Drowning in You (35 page)

I have no doubt those were the
exact words Walter used. Dad repeated them in a robotic voice, as
if reading from a mental picture. Now knowing about my dad’s note,
I wonder how many Walter wrote to say goodbye to everyone he
loved.

“
Don’t have a
heart attack, but actually, I’d like to come along,” I say. “Only
if I can bring a guest.”

Dad winks.

He knows this guest is more
than a “friend”.

Is this what he thinks of me?
How I appear? That I treat girls like a fun time, not like humans
who have feelings? Well, never again. I only have one girl in my
life from now on and I’ll make sure of it.

32. Rosalicious

Charlee

I wait at the bench behind the
same milk bar where I met Elliot weeks ago. So much has changed
that I expect him to look different—have a beard, grown out his
hair and dyed it black, perhaps. When he walks around the corner,
though, and plops down on the other side of the bench, his short
blonde hair is the same. He hands me a milkshake. I crack open the
lid and stick my nose in the gap. Bubblegum, sweet bubblegum. I
peek inside and sure enough there are marshmallows floating on
top.

“
I’ll try not
to spill this one,” I say, gripping the cup firmly and taking a big
mouthful.

“
Better not.
You’re special but not that special I’d drive all the way back to
The Crooked Shelf to make you a new one.”

We slurp our milkshakes,
discussing how bubblegum is better than strawberry. That’s how I
see it, anyhow. He has this crazy idea that bubblegum milkshakes
happen to “suck”.

There’s a break in the
conversation not long after. My eyes drop down to my empty cup.

“
I…um. I have
something to say, Elliot.”

Why did I tack on his name? I
made this announcement sound important and formal, which it sort of
is, but still. The air conditioner fan at the back of the milk bar
stirs, the whirring sound filling the unwanted silence. However,
it’s also so silent we can hear the bell at the door. I count three
customers.

“
I need to
apologize. For using you.”

“
Wow. Well,
this is actually a compliment, for such a pretty girl like yourself
to feel as though you should use my body and mind for
pleasure.”

I giggle and slap his arm. I
scoot closer so we’re not a body space apart, but sitting just like
friends chatting normally behind a milk bar, having a regular
conversation about work or shopping or problems with our lives.

“
It’s Dex. I
don’t know what we are yet, so don’t bother asking me to describe
it to you, but I want to thank you for being so understanding about
all this before it even made sense to me.”

“
Two things.”
Elliot ticks one off with his other finger. “If you’d asked me to
be your boyfriend before that night I came over, I’d have said yes
because I liked you.” He hushes me with a finger when I open my
mouth. He ticks off a second finger. “The other thing is that I’d
be making a mistake and losing my best friend at the same time
because I couldn’t tell you if we’d have worked out, but you’re
Dex’s life. And I know I can’t top that.”

“
I know it
looks like we’re together and everything, and we might be soon, but
it was only because of what we thought was going on between our
dads. We haven’t even been out on a date or anything.”

“
Charlee, I
never said you look like a good couple. I said you are each other’s
lives. Dex is a sloppy mess, writing lovesick song lyrics about you
when he won’t talk to anyone about what’s going on in his head, and
when you’re together he’s pumped full of the type of ecstasy that
drugs can’t provide.”

Elliot locks
onto my eyes and says, “He doesn’t need to tell me he’s in love
with you. That’s written in everything he is. I’m not an asshole.
I’m stepping back from
this
.”

I gasp, trying to hide it with
a fragile smile. I arrange my hair, finger-combing it although it’s
getting greasy and needs a wash.

“
Thanks,
Elliot, really. I can’t believe you’re such an awesome guy and
you’re fine with this, but I know Dex doesn’t love me. He really
likes being with me and all, but we’re just good at keeping each
other company—in a weird way, I suppose.”

“
I’m the rat
in this situation because I somehow missed the bit about Dex having
a crush on you for like five years.” Elliot gets all awkward and
then stands and jerks his head toward the milk bar. “Let’s grab
some raspberry white-chocolate bullets; I’ve been craving them like
crazy.” When I stand and begin walking with him, he adds, “I think
you just gotta figure out the ‘love’ bit by yourself.”

Not looking ahead of me, I bump
straight into some girl. I look up and find Rosa rubbing her head.
“You bitch!” She perks up a toothy smile and kisses my cheek. “Hi
baby.” She turns to Elliot and sticks out her hand. “Is this your
rebound dude?”

“
No, Dex and I
are working things out, actually. You know that.” As if I haven’t
spent enough on phone calls explaining exactly what’s going on.
Sheesh, the girl loves stirring up trouble.

“
I’m Elliot.
Just Elliot,” he says, shaking her hand.

“
So in no way
associated with this head-bumping freak?” she says.

No sooner does Elliot shake his
head than Rosa gives him a peck on the lips. “In that case, hi. I’m
Rosa, affiliated with this freak.”

“
Excuse me,”
she says, pushing between us and looping her arms through one of
each of ours.

Inside, we grab two bulging
paper bags full of chocolate and candy of every color and texture
imaginable. We have exactly one and a half bags more sweets than
Elliot and I had planned pre-Rosa. We walk farther down to a
park.

As Rosa and Elliot squish their
bodies under an enclosed platform leading the way down a massive
playground slide, I watch them from ground level, smiling. I can
see that she likes Elliot. And why not? He’s adorable, poster-boy
adorable, but he’s not for me. He’s her sort of fun—not mine—and
anything I’ve been pretending to want has been in an effort to
protect myself from Dexter rejecting me.

Elliot is the
type I could be happy with—anyone could really be happy with—but
Dexter is my one-of-a-kind path to love, trust, standing up for
me,
and
happiness.
And more.

I walk off to
my car in silence, texting Rosa,
You keep
your paws out of his pants. He’s a good, nice boy. Now have fun
alone with him.

All that’s left is to sort out
my relationship status with Dex for good.

33. It Goes a Little Something
Like This

Dexter

It happens like this:

I sit outside her house,
waiting for her to come back from work at the pool in the half hour
gap before she leaves to pick up Darcy from school.

Charz arrives, parks in one of
the garages, and disappears up through the house.

I hold down the doorknob, slide
through the gap, and only release the knob once it’s latched. It
doesn’t so much as click.

I jog up the stairs to her
bedroom.

Charz is curled over a
laminated paper, writing up a lesson plan for her next shift.

I slip my hands around her
waist from behind and caress the smooth skin of her belly. My mouth
brushes her ear. I kiss that bit just behind her lobe.

She lets out a tiny shriek of
surprise.

I hush her, reassuring her that
it’s just me.

I want her to be my girlfriend,
but can’t tell her yet, or it’ll ruin my plan.

I almost tell her I love
her.

Charz kisses me back.

“
You have to
say yes if I ask you something,” I say.

“
Yes,” she
says, sliding her hands into the ass pockets on my
jeans.

“
Come on a
boat cruise with my family.”

She freezes. I wait for a
moment, knowing a million thoughts are flying through her head. I
kiss her earlobe again, pulling her tighter against me because when
our touch is this intense, she must enjoy it as much as I do.

“
Yes,” she
whispers.

34. Finding Forever For Us

Charlee

Less than a week later, a
miracle happens. Darcy packs his own backpack with only one
reminder. He brings only a music player, leaving every other form
of electronic device in our house. I bring my cell, but only to
call Dex when we’ve made it to the dock.

Darcy and I take the highway to
the Murray River. We make a joke of the fact that at ten, my little
brother has traveled to continents across the globe, but hasn’t
even crossed the border to New South Wales, the next state over. He
likes that he’ll be straddling both Victorian and New South Wales’
states when he stands in the Murray.

We say bye to my little car in
the gravel parking lot, nestled between the Hollingworth’s car and
another SUV shying away on the other side.

“
Babe,” Dex
calls.

I heft one bag over my
shoulder, drag my other behind me and acknowledge him with my only
spare body part—my chin. He jogs up the path, stones crunching
under his step, and his face comes at me too fast to react. He
dodges at the last moment and hauls my third, and last, bag over
his shoulder. He thinks it’s hilarious I nearly very did crap
myself.

“
Babe?” I ask
him in a mock tone.

“
Three
bags?”

I wink. “Let’s agree to
disagree.”

“
Ew!” Darcy
says, pretending to retch. “You coulda just asked me to stay
behind.”

“
Dude,” Dex
says, one hand on Darcy’s shoulder as we walk to the pier where our
massive houseboat is floating, “it’s a family affair, so you didn’t
really have a choice in the matter.”

Darcy gives me a legitimately
confused look, which I file away with my luggage bag. We’ll talk
later.

The houseboat Dad has organized
for us is two storys high and as long as a semi-trailer. It’s a
shiny white house fused to a floating platform, and dressed with
curtains that peek from inside windows, a fishing deck on one side,
a net that hovers over the other side, and lounge chairs lining the
deck.

“
That’s some
boat,” I whisper to Dex just as we board.

He takes my hand as we cross
the gap to the deck and onto the steps leading to the hull’s wooden
decking. In the meals area it’s…bare.

Inside there isn’t so much as a
TV, laptop, microwave or dishwasher. There’s a stove, thankfully,
but what’s more amazing is the table. It’s not rectangular where
you’d have to pitch condiments to the person at the other end. This
table is massive and round, made of polished wood and sitting atop
a platform. There are built-in cavities for bowls and dishes.
Family couldn’t be any closer than like this. Beyond, out the back
of the houseboat is a thick mesh platform with steps disappearing
below the water level.

I wonder what the other rooms
are like.

If I didn’t know any better,
I’d say my dad has planned this so everyone has to stay together,
work together. Smart of my dad, because this gift is perfect.
Between the distractions of electronics and work, so many people
these days don’t appreciate each other in the same way that maybe
they used to.

Dex and I look up at the same
time. The sparkle in his eyes tells me we’ve just thought the same
thing.

“
First dibs,”
Dex cries before I can get a word in. I drop my half-ton of luggage
at the same time he drops my bag, too. I manage a fistful of his
T-shirt, which he dodges by bending down. Fortunately for me, it
comes clean off and from behind all I see are Dex’s back and
shoulder muscles flexing as he straightens, and the dimples in his
lower back, just above his board shorts.

Unfortunately for him, this
slows him as well since he loves staring at me and my jaw-dropping
expression must be a sight. I side-step around him, grabbing at the
rails to the stairs to the top level as if an axe murderer is on my
tail. He gets me this time, securing his big hands around my
waist.

And as if I’m a bag of
feathers, he whips me over his shoulder and runs up the stairs.
Nobody—not Darcy, Lisa, Mick, Tahny—follow us, though the toddler,
Adam, chuckles a little laugh at the sight of us.

“
Hey!” I
scream when Dex throws me on a bed in one of the
bedrooms.

He shuts the door with his
foot, then asks me to stay put and locks the door.

“
Nice,” I
mumble, turning away so my hair hides my grin. “The only person who
seems to care about my kidnapping is your nephew and I doubt he
could—”

Dex’s lips crash into mine,
tumbling him over me on the bed. He picks me up by my waist and
pushes me up to the pillows. As I lean in to kiss him back, he
bites his lip, turning away.

“
No,” is all
he says.

He pushes me back on to the
pillows, and as I think he’s about to pull the strap from my
shoulder, he picks it up and secures it firmly back in place. He
brushes the back of his hand down my arm, back up, and cups my
chin. He leans over me and rests his cheek against mine, one side
of his nose touching the other side of mine.

“
What are
you—”

“
No,” he
repeats. Shaking his head, he says, “I can’t believe I’m about to
do this.”