Constantine: Britain’s Story Part 2 (Spearhead Lake)

Chapter 2

Britain

“There you are!” I’ve only heard Georgia use that high pitched voice maybe five times in my life. It surprises me. She sounds…delighted.

“Yeah, sorry. Just needed to use the restroom.” I sidle up to her in the pavilion that’s now teeming with people. The picnic went from 0 to 60 while I was helping Mr. Blue Eyes. The sight instantly activates my all-too-familiar anxious dread of socializing.

“Come on, there’s some people I’d like you to meet.” Georgia slides her arm into mine, and I look down at the seemingly foreign attachment. Georgia doesn’t seem to think twice about it, though, just winding us through groups of people who are all chatting and laughing together.

“Do you really work with all these people?” I ask as we weave and bob through the crowd.

“Well, yes, and no. About half of them work at the office full-time, the other half works on-site, but I still have to work with all of them.” I just nod along to her answer. I honestly don’t know what my mom does for a living. I’m pretty sure she’s a secretary, but a high-level one. The only thing I know for certain is that she works for Connie, the co-owner of the MS Group.

We reach the far end of the pavilion, closest to where the makeshift bar is, and when we get to where we’re going, the group of people part for us like the Red Sea. Like Georgia belongs.

Connie is instantly recognizable with his thick black hair set against his tan skin. He’s wearing a white polo with khaki shorts, a watch that probably costs more than my car, and boat shoes. I don’t know much about wealthy people, but if I were to imagine a rich, middle-aged man, this would be pretty damn close to what I’d picture. The moment he sees us, Georgia and me, his entire demeanor and attention shifts, falling on us. He straightens, and his face turns up into the brightest smile. We should find out who his dentist is.

Constantine is a good man. On the few occasions I’ve met him, I've always remembered how kind he was. He always asked me questions about school and what sports I was playing, or what books I was reading. My dad was never in the picture as a child, and Georgia didn’t date, so my only interactions with grown men in my adolescence were, ironically, the dentist and Connie.

Georgia leads me straight to him, a smile on her face. I can’t figure out why, honestly, because she rarely smiles. It’s then that I realize I’m seeing a different version of Georgia today. Work Georgia, not “mom Georgia” or “home Georgia,” this is a woman I don’t know.

“Britain! My god, you’ve grown so much since the last time I saw you!” Constantine beams at me. He moves to set down his beer, then opens his arms wide for me to step into a hug. I’m trying so hard not to be awkward so I move in closer and return his embrace. I wasn’t really expecting a hug as a greeting. I'd expected maybe a handshake, at most — perhaps even just a polite smile.

While his hug is warm and kind, I do think it lasts a moment longer than it should. You’d think I was a long-lost relative, not his secretary’s daughter. Weird. When he finally relaxes his embrace, he holds me away from him, refusing to relinquish me completely, and I blush.

“Hi, Mr. Scala. It’s so nice to see you again.”

“Darling, please call me Connie,” he says gently. I smile at him and nod my head. He slowly drops his arms, picking his beer back up. And I take that as my cue to fade to black. I check behind me before I can take a step away, but I don’t get the chance.

“Georgia told me you’re staying local for school, going to State?” Oh, okay, he wants to talk…to me.

“Oh, um, yes. I’ll be staying in town.” I smile, trying my absolute best to be the polite human Georgia raised me to be.

“Georgia also mentioned you got into Stanford, but you’re not going.” My cheeks heat uncontrollably; I hate talking about myself.

“I did, but I think I’d rather stay here. No use spending all that money when I haven’t even decided what I want to do yet.” I laugh nervously, “Also, I sort of like it here.” I shrug my shoulders, but it’s the truth. I know most people are itching to ditch this place, but I’ve never really had that same drive. I like the valley surrounded by majestic mountains with hidden lakes and the ocean just a stone’s throw over the coastal range. I like the rolling hills and driving by the ranches with my country music turned up to ten. I don’t even know why I bothered to apply to any colleges besides State other than my counselor advised me that I should.

“You know, my son, Matt, just graduated from Stanford?”

“Oh, I didn’t know that. That’s awesome.” Lie. I did know that, but I don’t want to seem like the weirdo who knows everything about these people even though I’ve never met them.

“He really loved it there. You should talk to him about it. You know, it’s not too late to change your mind.” Connie gives me a wink and a smile.

“Oh, I’m sure he’s busy, and I’d hate to bother him-” Connie cuts me off.

“He’s not busy at all. In fact, he’s right…” Connie looks around the group of people Georgia and I just entered, which has now splintered into several smaller groups, “here.” Connie rests his hand on the back of a tall man’s shoulder, and when he turns in Connie’s direction…holy crap. He’s fucking gorgeous.

Tall, dark, and gorgeous turns and joins our small group that I’m just now realizing is just Connie and me. That’s it, that’s the group. Well, now Matt, too.

“Matt, I’d like you to meet someone,” Connie says to him.

Before Connie can continue, Matt speaks up, “You must be Britain.” He smiles when he’s done. And oh my god. He knows who I am? It’s like his movements are in slow motion when he reaches a hand up to push a piece of black hair up and off his forehead making me salivate.

“Hi, yes, I’m Britain.” I extend my hand to shake his, and when our hands meet, it feels electric. Not in that corny romantic way though. It feels unnatural, new…different. It feels like something that wasn’t supposed to happen did. Now I know I’m blushing again. Stupid pale skin always failing me.

“Matt,” he replies in his deep voice. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Honestly, I’ve heard so much about you, I feel like I practically know you!” He laughs. What in the actual fuck? This drop dead gorgeous man knows about me? I laugh nervously in response, I mean what am I supposed to say to that?

Connie pats Matt on the back in a loving gesture, and for a second, I feel jealous. Not because Connie is touching Matt but because Matt gets to have Connie as a dad. It’s irrational, but I wonder what it would have been like to grow up with a father like him.

“Matt, I thought maybe you could talk to Britain about-”

Matt cuts him off, “Stanford?” He chuckles, “I know, Dad, you only brought it up three times on the way over.” Ahh. So that’s how Matt knows who I am. Connie gets a sheepish look on his face before letting out a low laugh. I also could’ve sworn he blushed for a moment, too.

“Well, it’s important!” Connie defends himself. “I’ll let you kids talk for a little bit.” He shoots me another wink before patting Matt on the arm, then turns to join another group, leaving me…with Matt. I could just curl in a ball and die right now. It’s so fucking embarrassing that he’s basically pity talking to me because his dad made him. Matt turns to me, giving me that luminous smile. I bet it’s so easy for him to talk to people.

“It’s okay; you don’t have to talk to me about Stanford. We can just pretend to talk for a minute and then you can go.” I give him the out he’s probably dying for.

“Absolutely not! Let’s talk about it,” he says, seemingly taken aback by my dismissal. Oh.

“Umm, okay?” I let out another nervous laugh for what feels like the fiftieth time. He looks over my head, and around me then gently takes my arm, guiding me away from the crowded bar area.

It’s a lot quieter on this side of the pavilion so he immediately jumps back into the conversation. “So, what are you planning to study?” I laugh at his question.

“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” I sigh, “Well, I honestly don’t know. I’m sort of hoping I’ll find out when I get there. I’ll take a course, and there’ll be this spark, and I’ll know then, this is what I want to do.” I shrug my shoulders.

“And why can’t you do that at Stanford?”

“It’s just…it’s a really expensive school for general ed when I don’t have a set path. I mean, my mom told me not to worry about the cost, that she would take care of it, but I do worry. You know?” He probably doesn’t know, though. He’s been brought up in a world of wealth. I don’t know why I just told him that. It’s not polite to talk about money, but I just felt like if I told him the truth, he might drop this whole subject.

“I think, if Georgia said she would take care of it, you should let Georgia take care of it. If that’s the only thing holding you back, you shouldn’t let it.” Of course, he would say that. It’s easy to tell someone else to let their parents go into debt for six figures for college when it was never even a question for you.

I’m thinking how best to respond when a skinny guy with spiky blonde hair walks up to us.

“Hey, bro! Been looking for you!” Spiky-haired guy butts right into our conversation. He’s even wedged himself between Matt and me like I don’t exist. Typical.

“Hey, Jake,” Matt says as he side-steps around Jake to stand next to me. “I’d like you to meet Britain. Britain, this is Jake.”

“Hi there, nice to meet you.” I don’t extend my hand, though. This guy seems like a douche.

“Sup’?” Jake responds to me, but I don’t reply. He’s not actually asking me what’s up. Jake doesn’t wait for a response either, redirecting his attention to Matt. “Ready to take the boat out? I’ve got a good group together.” It’s so awkward when people talk about their plans in front of you, especially when those plans don’t include you.

Without waiting for Matt’s reply, I just politely excuse myself. “Matt, it was very nice to meet and talk to you. Jake, nice to meet you as well.” I give a tight-lipped but courteous smile, then dip my head in farewell and head in the opposite direction without looking back once. I immediately start walking with purpose except…I have no direction.

I could go stand next to Georgia for the next couple of hours, but that sounds torturous and especially lame. God, I hate coming to things like this. I mean I absolutely loathe stuff like this. It brings all my feelings of inadequacy to the surface. I feel like I’ll never really belong or am worthy, and these intrusive thoughts cause me to spiral. I get this outsider mentality, and then I latch on to those thoughts, and it hurts physically. There’s a pain in my chest, and tears start to line my eyes. God, I’m pathetic. I’ve got to get out of here.

There’s a small dirt path winding beside the lake connecting different pavilions and beach areas, so that’s where I direct myself. No one will notice I’m missing. I’ll wander around and hopefully kill another hour. At least that’s what I’m hoping for, but I only get about 50 feet from the picnic pavilion when someone calls out to me.

“Britain, wait!” I turn to see Matt walking quickly up the path behind me. I wait for him to catch up, confused about why he’s here.

“Where are you headed?” He asks once he’s reached me. I almost look around to see if he’s talking to someone other than me, but I refrain.

“Just going for a walk down to that beach area.” I point to a spot about a quarter of a mile away.

“Can I join you?” This time I actually do look behind me, to make sure I’m not being delusional.

“Listen, if this is about the Stanford thing, I really don’t think you could say or do anything to change my mind. It’s just life. I’m fine going to State, really.”

“If I don’t bring up Stanford again, then can I join you?” What? Why? Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Britain.

“Umm, sure…why not?” I can’t fathom what would make this man want to walk around a lake with me on a scorching hot day when he could be drinking under a shaded pavilion or wakeboarding on his boat with friends. But, I will accept the distraction he’ll provide.

“Cool,” is his only response. So I turn towards the path and start walking again, this time with Matt at my side, yet neither one of us talks. I look out at the lake surrounded by golden foothills sparsely dotted with dry brush and low oak trees. Occasionally, I zone out, following the path of speed boats as they zoom through the wake before eventually growing smaller and disappearing over the horizon. It’s…amiable, at best.

It doesn’t take much for me to notice that Robles Lake is not like Spearhead Lake, my favorite place in the world. Robles Lake isn’t up in the mountains surrounded by pine trees; it’s down in the hills, which means 1. It’s hot, and 2. There’s hardly any shade and a lot of dirt. The trees here don’t get tall, either. Oppressed by a brutal valley sun beating down on their backs, they have no choice but to bend to the sun’s will. I inhale deeply trying to appreciate the natural beauty, but nothing but the smell of dirt fills my lungs.

By the time we get to the beach area, we still haven’t spoken and the heat is starting to feel unbearable, so I slip off my sandals, leaving them on the sandy beach, and head straight for the water. I’m not planning to go all the way in, but cool water lapping against my shins sounds amazing right now. Not bothering to check what Matt does, I just do my own thing, desperate for the cooling relief above all else.

When I step into the water, the dry sand turns to cool mud beneath my toes, and I sigh. It feels so good. I take several more steps into the lake until I’m knee-deep, the cool water seemingly my only relief on what is turning into a miserable afternoon.

“Britain, don’t move,” Matt says in a stern, low voice. I don’t move, but the urge to turn around and look at him is strong. “There’s a water snake by your right foot.” He’s nearly whispering it like the volume of his voice is somehow impactful.

“Oooookay,” I reply quietly, “what should I do?”

“I’m going to get closer to you, and you’re going to slowly walk back towards me. If it starts to move, hopefully, I’ll be close enough to pull you away.” I don’t like snakes. I like the thought of water snakes even less, but I’m not sure this is necessary. It’s not like water moccasins are native to this area. I think if I just take a couple steps in the opposite direction it’ll be fine.

So I slowly take a step back and to the left, but my movement causes the snake to move. Well that’s what I’m assuming happens because before I know it, Matt has pulled me back into him, which would have been fine, except the quick movement startled me. Instead of a graceful drift into his waiting arms, I flail, he yells, and we both fall. Into the water. Off the drop-off. In the opposite direction of the shore.

When I come up from the water, I see it. A gnarled tree root has floated to the surface in our wake. A root that looks a lot like a snake. I don’t even attempt to hold the laughter in.

From behind me, Matt says in a quiet voice, “It looked like a snake.” His statement only fuels the ridiculousness and makes me laugh harder, until eventually, he starts laughing, too.

Once we’ve swum close enough to the shore that I can walk, I turn back to look at him, and Christ on a cracker. His wet t-shirt should be fucking illegal the way it hugs every muscle in his toned torso. I try to cover my blatant stare with a smile at him, which he returns, and that’s when I feel it. There’s a spark burning low in my abdomen. I want him.

Stop it, Britain. I have absolutely no business wanting him. He’s Matthias Scala, and I’m me. I turn away from him, embarrassed by my cringey thoughts, and attempt to squeeze water from my dress, but it’s useless. When we get back to the pavilion, I’ll just have to change into my swimsuit and cover-up.

“I’m really sorry about that, Britain,” Matthias says as he walks towards me, shaking out his hair as he does, making my pelvis burn and yearn. I guess that’s what it looks like to hit the genetics lottery. Awesome.

“Honestly,” I clear my throat to regain some composure, “it’s fine. It’s so freaking hot, it felt good to just get all the way in anyways.” I shoot him a soft smile because it’s really not a big deal. I mean, how much worse could this day get anyway? He stares at me for a moment before responding.

“Can I take you out sometime?” There’s that nagging urge to turn and look behind me, again. Surely, he must be talking to someone else.

“Me?” I point with my hand to my own chest. He laughs, and the sound makes me clench my thighs together. I’m fucking screwed. At least, I wish I was.

“Yes, you,” he says with a smile on his face.

“Matthias, you don’t need to ask me out because you accidentally pushed me in a lake, okay?”

He laughs again. “So technically, we both fell into the lake, no pushing involved. And second, nobody calls me Matthias.” Crap.

“Sorry,” I inwardly cringe, “just, um, Georgia talks about you sometimes, and she’s always called you Matthias. But it won’t happen again, promise.” If there even is an ‘again.’

“No, you misunderstand. Nobody calls me Matthias, but you can. If you want to.” His mouth tilts up slightly, revealing a single dimple. He sounds so sincere, but I’m still having a hard time believing this is all really happening. This is all just some fever dream, right?

There’s something about his smile though, and if this isn’t a joke, there’s no way I could refuse him. “Okay, I will then.”

“So, does that mean you’ll go on a date with me?” So he’s still on that, okay.

I hesitate but finally answer, “Uh, sure, that sounds great.” When he smiles again, damn, it makes me want to jump his bones, but I don’t. I head towards my sandals, sliding them on and wait for him to do the same. We walk back towards the pavilion with squeaky shoes, and wet hair and by the time we get back, I’m teasing him about the “snake" again.

“It looked like a snake!” He says, exasperated.

I just laugh and say, “Uh-huh. Sure. Well, I’m gonna go find my bag and change.”

I head towards the end of the pavilion, but he keeps walking with me and then extends a hand to stop me.

“Wait, can I have your number?” He asks, his hand resting on my upper arm. I think subconsciously, I’ve been trying to give him an out on this whole “date” thing, but he’s not backing down. Matthias really wants to go out with me?

“Um, yeah, when we get to my purse, I can write it down for you.” He just nods, moving his hand gently to my hip and nudging me to lead the way. We’re almost to the table where I left my bag when we have to squeeze between two larger groups of people standing in the way. As we pass, I overhear, “I haven’t seen any cute blondes around, man. Sorry.”

“She was here! But now I can’t find her. I’ve been looking for an hour now.”

“Hey! Matt!” The first voice calls out. “You seen a cute blonde chick? Liam’s looking for her.” I stop dead in my tracks. Th-they’re not talking about me, though, right? I mean Liam as in Liam Millar? Looking for me? I turn to look behind me at Matthias, and he motions to the two guys to look in my direction.

“Is this the cute blonde you’re looking for?” The first voice and Mr. Blue Eyes turn and eye me up and down. My cheeks turn bright pink under their gaze. I hardly think ‘cute’ is how I would describe myself right now in my soaking wet dress with frizzy, air-drying hair. But as soon as Mr. Blue Eyes looks back up at me, there’s a jolt of familiarity. Mr. Blue Eyes is Liam, William Millar. My mom’s other boss. Isn’t that just grand?

Liam slides a hand behind his neck like he’s embarrassed but quickly recovers. “Yup, she’s the one,” he says in a tone that confuses me slightly. Matthias eyes Liam, not understanding, as well.

“Alright, well, Liam, this is Britain, Georgia’s daughter. Britain, this is Liam Millar and my little brother Niko.” He gestures toward each man respectively.

I extend my hand to Liam first, “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Millar.” He pauses before taking it, but when he does, his touch is just as warm and tender as it was earlier in the bathroom.

“Please, call me Liam,” he replies, and I give him a gentle smile before turning and offering the same to Niko.

Niko’s response is just, “So you’re the famous Britain, huh?” My cheeks reheat. Why am I ‘the famous Britain?’ Famous to who? I look back at Liam, half waiting, half staring at him in awe. Liam Millar is Mr. Blue Eyes, huh.

“You’re really Georgia’s daughter?” He finally asks me.

“Yep, that’s me,” I say with a bashful smile.

“How old even are you?” What? What does that have to do with anything? The direct, oddly worded question bothers me.

“I’m 18, why?” He just continues to stare at me though, until he finally drops his head shaking it, lightly laughing.

“No reason. I was looking for you to say thank you, for the ice, and the ibuprofen.” He gestures towards the red bump on his forehead. Of course, that’s all he wanted. I just nod.

“You’re welcome, and I’m still very sorry about that.” He shrugs it off, looking over at Matthias, seeming just now to realize he’s soaking wet…and I am too. Liam drops his gaze, giving Niko a pat on the shoulder.

“I’m gonna go grab a beer. I’ll see you all around later.” As Liam walks away, I get the strangest sensation. It’s a bit like déjà vu, but I’ve never been here before, and I’ve never felt this way before, but oddly, the feeling is undeniably there — I feel like I don’t want him to leave.