Abby Road (14 page)

I looked over and gave him a sharp look. “What
kind
of surgery do you
think
someone like me would need to be a Bond girl?”

His eyes narrowed in thought, but he didn’t answer.

“Obviously I don’t currently have the . . .” I didn’t know how to finish, so I just looked down at the front of me. “I’m not particularly, I mean, I don’t want—”

“That’s ludicrous,” Todd cut me off. His disapproving voice was almost a growl. “You don’t need anything like that.” One side of his mouth pulled back. “From what I’ve seen of you, you’re very nearly too perfect.”

My stomach dropped at his words.
From what he’s
seen
of me?
Great. He thinks that glamour girl in those magazines is the real me.

Nothing could have been further from the truth. Suddenly every muscle in my body pulled tense like a piano wire.

“Thank you,” I replied politely as I burrowed my hands deeper in the sand. The cold, sharp grains dug under my fingernails, a stinging pain. I burrowed deeper.

“You don’t like being told that?” From the tone of Todd’s voice, he was obviously confused. “Sorry,” he added when I didn’t respond, “but I’m not about to take it back. I stand by my opinion.” He chuckled, but then must have caught sight of my pained expression, because he immediately stopped.

I pulled my feet in, sitting cross-legged, my shoulders hunched forward, my body attempting to curl itself into an invisible ball. I kept my eyes down, preoccupied by my pedicure. It was a vile pink. I loathed pink.

“Abby, what’s wrong?”

I could only shake my head, feeling Todd’s eyes boring into my face, studying me again. I couldn’t bear the thought of his looking at me like that, discovering that the Abigail Kelly he saw on TV and in magazines was nothing more than a freak behind a mask of ice-blue contacts, bleached hair, and painted-on smiles.

I was about to plaster on one of those phony grins and tell him, ever so brightly, that nothing was wrong. But I didn’t have the heart to pretend. Instead I kept staring down, digging, wondering if I could escape the scene by digging my way to China. Then I felt something on my foot. I looked up to see Todd’s finger, tapping.

“You’re uncomfortable,” he said. “I see that, but I’d deem myself unmanly if I didn’t tell you that, personally, I consider you—”

I opened my mouth to speak, but I was cut off. “Nope. Still my turn.” He tugged gently at my foot. I uncrossed my legs, stretching them out toward him. “Okay?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Okay then,” he confirmed. “And I was about to say that this morning, I was surprised. Your face and your . . . your eyes, especially.”

I still couldn’t look at him, knowing I’d once more become a disappointment to somebody.

“You don’t look a thing like your pictures.”

“I know,” I blurted out, choking on sudden tears in my throat. “Those
pictures
—it’s like I’m another person. It’s me, but a flawless me, a
perfect
me. Abigail Kelly without blemish. She’s a
freak
!” My voice broke. “A freak who doesn’t really exist.”

It was absolutely mortifying to know that Todd thought the same thing. I faced the wind, holding back more tears. Surely he would cut his losses now and head for the nearest tiki bar. Could I blame him? I was a basket case.

“You don’t realize it, do you?”

Hearing his voice, for a moment I was surprised he was still sitting there, methodically brushing sand off the bottom of my foot. I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the feeling of his touch and not the knot of self-disgust in my stomach. I nodded obediently at whatever his question was.

“Obviously you don’t,” he argued, his hands gripping around my foot. “Those photos are misleading. Abby, in person you’re absolutely stunning.”

Slowly I opened my eyes, staring first at my foot between his hands.

“Stunning?” I whispered, wondering if that word had a negative implication in this context. I kept my eyes down and shifted uncomfortably, hyper-aware of how I’d jumped into the ocean with all my clothes on and then proceeded to bake under the sun like a pickled herring. I tried to slide my foot away from him, but nothing doing. His grip was ironclad.

“You can go back to your pouting when I’m finished. But right now, I need you to believe me, and . . . I would really like you to look at me.”

When I did, I was surprised at what I saw. Instead of some goofy smirk to cheer me up, Todd’s expression looked a little anguished.

His
glance was the one that fell away first this time. “If you want,” he said, his voice dropping lower, “I’d be more than happy to share what was running through my mind when I first saw you at my store,
before
I realized who you were.” His index finger ran over the arch of my foot. When my leg trembled, a satisfied little smile returned to his mouth. “I took a full minute before approaching. You intimidated me.”

I rolled my eyes. Clearly nothing intimidated Todd.

He looked down, concentrating on drawing figure-eights over my skin. “With little effort, Abby, you’re driving me completely mad.”

“Ditto,” I whispered back without even thinking.

Todd’s finger stopped circling. When he lifted his eyes to me, something hot shot through my chest, landed, and burned. I could clearly picture how I was about to act upon this sudden chemical reaction: lean in, crawl over, scale him like a Mount Everest Sherpa.

Then I noticed Todd’s expression change. He was frowning at something in the air over my head. His arm shot straight up. When he brought it down, he was holding a red Frisbee. He stood, muttered something under his breath, and whizzed the red disk to someone way behind me who hollered a faraway, “Thanks, man!”

Todd looked down at me, hands on his hips. “Abby, I was thinking—” But that was all he got out, because the next second, the red Frisbee clocked him square on the bridge of his nose. Stunned, he stumbled back, falling into a sit on the rock behind him.

I shot to my feet. “Are you all right?”

He was nodding, one hand over his eyes. When he lowered it, his gaze flashed to something over my shoulder. After muttering a single swear word, he grabbed my wrist, yanking me forward, down onto his lap.

I was too shocked to do anything but gasp.

The next second he threw one arm around my waist while the other hand was at the back of my head, shoving my face into the side of his neck.

I squirmed to get away. Silly reflex. This only made his grip tighten.

“Shh-shh,” he whispered. “Hang on.”

That’s when I heard the running footsteps from behind, heading straight toward us.

“Yo, sorry, dude.” Male. Probably early twenties. My spine stiffened. “Oh. Hey, Todd.” I could feel the dude’s eyes on me now—or on the
back
of me, at least. Thanks to Todd, he couldn’t see my face.

Realizing what Todd was up to, I decided to relax and play along. I slipped my arms around his back and snuggled in, to make our sexy cuddling on the beach look legit.

While I pressed my face into his delicious-smelling neck, he wound his other arm around me tighter, forcing me flat against him. Frisbee Dude was still gabbing on about something, until Todd started in with the tickling.

“Oh, you know,” he was saying to Frisbee Dude as I frantically squirmed on his lap, “we’re just hanging out. Ha ha, you’re so ticklish, puppy.” His fingers tiptoed over my ribs. “Uh-uh, baby, no getting away from me.” He laughed merrily, his hand clamping my face in place.

Yes, I understood that Todd was putting on a show to make Frisbee Dude feel intrusive and thus leave us alone, but it obviously wasn’t working, and I was laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe. Tickling and the sound of rushing waves were
not
a good combination for me.

“Stop, Todd!” I squealed. “Stop.
Stop
!” I attempted to twist and arch my vulnerable, crumpling body away from him. I was sure Frisbee Dude was getting an eyeful.

“Puppy, puppy, hold still.” Both his arms were around my back now, leaving me able to hook my chin over his shoulder. “You’re so squirmy. Remember last time when you laughed so hard you—” He broke off, chuckling hysterically at some made-up memory. He dipped his chin, and I could feel his breath on my shoulder. My limbs went instantly weak; I was at his mercy.

“Uh, yeah, I’ll catch ya later, man,” Frisbee Dude muttered, probably red with embarrassment to be front row center to our PDA.

A few seconds later, Todd’s grip loosened some. We were both breathing hard and fast from our playful struggle, but neither of us moved away from each other.

“Puppy?” I finally whispered.

Todd snickered. “I was winging it.”

“Nice going.”

“I told you I’d do better next time.” He patted me gently on the back, his long fingers brushing against the skin at my neck.

“Did you have to go overboard with the tickling?” I pulled back to face him but didn’t get off his lap. Oh, no, no dummy here. “That was very dangerous.” I smiled at him through the darkening sky. “I have a history of laughing till the pipes burst, so to speak.”

A look of mock horror crossed his face as he glanced down at his lap. “Do we need to go back in the water?”

“No, no, I’m all good,” I said as I climbed off, a bit begrudgingly, to sit on the sand. After a content sigh, I wiped the remnants of happy tears from the corner of my eyes. “What a chill day. My life is usually more like a hard day’s night.” I chuckled, combing my fingers through my hair—it was finally dry, thanks to the wind. “But not today. Today’s been the best day I’ve had in longer than I can remember. I think I’ve laughed more than I did all last year.” I sniffed and glanced at Todd. “Thank you for that.”

“For the record, I’ve had a pretty okay time, too.”

I tipped my chin, watching the sun lower behind a thin layer of clouds. “Ah, endless rain,” I whispered, leveling my face to stare out at the water, “in a paper cup—”

“Okay, forgive me for asking,” Todd cut in, “but what is it with you and the Beatles? That’s about the tenth time you’ve quoted their lyrics in conversation today.”

“I know. Sorry. I hardly notice when I do it anymore. It drives my family crazy when I call my hair ‘Arthur’ or refer to things as ‘dead grotty.’”

“Grotty?”

“Grotesque,” I explained. “That’s Beatles lingo.”

Todd scooted back, leaning against the rock behind him. “So you’re a fan.”

“Fan.” I scoffed under my breath. “That doesn’t even begin to describe it.”

“That’s pretty odd for someone our age.”

“So says the Sinatra enthusiast.”

“Fair enough,” he said after a chuckle. “I’ll tell you my story later. You first.”

I re-crossed my legs, bent forward, and dumped a scoop of sand over Todd’s feet. “It’s not much of a story.”

“Go on,” he coaxed. “Remember, we’re past all respect and dignity.”

“Okay.” I smiled at a memory and rolled my eyes. “When I was sixteen, my father agreed to help me buy my first car. He’d match whatever amount I had, which was eight hundred dollars. The only thing I could afford was this junked out eighty-six Chevy Nova. It had a decent engine and it ran fine, but practically everything else was broken.”

“And . . . ?”

“And when I bought the car, their blue greatest hits
was stuck in the tape deck.” I shrugged. “That’s it, really. I was a goner. After that, nearly every extra cent I earned went toward building my Beatles collection. I’m an absolute junkie.”

Todd steepled his fingers under his chin. “And the puzzle pieces are fitting together.” He looked to the side, following a pair of kids with inner tubes running past us, splashing into the dark blue water.

“Please,” I whispered, twirling a loose strand of my crispy hair around one finger, “tell me something embarrassing about you now. No dignity, remember?”

His bottom lip was pushed out, his eyes up and to the left. “I’ve got nothing,” he admitted apologetically. “Sorry. And I lost all dignity hours ago. Tempting you with ambrosia from the sea, showering you with gifts to keep you around.” He flicked the brim of the straw hat sitting at my side. “And let’s not forget how I shamelessly mauled you a few minutes ago.”

The way he was smiling made me want to maul him back one better, but I was not about to make
this
conversation all about me. “Okay then.” I folded my arms. “Tell me something about you that you don’t share freely.”

Todd squinted, in deep thought, his fist at his cheek, index finger tapping his temple. “All right, but this isn’t something that
I
know for a fact, but I have it on very good authority. Several authorities. It’s as good as factual.”

“That’s acceptable,” I confirmed, leaning against the rock behind me.

“I
know
. . .” he began, leaning in a little closer. But then he paused and looked at me, I mean
really
looked at me, directly in the eyes, until his gaze dropped to my mouth for just a flash of a second.