Page 18 of Promise Me Nothing
It’s nearly eight o’clock, but the promenade doesn’t look to be slowing down any time soon. I guess that isn’t surprising, being a Friday night in a beach city. Looking around, I try to find a place I can go to sit for a minute. And when I spot an open bench about a hundred yards down the Pier, I head in that direction.
Maybe a moment watching the waves will soothe me.
But just as I’m sitting down, someone else steps over to sit as well.
“Oh, I’m sorry, you can sit here,” I say, internally kicking myself for always deferring to others.
Especially when I get a look at the guy.
Because, holy fucking wow.
For a split second, all I can feel is my own heartbeat and the cadence of my irregular breathing as a flush stretches from somewhere low and rushes up across my chest and onto my neck and cheeks.
There’s this poem I read in high school. I forget who it was written by. Someone famous. Someone forgettable, at least in my eyes. I’ve never been a big poetry buff.
But I remember this one because it detailed the physical reaction of attraction as if it were a color highlighting different parts of the body. A neon rainbow that travelled from eyes to cheeks to neck, down the chest and lower.
It was one of those things where everyone in class giggled the whole time, including me –especially me.
But I remember thinking how embarrassing it would be, to have a physical reaction that spread around like a rash, highlighting how a person feels without their permission.
Exactly the way I feel when our eyes connect.
Like everything I’m feeling and thinking about him is scrolling across my forehead for everyone to see. I know I’m turning bright red and starting to sweat, so I barely hear his response, instead only registering his nod and choice to sit next to me on the bench.
Of course, I leave my brother at a table and escape to a bench to think and sort through things in my mind alone, and the only thing I can focus on is the guy next to me.
I peek over at him and find him looking out at the water. Yanking my eyes away, I do the same, taking quiet, slow breaths to calm myself down a bit.
“You never forget how it smells, you know?”
My whole body tenses when I realize he’s probably talking to me. I chance a glance in his direction again, and this time, he’s looking at me.
He’s talking to me. I need to say something back. What did he ask me? Oh, right. The smell.
I shake my head. “I wouldn’t know. Today is the first day I’ve ever seen the ocean.”
He smiles, a slow sexy thing that transforms his face into something so charming and slightly devilish. I can tell almost instantly that he’s one of those men who gets away with a lot because of that smile. It’s mischievous, like he knows a secret and he just might be willing to share it with me if I play my cards right.
Perfect for me. I suck at games.
“I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who hasn’t seen the ocean before,” he says.
I shrug. “Well, consider me the first.”
Returning my eyes out to the stretch of sea, which is finally resting in darkness now that the sun has well and truly set, I try and think of something to say. But I can’t. My mind is blank. Empty.
Normally, my mind is full of thoughts and words and opinions. I just never have the nerve to vocalize them. But right now? It’s just white noise.
Luckily, my seat friend fills the void.
“You’re not from around here, then.”
I shake my head and laugh, trying to even visualize what it would be like to be from here. My skin would be a lot more tan, that’s for sure. “Definitely not. I’m just visiting family.” Then I muster the courage to look at him again. “You? Are you from here?”
The stranger gives me that smile again. “Yeah. I am.”
“Well, it’s beautiful. And you’re right about the smell. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget it.”
