Break My Fall (No Limits) (8 page)

He was still in touch with some of the guys from our group of friends, and he hung out with a couple of them a few times, but he was no longer a regular part of the group. This, I figured, was mostly due to the girls not wanting to have anything to do with him. And to their credit, a few of the guys felt the same way.

Invariably, o
ne of our friends would occasionally run into him at a bar or a concert, and a couple of times she even told me she heard he was seeing someone. I didn’t ask who, and she didn’t volunteer the name of the girl, so maybe it was the girl he cheated on me with, or maybe it wasn’t—either way, I didn’t care.

This time, though, she had some other news about him.

Kevin got ripped one night at a party and fell into a pool. I almost laughed at the image, until Liz told me he hadn’t just fallen, he had passed out, and if a couple of girls hadn’t seen it he probably would have drowned. It was so unlike Kevin. Sure, he drank, but no more than anyone else I knew, and never to that extent. The last time Liz heard anything about him, he had gotten fired from his summer internship with an engineering firm for not showing up to work twice in one week because he’d been drinking around the clock.

“What a loser,” she said. “Karma’s a bitch.”

“Yeah. Wow. No shit.” I agreed with her only because I didn’t want to admit that I felt badly for him. I also hated the fact that I had any sympathy at all for him after what he did to me. So I just wanted to leave it at that, and it worked out because she immediately raised another issue.

“When are you coming
back? Classes start on August twenty-fifth, you know.”

I hadn’t given any thought to exactly when I’d go back. I had a general idea that I’d probably arrive back in Tampa
a few days before classes began, but I hadn’t done anything in the way of planning yet.

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, when you figure it out, let me know?”

“I will.”

“Because I’d really like to have my old roommate back. I miss you.”

It was comments like that—genuine and
well-meaning as they were—that cut me the deepest and made being away even harder.

“I miss you, too,” I said, wanting to avoid this part of the c
onversation going any further.

Thankfully, it seemed that she did as well, because we were instantly on to chatting about relatively mundane things, the kind of everyday chatting I’d always loved to have with her.

Chapter Eight

I barely slept at all Sunday night. I kept tossing and turning, my thoughts running wildly from the report of Kevin’s recent troubles to why I hadn’t seen Drew in several days. The thoughts about Kevin ran a distant second to my curiosity about Drew, though, and how strange all of this was.

I didn’t know where he lived, where he worked, who his friends were…nothing.
And it seemed odd to me that he had been so persistent in his attempts to get close to me, and just when we have a date that ends with an amazing kiss, he practically vanishes.

The cynical side of me chalked that up to guys being guys.
And once again I found myself fighting the urge to ask his grandmother.

I had to be a
t work by noon on Monday, and I planned to hit the beach for a little while before going in. But doing laundry was priority number one, since I had neglected it for too long.

Mrs. Russell
had offered to let me use the washer and dryer in their house, but I had politely declined, knowing I would have felt like I was imposing on them. Whenever I needed to wash clothes and my bedding, I went to a Laundromat a few blocks from the house.

I killed time by listening to music
and browsing the Internet on my phone. I brought up Facebook and searched for Drew, finding nothing. Either he wasn’t on there, or he had set his profile to private.

The wash cycle finished and as I was transferring clothes to the dryer, Drew walked in, carrying a basket of clothes.
He wore his usual cargo shorts, and the hat—on backwards this time—sunglasses, and a blue t-shirt with the University of Virginia logo on it. The shirt looked like it had been through a lot, faded in places and a small but visible hole on the left side under the sleeve. A simple, if sloppy, getup…and he still looked hot.

He did a
double-take when he saw me. “Fancy meeting you here.” Drew poured some detergent in the washer, put the quarters in, started it, and began unloading his basket. “How was your weekend?”

“It was okay, I guess. I hung out with Rebecca and her boyfriend. Saw a good band at The Windjammer. Did a little surfing, as always. How was yours?”

“Not bad.”

That’s all he said. I had offered more in my answer, but his was short. Part of me wanted to know what he had been up to. Not because it was any of my business—it wasn’t—and not because I wanted to be nosey. Okay, maybe a little nosey.

I started the dryer, then sat back down. His silence made me feel awkward, so I decided to make him talk. “Why don’t you do your laundry at your grandparents’ house?”

“I’m here to help them, not be a burden.”

“I know what you mean. Your grandmother offered to let me do it there, but I just couldn’t.”

More silence. The Drew I had sort of begun to know was much more chatty than this.

“What are you up to today?” I prodded.

He shrugged. “No plans yet. What about you?” He didn’t look at me at
all, he just kept putting his clothes in the washer.

“I have to work at noon.”

“It’s too nice out to be working.”

I picked up my phone, unlocked the screen, and realized the browser was still open to Facebook with his name typed into the search field. I quickly closed it, even though there was no way he could have seen it from that far away. “Well, some people have to work.”

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye to see his reaction. No facial expression. No words.

I didn’t understand why he was being so short with me, but I was de
termined not to let it show. I decided to be quiet and see what happened.

When he finished loading the washer, he came and sat in one of the chairs directly across from me. I had b
een looking at my phone and watching his movement peripherally. After a few seconds, I looked up and saw that his eyes were closed and he was rolling his head around to stretch his neck.

This was a
version of Drew I hadn’t seen before—a Drew who wasn’t chattering at me about something, wasn’t trying to be funny, wasn’t asking me questions, none of the usual stuff I’d become accustomed to from him.

“What’s up with you?” I didn’t plan to say that. It just blurted out of me.

He leveled his head, opened his eyes and said, “What?”

“Are you okay? You don’t seem like your usual self.”

He yawned. “I’m just tired. That’s all. I didn’t get much sleep over the weekend. Hey, you want to see a movie one night this week? Have you seen the trailer for—”

“No,” I said, cutting him off.
“Movies aren’t a good way to get to know someone.”

That comment seemed to wake him up a little, and I saw the brightness in his eyes that was usually there coming back. “That’s true. So you want to get to know me?”

“You know more about me than I do about you.”

He lifted his arms—the hole in
his shirt becoming more visible—took off his hat, pushed his hair back, then put the hat back on. It looked like a stalling tactic while he figured out what he was going to say. I barely knew him, but I knew that was unusual for him.

“You’re right.” He stood up. “Come with me.”

I looked up at him. “Where are we going?”

“Just come.”

I stood. “But the clothes…”

“I can come back and put them in the dryer later. It’ll be fine.”

“I meant mine,” I said, not even laughing at his attempted joke. “They’re drying.”

Before I could finish, he grabbed my hand and started to lead me out of the
Laundromat. “We’ll come back and they’ll be here. Don’t worry. Nobody’s going to steal your panties.”

.  .  .  .  .

The marina was one place I hadn’t been since I moved to Isle of Palms, and that’s where Drew took me. When we first pulled into the parking lot, I saw the open-air rooftop restaurant and figured we were going to have breakfast.

Stepping out of the truck
, the first thing I noticed was the crunch of the crushed oyster shell parking lot. The second thing that hit me was the smell. “Is there a gas leak somewhere?”

“It’s a marina.” He
locked the truck. “All these boats so close together, plus that floating dock gas station right there…” He indicated the direction with a nod. “It always smells like that. It took me a while to get used to.”

“If it sme
lls like that in the restaurant. I won’t have much of an appetite for breakfast.”

“Then we have nothing to worry about.” He took my hand. “Because we’re not going to the restaurant.”

Drew led me down the wooden floating dock to a slip that contained a large boat. I looked at the name painted on the stern:
AquaHolic.

He stopped and said, “Welcome to my home.”
He told me it was a Hatteras 80 Motor Yacht.

“That means nothing to me.”
I’d been around the beach my whole life, but I didn’t have much experience with boats. That’s why the smell of the marina was such a surprise.

He eyed the boat, then turned back to me. “Me, either. I know nothing about boats.”

“And yet you live on one?”

“Yep.
But I don’t own it. I just rent. I’d never buy a boat. They’re cool, but they’re nothing but money pits.”

I looked at the name again.
“AquaHolic, huh?”

He frowned. “I know
, it’s a stupid name. But since I rent, I can’t do anything about it. Step aboard and I’ll show you around.”

He got on the boat first and reached out to hold my hand as I climbed aboard. Within two seconds I was greete
d by Cliff’s warm dog breath on my leg.

“Down.” Drew’s command was immediately heeded and Cliff stopped jumping and licking.

“How do you live on a boat with a dog?” I bent down to pet Cliff, hoping a little attention would satisfy him. “I mean, it seems like it wouldn’t be easy.”

“If you’re talking about the whole bathroom issue, he’s house-broken. Or, in this case, boat-broken.
We both are.”

The
interior walls and floor were made of dark mahogany, with matching rafters against the backdrop of a white ceiling that brought a little light to the dark theme. A wrap-around couch and table took up most of the cabin, farther back was the galley—a complete kitchen with modern appliances—and that led to the stateroom, which looked small only because the queen size bed occupied most of the space.

As Drew showed me around the boat, I realized that while my little carriage house apartment was nice,
this boat offered nicer amenities than I had. I didn’t say that, though, for fear of insulting his grandparents and sounding ungrateful for what I had.

D
uring the quick tour, I began to wonder if this boat had anything to do with his job. Was he a fisherman? Charter boat captain? Maybe I’d been wrong all along and he was indeed a drug smuggler.

I’m sure there were other possibilities, but all of the ones I came up with were put to rest when he said he never t
ook it out of the marina. “It’s just a place to live. Something different. I’d never lived on a boat before, so I figured why not?”

“How long have you been here?”

“On this boat or in the Charleston area?” He opened the refrigerator. “Want something to drink?” He listed the things he had.

“Yeah, I’ll have orange juice. And I meant how long have you been in Charleston.”

“Just since the spring.” He twisted the cap off the OJ bottle and handed it to me. “Have a seat.”

I sat down next to him on the
couch. Cliff jumped up on a recliner opposite from us and sat there like he was taking part in the conversation. He held a soccer ball between his paws, and a few times he tried to bite it, until he gave up, finally realizing his mouth wasn’t big enough.

I noticed the surfboard leaning up against on
e wall, but didn’t say anything, sure it would lead to him trying again to get me to give him lessons. Looking at the table, I saw a leather-bound hardback book with a pen sticking out of it. It was black, with nothing written on the cover or spine.

“You keep a diary?”

Drew looked over at it. “I prefer journal. Diary kind of sounds like something a teenage girl would keep. But, yes, I started it not too long after the crash and I write in it almost every day. And no, you can’t read it.”

“
Why not? Bad handwriting?”

He chuckled. “
So…you want to get to know me. Here we are.” He sipped from a bottle of chocolate milk. “What do you want to know?”

I pressed on with what felt like a virtual interrogation. “What did you do between the crash and coming here?”

“Traveled. All over the place, actually. Ever been out of the country?”

“No.”

“You should.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and plugged it in to charge. “Actually, last year I was in Australia. You’d love the surfing there. Oh, before I forget, we keep running into each other, but sooner or later my luck’s going to run out, so you should give me your number.”

I gave it to him and he texted me so I’d have his number in my contacts.
I put my phone on the table. “So you just travel around and…do what?”

He shrugged. “I do whatever. Look around. Take pictures. Try different food. Meet people. I just do what I want.”

“Must be nice.”

He smirked at me. “That phrase is always used sarcastically. If you think I’m bragging, I’m not.
You asked, and I answered.”

“No need to get defensive.”

He extended his arms and sunk into the sofa a little more. “Hey, I’m relaxed.”

It dawned on me that both of us had come to the Charleston area around the same
time, and when I mentioned it, he said, “Lucky us.”

“That’s a little cocky.”

“You’re right. Lucky
me
. The honor is all mine, Leah.”

I shifted in my seat. “Now that was sarcastic.”

Before I knew what was happening, Drew had leaned over toward me, and when I turned my head to face him, his lips met mine. His lips were soft, and so was his tongue, but he used them with enough power to take control of our movements. And he tasted like chocolate milk…

Then he pulled away. “I’ve been thinking about that kiss the other night and I needed a reminder.”

I didn’t say anything. Thoughts flooded my mind. What was he after? Did he really want to get to know me? Or had he brought me here to have sex on a boat?

Any worry about that vanished with his next words.
“Hey, you mentioned breakfast. Are you hungry?” He got up and walked to the kitchen.

“I’m
fine, thanks.”

He
stood and went into the galley, where he opened a cabinet. “You sure? I’ve got plenty of cereal.”

There were two shelves stocked with nothing but boxes of
cereal. All the same kind.