Sunlight pierces my eyes when I stir awake. I turn away from the window and blink a few times until they adjust. Hazy waves of wooziness swim in my head, but it’s the thumping pain behind my eyes that prevents me from attempting to sit up. I weigh a thousand pounds yet, somehow, manage to roll onto my stomach and bury my face down into my pillow with an agonizing groan. The lingering taste of beer on my breath is nauseating, causing my stomach to gurgle as I curl into myself.
I reach over to my nightstand to grab my cell phone but only find a half empty bottle of Gatorade.
Remembrance strikes suddenly out of nowhere. “Oh my god.”
Kason was here last night.
I turn on my back and stare up as the room spins around me. Pressing my palms against my eyes, I think back to last night but can only vaguely remember bits and pieces. Trent served me my first drink ever, but one drink turned into several, and that’s where I lose track of the night. I can recall being in my car but not driving, and the more I dig to replay the night, the more memory starts serving me mortification on a silver platter.
“Oh no.”
I want to die right here, right now, when I recall what I said to him in the car. How hot he was and how I wanted to kiss him.
Did we kiss?
No, I would certainly remember if that happened.
My eyes pop open.
Holy crap! I threw up in front of him!
“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my g-o-d,” I wail in utter humiliation, pulling the covers over my head, only to be reminded of my rancid beer breath.
Tossing the sheets off me, I drag myself to the bathroom and brush my teeth. My clothes from last night are crumpled on the floor, and when I pick up my top, I see the puke dribble all over it. I drop the clothes, plop down on the seat of the toilet, and beg the good Lord above to tell me I’m still dreaming and that this didn’t really happen. This seriously cannot be happening!
My cell phone rings from beneath the pile of clothes, and when I retrieve it, I see Micah’s name.
“How’re you feeling, Guppy? You drank like a real fish last night,” he teases when I answer the call.
“I want to die.”
“You that hungover?”
I stand and head right back to bed. “I threw up in front of Kason last night.”
His laughter barrels through the phone, and I have to pull it away from my ear before my head explodes. “Yeah, you were pretty gone when you guys left.”
“Well, I doubt he will ever talk to me again. From what I can remember, I acted like an idiot, and I’m scared to know what I can’t remember.”
“So, what’s going on with the two of you anyway?” he asks on a more serious note.
“I have no idea.” I sling my arm across my face. “I mean, I like him, but it’s just . . . I don’t know. He’s so hard to read.”
“Did anything happen last night?”
“I can’t remember anything past the point of throwing up, but based on that alone, I would venture to say no. I don’t even know how I got into my bed . . . Oh, god!”
How did my clothes get on the floor?
“What?”
“I’m in my pajamas.”
“So?”
“I can’t remember taking my clothes off.” I panic as thoughts of Kason changing me out of my puke-covered outfit play in my head. “Did he say anything to you?”
“He came back late to pick up his car, but he didn’t say anything. Only that he got you home safe. I didn’t even know you got sick.”
“How is this happening?” I fret.
“We’ve all been there, including Kase. Dude, that guy got so trashed once he stood at the side of my pool and took a piss in it.”
“Are you serious?” I giggle. “Gross!”
“You don’t need to feel embarrassed. We all do stupid shit.”
“Well, I’m still praying that somehow he suffers a lapse in memory from last night, but in the meantime, I’m going to go back to bed.”
“Call me later.”
Tossing the phone, I roll over, drink the remaining Gatorade, and fall back asleep. By the time I wake again, the sun has peaked in the sky and my queasiness has subsided, although my headache still throbs.
I move slowly through the motions as I take a shower, throw my clothes from last night into the wash, and swallow some Tylenol with a bottle’s worth of water and another Gatorade. It’s after two in the afternoon when I step outside to find the sun has done an impressive job baking my stomach’s expulsion into the concrete.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter to myself as I take in the mess.
I drop my sunglasses over my eyes, walk to the side of the house to grab the hose, and start washing away last night’s disgrace.
If only it were that easy.
When Kason’s work truck appears, I know this must be a punishment for doing something horribly wrong in a past life. He pulls into my driveway as I’m hosing my puke into the shrubs.
“You’re alive,” he jokes, shutting the truck door, and I release my grip on the sprayer.
I don’t say anything in response as I stand in misery, looking like roadkill with bedhead. He hands me a bottle of Ginger Ale. “I thought this would serve you well.”
“Thanks.”
He follows me over to the steps at the front of the house. We sit in the shade, and I take a sip of the soda as I muster a shred of bravery before saying, “I’m really sorry about last night.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“Well, apparently, I do,” I say dreadfully, motioning my hand over to where the hose lies in a puddle of water.
“I would’ve thought you’d be more embarrassed about your singing than your puking.”
“I don’t know what to be more embarrassed about when I can’t even remember half of the night.”
He turns his head to me with an intent look in his eyes. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
I shake my head as I try to think. “I don’t know. Everything kind of goes fuzzy after that,” I tell him, eyeing the driveway. “But then I woke up and saw my clothes in the bathroom, and . . .” My head falls into my hands, and I close my eyes because I’m freaking out on the inside. “You didn’t—”
“No. I waited in your room while you took a shower and got changed. The door was shut the entire time.”
I lift my head with a dramatic sigh of relief.
“So, you don’t remember getting cleaned up or going to bed?”
I shake my head. “All I remember is being obnoxious, getting sick, and then waking up feeling like death resurrected.”
He rests his elbows on his knees as he looks out over the front yard. There is a strange expression on his face, and if I have to guess, I would say he looks upset. For some odd reason, it makes me feel guilty, so I apologize again, saying, “I shouldn’t have drank like that. I feel pretty stupid.”
“You weren’t as bad as what you’re thinking. You were quite amusing for the most part.”
I take another sip of Ginger Ale before he stands and offers a hand to help me up as well. “I gotta get back to work. I had a couple of houses here in the neighborhood, so I figured I’d stop by and check in on you.”
I give him an appreciative smile, and his is weak in return.
I watch him as he pulls out of the driveway, and when he’s gone, I finish with the hose, making sure the evidence from last night is gone so my mom doesn’t see anything. When I head back inside, I can’t stop worrying about what Kason must’ve been thinking when he was here. I go back and replay the evening while I reheat leftover pizza in the microwave, but I hit the same dead end that I hit this morning.
The only thing I do know for sure is that I want to see him again despite him being witness to my antics last night. So, with not much left of my pride to lose, I take my pizza to the bar top and find his number on my cell. For the first time, I finally get the guts to text him.
Me: You free at all this weekend?
I stare at my phone, waiting to see if he will text me back. When the screen dims, I take a bite of my pizza and think about this epic disaster of a spring break. It goes down as my worse one yet.
Kason: I get off work at 4:00 tomorrow. Why?
My hands clam up when I type my response.
Me: I was wondering if the offer to go hang out at the pier still stood . . .
Kason: I’ll pick you up at 6.
By the time I finally decide on an outfit, half of my closet is strewn all over my bed.
I walk into my bathroom and step onto the edge of the bathtub in order to get a full-length view of myself. I fiddle with one of the thin straps on my flowy blue top that crisscrosses in the back before tugging at the hem of my denim shorts and then jumping down from the tub. With a light dusting of powder on my face and a little lip gloss, I tie my hair back and tell myself to stop overthinking everything. For all I know, in his eyes, this could simply be two friends hanging out—nothing more.
But what if it is something more?
My mom is standing in my doorway when I walk back into the bedroom.
“You look nice.”
“I didn’t know you were back in town.”
“Sorry I didn’t call. Sarasota was draining, and I can barely think straight,” she says. “But enough about me, I love that top you’re wearing.”
“Does it look like I’m trying too hard?”
“You paired it with shorts and flip-flops; it looks like you’re hardly trying at all, sweetheart.”
“But it isn’t bad, is it?”
“What has you so nervous?”
She steps into the room with a curious grin, and I tell her, “Kason is taking me to the pier.”
“He finally asked you out on a date?”
“Not exactly.” I walk over and sit on the side of the bed. “He asked me to hang out at the pier with him when I got back home the other day, but I told him I couldn’t. So, I texted him yesterday to see if he still wanted to go. Now here I am, waiting for him to come pick me up, and I have no idea what this even is.”
“I miss being young.”
“Mom. Focus.”
“Sorry.” She sits at my side and rests her hand on my knee. “Just play it casually and see what happens. Or, you can come right out and tell him how you feel.”
“No way! Mortifying much. What if I tell him and he doesn’t feel the same way?”
“And what if he does feel the same way?” she counters. “I’m no expert when it comes to guys, but one thing I’ve learned through the years is that they are just as scared to admit their feelings as we are.”
“Still. I’m not about to be the one who says it first.” My spine stiffens when the doorbell chimes. “That’s him.” I hop off the bed and turn toward my mom. “You sure I look okay?”
“You look very pretty.”
She trails behind me as I head downstairs, and when I open the door, he’s the same as any other day, looking perfectly hot in a pair of cargo shorts and T-shirt. His sleeves fit snug around his muscular arms, and the sight makes me want to melt in a gooey pile of mush. I realize that I’ve forgotten to speak when I hear my mom greet, “Nice to see you again, Kason.”
“You too, Ma’a—I mean, Cheryl.”
She then turns to me, saying, “I’m going to call it an early night, so I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”
I give her a quick hug. “Love you.”
“Have fun,” she says when we leave.
He opens the car door for me, and I slip in. “Fair warning, the AC is out.”
I toss him a smile as I reach over, grab the lever, and roll down the window. “Problem solved.”
And this time, when he returns my smile, it feels genuine.
He hops in, his window already down, and fires up the engine. When he pulls out of the driveway, I reach over and turn up the stereo.
“You’re not going to sing again, are you?”
“Oh, come on. I’m not that bad.”
“I need you to trust me when I say you are,” he teases.
With the warm wind against my face, he drives, and I have to bite my lip to keep from smiling every time I glance over at him. He makes my stomach flutter, and it isn’t only because I’m crushing on his looks. It’s the mystery that’s behind them that I’ve yet to discover. I don’t know anything about him, yet I’m still drawn to him. There’s an excitement that comes when he gives me more of himself and more of his time—like right now. He’s giving me this evening with him, time we don’t have to share with Micah or Trent—it’s just the two of us—and it’s electrifying.
I don’t know. Maybe I’m being silly, but I can’t help the way I feel when it comes to him.
Clearwater Beach is packed. Street performers dance, skateboard, eat fire, and juggle chainsaws. There are also dozens of local vendors lining the pier, selling their handmade crafts. A reggae fusion band plays a cover of an old 311 song in the distance while people bask in the setting sun and others enjoy cocktails from the many open bars.
I take in my surroundings, feeling like this is more of a vacation spot than a home, but that’s what this is. This is my new home, and I’ve never felt so far from Texas as I do tonight . . . here at this beach . . . with Kason.
He takes me to the end of Pier 60, where I lean over the edge and watch the old man next to me reeling in a fish he just caught. For a split second, I think back to all the times my dad took me fishing as a little girl, but I don’t linger on them, because the elderly man removes the hook and holds the fish out to me.
“Set him free, beautiful.”
Kason watches as I take the fish and drop it back into the water. I look at him from over my shoulder, and he jokes, “He would’ve tasted good on the grill.”
“You’re heartless.”
He sidles up next to me, and as we lean our elbows against the railing, I watch the pelicans glide with their wings spread over the top of the water.
“This is amazing. Is it always like this here?”
“Every night at sunset.”
“You come often?”
“Not really,” he says. “But I figured you’d enjoy it. It’s mostly kooks.”
“Kooks?”
“Tourists.” He pushes back off the railing. “Follow me.”
We head back up the dock and over to the sand. Kicking off our flip-flops, we sink our feet across the soft white powder toward the water.
“Where are we going?”
He points north. “Up there where there aren’t so many people.”
As we walk, he tells me about coming here as a kid and learning how to skimboard. I listen closely, eager to know more about him. Soon enough, the people thin out as the music fades away behind us, and he finds us a spot to sit.
I bury my feet into the sand while we watch the glowing pink sun hover above the edge of the water.
“I still can’t get over how pretty it is here. I grew up around red dirt lakes that had God only knows what swimming in them.”
“Do you miss it?”
I take a moment before explaining, “I miss what it used to be. Now, everything is so different back home. My dad does a bang-up job of making me feel unwanted. I used to do everything with him, but I don’t have that anymore. He’s given it to his new family.”
He looks at me in a way he hasn’t before, and when he speaks, his words cause my belly to tighten. “I’m sorry you’re having to go through all of this.”
I take a hard swallow, my eyes locked to his, waiting. For what? I don’t really know, but the moment is broken when a soft applause sounds from somewhere behind us.
“The sun is gone,” he says, turning back to the water.
I lower myself to the sand and gaze into the sky, which is growing darker by the minute. “This is my favorite part.”
He looks over at me with curiosity.
“Lie down,” I request.
He reclines back and shifts around until he gets comfortable. “What are we looking at?”
“Nothing right now. But soon, you’ll be able to see the stars. They’ll appear out of nowhere.”
We lie still, not talking, only the beating of my erratic heart clamoring inside my chest reminding me to breathe. His knuckles are touching mine, and I wish he would hold my hand, lace his fingers between my fingers, press his palm against my palm.
As the sky dims, I grow restless, worrying that the butterflies inside me will soon lose their wings because they’re flapping them so fiercely.
The waves roll in and out, and I close my eyes, begging for the sound to lull the winged creatures to sleep, because I don’t know how much longer I can pretend to ignore them. When my eyes open, the first star appears. Rolling my head to the side, I find Kason watching me, and no longer can I hold on to the silence when I whisper nervously, “Say something.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing with you.”
“What do you want to do?”
He reaches over and touches his hand to my cheek, and he’s so close it makes the simplest thing like breathing hard to do. I lean into his touch, and he rests his head against mine. My skin absorbs the heat from his, and never have I wanted anyone’s lips on mine as badly as I want his. The ache is nearly unbearable. It radiates from the inside out, and the moment I breathe his name is the moment his lips touch mine.
My eyes fall shut, and my heart no longer beats as the whole world paralyzes. He kisses me so slowly it borders on torture, but the most blissful kind there is, and I swear I’m the only person on this planet who has ever experienced this feeling.
I shift in the sand to my side and press my hand on his chest hesitantly. I’m too nervous to do much more until he gathers me closer, and then I begin to move my lips with his. Seconds falter, throwing the metronome of time off beat, and before I know it, his mouth abandons mine, but he keeps me tucked in his arms.
“Tell me you want this,” he murmurs, his breath feathering along my skin, and I nod, finally opening my eyes. “You make me nervous because I can never figure out what you’re thinking.”
There’s uncertainty etched on his face, and it reminds me of what my mother told me earlier. So, I take the comfort he’s offering me by holding me so tightly, swallow a little strength, and confess, “I feel like I could easily fall for you.”
“Do you want to?”
“Yes,” I breathe, and he kisses me again, fading all the layers of fear and timidity that have been keeping us from finally being able to be honest with each other.
In no rush to end this moment that’s been building between us for the past month, we lie in the sand with the waves crashing at our feet. We kiss each other under the stars that cascade their reflections against the water, and I’ve never felt more alive than I do right now. I could stay here in this moment forever and never tire. So, that’s what we do, we kiss and hug and stare up into the sky until we’re the only ones left out here. When he pulls me to my feet, he takes my hand in his, palm to palm, and we walk back down the beach to his car, stealing kisses all along the way.