Chapter 8

My eyes cut between the notebook that sat beside me on my bed to the laptop on my lap and back again. Since arriving on Lanai, I hadn’t written one word like I had planned. Yes, I’d been distracted the past few days, but regardless I just wasn’t feeling it. I wasn’t a writer, so of course it would be difficult to jump into becoming an author without some bumps in the road. I couldn’t blame how much Zara had been on my mind because it wasn’t like I had produced any words the first few days before meeting her. The pressure of finding that first perfect sentence, even that first perfect word, clogged any other thoughts from getting through like a bottleneck on a six-lane highway.

I had to remember my goal for this story was to help other families with the struggles that came from their child or sibling being classified at such an early age by the educational system. It affected the whole family. It affected the child. We’d never know if Logan’s experience had changed his development. We’d never know if every time a teacher singled him out or a classmate called him “retarded” it had slowly killed his spirit, little by little. By the time my parents moved him to a special education school, we’d never know if the damage to his confidence could have been avoided if it had just been addressed sooner.

My parents couldn’t be blamed. I couldn’t begin to fathom what they went through every time they looked at me versus Logan. How different would he have been if that cord hadn’t wrapped around his neck while I was arriving into the world? What were they feeling with every accolade I was given versus every criticism he received? Every time I’d won another trophy for a sport that came so easily, I’d never understood how badly they hurt for Logan, who didn’t have the same opportunity.

How could I convey all that emotion on a piece of paper? The actor in me argued it wasn’t possible. The looks on their faces, the way my own heart squeezed in my chest as I consoled him on the playground, needed to be shown.

Maybe a novel wasn’t the way to go. I’d read and memorized enough scripts to understand how they flowed. Maybe a screenplay would make more sense.

Instantly, the revelation uncorked the bottleneck in my mind and the opening scene sprang into my thoughts and flowed onto the blank screen of my laptop.

The scraping of paws against the steel mesh of my screen door brought me out of the scene I vividly pictured in my mind. There was Spike looking like a little Hawaiian jumping bean…complete with black bow tie adorned with pineapples.

“Hey, dude.” I opened the screen and scooped him up. “What are you doing here?”

He explained in his language, and I stared at him, assuming what he said was that he missed me. I walked out onto my porch, looking first up and then down the beach.

Zara came jogging over, leash in hand, shaking her head with annoyance written all over her face.

“You busted out again, huh?” I asked him before she reached us.

“Yip.”

My gaze bounced between her stunning face and her gorgeous legs as they swallowed up the distance.

“Missed me?”

She smirked while rolling her eyes. “This is becoming a problem. I literally removed his leash for one minute, thinking he wanted to take a swim, only to watch him take off like a rocket.”

“I don’t see the problem. You’re here, he’s here, and I’m here. Sounds like a party.”

A smile tugged on the corners of her lips. “I think you drugged him. He never behaved this way until you showed up.”

I laughed at her theory. “He’s the one who showed up here. I think he’s rebelling over something. His prissy name, perhaps?” I lifted Spike until we were nose to nose. “Or, he’s a romantic and is trying to make a love connection, right, dude?”

“Yip. Yip.”

“See?”

I decided to have a little fun with her and carried him into the bungalow.

“Hallow? Where are you going with my dog?”

Ignoring her, I filled a bowl of water for him and retrieved a package of peanut butter crackers. “Our dog. Possession is nine-tenths of the law.” She stood at the door, refusing to come in. “If you’re going to stay out there it’ll be hard to get him. We can always draft up a visitation schedule for you.”

“You aren’t taking Marshmallow.”

“Exactly. I’m adopting Spike.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Sure I can. Haven’t you heard of emancipation?”

Through the fine mesh I watched, amused, as she placed her hands on her hips and scoffed, “He needs to be sixteen for that—and human. Nice try.”

I pursed my lips, contemplating her words. “You’re right. So, then we’ll just go for joint custody until he can decide for himself in a court of law.” After he drank the water, I sat on the couch to feed him his snack. “You may as well come in and have a seat. It doesn’t look like he’s ready to leave yet.”

“How would you know? You’re holding him hostage in your arms.”

“Another good point.” I placed him down and we watched as he dashed around my living room, disappearing into the bedroom before barreling back out, jumping onto the couch, and back into my arms.

“Yep, looks like he’s staying. Are you coming in?” At her hesitation, I added, “I won’t bite. I promise. I have enough crackers for you, too.”

Spike was completely oblivious to his owner’s frustrations as he munched enthusiastically. The guy was as happy as a pig in shit being with me, and if I could’ve cracked open a beer for the both of us to toast him with a thank-you, I would have.

Her eyes drilled through mine as she huffed sarcastically. Yet in spite of her impatience, she walked through the door and sat her fine ass down at the table and chairs across from me. A slow smile spread over my lips assuming victory.

“I’m not staying long,” she explained. “So you can just stop smiling.”

“We’ll see.”

Her eyes scanned the bungalow, avoiding mine in the most obvious way. It was clear she was uncomfortable being there, which made me want to tease her even more.

“Nice luau.”

“Yes.”

“Your parents are nice.”

“They are.” She nodded but still wouldn’t look at me. I could only assume she didn’t trust herself once she did. Who could blame her? I was irresistible, as proven by a small white Maltese.

“So you don’t want them to know I’m your boyfriend yet?” Finally, her gaze landed on me. Before she could argue, I added, “That’s cool. We can announce we’re dating in a few days when Spike and I come visit you.”

And that finally got me the stunning dimpled smile I craved. I returned a smile of my own, not bothering to hide my ogling every inch of her beautiful body. My eyes drifted down the smooth tanned skin of her neck before it disappeared beneath the ocean-blue color of her top and then landed on those gorgeous fucking legs as she swung one impatiently. Today she wore a pale-pink polish on her toes, and I wondered if she’d painted them for me.

Spike licked the last crumb from my fingers and climbed off my lap. “It’s about time, Marshmallow. We have to go.”

His response? He repeatedly circled one of the couch cushions, shimmied up into the corner, put his face on his paws, and fell asleep. This dog was hilarious. I was convinced he was part human, and knew the art of avoiding cock-blocking a buddy.

“Seriously?” she asked him.

He seemed dead serious, especially when a low snore announced that he was.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“No, thank you.”

“Eat? I do have other food besides peanut butter crackers. Fruit? Cheese? My lips?” She thinned her lips in an attempt to hide her smile. “Is that a no?”

“That is a no.”

Abandoning the food and drink, I walked to the table and sat across from her. “Can I make a confession?”

“Besides that you’re trying to use my dog to get to me?”

“Okay, so you’re on to me. But in my defense, just like you he really likes me.”

“Who said I like you?”

“It’s a hunch. In fact, I’ll go as far as saying I’m sure you’ve been thinking about me since the day we met.” She had ample opportunity to deny my claim, but she didn’t. No feisty retort, no denial came. The more she stared at me, the more I realized I’d hit the nail right on the head. With our eyes connected I purposely waited a very long minute before continuing. “Am I right?”

“Maybe.”

“I’ll take maybe.” Upon her admission, I watched her body language change. She unfolded her arms and pressed her palms to the tabletop. Her shoulders relaxed, and her eyes went from determined to shy. “So, are you ready to hear my confession now?”

“I’m not sure,” she said truthfully before amending to a firm “Yes.”

“Well, just like you,” I stressed for the second time, “I definitely can’t stop thinking about you, either. But I’m so torn. There’s eight years between us.”

“That doesn’t matter. My parents are ten years apart,” she was quick to respond.

Internally, I was thrilled to hear her dismiss my concern.

“Okay, so you like me and I like you. What should we do about it? Because to be honest, watching you from a distance last night, pretending I didn’t know you, trying to forget how soft those lips are, how you smell like passion fruit, and how your skin is so warm to the touch was really, really hard. I’m not that good of an actor.”

That wasn’t far from the truth. Normally, I could hide my thoughts and emotions without issue, yet since meeting her I’d felt like I forgot how to master my art.

“Is that why you left without saying goodbye?”

“You noticed?” She shrugged, but said nothing else. “I guess I didn’t want to cause problems for you.”

“I’m sorry I ignored you. I wasn’t ready for my father to know yet. I did come clean to my sister, though.”

“You did?” I asked incredulously.

“Yeah. She’s my best friend.”

“Did you tell anyone else? Girlfriends?” I teased.

“I’m closest to my sister. My friends from school and I don’t have that kind of relationship. I’m an extremely private person and never really allowed anyone in.”

My gut instantly twisted at her comment. Extremely private, opposite what my life was in every way. How was I to tell her I couldn’t get a cup of coffee in LA without a string of photographers following me down the street? Yet, selfishly, I couldn’t walk away, because the more I got to know her the more I wanted to. This entire situation was a fucked-up double-edged sword.

I schooled my features, hiding my unease as best I could.

“But I tell Annia everything,” Zara continued, oblivious to my internal angst. “Even how you’re trying to steal my dog.”

“The blame lies with him. He found me.” I swung the conversation back to that little tidbit she’d slipped into our conversation. “What did your sister say?”

“Well, because of my big mouth she now wants to meet you. But I said no.”

“No? Why, no?”

“What would be the point?” She shrugged matter-of-factly.

What could I say to that? She was right. What was the point? I was wrong in assuming she was naïve. With that simple statement, she had me wondering which of the two of us would end up hurt when it came time for me to leave. My money was on me.

Okay, so…I was screwed.

Sitting there while staring at her made me feel like I was the starstruck fan. Stuck in a beauty-induced coma with a mind running blank while desperately trying to think of something to say was not what I was used to. I suddenly felt bad for all those poor people desperately wanting to meet me, whom I didn’t acknowledge with even a smile or a wave. Because if the tables were turned and she was the famous one, now, after having met her, I’d have been crushed if she were to pass me over without a backward glance.