Ryan took my breath away. This must be what they meant when they talked about making a woman swoon. If I had been standing, I would’ve been a wobbling mess of Jell-o.

  He finally released me and lifted me down onto my feet. I was breathless and my whole body trembled from the intensity of his kiss and his words. He took my hand and led me upstairs to his bedroom, where he proceeded to make love to me with the same tenderness, passion, love and reverence as his all-consuming kiss.

  Ryan and Catherine’s history could wait. The rest of the world could wait. Ryan was all mine; at least for the next four days.

  It’s been five years since the last time I visited the San Juan Islands. I went with a college girlfriend of mine who wanted to have a girls-only weekend. We thought it would be fun to go bike riding on the island. Why I thought that that would be fun, I had no idea. I suspected it was the naiveté and ambition of youth. The longest distance I had ever biked before was about ten miles on the very flat Burke Gilman trail near the university. I wasn’t prepared for the twenty mile torturefest that had since prevented me from ever riding on another bike.

  Besides recuperating from the bike ride from hell, my memories of that trip were mostly of my friend complaining about her significant other. I tried to lend a supportive ear, but by the end of the weekend, I couldn’t blame her boyfriend for wanting to spend more time alone.

  We had stayed at a bed and breakfast in Friday Harbor, a quaint little town located on the south end of the island populated with gift shops, seafood restaurants, and plenty of other romantic bed and breakfast establishments, all lined with potted red geraniums on their windowsills. The town was tiny, only about three or four square blocks in each direction. I remembered thinking, back then, how romantic it would be to come here sometime with a boyfriend. I had imagined strolling the few blocks along the waterfront, walking hand in hand, watching the ferries roll in and eating ice cream. If we were lucky, we would sleep on our boat that we had sailed from Seattle. If we didn’t have a boat, we would stay in one of those cute bed and breakfast spots, drinking coffee on the deck overlooking the harbor after having just made love.

  So, in a way, my plans for the weekend with Ryan were sort of a little fantasy come true. Sometimes I had to pinch myself. Ryan and I were happening so quickly that I hadn’t really had time to process it all.

  As I followed Ryan along one of the docks in the Elliott Bay Marina, we finally stopped at what looked to be to be a huge white boat. Actually, it fit more into the yacht category. Not that I was one to judge or anything, but this clearly was not a run of the mill sort of boat. This was a fancy boat and a big boat; bigger than any personal watercraft I’d ever been on. Ryan told me we would be staying on his boat for the duration of the trip. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I guess I thought we would have a pull out bed of some sort, a toilet and basic shower, and maybe a sink and hot pot; I thought it would be more like camping. This was no little camper on the water—it was a full-fledged, floating luxury home. I noticed the name of the boat was painted on the rear. It made me smile. Dawg House.

  I was still staring at the yacht, which seemed like a more appropriate description, amazed that this was where I would be living for the next several days, when I heard Ryan ask, “Can you pass me the grocery bags?”

  I followed him into the main cabin and then further into the kitchen area, placing one of the bags on top of the counter. I looked around with excitement; I was dying to inspect all the cabin compartments.

  “Do you want a little tour?” he asked, mildly amused at my noticeable curiosity.

  “Mmm hmm,” I admitted, nodding enthusiastically.

  “You look like a kid in a c
andy store. Have you never been on a boat?”

  “Well, not one like this one,” I said, arching an eyebrow.

  “This is a 65’ Tollycraft, built back in ‘92. My dad bought it after he retired.”

  I followed him as he walked me through the rooms and continued to explain some of the boat’s history and features. In the main salon, the coffee table and cabinets were built out of a beautiful, red tinted wood. There was a relatively large L-shaped sofa and a big flat screen TV that hung from one of the cabinets.

  “When my dad died, I knew my mom wasn’t going to take it out on her own, but neither of us had the heart to sell it. My dad loved the boat so much and boating was one of his favorite things to do. Now, it’s sort of a family boat. Lauren and her husband take it out sometimes. I only use it a few times in the summer.”

  As he spoke, I noticed a picture hanging from one of the walls. Looking closer, I recognized Ryan, another younger woman, and an older gentleman that looked like an older version of Ryan.

  “Is this your dad?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Yeah, and that’s my sister, Lauren, in the middle. The photo was taken on our first trip out on the boat together.”

  I peered at the picture more closely and got a pretty good idea of what Ryan would look like in twenty years. He had his father’s coloring and the same strong nose, chin, and jawline. They looked about the same height in this picture. Ryan’s eyes were softer around the edges, making him appear more soulful and introspective. His father’s eyes were sharper and more catlike, like his sister’s. Their eyes were all the same color—an intense gray blue.

  “It’s a lovely picture of all of you. You look so young.”

  Ryan looked thoughtful. “I must’ve been twenty-three or twenty-four. It was only a couple of years before he died.” His mind seemed elsewhere, thinking of another time in the distant past.

  I continued to explore the main cabin, admiring the craftsmanship and touching the wood with my fingertips. “This trim is beautiful. What is it?”

  “It’s Brazilian teak. The doors and cabinets throughout the cabins and passageways, including the lower deck are all made of it. I love it. It’s what sold my mom.”

  He grabbed my hand and led me to the master bedroom. There were cabinets made of the same teak wood lining a whole wall. Another flat screen TV hung off one of the cabinets. I poked my head into the bathroom, where there was a full shower, toilet, and mirrored vanity.

  I then turned my attention to the lush queen bed. The thought of doing nasty things with Ryan on this bed made me blush. I looked up at him in embarrassment, hoping he didn’t notice my flushed cheeks.

  He gave me a knowing look. “I can’t believe you still blush at the thought of us making love. After all that we’ve done to each other this past week?” he said with a smirk. “You’re adorable.”

  I tried giving him a teasing shove, but he stopped my fruitless effort and pulled me onto the bed. I tumbled on top of him and he sealed his lips to mine. I found myself melting into his arms and wrapped my legs around him, greedily kissing him and running my fingers through his hair. After making out for a few more minutes, he reluctantly rolled out from under me and pulled away. I pouted at his withdrawal.

  “I’m going to get the engine started and we’ll head out.” He pecked me again on the lips before I unwillingly let him go. “I want us to get there before dark.”

  While Ryan was getting the boat ready to leave the harbor, I took several pictures with my smartphone for Anna. The last snapshot was one of Ryan in the pilot room.

  Me: Ryan and I are getting ready to take off to San Juans

  Only minutes after I sent the pictures over, Anna texted me back.

  Anna: Nice! Lucky you. Give Ryan our best.

  Attached to her text was a picture of the ocean view from their hotel room.

  Me: Nice view. How’s the honeymoon?

  Anna: Fabulous! We need to all come back here next year. U and R too :)

  Me: :) Love u. Have fun!

  Anna: U 2 – c u next week!

  “What are you doing?” I heard Ryan ask as he looked over my shoulder.

  “Just texting pictures of your boat to Anna.”

  “Tell them hi.” He went into the cabin and then reappeared wearing a Husky baseball cap. It made him look so much younger. “Ready to go?”

  It was a beautiful day with a light ocean breeze, and we took six leisurely hours to make the trip northward towards the islands. Even though I grew up in the Pacific Northwest, I often took for granted how beautiful it was here; the islands and all of the inlets were breathtaking. We spent much of our time in comfortable silence, listening to music. I smelled the familiar scent of salt and ocean. I heard and felt the boat move through the waves. Ryan had to steer the boat, but I read my book once the initial novelty of being on a yacht wore off. Even though he suggested I relax in the lower main cabin, I stayed with him for most of the trip, sitting in the pilot room on a cushioned bench.

  I tried my best to read my book, but I occasionally stole glances at him while he was preoccupied navigating the boat. His presence made me feel giddy, hopeful and as madly in love as a schoolgirl with her first crush. Today he wore faded khaki shorts and a pale green polo shirt, which made his eyes look deeper and bluer. I noticed faint wrinkles around his eyes, especially when he was concentrating. His lips were smooth and rosy pink. It always amazed me how some men could have such smooth, kissable lips and not wear lip balm of any sort. His body was lean and strong, his arms toned and muscular, and he looked confident and comfortable as he manned the boat. I shamelessly ogled him, gloating to myself that he was mine.

  Going by boat was also so much more enjoyable than going by car. My last trip to the islands was preceded by a four hour car ride in Friday afternoon rush hour traffic. I recalled waiting for another hour and a half at the ferry terminal before taking the one hour ferry ride to our final destination. I think it took us just about the same amount of time as this trip did, but with more stress and less enjoyment. I could get use to this method of travel around the Puget Sound.

  As we neared the main island of San Juan, I was surprised when Ryan didn’t take us into Friday Harbor. Instead, he navigated us further north towards Roche Harbor on the other side of the island. As we anchored the boat alongside one of the docks, I spotted a hotel in the distance with Hotel de Haro painted in large black letters across the top of the building. It looked like something built during the turn of the century and looked like it belonged in the French Quarter of New Orleans. The hotel was made out of all white wood with balcony decks framed along each floor that spanned across the whole front of the building. The grounds were made up of beautiful gardens looking out into the marina. There was a historical feel to the whole area, giving me the feeling that I had just stepped into an old classic Cary Grant movie.

  The harbor was lined with dozens of sailboats and other large yachts. This was no fishing boat harbor that was for sure. It was much quieter here than in Friday Harbor. There were far fewer shops and tourists and much less town and boat traffic. This little corner of Roche Harbor was really more of a quaint boating resort.

  Now that we were docked, I noticed that the smell of salt and ocean was stronger here than out on the water. I could hear the seagulls squawking as they flew overhead.

  “Are you hungry?” Ryan asked.

  “Yes.” I found I was quite ravished, come to think of it. By the time we finished mooring the boat, it was almost six.

  “I know this great little place not far from here. Come on,” he said as he took my hand and helped me off of the boat.

  “I hope it’s casual,” I mumbled to myself, a little concerned with my windblown hair, t-shirt, and cutoff shorts.

  “Don’t worry about it, you look great … and sexy, too,” he whispering the last part intimately into my ear, his warm breath giving me goosebumps.

  We walked down the dock towards the port hand in hand. In less than a minute, he st
opped and said we were here. We hadn’t even made it off the dock yet. In front of us stood a little market umbrella stand of fresh seafood. I noticed live crabs crawling around in a tank as well as pre-cooked crabs sitting in ice next to it, ready to be scrubbed. There were also buckets of fresh clams, crayfish, squid, and shrimp. A basket of local artisan bread sat off to the side of the cash register.

  “Do you like shellfish?” Ryan asked hopefully.

  “Yes, of course,” I nodded enthusiastically toward the Dungeness crab, my mouth already watering.

  “Good. What do you think about steamed clams and crab tonight? I’ll make you the best steamed clams you’ve ever tasted,” he said confidently.

  I giggled at his smugness. “You sound pretty confident.”

  Ryan ordered a couple of pounds of clams, a cooked Dungeness crab, and a baguette of the rustic bread. He also grabbed a head of garlic and some parsley before we headed back to the boat. It looked like a lot of food for just the two of us.

  The kitchen showcased all stainless steel appliances and granite countertops and looked nicer than my own kitchen at home. It was fully stocked with dishes, cutlery, utensils, spices, condiments, and wine. As a prerequisite to cooking our dinner, Ryan opened a bottle of chilled chardonnay.

  He poured a glass and held it out to me. “Here’s to you and me,” he said simply and we clinked our glasses together.

  I was in charge of preparing the salad. As I chopped cucumbers and washed cherry tomatoes, he started on the clams. I peeked at him from the corner of my eye, watching his biceps flex, admiring the confidence he seemed to have in the kitchen. He mixed some of the chardonnay, butter, and garlic together to make the stock for the clams. It smelled delicious.

  “You’re very comfortable in the kitchen, aren’t you?” I observed with a smile.