I sniff. “You remind me of him a little. Maybe that’s why I get along with you so well.”
He smiles and gives my hand a squeeze.
I sniff again and take a deep breath. “Do you want to come inside? I really need to blow my nose.” I’m mortified I said it but he doesn’t laugh. He just nods and helps me out of my chair.
Once we’re inside, I all but run to the bathroom. I avoid looking in the mirror at first but sneak a peek after my sinuses are cleared. I look like a monster. My face is pale with blotches of red on my cheeks and around my eyes. I know I’m an ugly crier but this is ridiculous. I splash some cold water on my face, not sure if it will do anything. I’ve just seen it in movies so many times it seems the right thing to do. After I clean up, I go back in my room.
Carson is sitting on the floor, leaning against my bed with my guitar case on his lap. “Will teaching me how to play the guitar cheer you up at all? I’m sure I’ll screw it up enough to make you laugh.”
I let out a light chuckle and sit down next to him. “Now is as good a time as any.”
He runs his fingers lightly across my cheek. “You have a beautiful smile. You should smile more often.”
My cheeks heat and I focus on opening my guitar to distract myself from the really hot boy sitting next to me. The really hot boy who likes to touch me, hold my hand, compliment my work, and hang out with me. This is unreal.
“Your case is cool,” he says.
I glance at the worn band stickers. The black case is barely visible underneath. I’ve been collecting them since my freshman year. A few of them are so worn out I can’t even tell what band they were. “Thanks.”
My guitar looks the same as it did the last time I played it. Old, but perfect. I pull it out and run my fingers over the shiny wood. I haven’t played since the night before Lucas died. The last time he was awake. He told me over and over there was something comforting about it and always asked me to play for him, especially at night. Music helped him sleep and I still remember the peaceful look on his face as he listened to me play.
“You okay?” Carson asks.
“Yes. It’s just . . .” I slide my fingers down the strings but don’t strum them. “The last time I played this was the night Lucas died. He always liked to hear me play and wanted that to be the last thing he heard.” I play with one of the strings. “I’m trying to talk myself into playing again.”
“You don’t have to if it’s too painful.”
I shake my head. “I do. I need to keep living my life. I can’t keep avoiding things that remind me of him.” I take my tuner out of my case and tune the strings. They sound pretty bad and I don’t put the tuner back until I’m satisfied. I strum a chord and smile. My fingers know right where to go and I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and play one of my favorite classical pieces—Prelude from Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1. It’s difficult, but gorgeous and so worth all the hours I practiced to perfect it. The music flows from my fingertips and I forget myself for a moment. All I can feel is the music. I forgot how powerful it can be.
“You play beautifully,” Carson says.
I open my eyes and feel my cheeks heat. “Thanks.” I stop playing and hand him the guitar. “You’re sure you want me to teach you? I’m not the best guitarist in the world.”
“Who is?” he says. “You sound pretty good to me. And it doesn’t matter who teaches me. I’m gonna suck anyway.”
“You don’t know that,” I say. “But you might suck for a while.” He laughs as I scoot closer to him. Our legs and shoulders touch and at first I tense up but then I made myself relax. “Hold it like this.” I show him. “Put the strap around your neck. Left hand on the guitar’s neck, right hand near the sound hole where the strings are.”
He moves his hands and smiles. “Like this?”
“Yep. You’ll strum with your right hand and your left hand will push down different strings on the fret board. Now lean against the bed. If you lean forward, you’ll get really uncomfortable fast.”
He leans back and then looks at me with a strange expression. “What’s a fret board?”
I chuckle. “You see those little metal strips under the strings?”
He looks down at them and nods.
“Those are frets. If you push anywhere between the frets, you change the notes you’re playing.”
“Huh. Sorry, I don’t know anything about the guitar.”
“Um . . . have you seen me surf? Obviously I have no idea what I’m doing either.”
“Yes you do. You did fine.” He frowns. “Besides today.”
“I know. I was stupid.” I don’t want to talk about it again so I shake my head. “Anyway, here’s a guitar pick. Hold it like this.” I touch his hand and turn the palm toward his body. “There. Perfect.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yes.” My face is super close to his so I look away and focus on his hand instead. “Hold on tight to the pick and strum the strings like this.” I move his hand up and down and let go as he does it himself. “Your upward strokes should sound the same as your downward strokes.”
“They’re . . . sort of the same.”
It buzzes as he strums upward, but the more he does it, the better it sounds. “This is pretty easy.”
“Well, of course that part’s easy. We need to work on your fretting hand now.” I point at his left hand and smile.
“You mean I actually have to do something with this hand?”
“Uh . . . yes. Let’s start with a G chord.”
It’s been about an hour and Carson has mastered “Mary Had a Little Lamb.” He plays it again with a huge smile on his face. “I should go play at a preschool or something.”
“I’m sure those kids would love it.”
He laughs and pulls the strap from around his neck and hands the guitar to me. “I’d rather hear you play something. I’m sure you’ve mastered every nursery rhyme in the book.”
I shrug. “Yeah, probably.” I giggle and play something he might recognize.
“No way! Love ‘Stairway to Heaven,’” he says. He leans over, watching my fingers as I play the intro. He surprises me and starts singing when I reach the first verse. I’m tempted to sing along but I know he’ll probably run screaming from the room if I do, so I just nod my head along with the beat.
I finish the song and look over at him. “You have a good voice.”
“Eh. It’s alright.” He leans close to me and points at one of the notes. “So, how did you play this song again? Is it too hard for me to learn?”
“Yeah . . . probably. Let’s start with something easier. Why don’t you strum and I’ll play the frets. We’ll make up our own song.”
He chuckles, scoots closer, and sets his hand behind me. He reaches across me and waits with his guitar pick to strum the strings. I try to stay focused but it’s hard knowing he’s right there.
“You ready?” My voice shakes.
“Are you?” His breath tickles my ear and I’m very aware of how close we are. I turn my head ever so slightly and he’s there, staring at me. My breath quickens and my heart beats faster. I know what’s coming but I’m not sure if I’m ready. I’ve never kissed anyone. I’ve never even been close. My heart hammers in my chest as I try to calm myself down.
It’s a lost cause.
He leans close enough that I feel his breath on my lips. My eyes close and even though my mind is screaming at me to stop it before it happens, I don’t. I can’t. It’s a perfect moment. His lips touch mine for just a moment before he pulls away. I open my eyes and he looks at me as though he’s asking if it’s okay. I stare at him and he hesitates only a second before leaning in again, his lips soft and gentle on mine. His hand slides up my back, his other one cradles my cheek. Part of me feels like melting into a puddle and the other is worried I’m doing something wrong.
Too soon he pulls away again, his eyes never leaving mine. He frowns when he sees my face. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I did
n’t . . . I’m sorry.”
I shake my head. “Don’t be sorry. I’ve just never . . . you know.” I blush. “I’ve never kissed anyone before. I’ve never . . . well, dated anyone either. Obviously. Since I haven’t kissed anyone.” I squeeze my eyes shut and chuckle at the nonsense spewing from my mouth. I don’t know why I’m telling him any of this. I’m really wishing I’d shut up but I’m so nervous that I can’t focus on anything.
He smiles. “Don’t worry. I couldn’t tell at all.”
I put my guitar down in its case and fold my arms. The silence is making me anxious. I can’t look at him. I’m not sure what the proper etiquette is after you kiss someone, so I just sit there staring at the floor. He must be reading my thoughts again because he reaches for my hand. He gives it a squeeze and stands, pulling me up with him. “I’d better go. You’ve had a rough day, and my dad wants me back at the shop tonight. I have to do some inventory for the next few days.”
That doesn’t sound fun at all. For me or him. “Well, thanks for . . . you know. Being here. With me.” My cheeks heat yet again. I know our relationship has changed now that we’ve kissed. At least it has to me. It makes me worried. And excited. And terrified. And a little guilty. I shouldn’t be falling for some guy when I’m supposed to be mourning my brother. And my parents’ marriage.
“You can talk to me any time. You know that, right?”
I nod. It’s strange to think back on the last few weeks. I still don’t know him very well but I feel like we’ve been friends forever. “I know.” I walk him to the door. “Have fun at work.”
He pulls me into a hug and leans back. I wonder if he’s going to kiss me again but he just smiles. “I’ll call you later, okay?” He leans in and touches his lips to my forehead before leaving me by myself.
I’m flustered. I just kissed a guy I barely know. How do I feel about that? How do I feel about him? I know I like him or I wouldn’t have let him kiss me, but now everything’s going to be different. I sit on my bed and stare at the wall. The kiss replays in my head, over and over again. I smile and curl into a ball on top of my bedspread. I’m pretty sure I’m going to have good dreams tonight.
CHAPTER 13
DEAR OAKLEY,
SO SORRY ABOUT THE LAST LETTER. I WAS OUT OF SORTS. I’VE BEEN WATCHING TOO MUCH HARRY POTTER I THINK. OR MAYBE NO ONE IN HARRY POTTER SAYS THAT. DO OLD PEOPLE SAY IT? MERLIN’S BEARD, I’M A STRANGE ONE!
YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW HARD I’M LAUGHING RIGHT NOW, WRITING THIS. THE NURSES PROBABLY THINK I’VE GONE CRAZY. THEY’RE PROBABLY RIGHT.
ANYWAY, REMEMBER WHEN WE WENT TO HARRY POTTER 5 THE DAY IT CAME OUT? AND THERE WAS AN OLD NASTY-LOOKING COUCH SITTING NEAR THE FRONT OF THE LINE WE WERE WAITING IN AND WE ACTUALLY SAT ON IT? AND EVERYONE WHO SAW US ASKED IF IT WAS OURS AND WE SAID YES? THAT WAS FUN. SERIOUSLY. HILARIOUS. EVEN THOUGH WE PROBABLY HAVE SOME KIND OF DISEASE FROM SITTING ON IT.
WE HAD SOME GOOD TIMES, DIDN’T WE? DON’T STOP DOING STUFF LIKE THAT. IT MAKES FOR GOOD STORIES AND FUN MEMORIES. KEEP MAKING MEMORIES, OAKLEY. YOU’LL REGRET IT IF YOU DON’T.
LOVE, LUCAS
We did have some good times. Too many to count. The Harry Potter memory was one of my favorites, though. Sitting outside in the sun and baking on that old couch. We were the first ones in line for that showing on opening day. I didn’t want to be first but Lucas made me get out of the car and run to save our spot. It was embarrassing at the time but after it was pretty cool. There was even some tall guy dressed up as Hagrid who we took a picture with. We were super lame. But it was one of the best days.
“Oakley?”
I slide my notebook under my pillow as Jo opens the door. Her wild hair is pulled into a ponytail and she’s standing in really short shorts and a tank top. If I had a body like hers, I’d wear that too. “Hey,” I say.
She comes in and sits on the edge of my bed. “I just wanted you to know that your mom is picking your dad up at the airport this morning.”
I freeze. “What?”
He really came? Were they working things out? Or did he bring divorce papers for her to sign? Can they get papers that fast?
Jo must see the panic on my face because she pats my hand. “I’m sorry she didn’t tell you. It was very last minute for your dad to come visit. I actually argued with your mom to tell you herself but she didn’t want to wake you this morning. They’ll be back later, I promise.”
“Okay.” I have to hope they can work things out. I have to. Hope is the only thing I have left.
“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” Jo says. She smiles, the creases near her eyes more pronounced than I remember. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something. I just received a call from the Coast Guard saying there’s a sea lion in distress about ten minutes from here. Do you want to come with me to check it out? You can see what I do and get out of the house for a while. Your parents should be here by the time we come home.”
“Sure.” It’s not like I have anything else to do. Carson’s working anyway. “Let me change really quick.”
“Great. Don’t forget sunscreen this time.” She points at my nose. “You’re starting to peel a little.”
Yep, great.
Fifteen minutes later, we’re outside. I’m surprised to see Dillon waiting by Jo’s truck. His face lights up when he sees me.
“How’ve you been? Haven’t seen you for a few days.”
“I’m good.” He smells like coconuts again. “What are you doing here?”
“My dad works with Jo so he makes me help out now and then.” He shrugs.
“Oh.” We climb in Jo’s truck as another one pulls up by ours. Jo sticks her head out the window and talks to the man and before I know it, we’re following him down the street.
I sit next to Jo, who’s talking loudly on her cell, and Dillon plops down next to me. He’s wearing a really tight shirt and I can’t help but check him out. He’s ripped, that’s for sure. A six-pack and everything. Carson has one too but he’s not as tan. And his arms aren’t as . . . shiny.
Dillon sees me looking and smiles, showing off his straight white teeth. He leans close to my ear. “You can keep looking. I don’t mind.”
He’s super full of himself too.
I roll my eyes and look away.
“What?” he asks, laughing.
I’m thankful I don’t have to answer since Jo is slowing the truck down. She pulls onto the beach and drives down to the water. “There she is,” she says.
I look ahead and see a mass of brown lying on the sand with half its body in the water. The sea lion is barely moving and is making an awful noise. There’s a group of people surrounding it but no one goes too close.
Dillon jumps out of the truck with Jo. I stay where I am, my eyes glued to the animal struggling in the water. I watch as a few men jump out of the other truck with big nets and other equipment. The sea lion doesn’t move as they cover it.
I get out of the truck and walk over to where everyone is gathered, curious. I see Jo inject the animal with something in a really long needle, and Dillon strokes its head. But I don’t look at its head for long. I stare at a mass of fat and bone sticking out of three deep gashes in its side. There isn’t really any blood, just tissue and flesh. I shudder to think about what must have happened and what kind of pain the animal is in. It just lies there, its breathing shallow.
“Oakley,” Dillon says. “Why don’t you go back to the truck?”
I don’t answer, just stare. I can’t tear my gaze away from the wound and after a moment, Dillon puts his arm around my shoulder and attempts to turn me around. To shield the animal from my view, I’m sure. “No, I’m okay. I want to see this.” I turn back around, curious as to what they’re going to do with it.
He raises an eyebrow. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.” I keep my distance but watch as Jo and her team go to work. Jo’s obviously done this a million times. She’s amazingly gentle and calm. She talks to the sea lion like it’s a person as they load it into
some kind of stretcher, petting its head and making sure it’s comfortable. My fingers itch to touch it as well. To comfort it somehow.
“Looks like she got hit by a boat,” Dillon says.
I glance at him for a moment. I’d forgotten he was even there. The sea lion makes another awful noise. It tugs at my heart. “What’s going to happen to her?”
Dillon frowns. “She’s in pretty bad shape. From what I’ve seen, and I’m not a vet or anything, but the injury is probably gonna do her in. I doubt she even makes it back to the rescue center.”
“How . . . sad.”
He shrugs. “There are plenty of sea lions around. Sad to see them go like this but that’s the circle of life, I guess.”
I crack a smile. “You’re not gonna start singing The Lion King are you?”
He grins. “You want me to?”
“Not really.”
He chuckles and is quiet for a minute. “So, you and Carson, huh?”
I glance at him, surprised. “What?”
“You’re a thing now?”
I look away. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Oh, come on. I talked to him this morning.” There’s tension in his voice and he looks away, suddenly examining something beyond us.
“We’re friends.”
He laughs. “Friends. Right.”
“You okay, Oakley?”
I look up, grateful to see Jo. Her clothes are soaking wet and she uses her arm to push a clump of hair out of her face. “I’m fine,” I say. “You’re amazing.”
She rolls her eyes. “Not really. And I’m sorry you had to see that. We don’t get a lot of sea lions that are still alive after an accident like this. This one’s a fighter. I don’t think she’s going to make it though. The wound is too severe.”
I nod, feeling my chest tighten. The poor animal. “I’m sorry.”
She shrugs. “It happens. Way too often for my liking though.” She slips her arm through mine. “Let’s get back to the rescue center and you can go do what you want. I feel bad I made you come with me. You shouldn’t have to see this.”
Love, Lucas Page 11