Читать книгу Dandelions - Darby Jr. Rae - Страница 5

Gabe, Max and I were on one team. It was the three of us against three kids around 10 or 11, about Gabe’s age. The hardest part of the game was to set shots for Max so he felt like he was playing. We easily won the first game, lost the second on purpose and won the third. I made sure the score wasn’t too lopsided. No reason to crush them. My mother encouraged me to be a polite competitor and not show off.

After volleyball, the three of us spent a while in the water cooling off – my brothers insisted on going back in. Jon was gone for close to two hours. Maybe he needed a break from us, too. When he finally returned, I was relieved to see him. It was tense watching Gabe and Max swim.

“My turn to relax,” I said and shoved my brothers toward Jon. Then I hurried back to our blanket to snag some money from my shorts.

“Anything I need to know?” Jon asked, once he caught up to me.

“The current is strong. Don’t take your eyes off Max. I’m going to see if they have ice cream at the concession stand.”

He nodded.

I dried off, draped my towel over my shoulders and headed straight to the ‘Snack Shack.’ An ice cream would be a melted mess in a few minutes, but it sounded tasty. The girl behind the counter was very slow. She seemed to make mistakes on every order. The long wait was bad enough, but the person behind me stood so close I could hear him breathe. He must have had allergies, because he kept sniffing; although, the noise reminded me more of a curious puppy than someone with a cold or allergies. Maybe my hair smelled like Jon’s cinnamon gum. Welcome to my new home, I thought, where the local people sniff you.

Then it was my turn in line.

My mouth watered as I watched the snack bar girl carefully weave the cone under the soft serve ice cream machine. It was melting as she handed it to me. I took a bite while she counted my change—incorrectly—twice. The third time I took the bills from the counter as she counted them and told her to keep the rest of the change. It took more effort than I care to admit to be polite, but I was. I am always polite.

With my eyes focused on my already dripping chocolate cone, I turned quickly and smashed right into this boy...man...body…behind me, smooshing my ice cream into his chest. Obviously, he hadn't ever heard of personal space. When I looked up, I recognized him as the older, bigger guy who pulled Max out of the water. I softened my hostile sneer. He offered a wide smile and stepped out of line. I followed as if I was magically tethered to him.

“I am so sorry. And you lost your place in line,” I said when really I was thinking, why were you standing so close and maybe you should carry a tissue for your runny nose. Then, as if I was his mother, I took my towel and wiped the chocolate mess off his well-developed tan chest. My face became red and my stomach twisted when I noticed he was enjoying it entirely too much. Why didn’t I just hand him the towel? I took a deep breath. “I didn’t see you there.”

Just as I finished wiping his chest clean, my cone dripped on to his shorts. I reached down instinctively to wipe the new spill when I realized how inappropriate that would be. The blush of embarrassment reached my finger tips.

“Here,” I said barely audible. “You should probably get the rest.” I handed him my towel while my eyes looked at my feet.

“You're doing fine. Go ahead and finish.” I heard the chuckle in his voice, but noticed he was serious and unmannerly. I tossed him my towel. Did I look as awkward as I felt?

“How's your little brother?” he asked, wiping off his shorts.

“He's good. Thanks for pulling him out.” I reached out for my towel, but he pretended not to be done. I wanted to say something but didn’t know what else to say. I wished I was Alex Russo on Wizards of Waverly Place. She always knew what to say, and she was funny. Instead of embarrassing myself by saying something stupid, I kept quiet.

He looked like the others, only bigger. His thick hair was long and shaggy, fitting his rugged face. It wasn’t brown or blonde; it was really both colors. His black Ray-Ban sunglasses blocked the color of his eyes, but I remembered them as being light. He was a full head taller than me, and his body looked like he was older…maybe eighteen. Why was I staring at his body?

“The tide can take you out pretty quickly here. Have you been in far enough to notice?”

“Um…no.”

I thought he would say something else or hand my towel back. He did neither. He just stared and sniffed.

“You're staring...it’s sort of rude,” I said.

“Yes, I am,” he said unapologetically.

I started to walk back to Jon and my brothers – abandoning my towel, collateral damage in the social disaster the conversation had become – but he blocked my path.

“Now you’re being immensely rude.”

“You're new around here, aren't you?”

“Yes, we just moved in,” I answered, moving my cone toward my mouth since I was still struggling with simple conversation.

“Where from?”

Where from? Now there's some grammar to be proud of. My smug thought was rewarded when the melted ice cream from my cone dripped all over the front of my tank top.

“Need some help?” He laughed tossing my towel to me with a bit too much force. The slight impact of the towel knocked my unsteady ice cream from its cone. I stood mortified as it splattered on his foot.

Unbelievable. I apologized and handed my towel back to him.

“Are you flirting with me?”

“No,” I said too quickly. I was too nervous to be flirting. I’m not sure if I was even breathing. Even if I was flirting, he wasn’t supposed to bring it up like that. Was he?

“Then why do you keep showering me with ice cream; seems like flirting to me.”

“I'm not doing it on purpose. Keep the towel,” I said taking a step to move past him. He took another step toward me.

“Don't get me wrong, you can flirt with me as much as you want,” he said and moved closer.

I glanced over to see if Jon was watching. By now my mother would have been. No, by now my mother would have been standing two feet from me with her arms crossed. She’d stare this guy away with her maternal evil eye and then give me the lecture she always did on talking with strangers, especially guys. I could hear her in my head.

“You were something to watch out on that volleyball court. You're pretty athletic, aren't you?”

I opened my mouth to respond but couldn’t process an answer. What should I say? No, I'm not athletic? Thank you, yes, I am athletic? Hey, why don't you go intrude on someone else’s personal space for awhile? Of course, I didn't need to answer because he went on.

“I’m sure I wasn’t the only one on the beach watching you jump around.”

My mouth dropped open. “Are you trying to offend me?”

He let out a roar of laughter then smiled so widely it reached his eyebrows. “I never need to try to offend anyone. It's my gift, part of my charm.”

“Yes...it clearly is your gift.” And, finally, he got the reaction he was looking for. I was laughing.

“Ahh, she does have a sense of humor. You had me worried.”

“I have a great sense of humor. I’m just…” wondering why you want to keep talking to me; clueless on what to say; nervous and not used to talking to guys; a complete social misfit instead of a quick-witted witch like Alex Russo. Yes, that sums it up.

“Come walk with me on the beach? I promise to try not to offend you.” He sounded sincere, but I doubted he’d be successful. He had a flicker of a hopeful smile and reached for my hand.

I stood awkwardly with my hands clasped behind my back, rubbing the top of my right foot on the back of my left calf. I looked like a flamingo. I fumbled for something to say. What would Alex say? Something funny. Say something funny.

“I can only take so much charm in one day.” Not bad. “I think I'm full for today, maybe even tomorrow.” I couldn’t help but giggle at my own joke. I heard him laugh as I walked away.

I headed back toward Jon and my brothers still smiling, feeling a bit more confident. Halfway back, a shadow jumped in front of me, followed by a body. The most unattractive noise escaped my mouth. “Aggghhh-uh.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” It was him again. “Hey, I’m Luke. What’s your name? I forgot to ask.”

I was no longer smiling or confident, and I believe for a moment I wasn’t sure of my name. I couldn’t believe the noise that came out of my mouth. Burping the alphabet would have been more ladylike.

“You’re not going to tell me your name?” He said softly, taking off his sunglasses and exposing his enchanting gray eyes.

The reflection of the sand and the sun made his eyes look like silver magnets, and they drew me in. Inside my head something screamed danger. I glanced at his friends. Yes, the voice confirmed, danger or trouble or both. It made my skin prickle with excitement. I ignored the voice, convinced it was my mother’s paranoia channeling to my brain, and returned my gaze to Luke’s eyes. Now I was the one staring.

“Te—,” I didn’t have enough air to say my one syllable name. “Tess,” I said after taking a breath. Breathe normally, my head told my lungs…you’re acting like an idiot.

He said nothing.

I said nothing.

The silence lasted too long.

“Tess. Change your mind about the walk?” he asked and took a step closer, holding out my towel like a peace offering.

“No,” I answered and backed away slowly, my legs not functioning the way they should. I tried to recover with a smile.

He put his sunglasses back on. “You prefer family time?” He nodded over to my weird family. Jon, Gabe and Max were on their hands and knees with their heads stuck in a giant hole they dug.

“They’re a fun group,” I said as we both watched them fling sand out of the hole. “Hard to pass up family time.” We both laughed. Mine was more out of nervousness.

“If you change your mind about the walk or need a break from fun,” he started.

“I know where to find you,” I finished.

I could hear a hearty chuckle from him as I wrapped my chocolate-spotted towel around my body and walked away. I mentally kicked myself for choosing escape over a few more moments—even awkward moments—talking with Luke. He walked back to his friends. I slowed my pace and concentrated on what they were saying like my father had taught me.

“Hey, Cole. Need some help.”

“What did you do this time?” I had my back to them, but I knew which one was Cole.

“Wild Ginger doesn’t want to be my friend.”

Did he just call me Wild Ginger? Not terribly creative, but for some reason I was pleased he had a nickname for me. I never had a nickname, except from my dad.

“You were only talking to her for five minutes.”

“She didn’t think I was funny.”

“Did you play the hero card? You did help save her brother, after I did all the heavy lifting, that is.”

“I don’t think that would have worked. Talk her into coming to the bonfire tonight. I like her.”