Page 48 of Follow Me Down

Titus parks the motorcycle in a public lot just steps from the beach and waits for me to climb off before doing so himself. My legs feel numb from sitting for so long, so I work on stretching them out after handing Titus my helmet.

He sets the helmets next to the bike, throwing me a questioning look when he catches sight of what I’m doing.

“Sorry.” I smile. “That was a long ride.”

“We could have taken the truck.”

“Oh no, I love the bike. I’m just a little numb is all.” I straighten back up.

“So tell me...” He turns out toward the beach, snagging my hand as he does. “Do you have an adversity to swimming in the ocean too?”

“Yes and no,” I admit, turning my face up to look at him. “I will swim in the ocean, but I refuse to go out past my waist.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I don’t want to be eaten by a shark.”

Titus’ laughter bubbles to the surface, his head dropping back as his shoulders shake.

“I’m glad you find me amusing.” I knock my hip into him.

“I have never met someone so terrified of being eaten by things in the water.” His voice shakes with humor.

“It’s not like it doesn’t happen.”

“True. But you do realize how rarely it actually does, right?”

“Doesn’t matter. It could happen.”

“A plane could also fall from the sky and kill us where we stand. Is that going to stop you from standing here?”

“That’s different.”

“How so?”

“Because I can’t prevent a plane from falling from the sky. I can, however, prevent a shark from chomping one of my legs off by avoiding situations that make that possible.”

“You’re something else, you know that?” Titus smiles, his eyes crinkling at the sides as he does.

“I’m going to pretend you don’t mean that as an insult.”

“Never.” Another rumble of laughter ripples through him.

“Um, so how exactly are we supposed to swim when we have nothing with us?”

“Who said we need anything? You have your bathing suit on, yes?”

“Yes,” I confirm.

“Then what else do you need?”

“I don’t know. A towel. Maybe some sunscreen. Something to drink. Just to name a few things.”

“There’s a little shack down the way.” He points to the right. “We can get all that there. Does that satisfy you, princess?”

“Don’t call me a princess,” I playfully warn.

“If the crown fits.” He squeezes my hand before tugging me away from the motorcycle.

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