Page 15 of Dopplebanger

“I don’t”—Shit, Evan did like that crap—“like only metal.”

“Fine.” She skipped the song and a thumping bassline filled the air. It was less electronica and more pop with an obligatory rap solo thrown in, but equally horrible.

I shot her another you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look, but she bounced in her seat and bobbed her head, and suddenly I could see the allure. Don’t get me wrong, I’d rather turn down the music and watch her dance without the ear-assault, but if it was between cringing while I watched her dance or silence?

She sang along, and she had a hell of a voice. There was swinging of hair and other hypnotizing things were bouncing and then I was shifting in my seat.

No contest, the dancing won.

EIGHT

At first I was opposed to the idea of taking off Evan’s hoodie because it was dang cozy, not to mention smelled like the scrumptious new cologne he’d been wearing the past two days. But at the moment, it was the cool breeze coming off the water that had me clutching it tighter.

“It’s seventy-two degrees,” Evan said, plenty of mocking in his voice as he spread his arms wide, like he wanted to soak in the cool ocean air. The tall grass swayed around the knees of his jeans, the blue sky making a perfect backdrop to bring out his eyes and accentuate his hotness. “How can you be cold?”

“I’m more of an eighty and above girl. But look, I totally unzipped to account for the weather.” Full disclosure: I was considering re-zipping.

Evan wrapped his arm around my shoulders as we neared the lighthouse, and happiness buoyed me up, leaving me light and floaty. Four hours in the car without seeing any sights, and this was already the best road trip ever.

When Evan asked about why I’d moved to North Carolina, a pinch of disappointment went through me. Not just because opening up that can of worms meant talking about my douchehole ex, but also because I’d told him before that I’dmoved here with my boyfriend for college. I hadn’t gone into all the nitty gritty, I-want-to-bleach-my-eyeballs details, but I’d mentioned it.

Admittedly, I shouldn’t be surprised. A lot of times I got caught up in talking, and I wasn’t always sure how well he was listening. Distraction constantly got the best of him, but everything was so different now. When I talked, he looked at me so intently, and he seemed to be listening just as intently. It was unnerving and amazing at the time.

“What?” he asked, and I realized I was staring at him like a lovestruck fool. Accurate, but I should probably play it at least a little cool.

Or not. Why bother when it was so fun to put more of myself out there? Especially when he’d been so amazing about my earlier confession. “I’m just having a really good time with you.”

He curled me closer, adding another layer of warmth that traveled right down to my core. “Right back at you.”

We paused at the plaque with all the facts about the lighthouse. Most of the information I’d read before. About the year it was erected—1802 was the original, but the current tower was 1870—and how they’d moved it in 1999.

“How’d they move an entire lighthouse?” Evan asked.

“Very carefully,” I answered, and then received a look that a smartass answer like that deserved. “Come on. We’ve got two-hundred and fifty-seven steps. I’ll tell you about it on the way up.”

“I think I’d rather know it’s steadybeforewe get halfway up there.”

“Halfway? Now you’re underestimating how fast I can talk. By halfway you’ll be able to compose a research paper from all my spewed facts.” I tugged on his hand and he finally relented and followed me into the tall brick structure with a barbershop swirl, only in black instead of red.

The spiral staircase inside was narrow enough that going side by side wasn’t an option.

My thighs began burning from the exertion as I climbed, and so did my lungs, reminding me that I wasn’t in as good a shape as I would prefer. But then I remembered that being in shape for this would mean those hellish stair-climbers at the gym and things like running, and that was a lot of training. Put in that perspective, suffering ten to fifteen minutes as opposed to daily grind sessions seemed like the better option.

Since I’d now gone longer than usual without talking, I started in on the fun facts. “This stretch of shore is home to more than six-hundred shipwrecks. The rough waves and unpredictable currents shift the sandbars around the Hatteras Islands, and one of those old-timey sea captains who’d sailed all around the globe claimed you should do yourself a favor and avoid it completely.”

“Oh, now you tell me,” Evan said, and I laughed.

“Were you planning on boating past here in the near future?”

“Well, not anymore.”

I told him the few other facts I knew, about how lightning once struck the lighthouse and formed cracks in the masonry, and how they’d moved it to avoid the encroaching sea.

Slightly breathless—okay, significantly breathless—I stepped out onto the deck, and what little oxygen I had left caught in my throat at the amazing view.

Green trees morphed into marshy areas that dotted the coast, and the Atlantic stretched out forever, meeting the pale-blue skyline in the distance.

The wind blew harder up here, and I tipped my face to the sun and let the breeze have its way with my hair.

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