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Day 28 - Tack
I opened the flap to my tent to find Juliet sitting on the shore facing out toward the sea. For days, I’d been to her tree house, pacing under the landing like a lovesick Romeo, silently sending out pleas for her to drop the ladder and let me up. Maybe that chick with the long hair was a better analogy. Juliet seemed to lock herself in a tower and was refusing to see me.
Sitting on the white sand outside my tent seemed strangely unnatural as if she didn’t belong here with me. I shook my head. The thought made no sense. I walked to where she sat and plopped down next to her. My feet stretched forward and my hands fell back, giving me the casual appearance of a man at the beach. I stared out at the water, waiting for her to speak.
And I was ready to come out of my skin because it had been four days since I’d seen her. Her silence unnerved me. Taking a side glance, I noticed she looked tired. Deep purple bags hung under her eyes. Her knees were brought upward, but her arms casually wrapped around her shins.
“You have a better view than me.” It wasn’t what I expected her to say, and I chuckled.
“Yeah, well, that’s all that Daddy could get me.”
She huffed. “Must be nice to have a dad who cares.”
“Oh, don’t mistake his insistence for concern for my comfort.” The sarcasm dripped from my lips, but I didn’t want to discuss my father with her.
She nodded, slightly rocking her body with the dip of her head. “You have a tent like a prince on safari,” she teased with a touch of bitterness.
“You’re the one with the condo tree house,” I mocked, allowing the sudden irritation to take over my relief at seeing her on my beach.
“That’s what you get when you have no one.” This brought me up short and I looked directly at her—the curve of her nose, the sleek lines of her neck, and the slope of her shoulders.
“What do you mean no one?”
“What does no one typically mean?” she bit, rolling her neck to face me. Her eyes looked hollow, the irises too bright. I scooped my hand through the fine grains of sand to prevent me from touching her and looked away.
“That sucks,” I muttered. As much as I hated my father and his intrusion into my life, I had to admit he’d been there for me. He provided me with a home. He paid for my education. We had food on our table. I didn’t want for anything. I hadn’t wanted until recently.
“I miss cookies,” she said, startling me as if she could read my thoughts. I turned to look at her, observing once again the elegant curve of her neck, the angle of her shoulder, and the length of her fingers.
“I miss bourbon.” The comment made me swallow. How I longed for the burn to take away the awkwardness between us. My eyes roamed her body.
“What are you wearing?” It occurred to me that she wasn’t dressed like someone in confinement but like a girl lost in the woods. Cut off khaki shorts and a bright red tank top were not the adventurous outfit I expected. She looked like a pin-up wannabe with her perky breasts peeking out the top curve of her tank and long legs leaning out the short hem of her shorts. I swallowed at images of her I shouldn’t have. “Why don’t you have a bunch of safari shit or something?”
“Because I’m not on a safari. Or a vacation.” She looked me up and down, taking note of my plaid colored board shorts. “And I don’t have money for new clothes.”
The thought stopped me. If she didn’t have money for clothes, how was she paying for the necessities of this program? I’d been forced to pay my own way, even though this was a sanctioned punishment. I parted with my NCR Leggera 1200 street bike to cover expenses for this island.
“You’re too skinny,” I blurted.
“Is that supposed to insult me?” Her eyes flared, and the violet color of her eyes steamed to a deep purple.
“No, no, I just mean…do you have food? Is someone bringing you food?” I didn’t know why I was stumbling through my words, but I wanted to know if she had enough to eat.
“I’m good,” she muttered, letting her hands fall from her legs and digging her fingers in the sand like me.
“You look tired,” I added.
“Wow, you’re full of compliments today. Is that how you get the girls? Oh, right, I know how you get girls.”
My eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I snapped, swiping a hand through my unruly hair.
Ignoring my temper shift, she spoke. “I can’t sleep at night. Each time I close my eyes I imagine I hear another snake.” She shivered next to me, and I wanted to wrap my arm around her shoulder and pull her close to me. She looked at me again, those purple eyes gleaming.
“You’re turning into a bit of a grizzly,” she said, deflecting the subject and biting the corner of her lip. I couldn’t tell if she was trying to insult me in return.
“I can’t see myself to shave.”
She grinned. It was measured and tentative, but her lips curled and her face brightened just a little bit. She was pretty in a natural way, but I imagined she’d be beautiful if she fully smiled.
“What are you smiling about, Mouse?”
The fire died in her eyes, and she turned away from me.
“You think I’m weak, don’t you?” She brushed her hands on the sides of her shorts then returned her palms to the sand to press upward. My hand shot out, encircling her too-thin wrist and stopping her movement to stand. Her skin was warm, burning under my palm. I didn’t want her to go. Speaking with her had been the most conversation I’d had in weeks. Just the presence of another person was bringing me comfort, and I didn’t want her to leave me on a negative note.
“Stay.”
She gasped.
“You said you aren’t sleeping. Stay here. I can…I can watch over you.”
Her eyes opened wider, the violet color draining to a muted lavender.
“I mean, I can sleep outside the tent. I won’t touch you.” I released her wrist and held my hands up in surrender. She’d been crouched toward me with the force of my tugging on her wrist, but she straightened to stand.
“I can’t stay here,” she whispered, her voice catching as she spoke. Shaky fingers brushed loose hair behind her ear.
“Then why did you come here today?” I snapped, standing myself to face her. I stood a head taller than her tiny frame.
“I don’t know,” she growled, shaking her head as she looked off toward the bay again. The air hummed around us, the tension between us building. The animal in me wanted to hitch her over my shoulder and take her back to my tent. I wanted to force her to sleep. She looked dead on her feet, and I didn’t like the fact she was unprotected, even fifteen feet in the air. Her face lifted toward me, and her eyes narrowed.
“I’m going back to my corner of the island.” She crossed her arms, holding herself together like she’d done after the snake attack.
“Fine,” I snarled.
“Fine,” she said, brushing past me and disappearing once again into the thick brush.