Page 13 of Hearts Adrift
“What? What do you mean you—” She lets out a groan and squirms all over the place, the plastic wrapper of her granola bar crinkling loudly. Her exasperation is always so over-the-top. “I’ve waited all afternoon, Finn! Even waited for you to returnfrom your workout, which youinsistedon doing before talking to me, and I let you go because I’m sonice. Then you didn’t text me when you left. I have beendyinghere.” She comes right up to my side. “Hewasan actor, though, right? A big-name actor?”
“I don’t do Hollywood stuff. Couldn’t even name two Brad Pitt movies if you put a gun to my head. Except that casino one.”
She presses the end of her granola bar to my head. “No one survives Tyler Durden’s madness to be remembered for only Ocean’s Eleven—and Pitt was inthreeOceans.” She lowers the bar. “Was he hot? Tell me that at least. On a scale of garden gnome to Hemsworth …”
“Hemsworth,” I answer bitterly, eyes on the bungalow.
“Chris, Liam, or Luke? Ugh, never mind, you wouldn’t know the difference anyway. What was your impression of him? Was he down-to-earth Hollywood, high-maintenance Hollywood, tree-hugging Hollywood …?”
“All of them, probably,” I mutter.
The way he bore down upon me. His so-called “actor’s intensity”. Saying he had no real friends. Expressing being lonely. How he took command without a trace of authority in his voice.
And how I went from some psycho stalker fan to his greatest gift in half a second. Gazing deeply into my eyes like he just found some fabled pirate’s treasure.
Maybe that’s just part of his game, and I shouldn’t be so quick to assume he plays for my team. He could be one of those actors with the unsettling talent of diving into anyone’s head. Straight actors play gay roles. Just because he fell into my eyes like Alice into Wonderland doesn’t mean he’s ready to invite me to his tea party.
In a place like Dreamwood Isle, you can’t be sure of anything. The amount of straight married men who escape here for a secret weekend away is staggering. Just another unexpectedbusiness trip where they take off more than their suit and tie—they take off their hetero identity, their wife and kids, their ring, and be who they truly are. I see it every weekend.
I wonder if that’s why River is here: to escape what the world has decided he is.
I’ve been tempted all afternoon to look him up.
I wonder what keeps stopping me.
Maybe the same thing that’s bothered me since leaving the bungalow—the same thing that chased me with every stride on the treadmill, with every lift and clang of weights, pulling my mind right back to him again and again.
“Wait, did something happen with him?”
I turn to find Brooke staring at me with the granola bar half hanging out of her mouth, anticipating my answer.
“I … never said that.”
“Finn!” she squeals, pressing up closer to me. Brooke has never understood personal space. “There’s something you’re not telling me! Y’know, I had a feeling he might be gay. Why else would he come to Dreamwood?”
“That doesn’t mean something happened.”
“Don’t make me tickle it out of you …”
“If you touch me, I’m pouring this protein shake over your head.”
“You’d never waste a drop of your protein, so I know that’s a lie. Tell me! Did he hit on you?”
I grip my protein shake tighter.
The truth is, I owe this guy nothing. I’m not even sure I like him.
But he gave me his name. Well, the first part of it.
Why do I feel protective of him suddenly?
“The key broke in the lock.”
Brooke’s face wrinkles up in confusion. “What? How? I just used it this morning!”
“So he broke in through the back to let himself in.”
“That’s crazy!” The thought flies through her mind like lightning. “Wait. That means you have to go back. To fix the lock and give him another key.”
