Ripple (18 page)

He lets go of my hand and steps over the Astroturf, walking to where his ball still sits, a few feet shy of the hole. He plants his feet shoulder width apart and rests his club on the turf for a second as he lines up the shot. “What do you want to major in when you go to college?”

Before I can respond, he taps the ball, and it rolls gracefully toward the hole, dropping in with a quiet clack.

I shrug. “Something with science. I’m not sure exactly. I was afraid to dream big before. You?”

He leans down and fishes our golf balls out of the hole. Then he walks back over to me. “I used to think I wanted to be an engineer. Build great big buildings, create a legacy that had nothing to do with the water.”

He places my golf ball in my hand, and I grip its cool, uneven surface. “And now?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I stopped dreaming a while ago, when I started to wonder if I’d ever succeed in finding you.”

My cheeks warm, and I look away, toward the next hole. It’s romantic that he spent so long looking for me. He’s so sure I’m the only girl he could ever be with.

He nudges my shoulder. “So this homecoming dance . . . When is it?”

“Two and a half weeks,” I say.

“And do you have a dress?”

I think of the plastic-wrapped gown hanging in my closet, then look down at my feet. “Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

I nod and meet his beautiful blue eyes, so much like the pair I see in the mirror. “Yeah. I bought it . . . two years ago. Before my, uh, priorities shifted.”

I’ve never told Erik about Steven. Oh, sure, he knows I’m the one who drowned him. But he doesn’t know I was in love with him. Doesn’t know how much I still mourn his loss. Someday, I’ll tell him everything. Someday, he’ll know what happened. But right now? I don’t want to think of it or speak of him; I want to pretend I’m normal.

He steps forward, wraps his arms around my shoulders, and pulls me into his chest. I rest my cheek against his skin. I feel my troubles sliding away, just as if the water were washing it off me. It’s amazing, to think that he knows my biggest secret, and yet he doesn’t care. Two years, and now I don’t have to hide it.

And that’s when he kisses me for the first time, right there in the middle of the golf course. I don’t move at first. Erik is gentle, slow, barely brushing his lips against mine. Until I lean into him and he laces his fingers behind my neck and pulls me closer, deepening the kiss for just a moment.

And then the loudspeaker in the warehouse clicks on, and the blaring voice is enough to startle me away from him.

“I . . . uh . . . I’m . . .”

I’m what?

He smiles, looks me right in my wide eyes. “I knew it could be good between us.”

I nod. Good is an understatement. That was ... amazing.

“Do you want to see where I live?” he says.

“What?” For some reason, I hadn’t pictured him living anywhere. But of course, he must.

He smiles shyly. “I thought . . . I could show you. If ... when . . . we start spending more time together, you know, to try and break the curse.... Well, I thought it would be nice for you to feel comfortable there.”

The idea of this—of having a life with someone—makes me so happy. “Okay.”

He grins and leans forward again, giving me a quick kiss on the lips.

“Come on. It’s just down the street a ways.”

 

It’s at the beach. That’s all I can think as I stare at it, a quaint little beach shack, so different from Cole and Sienna’s oceanfront homes just a mile or so down the shore. This one looks about a thousand square feet, all adorable clapboard accents and white-trimmed windows. Even though it’s a fraction of the size of Cole’s house or Sienna’s house, it’s far more charming. It’s a home. With a big cedar porch swing suspended on chains and little pots of mums lining the walk to the beach. Round, aggregate steps lead to the sand.

Confused, I look at him, still standing near his car. “You bought a beach house?”

“Rented it.”

“But why? You hate the water.”

“I hate rivers. My curse isn’t like yours. It’s tied to a river, not all bodies of water. And besides, you love the ocean, right?”

It’s weird to think it, but yes. I mean, once the curse is gone . . . there’s no reason to hate it. I think.

I find myself hugging him again, a smile pulling at my lips even though I don’t know why. I just like being around him, not having to hide this side of me. Having someone who
gets it
for the first time. I don’t have secrets like I do with everyone else.

“How did you get this place? You’re only seventeen. . . .”

“My parents arranged it all.”

I look up at him, surprised. For some reason, I haven’t thought much about his family. But he has one, of course.

“Like I said, he’s a nix and she’s a siren. They want this to work as much as I do. You’ll meet them, eventually.”

Oh. I wonder what it’s like to have two parents who know what you are, understand your struggle. I wonder what they’re like. Maybe someday I’ll get to talk to his mother. She knows what it’s like, being a siren.

He slides open the glass door and ushers me inside. It smells fresh, like he’s left the windows open all day and the salty sea air has streamed indoors. He leads me through the living room, past the quaint wicker furniture that I can only assume came with the rental, to a small back room, lit only by a lamp with a stained-glass shade.

When I see the large king-size bed under the window, I stop abruptly and stand in the doorway. “You don’t think—”

“No—of course not. If you ever want to stay over, I can take the couch.” He comes back to me and tilts my head up, so that I’m looking into his eyes. “Eventually, when we’ve broken the curse . . . you’ll sleep.”

“What?”

He nods. “When we’ve fixed this . . . when you don’t have to swim anymore . . . you will sleep.”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “When the curse is gone, you won’t swim, and that means you need to sleep. Just as . . . regular people do.”

I can hardly remember what it’s like to sleep. He leans in to kiss me, and I close my eyes.

I lose myself to the kiss and to the dreams of what will be.

“A
re you sure this isn’t too slutty?” I tug at the denim miniskirt and frown as I look in the mirror. The tiny skirt fails to cover most of my upper thigh.

“Are you kidding me? If you got it, flaunt it.” Sienna purses her lips as she slathers on another layer of cherry gloss.

I roll my eyes. “I’m serious. This is kind of short.”

“I thought you wanted to impress Erik?”

I cross my arms and look up at Sienna’s reflection in the mirror. Behind us is about two dozen discarded outfits, creating a towering mound of denim and cashmere atop her bed. “I do. I guess I’m just nervous.”

“I would be too if I was you
.
” She grins and winks at me. And yet as bright as her expression is, it changes abruptly. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” I twist at the bracelet on my wrist.

“Um, well, what happened with . . .”

“Cole?”

She nods.

I chew on my bottom lip. “We weren’t very good together. I mean I wanted it to work, but it just didn’t. At all.”

She regards me with a raised brow for several long moments. I think she’s going to call me on it. She tips her head to the side and opens her mouth to say something. Then she shrugs. “You do know Erik is the hottest guy at CCH in, well, ever, right? And he is totally into you.”

I blush and scrunch my shoulders. “Seriously? Because I feel like I’m all over the place, a total nervous mess.”

Sienna laughs. “Completely justified. That guy could melt an iceberg, he’s so hot. Which is why you should trust me when I say you should definitely wear that skirt.”

I chew on my lip and look in the mirror again, stare at the nervous expression in my eyes, and then take a sweeping gaze over the skin-baring outfit. “Fine, you convinced me.”

“Good, because the guys are here.”

My heart skips a beat. “What? When?”

“While you were in the bathroom putting that on. Let’s go.”

“But I’m not ready!”

“Yes you are. Trust me. Once he sees your legs, he won’t be looking at anything else.”

I laugh and let her pull me out the door, the buckles on the chunky brown boots she loaned me jangling as she drags me through the house.

Tonight is going to be fun. Really, truly fun. There’s a fall harvest festival in town, right off Port Street. I haven’t been to it in years, because it’s close to the piers and the water. From the top of the Ferris wheel, it has a sweeping view of the ocean. And by the time it gets going in earnest, I’m usually up in the mountains, ensconced in my lake.

Erik and Patrick lounge on the chocolate-leather couch in the living room. Erik has one foot propped up on the opposite knee. He’s got on crisp, deep indigo blue jeans and a navy V-necked sweater. A white T-shirt peeks out from underneath. His hair must have a light layer of gel, because it’s out of his face for once, and it makes his blue eyes seem even brighter.

He stands and his eyes sweep over me for a second, a smile playing at the edges of his lips. “Wow. You look . . .”

I grin and hug him, take in the natural salty scent that clings to his skin. “You look pretty good yourself.”

We follow Sienna and Patrick outside to where Patrick’s old Bronco sits, its flawless coat of red paint gleaming. Patrick could afford a newer car, but I guess he’s like Steven, into the classics. Erik opens the back door for me. I climb in and slide over to give him room. He slams the door shut, and we buckle up as Patrick throws it in reverse. In moments, we’re rolling down the surface streets toward the main drag in town. The Festival always straddles the two parking lots between the grocery store and the post office, at the end of Port Street, not far from the tourist shops.

Patrick parks on a side street behind the little cinder-block post office. He seems to have found the only empty spot within several blocks. Erik squeezes my hand and then climbs out, pulling me with him.

Music floods my ears. Country or something with a fiddle. Not normally my taste, but I can’t help but smile as the twangy voice of a girl blares from the speakers. I want to dance. I want to dance until the festival is over and I’m the last one standing there on the floor.

We follow Patrick and Sienna toward the festival. Flags and streamers are strung back and forth across the space, flapping in the sea breeze. Orange, yellow, and white Christmas lights are wrapped around every light pole.

Sienna, in her high heels, trips on a crack in the sidewalk and knocks into Patrick. He makes a big show of saving her. She giggles as he swoops in and picks her up, carrying her as if she broke an ankle. They pass a large garbage can, and he pretends like he’s going to throw her in. She shrieks, playfully hitting him in the shoulder, until Patrick sets her back down.

The relationship glow reflects off the two of them and onto me and Erik. I grin at him, loving every moment of this. He smiles back at me, genuine happiness in his eyes as he leans down and brushes his lips against mine. I have to fight the urge to close my eyes. It’s still a little strange to me that I can be myself around him—that he knows what I am and doesn’t care. He’s as much of a drug to me as the water is.

We pass through the festival’s main entry and are assaulted by the smells: fried onions, cotton candy, freshly squeezed lemonade, grilled corn on the cob. Tufts of smoke fill the air from the barbecues, and occasional shrill ringing bursts from the games. A small roller coaster clackety-clacks up the incline. The band grows louder.

“What do you want to do first?” Sienna asks, spinning around and walking backward. Patrick holds on to her elbows to keep her from falling over on the uneven ground.

“Ferris wheel,” I say.

“Done.” She spins around again and skips off toward the Ferris wheel perched at the edge of the lot, the corner closest to the marina and the piers.

It’s a warm night for Autumn, with a sky so cloudless I could spend all night counting the stars. A gentle briny breeze floats across the place, mingling with the scent of fried fair food and caramel apples.

The Ferris wheel is small, the sort that two people sit side by side in. Sienna and Patrick climb into the first car, with Erik and me behind them in the next one. The car rises slowly, pausing momentarily a few times to let other riders on.

The car above us starts to swing back and forth, and then Patrick’s voice calls out, “If the ride is a rockin’, don’t come a knockin’!”

I roll my eyes as I hear Sienna chide him, but the car swings for a while longer before finally stilling. We rise higher, until we’ve surpassed the roller coaster and the stage. The landscape opens up around us. Erik slides an arm behind me and pulls me up against him. I lean into his chest and watch as we rise high enough to see the ocean spread out below us. It sparkles under the twinkling stars, eventually disappearing into the mist.

Our car stops at the tip-top, so that Sienna and Patrick aren’t in view anymore, and it’s just Erik and me, like we’re the only souls on earth. The faint sounds of the band still trickle up to us, but it’s a ballad now, a sweet violin solo as our only company in the darkness.

My hunger for the ocean grows, as I stare down at it.

“You want to swim, huh?”

I nod.

“If it gets unbearable, tell me. We’ll go.”

I nod, grateful he understands, and turn to look him in the eyes. I tip my head back, and Erik leans over me enough so that we can kiss again. This time his tongue traces my lips until I part them. And then we’re kissing like that, more heated, deeper than before. Unlike the kisses with Cole, this one doesn’t end too soon.

I’m so lost in the moment, I nearly jump out of my seat when someone clears their throat. I look up to see the attendant standing there, the next riders behind him.