Fatty Patty: A Romantic Short Story (San Juan Island Stories #1) (4 page)

His smile disjointed. As though the words took
a moment to hit him, and his mouth heard them first, flattened in
one corner, while his eyes narrowed to probe her meaning. He looked
behind her. Hearing the words, re-hearing the words. The smile that
he finally flashed at her settled firmly into the trench of
denial.

No matter how much she changed, he didn't want
someone like her to pine over someone like him.
Ugh
, his
face said.
What are you talking about, Patty?

It hurt as much as his words on that last day.
Her eyes burned. She wanted to shriek at him. Didn't he see that
she was finally beautiful? This was her final revenge. Telling him
how she had felt, then showing off her new thin self and saying
Too bad you missed your chance. Buh-bye now
.

He didn't want to believe her. She was thin but
he preferred graceful athletes. She had changed, but not enough for
it to mean anything to him.

Pepper was not going to cry.

She strode to the garbage/recycling and
appropriately disposed of her utensils. The trip was one-way to
Friday Harbor for her. Not for him. Those who had no family on the
island would take the last state ferry back to the mainland because
the summer season had filled all the guest houses. Even finding a
place to camp risked huge fines and worse, public
embarrassment.

Julian still sat, staring out over the water.
Older, perhaps, but just the same.

It wasn't fair how powerfully she felt for him.
These feelings were supposed to fade with absence, not return twice
as strong.

She walked to the fore where the wind hit her
fullest on the face, and took a long, deep breath. Regardless of
whether she was graceful, she loved herself now, and no rejection
or embarrassment could ever take away that knowledge.
Je
comprends que je m'aime
. She had melted away the inessential
parts and found her own true center.

Julian slid next to her against the
rail.

Her heart ached at his nearness. His presence
filled her with a distant sort of longing, one that she had thought
telling him of would finally make go away, but instead, like
hearing the sound of the Pacific, only made her more nostalgic for
it. She gripped the rail and deliberately studied the passing
boats, bobbing like so many white pieces of debris. "What are you
doing here?"

He followed her gaze with the easy familiarity
of a dive instructor who spent much of his time on boats like this.
"I go where the current takes me."

"Well, then, go back to your graceful, athletic
girlfriends."

He snorted, then sighed. "I told you, she's
just a client."

"She's your responsibility."

The tendons on the backs of his hands rose as
he scratched his nose. His nose, in profile, was hooked. In high
school, his hair had always covered the upper half of his face. Now
his hair dropped to the powerful plane between his shoulder blades
and only the barest curly wisps pulled from the thick black band at
the base of his neck.

Her fingers itched to touch it.

The ache intensified.

"She's not going to get lost," he said.
"There's nowhere else to go."

"She's all alone."

"Coming along was her idea. I don't owe her
anything."

She twisted away. "You
would
think
that."

His mouth opened. Then closed. And opened
again. "I…to you…"

Whatever he was about to say, she didn't want
to hear it.

His lips tightened and he turned around,
resting his back and elbows against the railing. "Last year I
finally got my GED."

She twisted to face him. "Your grades weren't
that bad."

He didn't look up from the deck, even as his
tone lightened. "You had Ivy League plans. I was lazy and stupid.
But then, sometimes…" He flicked up to her. "I thought you might
see something else in my future. Something that interested you.
More than the geniuses surrounding your family."

"Anyone can study. If you get a degree, nobody
cares about a GED. And you don't need one anyway. You're fearless
and beautiful and—I mean, you don't need it to work at a surf
shop." Curse him.

His lips curved—stopped—curved again, harder,
as though he was remembering something about her that amused him.
Something that he loved. Something that finally allowed him to let
go of fear. "You disapproved of everything I did."

"You slept in class. You littered."

He grinned more broadly. "I would have
single-handedly saved the whales if I thought that would impress
you."

His cruel warmth twisted her heart. "You were
never interested in me."

"I wanted to be smart." His cheek bones stood
in sharp relief, his blue eyes deepened into the rays of green, his
lips drew a more perfect casual smile. So lovable. So himself.
"Can't you forgive a stupid kid like me?"

She licked her lips. "I never thought you were
stupid."

"You thought I was irresponsible—"

"I loved everything about you." She rocked onto
the tall heels, mirroring his height, and back down. "Even the
littering, over-sleeping parts."

His eyes darkened. He shifted closer, his arm
touching hers, and heat flared from that connection. "You should
have told me."

She strangled the guard rail. "I was
fat."

"I don't care about that."

"You cared at the awards ceremony."

"You friend-zoned me." He closed his eyes,
shook his head. "And anyway, I didn't actually call you
fat."

"You called me by
that name
."

His mouth twisted with bitterness. "Everyone
called you that name. But you only got angry at me. Even five years
later, you're still only angry at me."

"Obviously it's because I still love
you."

He blinked.

Her heart contracted. "I mean—the memory I had
for you—because we spent the most time together—not because it
meant—we were just always together—"

He narrowed his eyes and turned back to the
deck.

As friends
. The words died. She raised
her head. Not so heavy now on her thin shoulders. "Because I spent
the most time completely and totally in love with you, and I still
am. So that's why I'm mad. Sorry."

He jerked up to her. "Sorry?"

She didn't blush. She was stronger than that
now. The clarity inside matched the clarity of her skin.
Translucent, like sun filtering down to warm her dark, essential
core.

His fingers played under hers. "Sorry,
huh."

Flickers of desire curled in her
belly.

He teased her fingers up, peeling them back
like a determined limpet. "Why, I wonder."

"I wonder," she echoed, as the fire from his
touch danced up her arm, breathing deep into the dormant embers of
her heart.

He lifted her hand from the rail, touched the
fingers to his lips, slid himself into the space, and curled her
fingers back over the rail along his other side so that she was
caging him, pressing herself, willingly, against the hard body that
was his. "You should've said so a long time ago."

She licked her lips. "You should've done this a
long time ago."

He started to grin, melted a little into
tenderness, grinned again. "I should have." He brushed his lips to
the beating pulse at her jaw, branding fire where she had dabbed a
hint of Calvin Klein Obsession; and her cheek, sweet hot feathering
desire; and the smooth plain of her forehead, stamping her with his
touch; and the tip of her nose, playfully; and then he took a deep,
everything breath that sucked in her love and her agonizing desire
and her soul, and he touched her lips.

The firm wetness of his mouth filled her with
everything she had ever denied. She let go of the railing and let
herself touch his board-tightened body.

The remaking of herself was complete. In his
arms, she was finally, truly, deeply whole.

After they reached the shore, at the edge of
the gangplank, Mia found them. She seemed completely unsurprised
that they were together, and followed them up the long dock in
Friday Harbor. "Are you catching the last ferry? Julian, you don't
have a place to stay."

Julian waived to his client as she left with
her fiancé. His dad had passed away last year. He had nowhere else
to go on the island.

"Julian?"

The last state ferry rested in the docks,
engines idling. Tourists passed by with Lopez Island Creamery lemon
raspberry ice cream cones, steaming white bags of fish and chips,
and fragrant brownie squares made with culinary lavender. The trio
reached the crowded traffic circle and came to a standstill, and
still he didn't answer Mia.

Someone behind them called Mia's name and she
left her Burberry shoulder bag with them. Obviously certain that
Pepper and Julian wouldn't go anywhere without her. Because why
would they? They hadn't spoken in five years and surely weren't
that good of friends.

Pepper's hand, where Julian had unpeeled it
from the railing, still carried his scent. She cupped her hands
before her mouth, as if to hide the secret of him to herself just a
little bit longer. "What are you going to do now?"

Gazing away from her, he waved to passing
classmates. Then he showed her that wonderful lazy smile. "I go
where the current takes me."

"Does the current want to take you to my
parents' house?" She heard the echo of that long-ago pleading day.
Tremulous.

He stepped closer. His eyes darkened, deep blue
and tender green. "You don't mind introducing a stupid, lazy surfer
to your brain trust?"

She had so misjudged him. They were both
scarred by the taunts of the past. Both made fragile, and strong to
hide it, and secretly growing to heal. "You're not
stupid."

He snorted. "Even your friends are smart. How
can an average man compare?"

Mia marched towards them, a frown on her face
from the way they stood too close. "Julian, you can stay with me
tonight. There's an extra room at the house I'm staying
at."

Pepper grasped Julian's hand.

His head bobbed, surprised.

"He has a place to stay," Pepper
said.

Mia stopped. Her frown deepened. "No, he
doesn't."

His fingers curled around Pepper's.

"His place is with me." She tugged him forward.
Because she was braver, thinner, more successful. More certain of
herself. More true.

They passed Mia, her mouth hanging open, and
all of the others. Allison did a double-take and nearly walked off
the dock.

Julian's voice dropped low. Just for her. "I've
waited five years for this invitation."

"There won't be cake now, probably." Her hand
slicked and began to slide from his palm. "My dad turned diabetic
and they've got a raw foods intern."

"I don't need cake." Julian threaded his
fingers through hers and walked with her, under the pergola, into
the town of her past that was the town of her future and the town
of everything. "I only need you."

Thank You

Thanks so much for reading! You are the reason
I've written this story. I love that I could share my characters
with you!

This is the first in a series of stories set
around a San Juan Island High School five-year reunion. Visit my
website at
wendylynnclark.com
to read
the latest news.

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Acknowledgements

This story would not have been possible without
the wonderful support of my friends and family, my award-winning
editor
Christina (Berry)
Tarabochia
, and my dedicated copyeditor Aaron Joslin.
You rock. Thanks for being a part of my life!