Page 2 of Oyster

“You might be, sweetheart, but you’re making me nervous. The tide’s on its way in. What’s your name?”

A violent shudder rippled through her, pebbling the pale bare skin of her forearms,

“Éti.”

“Well, Éti, I’m Nico. Nice to meet you. And happy or not, you are not allowed to freeze to death or drown on my beach. Too much paperwork involved.”

Placing one arm around her narrow shoulders and tucking my other hand under a sodden armpit, I hauled her to standing, the water now washing over my knees. Not fighting me, she swayed, then staggered sideways before collecting her balance. As she sagged against me, I slipped my arm from her shoulders to a firmer grip around her waist.

“Off we go, sweetheart. That’s right. One foot in front of the other.”

While we headed higher up the beach, I concentrated on where I placed my feet. Some heroic rescuer I’d be, tripping on the submerged slippery boulders and knocking myself out.

“Gonna be sick,” she croaked as we reached the shore.

Oh, joy.

I ducked behind her out of the firing line, and just in the nick of time. A torrent of yellow liquid pebble-dashed the wet sand at our feet, accompanied by a heaving groan. As my empty belly turned over, I gave a thick swallow, determined to keep my eyes trained on the dark fall of hair at the back of her neck. Another lavish deposit followed, then another, the muscles at her trim waist cramping violently under my fingers. Nope, stilldidn’t need a girlfriend. Super happy on my own. This encounter was living proof, and as I often reminded my friend Florian (always trying to hook me up with a special someone), my life wasn’t destined to be romantic. Realistic was enough to keep me satisfied.

A couple of minutes passed. We were over the worst. “Better out than in,” I offered in the way of conversation.

“That’s alotof sick.” She sounded glumly impressed.

Straightening, she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth before trying a couple big gulps of air, retching on the second.

“Take your time. It’s okay.”

My arm hovered at her waist. Once more, she bent forwards, hands on her knees, catching her breath. She cleared her throat and spat a few times, cursing. I waited, then peered over her shoulder.

“Do you think you’re done?”

The tide had caught up with us; freezing water swirled at our feet. Hers were bare, long, and slim. And an unhealthy shade of blue. Since the puking stopped, her whole body vibrated with cold.

“Yeah,” she slurred. “As a m… matter of f… fact,Nico, I think I am.”

“In which case, you’d better stick this on.”

My jacket engulfed her angular frame. A fisherman’s stinky oilskin and a pretty white sundress. Quite the fashion statement. We stepped away from the patch of vomit and the encroaching tide. Or rather, I stepped. The woman lurched. Putain, how much had she drunk? Plastered across her bowed face, a strip of wet hair obscured her vision. More clumps whipped around her head as her shaking hands fumbled with the zip.

“All fingers and thumbs,” she mumbled. “Ten fingers and thumbs, no… eight fingers and two thumbs. I think I’m going to need to grow some more. Ones that work better.”

Giggling, she wiggled her painted nails at me. “Ça alors! How much fun I could have with an extra set of hands. You’re very handsome, Nico, by the way.”

I laughed. She couldn’t focus on putting one foot in front of the other, let alone check out my face. “I bet you say that to all your rescuers.”

“Nope, I’m very dis…discer…I know what I like. I’m very fussy, Nico. A fussy, fussy girl. And my fussy, fussy mind has decided it doesn’t like this zip. It’s very fussy too.”

Under different circumstances, maybe over a drink in a quiet corner of the warm bar at L’Escale, I’d probably enjoy an evening in the company of this lively woman. Just the one evening, mind. I rarely stretched to two, no matter how scintillating my companion.

“And this coat stinks of dead fish. Beurk.”

I laughed again at the childish sound of disgust accompanying her brutal honesty. “Yes, it does. But at the moment your need is greater than mine. Let me fix it.”

As I knitted the two ends together and drew the zip higher up her body, she turned her head aside in a deliberate move to shield her face. Embarrassed, I should think. A pale trembling hand shoved a curtain of hair back across her cheek.

“We need to get you indoors. Do you live nearby?”

“Up there.Somewhere.”

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