Chapter Nine
Nora
Eli’s acting so weird today, and I wish I knew why. Maybe he just can’t believe I’m here. To be honest, neither can I.
It’s a beautiful day, the sun’s out, and it’s hot. Not blazing hot like in the summer, but just right. Abby’s here, which is good. It’s nice to see a familiar face. The rest of the crew—Veronica, Aimee, Tori, and Madison—after getting over their initial shock of seeing me, act surprisingly decent.
Maybe Eli is right; maybe they don’t hate me.
None of this explains him being so…attentive is the only word I can think of. The only reason I’m here is to wean myself off him, but it almost feels like he’s on to my plan, and determined to thwart it.
That’s ridiculous, of course. He can’t read my mind.
I do notice he’s looking at me in this bikini. Like really looking. Not that it matters. I’ve never been shy around him and I’m not going to start now. Plus, it’s my body. Even though I’m not quite used to how I’m filling out this bikini top, I’m not embarrassed. My boobs—they’re there. I’ve managed to hold only a bit of tan from last summer, and thanks to a long line of pear-shaped genetics, I got a little something going on in the back.
It’s all science anyway. Nothing you can do about it, it is what it is. Might as well embrace it.
Let him look.
Plus, let’s talk about him for a second. His shirt’s off, and the sweat on his muscles is catching the sunlight. His tan never fades and his eyes are bright blue right now, bluer than the water in front of us. He’s a Greek god, come down from Olympus to mess with us mortals. He’s trying to grow out his hair—that’s a lacrosse team thing, the shaggy hair. Only I know that if his gets too long it curls up like a poodle. Right now, it’s perfect. The thick salty air has it sticking up in all directions. It’s so sexy.
All he needs are the glasses and I’d be doomed.
What I should be doing is thinking of the new kid from Texas. Caleb. He’s in my AP Bio class and I have yet to kiss him. He’s totally handsome, tall, light-brown hair. And his body is… Let’s just say, I’ve heard he played hockey where he came from and wow. If that’s a hockey body, warm up the Zamboni and clear the ice. I mean, wow. He’s got these high cheekbones that make him look like a comic book superhero. His lips look utterly kissable. I’ve checked them out. In fact, I should be playing volleyball up there with him.
Except I have zero athletic skills, and the water looks so inviting.
We walk into the surf, side by side, Eli and me. The water is chilly, but the sun is hot and it feels good. The gentle waves break on our ankles, then our knees.
Which reminds me. “How is your knee?” He’s been limping and it seems to be getting worse.
He smiles. “Perfect.”
He forgets how well I know him. I can hear the anxiety in his voice. As much as I don’t get the appeal of lacrosse—or really any organized sport—I know he loves it.
I do wish he’d see the bigger picture, though. Back in the fall, I asked him if he was going to apply to other schools and he took major offense. Why wouldn’t we stick with our plan? I believe is what he said. The memory fills me with dread. How am I going tell him about Emory?
Not that he could get in anywhere else. His grades suck, and his ACT score was middle of the road, but I know he could do better. He’s smart, just lazy. If it’s not pie or lacrosse, he’s pretty much not interested.
The water laps at my bare stomach and makes me squeal. “Oh God, it’s so cold!”
“Don’t be such a wimp!” Eli says, splashing me.
I shiver from head to toe. “Don’t!” I splash back, harder, but he doesn’t care. He dives under the surface and disappears. I’m up to my chest now, and he’s nowhere to be seen, and I’m tossed back in time to another day at the beach. We were maybe eleven, here with his mom, my mom, Gigi, and Ari, who wasn’t even in kindergarten yet.
The water was really choppy that day, and we were fearless. We dove in and out of the waves for hours, rode them all the way in to shore.
Then, all of a sudden, he was gone.
He’d gotten pulled under and didn’t come back up. Even then, I knew about science, about tides, and the ocean and how it worked. I knew about riptides, and how to swim out of them and not drown. Eli had no idea.
Our moms and Gigi came running into the water, all of them screaming his name. Without even thinking, I dove under, my small hands searching for Eli. Truth was, there was no way I was coming up without him.
Finally I found him, or his leg anyway, and I clamped onto him and pulled him to me. It was like I had superhuman strength. His mom got him to shore and he spit out water and I gave him the biggest hug and cried my eyes out.
To this day I’ve never been more scared in my life.
He pops up again and I’m back in the present. He’s right in front of me. Closer than he probably should be. I try to step backward, but the tide is not having it.
He pushes his hair back, and his wet skin glistens. “Where are you?”
I should try to step back again. He’s so close. “What do you mean? I’m right here.”
“Are you? You look really far away.”
My stomach flutters. I’m nervous. I glance toward shore where I should be, with Caleb who I have not kissed. I don’t see him anywhere. I don’t see anything with Eli right in front of me.
“Remember that time you got pulled under?” I ask.
Is he moving closer to me? I can almost feel the warm sun reflecting off him.
He cocks his head and the dimple comes out. I’m wobbly on my legs. “I remember. You saved my life.”
Why is he so close?
“Did I ever thank you for that?”
I don’t know what to do right now except try to act normal. “You totally acted like it was no big deal, like you had it all under control. Then you threw up salt water for two hours.”
Did he just move closer again? Or is it me, moving closer to him?
He laughs, soft but deep, a man’s laugh. A good laugh—kind, not sarcastic or teasing. “In my defense, I was a little shit.”
We’ve moved into deeper water; my toes are barely grazing the sandy bottom now. I lose my footing and start to tread water. He’s not backing away. I know I should back off, except I can’t. There’s something holding me here and it feels good. “You were, sometimes, yes,” I say. “You usually made up for it. Like, I remember when we got home you helped Gigi bake a pie, and you gave it to me. You would have never admitted it to my face, but I knew that was a thank-you.”
“Oh, right. Cranberry apple.” He raises a brow. “You know how hard it is to find cranberries in the summer?” Under the surface, his hands touch mine.
I jerk away. “What are you doing?” I ask, suddenly terrified. This is the opposite of what should be happening.
He laughs again. “Jesus. Relax. I’m trying to keep you from sinking. Just hold on to my shoulders.” He lifts both of my hands to rest just above his clavicles. His skin is warm.
There are parts of my body growing warm, too.
I shouldn’t keep my hands here, I tell myself. I should move them immediately, but there’s nothing I can do to stop this. Those eyes have become tractor beams in a sci-fi movie. I’m caught in them, powerless to escape.
“Where did you find them?” I’m doing everything I can to make this seem normal, even though none of this is normal.
“Find what?” He lifts his hands out of the water and grips my forearms. He’s got to put them somewhere, right?
I swallow hard. “The cranberries?”
“Oh. Gigi knew a guy. Had some in his freezer.”
Yes, let’s talk about Gigi, that should cool me down. “You used to make pies with her all the time. I wish you hadn’t stopped. You could be making us good pie.”
His forehead creases up. “Yeah, it was always fun hanging out with her, then I got busy, I guess. Plus, you know, pie baker doesn’t really fit the image.”
I smirk. “Oh God. What image is that?”
He grins. “You know. Stud. Lacrosse beast. Superfly dude.”
I groan. “Oh no, is that what you’ve been going for?”
A corner of his mouth lifts. “Not pulling it off?”
Unable to stop myself, I lift my hand off his shoulder, poke his dimple lightly, then put my hand right back where it was. “Oh, Eli,” I say. “You can’t fool me. I know who you are.”
His hands move higher upon my arms and a silence floats between us.
His mouth twitches. “Who am I?”
My friend. Friend. Friend.
“Who do you want to be?”
What the hell am I saying?! I must be possessed.
His eyebrows pull together, and I am aware that I’m looking at his mouth. At those full, gorgeous lips. I’m also aware that I want to…kiss them.
But then there’s splashing, and his teammates are tumbling toward us like prehistoric ape-men, shouting and tearing up the smooth surface around us, and the moment is lost.
That’s okay, because the moment needed to be lost.
I let go of Eli as the guys descend. He says nothing when I turn back to shore and leave.
Back on the beach, Abby offers me a water bottle. “Hey, you went in?” She didn’t notice us out there and I’m glad. She chatters on and on about how hot they all look, the lacrosse guys out there. I barely hear her, because my heart is pumping so hard, scared by what just happened, by what almost happened.
My mind races in time with my pulse. I sit cross-legged on the towel and remind myself of my hypothesis. I go over the story of Gigi and Harold. Eli is not mine. Even if I almost kissed him out there.
I can’t do that. Can. Not. No matter how badly I wanted to, that’s not how this theory works.