Washed Up: Bayside Heroes, page 16
We eat and chat with David and Julia, then we take Tucker out into the water in his lifejacket, both laughing at his facial expressions as he discovers what everything feels like for the first time.
Eventually, it’s just me and Amanda in the water, everyone else up on shore talking and snacking while we drift out into the cove a bit deeper.
“So,” she says, fingertips gliding along the top of the water as she swishes and sways. “I guess we can knock this one off the list.”
“I guess we can,” I agree. “What’s next?”
She taps her chin. “Hmm… tattoo?”
I balk. “Really?”
“Why not? You scared?”
I laugh, squinting against a ray of sunlight peeking through the trees as we circle each other in the water. “I don’t know that scared is the right term for it, but I’m a little freaked out by the premise of marking my skin permanently forever.”
She waves me off. “It’s not that big of a deal. Everyone thinks you need to have all this meaning behind every tattoo you get.” She shrugs. “Why not just have art on your skin because art is pretty? And fun? And maybe you like things that are pretty and fun?”
I smile, eyes washing over her. “Fair point. What do you want to get, then?”
“A bird, maybe,” she says, looking up at the sky as if to try to spot one now. “Or a star. Maybe a flower. Maybe I’ll just go in and tell the artist to do whatever they want.”
There’s something about that moment, about the way the water reflects little waves of light on her chest and arms, how her eyes somehow soak in the color of the sky, a blue edge to those brown irises.
Last time I saw her, she was broken down and defeated.
Now… she looks happy, like it’s all forgotten, like she’s been reborn into a new life where it never happened at all.
She’s beautiful. Resilient.
Free.
I roll my lips together, glancing at the shore to make sure everyone is still locked in conversation before I step closer to her.
“And where do you want it?” I ask, voice low, eyes skating over the length of her.
Her smile slips when she realizes how close I am now, how our body heat is suddenly reachable even through the chill of the water.
She doesn’t answer.
“Maybe… here?” I ask, tenderly brushing her wet hair off her shoulder. I glide my fingers over the curve before they disappear under the water. “Or… here?” I ask again, just barely brushing her rib cage under the hem of her top.
Amanda sucks in a shaky breath, her eyes flicking to mine as my hand continues its descent.
“One here could be cute,” I suggest, tickling the top of her hip bone.
She exhales in little puffs, her lips parting, and a thick swallow strains her throat.
“Or,” I continue, searching her gaze as I step in a little closer. I walk my fingers down over her thigh, sliding them just a little inward to touch the smooth, sensitive skin now breaking out in goosebumps. “Maybe here.”
My eyes flick to the shore. David doesn’t seem to notice, nor does Julia — they’re both too focused on where Tucker is making faces as he eats a Cheeto.
It’s then that I feel the weight of Josh’s gaze.
He’s been quiet all afternoon, sitting with Tucker and Julia on the shore and drinking his beers. He hasn’t caused a scene, which I’m thankful for, but he’s like a buzzing mosquito, annoying purely because he exists.
And right now, he’s got his narrowed eyes locked right on me, an evil grin on his face.
Reluctantly, I swim backward, putting space between us as Amanda lets out an almost pained breath at the loss. Her next breaths are ragged, and she clears her throat, dunking under water before emerging on the surface again with a forced smile.
“I’m thinking maybe my ankle,” she says quickly, and then she starts making her way back to the shore without so much as another glance in my direction.
I wait in the water until all evidence of how much I enjoyed guessing where Amanda might get her tattoo is… settled, and then I join everyone on the shore for the last of the birthday festivities. We have a little cake for Tucker and let him smash his fingers in it before Julia hastily cleans him off. Then, we start loading back up, ready to float down the river back to the dock.
David and Julia kick off the embankment first, the current washing them down the river as David uses the paddle just to steer. It’ll be easy floating on the way back.
“Hop in and I’ll push us out,” I tell Amanda, keeping my attention on her and away from Josh — whom I can feel staring at us.
“You sure? I can get in once it’s in the water.”
“It’ll be easier this way.”
She shrugs, situating herself in the front of the kayak. Before I can push us off, Josh lets out a sinister chuckle from where he’s still lounging on the sand.
“Careful there, Greg. Don’t pull a muscle.”
I pause with my hands on the back of the kayak, noting how Amanda tenses up at the insult. He doesn’t have to say it for us to know he means be careful trying to lift that kayak with her in it.
I stand, cracking my neck as I turn to face him.
“Oh, ready to fight now, champ?” Josh teases, standing, too. He wobbles a bit as he does. “Go ahead. Take a swing. I know you want to.”
“Greg,” Amanda warns, reaching out to tug on my shorts. “Let’s just go.”
Josh notes the touch and snarls, shaking his head. “You’re pathetic, Amanda. Fucking our son’s friend, now?”
My nose flares at that. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, don’t I? Because anyone with eyes can see that you two are fucking.”
“We’re not fucking,” Amanda says, standing and crossing the sand to put her finger right in Josh’s chest. “And even if we were, it’s none of your business.”
“Really? Because last I checked, we’re still married.”
“Only because someone is dragging their feet on signing the papers.”
“That’s because someone else is trying to suck me dry — and not in the good way you used to when you were young, my love.”
I nearly crack a tooth with how hard I grit my teeth, but I don’t dare move — not when Amanda isn’t even fazed by the comment.
She smirks. “Trust me, as soon as I get my degree and get a job, I’ll be the first one to go to the judge and tell her I don’t need your money anymore.”
“If you get your degree.”
“I will,” she says instantly. “And you’re just pissed because you can’t stop me. Not anymore.”
She turns on her heels then, getting back in the kayak without waiting for his response. I glare at Josh before shaking my head and reaching down to push her off the shore.
“What? Nothing to say, big guy? Not going to stick up for your girl?”
I let out a sarcastic bite of a laugh, pausing to turn around and face him. “As much as I’d love to show you what little of a man you are, I don’t need to.”
Josh frowns.
“In case you couldn’t tell, she’s beyond capable of handling herself.”
Josh looks a little stunned by my comment, his eyes flicking to Amanda behind me before he clears his throat and takes a swig of his beer.
With him silenced, I easily push Amanda off the shore and jump in the kayak behind her. We’re paddling off down the river when Josh calls out behind us.
“You’re not fooling anyone!”
I just paddle faster.
Amanda doesn’t speak the rest of the paddle back, and she’s quiet when we load up the cars and get ready to say our goodbyes, too. But while Julia and David are getting Tucker situated in their SUV, I pull her aside.
“You okay?”
She laughs, running a hand over her knotty hair with a shrug. “I guess.” Her eyes meet mine. “Thank you. For staying out of it. For letting me handle it myself.”
I shrug. “Like I said to him, I knew I didn’t need to save you. You already saved your damn self the moment you left that piece of shit.” Then, I glance around us to make sure no one’s watching, and hold up our sign, fingers curling into my thumb to make that lowercase b.
Badass.
A smile cracks at the corner of her lips, something sweet and longing in her gaze. She shakes it off though, blowing out a breath as I slip my hands in the pockets of my swim trunks.
“I can’t wait to get home and take a shower,” she says.
“You know, after today, I was thinking… might be the perfect night to check another item off our list.”
Amanda groans. “I don’t have energy for anything else, not right now.”
I look around to make sure David and Julia are still busy, that Josh isn’t in earshot, and then I lean in closer, whispering in her ear.
“Not even getting high?”
I step back with a crooked grin, and Amanda doesn’t have to answer. The mischievous smirk she gives me is reply enough.
“Alright, we’re loaded up and ready,” David announces, and then he pulls me in for a hug, clapping me on the back. “Thanks again for coming, man. It was great to have you here.”
“Wouldn’t miss it. I’m going to go say goodbye to Tucker and Julia.”
I leave him with his mom and make my way over to the Subaru, tickling a very tired Tucker, who gives me his best sleepy giggle before I hug Julia and thank her for the day. When I make my way back over to my car, I see Amanda waiting by the passenger side door.
I frown, confused.
“Cool if Mom rides with you?” David asks as he passes. “We need to make a pit stop at Julia’s sister’s house, and Mom is ready to get home and showered.”
I glance at Amanda, who gives me a shy smile in return.
“No problem at all.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
AMANDA
I can’t stop giggling.
I can’t stop giggling, or eating Funyuns and gummy bears, or staring at Greg’s big, stupid, handsome face.
“What?” he asks, his eyes barely slits as he grins back at me.
“What?”
“You’re staring at me.”
I giggle, popping another gummy bear in my mouth. “Aren’t I allowed to?”
He smiles, leaning back on the shingles of the roof. “Only if I’m allowed to stare back.”
His eyes fall to my cleavage then, and I sock him in the arm, which only makes us both break into another fit of laughter.
Finding marijuana edibles proved to be a rather easy task, especially now that the drug is medicinally legal in the state of Florida. Turned out, Greg knew someone who knew someone, and by the time we got back to my house, we had a special delivery on the doorstep.
We only ate half of that little square gummy each, Greg taking the first nibble before giving the rest to me. It had taken almost an hour to kick in, but once it had, we were both goners.
It was Greg’s idea to come up to the roof, him bundled up in his sweatpants and hoodie, and me in my favorite oversized sweater and leggings. We’ve got snacks littered on the shingles all around us, and two bottles of water each that are damn near empty.
My stomach hurts from laughing so much.
But my heart… my heart feels good. Happy.
Liberated.
It was a hellish week after the nightmare of a date with Samuel. He never tried to text or call after, thank God, but I was content to just sit in my misery and be alone. I ignored Greg, thinking it was for the best, and then when I saw him this morning at the river…
I instantly regretted it.
All week, I’d been agonizing, when if I’d have just opened up to him earlier and let him in, I know I could have put that date behind me within minutes. But I was afraid to. I was afraid to admit what happened — ashamed, really.
Until today, when Greg reminded me just by existing that it was just a bad date, it doesn’t mean anything, and everything will be alright.
I feel better when he’s around.
It’s as simple and unfortunate as that.
“I have a weird question,” I say after chewing my gummy bear.
“I like weird questions. Shoot.”
“How often do you work out?”
He barks a laugh. “That’s your weird question?”
“It’s one I’ve thought often,” I admit. I reach over and squeeze his bicep. “Like seriously, you’re a doctor. Aren’t you supposed to heal patients instead of making them faint upon seeing you?”
Greg smirks, shrugging. “I work out almost every day. I usually take one day to rest a week, when I’m feeling too sore to perform.”
“Every day? Ugh.”
“I like it. It’s part of my routine. Meditation takes care of my mind, working out takes care of my body.” He pauses. “I think if I didn’t work out, I’d go crazy.”
“Sounds like me if I had to give up wine. Okay, another weird question,” I say, dusting the Funyon crumbs off my pants and sitting up straighter. “Why do you have so little in your condo? Haven’t you lived there for like… two years now?”
Greg’s smile slips, and he sits up, too, taking a long drink of water before he replies. “I don’t know. I guess part of it is that I’m not sure what I want to put in there, other than the necessary furniture that I have already. And part of it is…” He grabs the back of his neck. “It doesn’t feel like home.”
My playful grin slips away, a frown replacing it as I watch a shadow of sadness wash over Greg’s face.
“Nothing ever has, honestly. When I was growing up, my mom and dad always wanted the house ready to entertain. I never had toys left out, never had more than school or family pictures on the walls, and my room looked more like a hotel room than anything else — just in case a client or friend needed to stay the night after a dinner party.”
I swallow, wanting so badly to reach for him, but I sit on my hands to keep myself from giving into the urge.
“Then, I went to college, shared a dorm with my buddy Dane. He decorated a little, a few posters, but we were boys, you know? We didn’t care what our dorm looked like.” He shrugs. “Then, med school, residency in Chicago… both things I knew were temporary. This condo is the first place I’ve felt like it’s okay to set up roots.” He pauses. “I just don’t know how to.”
“Maybe I can help,” I offer. “We can go to an art show or something, see what strikes you.”
Greg shakes off whatever had his brows furrowed, offering me a soft smile. “I like that plan.”
For a while, we’re silent, listening to the wind blowing through the trees and watching the full moon stretch wide over the dark sky. It lights up the whole backyard, casting shadows on the lower half of Greg’s face.
I shiver when a big burst of wind finds us, and Greg chuckles, opening his arms.
“Come here.”
I swallow, thinking of the way he touched me under the water on the river today, and how refraining from any contact is the only safe bet here.
“It’s okay. I’m fine.”
“Body heat will help. Trust me,” he says, and he beckons me again.
It’s a terrible idea. He knows it, I know it.
And yet…
We’re both so selfish, so desperate for just a taste of what we know we can’t have, that we ignore all the buzzing, blaring, neon warning signs, anyway.
I slide over the shingles, moving snacks out of the way and letting him pull me in front of him. His legs frame either side of me, arms wrapping around me like I’m the tiniest thing, and I’m instantly surrounded with his warmth.
I sigh.
“Better?” he asks.
“Much.”
“How are you feeling?”
I giggle. “Silly. Fuzzy. Time keeps skipping.”
Greg laughs at that. “Skipping?”
“Like a scratched CD.” I laugh and bury my face in my hands. “Oh, God. Am I aging myself?”
“Stop that. I know what a CD is.”
“Let me guess — your mom used to listen to them?”
I try to laugh, but Greg turns me in his arms so that I’m facing him and leaning against one of his knees as his eyes search mine. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make jokes at your own expense.”
The concern laced in those words warms my heart even more than his arms around me, and I sigh, boldly reaching out and running my finger along the side of his jaw. My nail skates over the stubble there, and I follow that movement as Greg stares at me, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.
“Where were you when I was fifteen?” I whisper.
Greg closes his eyes, his hand coming up to wrap around mine. He holds my fingertips to his lips, not kissing them, but just holding them there like he’s memorizing the way they feel.
“On second thought, don’t answer that,” I say with a chuckle, trying to break the tension.
But Greg just frowns, shaking his head once before he opens his eyes. Those deep brown pools lock on mine. “Why does my age matter so much to you?”
“It’s not just your age,” I say with an arched brow and a smile.
“But age is part of it.”
I sigh, staring at where he holds my hand, at how the high buzzing through my system makes that touch so much more powerful. I feel every ridge of his fingerprints on my skin, the pulse of his heart through his veins, the warmth of the blood pumping through him warming me, too.
“Because I know how much life you still have to live,” I whisper, and I keep my eyes on where his hand folds over mine. “And I don’t want you wasting it on someone washed up like me.”
Greg squeezes my hand on a sigh, dropping his forehead to mine.
He’s already touching me. His knee supports my back where I lean against him, one arm around my waist and the other hand still holding mine. My ass is against his thigh, my bare foot against his sneaker.
But somehow, when his forehead tenderly touches mine, I’m aware of every single touch at once.
