Page 56 of Britta & the Beach Boy
Waves crash on the shore, but the dark hides everything but the sound. In the moonless night, I feel Dex’s eyes on me as he moves closer, sliding his hand around mine.
“I feel the same,” he says quietly. “I want all that someday, but not now when I have to prioritize my career.” Dex pauses, then a breathy laugh escapes.
“What?”
“The fact we’re both focused on what it takes to achieve our goals might actually make a business marriage work. We’re not in love, so that won’t hold us back from what we really want, but being married could keep us from falling in love with other people.”
I’ve seen the fierce competitor Dex is on the waves, but this calculating side of him surprises me. There’s a cynicism to it that doesn’t vibe with his usual optimism, and I wonder if he believes what he’s saying. On the surface, it makes sense. But if I already like Dex, how do I keep from falling in love with him if I marry him?
“You make it sound so easy…” I say, not hiding my sarcasm. “Being married without forming any kind of emotional connection. Wouldn’t the INS—or whoever is in charge of naturalization—have to believe we were married for real? That’s what always happens in my dad’s Hallmark movies. Someone will get deported if they’re caught marrying for citizenship.”
“Hmm. Good point.” Dex thinks for a few seconds. “We already have a connection—Ifelt it the minute we met, anyway—so there’s no putting that genie back in the bottle. But that could work in our favor. Anyone who interviews us would see we’re attracted to each other.”
My heart dances. I’d felt that connection too, but I didn’t know Dex had. I don’t tell him that. And if he feels my pulse quicken, he doesn’t react.
“We’d have to have rules to keep that attraction from growing,” I say, surprising myself, since all this talk is purely theoretical. I’m notmarryingDex. “Lots of them, so we don’t get emotionally attached.”
We both go quiet until Dex mumbles, “Heaps of rules? Like what?”
I say the first thing that comes to mind. “Like no physical intimacy.”
Dex goes quiet, and his steps slow. “None? Not even kissing?”
I shake my head, even though I already regret the words. “Absolutely not. It would confuse things. At least for me.”
“But we’d have to kiss sometimes… for people to believe we were married.” There’s a desperate hopefulness in his voice that doesn’t sound at all, like we’re in a serious contract negotiation.
Which we’re not, because I’mnotmarrying Liam Dexter.
We cross the two-way path toward our apartment building, but before we’re off the path, a dog barks behind me, and someone yells, “Watch out! On your left.”
For the second time tonight, Dex pulls me out of the way of oncoming traffic—this time a large dog running fast enough to pull his skateboarding owner behind him. Dex’s arms tighten around my waist, our bodies pressed so close together I can feel his heartbeat under my hands on his chest.
Our eyes lock, and the air goes still, cocooning us in the sound of crashing waves and our own breath. I wait for him to kiss me, but as he leans close, loud voices come from the apartment building.
He lifts his gaze and loosens his hold on me. The windows are open in his unit and the next shout is definitely from Archie. Dex blinks, and with it, our ridiculous fantasy of being married disappears.
“Sounds like the match has started. We should head up.” He lets go of my hand and picks up his pace, not quite leaving me behind, but not quite letting me catch up, either. As we get closer, I can make out Stella’s voice, too.
“I guess Stella went over without me after all,” I say as we climb the cement stairs.
“I texted Archie to go get her. Wasn’t sure we’d make it back before the match started.”
We reach the landing between our apartments, and in his glance, l catch a flicker of sadness. He blinks and it’s gone as he reaches for his doorknob. “You coming in?”
I want to say yes, but I shake my head. Stella’s already there. She doesn’t need me. By now she’s BFFs with Rhys. I don’t have it in me to put on a happy face and pretend I didn’t just turn down Dex’s marriage proposal. The awkwardness between us would be too noticeable.
“Well, thank you for the dinner.” His voice is more formal than I’ve ever heard it.
I send him an apologetic smile, then step close enough to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Dex. And I’m sorry.”
The next morning, Stella shuffles into the kitchen, looking tired and possibly hung over. I went to bed before she got home, so we didn’t talk. Honestly, I didn’t really feel like talking, anyway. All I could think about was Dex’s proposal, and I’m not sure he’d want anyone to know he asked me—sort of—to marry him.
In case she’s mad, I hand her the coffee I’ve made for myself as a peace offering. She takes a long, loud sip, then sinks into a barstool at the counter. “Mmm. That’s good.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t come over last night.” I set up the French press to make a second cup of coffee.
Stella waves away my comment while she sips from her mug. “Dex said the sushi upset your stomach.”
