He rubs his thumb across my cheek.
It’s a perfect moment.
Soft breeze, brilliant sun warm on our skin, beautiful scenery.
Every part of me wants to tell him. To say it out loud.
And, most of all, for him to know.
But I can’t.
I can’t do that to him.
So I say
I love you, Aiden
in my head.
“So, what’s next on the list?” he asks.
“Um, write our names in the sand, maybe. And we definitely we need to look for more seashells.”
“Sounds like a plan,” he says as I flip around, start the wave runner, and head back to shore.
When we get there, Damian waves at us from the beach, indicating that he wants me to bring it up on shore.
“Hey,” he says, walking out in the water. “The other wave runner won’t start. If you’re done with this one, I’m gonna take Peyton out and show her some of the island from the water.”
“Yeah, we’re done,” I say as Aiden and I hop off. “Did you see the dolphins that were swimming all around us?”
“No, we were, uh, in the house.”
“I thought you were kayaking?” Aiden asks.
“Oh, we were, but we came back in as soon as you went out.”
“So what were you doing inside?” Aiden asks them.
“Uh, relaxing,” Damian answers as Peyton says, “Watching TV.”
Aiden squints his eyes. “Which one was it?”
“I watched TV while he relaxed,” Peyton says smoothly.
Aiden grabs her by the elbow and pulls her aside. I’m pretty sure he’s chewing her out and she’s telling him to mind his own business.
She marches away from him and pulls Damian out toward the water.
Aiden’s scowling toward them, so I walk up to him and say, “She’s having fun.”
“She’s acting like she loves him already. They just freaking met.”
“She told me it was love at first sight.”
Aiden nods. “She told me that too.”
“And do you believe in it?”
“Yes, of course I do.”
“Then you understand why she needs to see it through.”
Aiden nods solemnly then grabs my hand. “Come on, we have some things to do.”
“Like what?”
He runs down the beach along the water’s edge, dragging me with him. Then he grabs me around the waist, lifts me off my feet, and kisses me.
And kisses me.
I feel like I’m starring in an amazing beach-set love story.
I don’t want this day to ever end.
“This looks like the perfect spot,” Aiden says, setting me down in the sand, but not letting me go. “Remember that bracelet you had on the day of the Gods of the Olympics competition? You had love written on your arm.”
“I remember.”
“Close your eyes and don’t move.”
A few moments later, he comes up from behind me, wraps his arms around my waist, and whispers, “Open.”
I open my eyes and look at the sand in front of me.
“Love in the sand,” he says. “I put it higher on the beach so the water wouldn’t wash it away.”
I want to cry. “The water always washes it away,” I tell him.
“Maybe the words, but not the feelings.” He spins me out of his arms in a dance move and says, “Go write your name.”
I move a little ways down the beach, fighting back tears, and wondering if he could be right.
I find a stick and use it to draw all sorts of doodles in the sand. Hearts, flowers, swirls, a castle, a frog, a wand, lips, stars, a moon, a rock, waves, a surfboard, the chaos symbol, fireworks, a soccer ball, pompoms, a four-leaf clover, and then, in big, bold, capital letters,
KEATYN.
Aiden says, “I wish I had my phone to take a picture. That’s, like, a work of art.” He studies it more closely. “Is that the story of your life?”
“What?”
“Oh, it just looks like you drew all the things you love.”
I study my sand doodles more closely, realizing he might be right. I smile at him. “I was just messing around, drawing random things, but they are all things I love.”
He points over at his name written in the sand. Just a simple
Aiden.
“Mine looks pretty lame in comparison.”
“Actually, yours looks perfect,” I tell him, wrapping my arms around his neck. “It says everything about you.”
“That I’m boring?”
“No, that you don’t need any embellishments to make you stand out. You just do.”
He gives me a hug and kisses my forehead. “I saw some shells down here by the waterline. Want to gather some up?”
“Yeah, let’s do that and then we’ll go make necklaces!”
We gather shells, filling his board shorts’ pockets with them.
When we get closer to the cabana, I stick my tongue out, splash him, and then run down the beach screaming, “Bet you can’t catch me!”
Oh course, I’m not as fast as him and two seconds later, he grabs me from behind.
I deftly spin out of his grip, kick water at him, then land in a karate stance, and go, “Ka-cha!”
“Oh, you’re gonna fight me?” he says with a laugh.
“Unless you’re a chicken,” I reply, kicking more water at him.
He makes one fluid leap and tackles me straight into the water.
I was totally not prepared for it and come up laughing. “What the hell was that? That wasn’t even fair!”
He rolls me over and pins me on the sand underneath him. “Maybe I’m tired of playing fair.”
I lean up like I’m going to kiss him, but instead elbow him in the ribs and slip away.
Almost.
He grabs my legs, pulls me back underneath him, and pins my arms above my head.
Truth be told, I totally could’ve gotten away if I wanted to. I’ve learned a lot from Cooper. But when he leans down to kiss me, I’m really glad I didn’t.
The waves rush up over our feet and legs, the cool water doing nothing to quench the fire inside me. I don’t even care that my hair is probably getting caked with wet, nasty sand.
Because when Aiden kisses me, I don’t care what the rest of the world thinks.
A ding dong ditcher.
7:30pm
We collect some more shells, watch the sun slide below the horizon, and then sort through our shells, deciding which ones will work best for our jewelry.
“Come on. We’ll go in the toy shed to make them. There are tools in there.”
“We gonna hammer, nail, and screw?”
“Actually, we’ll use a drill.”
“Drilling sounds like fun,” he says with a naughty smirk.
As I clean the shells off with bleach, I say, “You know, you’ve become a tease.”
“I’m a tease?” he asks, pointing to himself.
“Yeah, you’re a ding dong ditcher.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Think about it. You act like you want in my house. You keep ringing the doorbell, but when I come to open the door, you’re gone. You’re totally a tease.”
He puts his forehead against mine. “I told you I won’t run away.”
“Honestly, Aiden, if you were smart,” I say, seriously, “you’d run far away from me.”
He tenderly touches my cheek. “My dad says love makes you do stupid things.”
I want so badly to say,
Love?
And for him to answer,
Yes, Boots, I love you.
But I can’t bear to hear it, so I let out a nervous chuckle. “That’s true. I think all of us have done some pretty stupid things in the name of love. So, back to these shells,” I say, patting them dry. “Next, we’ll drill them. Here are the little shells we picked for you. Do you want to have a single shell or a whole row of them?”
He slides the most perfect teeny pink seashell out of the pile and touches my four-leaf clover necklace. “Can I have this?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer; he reaches his arms around my neck and unclasps it.
He lays the shell on a piece of felt, drills a hole in the top of it, adds a little metal circle to turn it into a charm, and then slides it onto my necklace with the clover.
He puts it back on me, and I look in the mirror. The clover nestles perfectly on top of the shell.
I hold the charms in my hand. “I love it.”
“You know, they say the moon controls the tides. So now you'll have both luck and the tides of fate on your side.”
I smile at him as he pushes me up against the workbench and flirts. “Which means you're about to get very lucky.”
His lips land hard on mine, his tongue sliding into my mouth, and controlling the tides of desire that roll through my body.
“Uh, um,” Damian coughs, interrupting our hot make out session.
“Oh, hey,” I say, untangling myself from Aiden. “Uh, we were, um, just making jewelry.”
“I can see that,” Damian smirks. “We got a bunch of shells too.”
“Awesome!” I turn my attention back to the shells, but Aiden’s hand is still on my back, touching both my skin and the top of my bikini bottoms. And although I am trying to sort through shells to make him the perfect wish bracelet, I’m having a really hard time concentrating.
Especially when he starts massaging my back gently.
I choose shells and then drill holes on the sides of each, sliding them onto a string one at a time and putting a square knot in between each. “Where do you want it?”
Aiden’s eyes get big and he gulps. “Uh . . . ?”
I realize very quickly what he was just thinking. “Your ankle or your wrist?” I add.
He does a little head shake, like he’s clearing out the cobwebs in his brain. “My wrist. So I can see it.”
“Okay.” I lay the shells across the top of his wrist. “This is a wish bracelet. As I tie it on, you have to close your eyes and make a wish.”
“Then what? When do I get my wish?”
“We don’t know when, but once you get your wish, the bracelet will fall off.”
He gives Peyton and Damian, who are sorting through shells, a glance. Then he whispers sexily, “Can I wish for drilling?”
“You can wish for whatever you want.”
“So I’ll be losing the bracelet tonight?”
I try to control my smile, but I can’t.
Because Aiden the tease is the cutest thing ever.
I roll my eyes at him and smack his hand away from where it's sneaking down the side of my bikini.
Plus it’s so much more fun to be the one to say no.
“This wish business is serious,” I tell him as I tie the bracelet around his wrist, purposefully tying it in three tight knots. Maybe if I tie it tight enough, he won’t be able to get it off.
And maybe he won’t forget me when I’m gone.
I picture Aiden back at Eastbrooke, surrounded by girls at the cave, and quickly close my eyes to keep from crying.
“Are you wishing on my bracelet too?” he asks.
Part of me wants to curse his bracelet, so that no one else’s lips will ever touch his.
But I know I’m being ridiculous. I’m giving him closure so that he can move on.
“No,” I say, fighting back tears.
“Why do you look like you're about to cry?”
“I’m not. I think I got shell dust in my eyes.” I wipe tears from the corner of my eyes. “I was supposed to wear safety goggles when I drilled.”
“You need safety goggles for drilling?” he says, grabbing a pair. “Maybe I should bring them to bed.”
I grab his now shell-wrapped wrist. “Come on, we’ve got to finish our list.”
I drag him to the courtyard, where a hammock is strung between two palm trees.
“Lie in the hammock and read? There’s only one problem. We don’t have any books.”
“We don’t need a book. We have some homework to do.”
He groans. “You’re going to make me study French?”
“No, but it turns out that I have this survey I have to do for health class.”
“You’re not in health class.”
“Neither are you. I had to answer your questions, now you have to answer mine.”
He rolls his eyes and pulls me closer to his chest. “Fine. I’m an open book.”
“Names of the last four girls you dated.”