Sideswiped, page 5
“Throw me a freaking bone already.” I take a deep breath. Can’t lose my cool; he wants me to get angry so it’s easier to push me away.
His right hand opens and closes in an even beat. A clue he’s not quite the emotionless badass he might like to front.
I trace my tongue along the back of my teeth. A plan glimmers, one with definite legs. Sure, my plot requires a little stolen creativity and some serious bravery—at least for me—but it’s all I got.
“Let’s get out of here.” My voice comes out calm, deceptively authoritative, even as my stomach churns.
A muscle tics on his temple. “And go…?”
“It’s a surprise. Get dressed and wait by the car. I’ll pack and be out in ten.”
“I don’t want to play—”
“I’m not the enemy.” It takes everything I have not to break his gaze.
The glow in his green eyes intensifies. “I know.”
“Good. See you in a few minutes.”
Chapter Six
Bran
I fidget against the side of my Kingswood. The streetlight is glaring, shielding most of the stars. Talia is taking forever. What’s her mysterious plan? A long walk? Some big heart-to-heart? I’m not in the mood. I stalk around the car, seconds from calling the game off, when she opens the front door and pauses—silhouetted by the hall light—dressed in my favorite black hoodie.
Hold up—why is she wearing my backpack?
“Where are your boards?” She steps onto the veranda and flips her hair.
I’m shocked into silence. She wants to surf? Now? Out of all the possible options she could have suggested, she lands on the most unexpected.
“Check it.” She points to the sky. “There’s a full moon—or close enough.”
A rope tightens deep in my guts, a tug-of-war between pure love and self-defense. This girl gets me in a way that’s scary, finds uncanny means to expose things I’d rather keep hidden. I bound onto the footpath and lean against the gate. “Come on, Captain. Let’s go back inside. Get some sleep.”
She skips down the steps. “No way. I don’t know what’s up but I refuse to sit around watching you build the Great Wall of China.”
“You’re cold.” I lean forward and tug the hoodie cord. She’s got a gray wool beanie pulled low over her forehead.
“I’m fine.” She taps the backpack. “I bought a new wet suit—a fancy 4/3 job that’s sealed and taped. Plus boots and gloves. I’ll be snug as a bug in a rug, or in this case—neoprene. I grabbed your wet suit, too, and towels—don’t know where you stash the boards.”
The breeze ruffles my hair. The wind’s a light northerly and there is a reasonable south swell on. Talia’s right—the moon is almost full.
I rub the back of my neck, considering. “We could drive over to South Arm, takes about thirty minutes. Clifton’s a good bet—there’s a decent beach break with consistent surf.”
“What are we waiting for?”
Is this real enthusiasm or bravado?
“How much did you surf this summer?”
“Maybe once a week, more than ever before.” She lays her head on my shoulder.
I’m tempted. Night surfs are addictive, facing the nothingness, senses on high alert. But with Talia’s skill level—she’s better than she admits but isn’t much past a beginner—I don’t want to get her into the wrong situation for the wrong reasons.
“I’m a little nervous but all good.” How does she do that—read my brain? Or maybe I’m putting out less than encouraging subliminal messages.
She’s trying to be brave for me and so I need to return the favor. “Fine, we’ll give it a go. The boards are in the backyard. I’ll grab them.”
An hour later I’m zipping the back of Talia’s wet suit at the edge of the tide line. Moonlight glimmers on the black water. The waves line up perfectly, peeling clean. I breathe deep, savoring the air’s briny tang and the musty smell of decomposing kelp. My awareness is sharpened by anticipation, the five senses amplified by the dark.
Talia shuffles at my side, getting antsy.
“You sure about this?”
“Yes. Well, sure enough.”
Another set breaks. The conditions are choice. If she changes her mind, I might need to have a ride—a quick one.
Maybe two, tops.
“What’s that noise?” She stills. “There it is again. Can you hear it?”
I concentrate and smile when a sound like a wheezing donkey drifts from beyond the breakers. “Fairy penguin.”
“Shut up! There are penguins around here?”
“Sure. In the summer they build burrows in the scrub along the coast. If you stand outside a colony right after sunset, things get pretty noisy.”
“Penguins.” She almost whispers the word. “That’s so cool.”
The wash races over the sand and breaks across our toes. I figure out a plan of attack. “We’ll paddle to the left shoulder where the wave’s less steep. Stick with me, okay?” No one else is out and my voice feels extra loud even though I’m speaking quiet.
“Have you ever been to Rome?” She takes my hand.
“No, not yet.”
“Me neither. But I can’t imagine the Sistine Chapel being more amazing than this.”
Besides the moon, there’s zero light pollution. The Milky Way arches in a dazzling band across the sky’s apex. Individual stars are indistinguishable in the brilliant haze.
“You ready?”
She squeezes my hand in reply.
We paddle out.
“Whoa!” She pushes her chest up to better peer over her board’s tip. Around us the water casts a luminous green-blue light.
“Phosphorescence. Cool, eh? It’s blooming phytoplankton, caused by this marine species of dinoflagellates releasing enzymes that—”
“That’s enough, Sid the Science Kid. Let me retain this fairy kingdom illusion a little while longer.”
“Science is cool, Captain.”
“I never said—Oh, crap!”
Instead of duck-diving under the incoming wave, the water wall pounds her in the face. She breaks through the other side, coughing out a lung.
“We can head back to shore, don’t have to—”
“I’m fine. Please. There’s a wave coming. I can feel the pull. Can you?”
“You want it?”
“It’s all yours.”
I take off on a left break and fly down the smooth face. For a few perfect seconds, I’m right here in the moment. Rational thought is eclipsed and with it the aggravating confusion of having everything: Talia, Tasmania, honors, and still hungering for more like a greedy bastard. I paddle back to her.
“You looked great.”
“That was good.”
She sits, bobbing lightly. “It’s not as freaky out here as I imagined.”
“Fucking hell, Captain. You said you weren’t scared.”
“No, I never did. I’m scared by everything. But I want to do this.”
We’re quiet. A few more waves come but I let them go, happy to be with my girl, the stars, and the radiant water.
Hard not to believe in magic on such a night.
She clears her throat. “About what happened back at the house… if this is going to work, you can’t shut me out. You’re not just a you anymore; we’re an us. We have to be there for each other.”
I bob on my board and drag my fingers through the water. The phosphorescence lights from my touch. Finally I speak. “Karma’s got this mate; he’s on the crew of a Sea Alliance vessel. There’s an opening for a gig, with voyages to Japan and Antarctica.”
“You want to go for it?” I can’t decipher her expression.
I almost say no, but honesty’s easier in the anonymous dark. “Yeah, kinda. But I want to be with you more.”
“Oh, Bran, that’s way too much pressure.”
“What do you mean?”
“Imagine coming home in a few months and I’m all vegged on the couch, watching awful reality television. Will you think to yourself, ‘I could be gallantly defending the high seas but instead I’m attached to this boring anchor’?”
“Life with you is bound to be a lot of things, but boring isn’t the first depiction that springs to mind.”
“But life isn’t always night surfing. I… I can’t compete against a fantasy.”
“I never said you had to.”
“Isn’t supporting the other’s goals a fundamental part of the good girlfriend/boyfriend job description? I mean, say I always wanted to volunteer in Africa? Join the Peace Corps.”
“Do you?”
“I used to toy around with the idea. Now? I’m not sure but I don’t want to close myself off to opportunities.”
“We can travel through Africa someday.”
“Peace Corps is one of my dreams, not yours. I want you to have the freedom to pursue your own happiness.”
“You make me happy.” I strike my words like flint before sucking in a rough breath. “Look, I’m not a guy cut out for the long-distance thing. I hated every second we were apart the last two months.”
“Bran…” She reaches out her hand and I take hold. “I won’t let go.”
“Me neither.” I scrutinize the sky, heart clanging. Everything appears so deceptively still. In reality, the Earth careens through space. Talia and I, we’re little specks of cosmic dust in the grand scheme. It wouldn’t take much to blow away from each other.
“But in the future—”
“I hear what you’re saying and I appreciate the support. But the only future I’m willing to discuss is the one where it’s me and you—together.”
Better to orbit far away from black holes.
* * *
The front door slams and Talia’s boot heels click down the corridor. I blink into my untouched tea. How long have I been zoning? I palm the side of the mug and the ceramic is cool to the touch. She doesn’t notice me hunched in the dusky twilight as she drops her computer bag to the counter with a heavy sigh and flicks on the electric teakettle.
Living with her is going great except for that one time Karma came round, hell-bent on a good rabble-rouse. We haven’t revisited the idea she floated during the night surf session, doing the long-distance thing. Maybe I’m a coward but fuck it, everyone’s entitled to a line in the sand.
This afternoon, I couldn’t focus and eventually lost the wrestling match with my statistics. I bailed uni earlier than normal. I’m developing a computer model measuring ice-sheet change in the Antarctic. My frustration was compounded by Karma’s empty desk. He disappeared to an old growth forest that’s under threat from logging. I swear the dude is never working on his project.
He invited me and—big surprise—I turned him down. I need to forge ahead with my all-important research.
Yeah, right.
Everyone with a functioning brain knows the ice caps are melting. Climate change is real and human caused. We are screwing over the planet.
At first, I convinced myself this project was a way to fight back. But I’m only bearing witness to an inevitable global train wreck like everyone else. Next week, a grove of ancient trees may stand and Karma will know he helped keep them there. Meanwhile, I’ll have mastered a tricky spot of advanced mathematics, and more ice will disappear.
Talia dangles a tea bag in the air, watches it swing like a pendulum, and yawns. She’s flung herself full-tilt into her senior thesis and volunteer project with the National Refugee Action Project. She narrowly avoided failing her program in California. She claims to be improving, but I’m not so sure. I’ve done enough Google research to know OCD doesn’t turn on and off like a bloody light switch. The condition is chronic, lapses not uncommon.
Talia drops the tea bag into a mug and pours hot water from the kettle. She stares into the cup and dumps the water. I’m about to announce my presence when she refills the mug and dumps again.
Alarms clang in my brain.
She drops the kettle like the handle burst into flames and unplugs the cord from the wall. She wraps her hands around her waist, face averted. I can’t see her expression as she walks through the kitchen methodically unplugging each appliance. I keep having to plug stuff back in around the house but didn’t make the connection until now.
Dread tears an angry hole in my stomach like an open-pit mine.
Stupid shit—how didn’t you notice?
I can’t fail her, need to do better. I try to think of something to say, anything to break this useless silence. But I don’t speak the magic fucking language to make her shit disappear. The only word I can find is the one that matters most of all.
“Talia?”
“Jesus.” She lurches with a squeak. “You scared the crap out of me.”
“What’s up?” No bullshit, not with her.
She finger-combs her hair and moves to kiss me on the cheek. “Oooooh, you smell good.”
Quite the deflection.
Her cheeks glow pink from the early spring weather. If I hadn’t spied her a second ago, I’d have imagined everything was great. Doubt sinks through my chest like a lead balloon.
How many times has she played me off like this?
“How was your day, dear?” Her cute-as-hell smile is sweetly ironic.
“The usual school shit.”
“Poor boy. Want some tea? I’m getting hooked.” Talia heads to the counter, the picture of innocence. Way too fucking innocent. There’s a slight tremble when she pours me a cup.
She wonders what I saw.
Inspiration strikes. “I’ll grab some biscuits.” I walk to the pantry and rummage for the Tim Tams—Talia’s favorite. This is a cheap shot, but when do I ever play fair?
I stride to the opposite side of the kitchen island and toss down the packet. “Go on, then.” I brace my elbows on the granite countertop. “Take one.”
She licks her lips and shoves her hands into her back pockets. “That’s okay. I’m not hungry.”
She knows what I’m asking.
The tapping, the rocking, the plugs. Her OCD is flaring and she doesn’t want me to know.
I’m reduced to this test and that’s bullshit.
One of her compulsions—the first one I ever noticed—is to eat food in pairs. She can’t take a bite of one thing or three things. It’s two or nothing. She’ll starve rather than fight the urge. Her belief in magical thinking won’t tolerate deviation; otherwise she believes bad things will happen. The ritual seems awkward as hell to hide, except she’s skillful enough most people never notice.
Unluckily for her, I’m not most people. When it comes to Talia, I don’t miss a trick.
“Don’t, please.” She backs away, like I’m dangerous—a threat. Not going to lie, it hurts. But I need to be there, waiting to push back in case she steps too close to the edge. It’s a crappy role to play, one that she gets angry at, resents and rails against. And thanks me for three days later.
“You understand why I’m asking, don’t you?”
Her chin drops to her chest. “I can’t.”
“When were you going to tell me things were getting bad?”
“I don’t know. I keep hoping it’s temporary. That I’ll get a handle.”
“Are you still taking your medication?”
“Yes.” The word comes out soft even as pain darkens her eyes.
“Have you contacted a shrink?”
Her next blink is slow. “Not yet.”
“Talia.”
“I will. I’m planning to.”
“You need to keep me in the loop.”
“I know.”
My heart stutters. “You promised.”
“I know.” Her glare is vicious.
“Talia—”
“I get it, Bran, okay? Remember, I don’t choose this.” She offers a brittle laugh, on the verge of tears. “God. I bore myself. I don’t want you to get sick of me too.”
I hate what I’ve got to do. But I do it anyway. “What makes you so special?”
“Excuse me?”
“Seriously.” I get all up in her space.
Her eyes widen. “I’ve never said I’m more special than anyone else.”
I’m challenging her because this is her rational brain talking. Not the part she hides. The OCD place that whispers she is special.
Marked.
Tainted.
I make this big show of screwing up my face.
“What are you doing?”
“Thinking about dying.”
“What? Shut up. Stop.”
I pop a biscuit into my mouth and speak through the chocolate crumbs. “I’m going to choke and die right now.”
“Seriously, quit.”
“Painful way to go, yes. But also delicious.”
“You’re nuts.” She knows magical thinking—that a fear will manifest just by thinking it—is stupid. But what she knows and what she believes can be two vastly separate things.
“Okay, your turn.”
She stops giggling. “My turn what?”
“To think a bad thought.”
“Um, I’m pretty sure I’m an expert.”
“Knock me out, prove your talent, hot stuff.”
“That’s okay, I’m good.” Her gaze skitters away.
Even though I’m acting casual, like this is all a big joke, I mean every word. “Go on, one tiny terrible thought.”
“You aren’t letting this go, are you?”
“Nope. Might as well fold.”
She blows out her cheeks and ruffles her hair so it stands up in adorable little spikes.
“You look like an annoyed echidna.” I trace the crooked furrow between her brows.
“Echidna? The little hedgehog-looking dudes?” She rumples her hair. “Wow. Way to make a girl feel special.”
“I love those guys. They’re prickly but petable.”
“Hah. Okay, you’re on. One tiny bad thought.” She delicately breaks a Tim Tam into two equal halves. “If I only bite one, something bad will happen.”
“Like?”
She shrugs. “You’ll resent me for being here, screwing up your life.”
This is the closest she’s come to revisiting the Sea Alliance position.
“Not going to happen.” I point to the Tim Tam. “Take one bite. Only one.”
She stares at the biscuit. For a second I’m positive she’ll refuse but she shoves the single section into her mouth and chews with her eyes closed.
