by Pamela Prim
Melinda slowly shook her head at me, a coy smile on her face.
“That's not what I was talking about. Eddie is here.”
“Oh God,” I moaned. “Seriously? I'm not interested in him. The guy is a total idiot.”
“Hey now. You don't even know him that well. Plus, he's interested in you,” She argued, coming up to sit on her knees. “Come on, Juliana, I'm just trying to get you to relax. You study way too much. Oh, and by the way: if you think you're fooling anyone with your duffel bag, you're not. I know that bag's not full of condoms and sun screen. Please tell me you're not going to sit up here all week like a princess in a tower reading books and waiting for a knight to come and save her.”
I laughed again. “Okay, guilty as charged. But don't worry, I'll read the books down by the beach under an umbrella. And if you think Eddie is so cool then you go for it.”
“I've already got my eye on someone else,” She answered, before biting her lip suggestively.
“What? Who?”
“Danny Sweeney,” She responded, saying his name like it was made out of syrup.
I tried not to recoil. Melinda was smart and funny, but she had the shittiest taste ever in boys- it was almost offensive to womankind as a whole, actually. I mean, Danny Sweeney was a tool. Thank God he was staying in the beach house down the street, and not in ours.
“Cool,” I murmured, though, instead. If Melinda was into him there was really nothing I could do about it. I'd offered my opinions to her before when it came to boys, and they'd never been met with welcoming arms.
She bounced off the bed and zoomed past me, the ball of energy that she was. “I'm gonna go see if he's here yet. Wish me luck!”
“Good luck,” I laughed, as she took the stairs two at a time and I followed at a much slower rate.
“Maybe we'll both get laid this week!” She called over her shoulder.
“Maybe.”
I doubted it, though. The only thing I intended laying down with was a beach towel and my Unabridged History of The Middle Ages textbook.
***
I skirted left through the sand, lowered my clasped hands, waiting for impact... when the volleyball collided with my hands I pummeled it back over the net, where Candace dove for it but missed, eating sand instead.
“Woo-hoo!” Jason yelled, clapping me on the back and nearly knocking me over in the process. “You're killing it.”
“Thanks,” I grinned back, feeling pretty proud of myself. I was anything but sporty- unless running for the subway at eight in the morning on a packed platform when you still had a toothbrush in your mouth counted.
I readjusted my weight in the sand as Eddie took the ball to serve. With greased-back black hair and a perpetual arrogant smirk on his face, the guy made my stomach recoil. I couldn't figure out how in the world Melinda thought the guy might be a viable option for me. We went to the same school, but we weren't even friends. More like friends of friends... of friends.
And I wanted it to stay that way.
The ball soared over the net, and Melinda reached for it, but missed. I took the brief pause in the game to re-pin the sides of my short, curly hair back. As I did so, something caught my eye. It was someone moving on the second floor porch of the beach house next to the one Melinda and I were staying in.
I froze, briefly transfixed with the figure. From the distance we were at, I couldn't quite make out his face, but his figure was clearly defined: broad shoulders; tight biceps; blonde hair. The man was leaning against the railing of the deck watching us play.
I suddenly felt extremely self-conscious. How long had he been there for?
“Juliana!” Someone yelled, and I looked forward just in time for the ball to hit me in the forehead.
***
“I don't know, it's just so soul-less,” Sara Edgerton said, leaning back and propping her elbows against the sand. The dark waves crashed behind us and in front of us a large bonfire crackled and popped. After volleyball and dinner, almost everyone who was coming for the trip was there, and so we had all convened on the beach to celebrate with a big bonfire. We'd tried scouring the beach for driftwood, but that romanticized idea hadn't followed through, as we'd only been able to retrieve a few pieces. Instead, a couple of the guys had gone to a nearby gas station to buy as much firewood as they'd been able to haul back.
I'd briefly wondered if building a fire on the beach was even allowed in Cherry Grove, but oh well... so far, so good. No one had showed up to tell us to put it out.
For the last half hour Sara and I had been discussing school and life after it. I had to partially agree with her assessment of the institution being 'soul-less', and I admired the fact that she was going to skip out the next year to go work on a farm in Guatemala.
I kind of wanted to go with her. I only had one year of school left, though, and I'd worked hard to get there. After growing up in Queens in a family that had pretty much always been struggling to get by, NYU was a big deal, and I was never going to forget that.
“I'm gonna get another beer,” Sara said, standing up. “You want anything?”
I shook my head, waving my still half-full bottle. “No thanks. I'm good.”
No sooner had she disappeared than her seat was taken- by Eddie. I stifled the groan that wanted to escape. We'd talked maybe half a dozen times over the last two years, and each time his chosen topics had included three things: parties, parties, and more parties.
“Wassup?” He asked, settling in only a few inches away and not even trying to be discreet about looking me up and down.
I was glad I hadn't worn a bikini- like some of the girls- and had opted for shorts and a tank top instead. I felt exposed enough in front of his leering gaze.
“Sup?” I nodded.
“This should be a mad party.”
“Yeah. We'll see,” I responded, digging my bare feet into the sand in front of me and watching the firelight dance across them.
I let my gaze wander some more, and looked across the bonfire to where Melinda was laughing with Dustin and Jenny Matthews. God, how do I get over there? They looked like they were having so much fun, and there I was: stuck on the other side of the universe suffering through the insufferable.
“I've had my eye on you for a while,” Eddie was saying.
I looked back at him, almost unable to believe he could manage to be so cheesy and sleazy at the same time. Also, the dude was still leering at me, on top of it all.
“Um, okay,” I stated.
“You wanna go for a walk?”
“No, actually I'm good here. Thanks though.”
I took a sip of my still half-full beer, eager to look like I was doing something- even if 'doing something' was chilling out and drinking.
“Why not?”
I gave him the nicest smile I could manage. There was no need to start drama, after all. “It's really nice here. Maybe later.”
“You don't have to be such a prude,” He countered, taking me totally by surprise.
I nearly spit out my beer. “Excuse me?”
“Yeah, a prude. It's when a girl-”
“I know what a prude is,” I snapped.
“Then don't be one.” He reached for my hand, where it was laying in the sand between us. Immediately, I snatched it away.
“You think you're so high and mighty,” He said. “Like you're better than the rest of us.”
“Why? Because I actually show up to class sober?” I'd heard through the grapevine that Eddie had a bad habit of staying up so late drinking that when he attended his morning classes- supposing he went at all- he was still drunk and not even hung-over.
“Bitch,” He snarled, reaching for my hand again. Instead of just pulling it out of the way that time, though, I flung it back and let it land on his face with a heavy smack.
He grabbed my shoulders in response, and by that time I was vaguely aware of the fact that everyone around us was watching. A second later and Dustin was grabbing Eddie and pushing him of
f of me, shoving the guy into the sand.
Nearly everyone was standing up now, whispering and wondering just what was going on. My hands were clenched at my sides and I was shaking with anger. I wanted to claw Eddie's freaking eyes out.
“Are you okay?” Jay was asking me.
I nodded, my vision blurred.
Melinda grabbed my hand then, leading me away from the group and the light, further into the darkness near the waves. I let out a shuddering breath, glad to be away from the ruckus and eager to tell my friend about what had just happened.
“What is wrong with you?” She hissed, though, before I could get a word out.
I made a stuttering noise, not quite able to believe I was hearing what she was saying. “What are you talking about?”
“I mean why can't you just chill out? Why did you have to start drama?”
The entire world spun around me as I absorbed her words. Was she blaming me for what had just transpired?
“Melinda,” I nearly shrieked. “He made a move on me, and then called me a bitch when I didn't reciprocate.”
She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Why couldn't you just humor him? Give him at least a little bit of what he wanted?”
“Excuse me?! Why would I do that? Are you even hearing yourself right now?!”
What was I, a fucking prostitute?
“You're so stuck up,” She muttered, before turning on her heels and stomping away- as much as someone can stomp in sand.
I stood staring after her, tears stinging my eyes. The party was already going back to normal, and I was all forgotten about, it seemed. No one else came over to talk to me- no one even looked in my direction, searching to see where I had gotten to. Miranda stood talking, maybe lying and telling everyone that I was fine- or perhaps she was telling everyone I was 'stuck up' and only worthy of their shunning.
Turning swiftly, I fled, disappearing into the darkness; looking for a way to escape it all.
I walked fiercely along the beach, my heart pounding at the rate of a million miles an hour. I'd made a mistake by coming on this stupid trip, I knew it. I should have stayed in New York for spring break. I should have gone to Fire Island with my friend Destiny and her family. I was fairly certain there could be no similar drama going on at her grandmother's house.
And what if Melinda and Eddie were right? What if I was stuck up? I knew I saw things my own way, and I had a tendency to not yield and go with the flow.
But I knew what I wanted and what I didn't want. How was that such a bad thing?
I wiped the tears away, taking a shuddering breath. A figure was emerging from the darkness: a man was walking towards me along the sand. I was glad it was dark, so that the passer-by wouldn't see that I'd been crying.
As he got nearer, I realized that something about his figure was familiar. The man from earlier in the day, perhaps? The one I'd seen on the porch as we'd played volleyball?
It was him. As we drew closer together, we met at a point not far from the pier and I could see his face dimly illuminated. A warm flush went through my body as I took him in. He was cute- like really, cute. He had on glasses that I hadn't noticed earlier, and was maybe somewhere around thirty.
“Hi,” He said stopping a few feet from me. His voice was deep and smooth. Something about it put me instantly at ease. “Are you staying in the pink house? I think I saw you on the beach today.”
I nodded, pleased to hear that he remembered me. “Yeah. I'm just here for a few days with my friends on spring break.”
“Ah,” He said, but didn't offer anything more. I got the impression that he wanted to continue talking to me, but wasn't quite sure what to say.
“I'm Juliana,” I began, sticking my hand out.
He accepted my offer for a shake, his smooth, firm hand gripping onto mine. A little jolt of electricity went up my arm as soon as our skin touched, and warmth flooded through my body.
“I'm Eric,” He said, smiling in the dim light. “How do you like the beach?”
“It's nice.” I hesitated. “I can't say as much for the trip itself.”
“Why not?”
I knew I was probably about to share too much- after all, I'd only met the guy a minute ago. But I desperately wanted to spill my guts to someone, and I didn't feel like anyone back at the party would understand.
“My friends,” I sighed. “Don't understand why I can't just 'relax', as they put it.”
Eric laughed in response. “Well you are on spring break.”
I bit my lip. “So that means I'm supposed to get drunk and hook up with disgusting guys?” I asked, unable to disguise my anger.
A short silence, then: “Wow. That sounds awful. Sorry, Juliana, but your friends sound like they suck.”
Now it was my turn to laugh. “Yeah, maybe they do...”
I ran my toe in the sand, a cool, frothy wave coming up to nip at it. Now that I had gotten my feelings out, I didn't feel like talking about the issue much anymore. I liked to think I was pretty practical when it came to my emotions: I didn't dwell on drama for any longer than was necessary.
“Do you live here year-round?” I asked, looking back up at him.
“Part of the year, actually. I also live in Charleston, but it's more peaceful here. I find it easier to write by the ocean.”
My ears perked up at his. “What do you write?”
“Fiction. Mostly historical mysteries.”
“I'm a history major.”
“Really?” He asked, the joy evident in his voice.
“Yeah. Next year is my last at NYU.”
My eyes had gradually been adjusting to the darkness as we talked, and now I could see the color of his eyes: they were bright blue, sparkling underneath the black-rimmed glasses.
“What's your favorite period?”
“I like the Renaissance. Ever written any books about that?”
“Unfortunately, no. A lot of what I write takes place during war time. Readers like conflict, you know. People can't live without their drama.”
“Boy, you're telling me,” I muttered. “How do I find your books?”
“I can give you one right now.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “If you want.”
“Yeah, I want!” I said, sounding a little too excited. I cleared my throat and made an effort to subdue myself. “Yeah, let's go.”
He lead the way, pushing up the bank through the sand. We were close to our beach houses: I could see them looming in the darkness ahead and, further away, the flickering of the bonfire. I wondered if any of my friends missed me, but I no longer really cared. I was doing something much better than sitting around on the beach drinking lite beer and shooting the shit. I'd just run into a real-life novelist. Not only that, but a damn fine real-life novelist.
Eric's patio was dark, but as soon as we walked onto it he lit a few candles that were sitting on a plate in the middle of a wooden table.
“Have a seat,” He said. “I'll be right back. You want anything?”
“I'm good, thanks,” I responded, settling into one of the chairs.
He disappeared behind a sliding glass door that lead into the dark house, and I took a moment to gaze back across the beach. I could still see the bonfire, but now it was a comforting site. I didn't even care that Melinda had been such a bitch.
In fact, maybe it had been good. Maybe my friend had just shown her true colors and this could be the first step to building a needed division between us.
I took a deep breath and sighed. It would all work out. Somehow. I wasn't looking forward to going back to the bedroom we were sharing that night, though.
The door slid open again, and Eric was back, a thick paperback clutched in one hand. He laid it on the table in front of me, and I saw that it was a fresh, never-read copy.
“Murder in the Gap, by Eric West,” I read out loud, picking it up to look at the cover: a dark tunnel with a silhouetted figure of a man.
“It's a signed co
py too,” He laughed, giving me a wink. “Although, be warned: my novels aren't serious stuff by any means.”
“I'll cherish it all the same,” I smiled at him. “It's still a real book.”
He shrugged. “I like writing them. They pay the bills.”
“So you come here all alone?” I asked, setting the book back down on the table. “You don't bring your wife or kids?”
I hoped I wasn't being too obvious with my question.