Chapter Henry
Henry
She drags me out of manta ray territory and onto the footpath, hugging the row of hedges that lines it.
We stay low, shuffling quickly but silently, keeping to the shadows.
I’m focused—on not stumbling, not making a sound, not throwing up the two thousand calories of dessert I ate an hour ago. I’m scared as shit.
Behind us, the patrolman hollers for us to come out of hiding.
Would it be better to surrender now?
Will they go easier on us if we come clean before we’re caught?
My mom’s going to be so disappointed.
Piper ducks behind the partitioned wall of a bathroom entrance, yanking me in with her, raising a finger to her lips. Like I need a reminder to keep my mouth shut.
Footsteps echo down the path.
Piper presses a hand over her mouth, trying to muffle her gasping breaths. I’m not huffing and puffing the way she is, but I’m pretty sure people all the way back in Spokane can hear my heart pummeling my ribs.
I tense as the footfalls draw closer. It sounds like there’s only one person, and that gives me hope. We might outmaneuver a single patrolman. But if there’s another close by, or a whole team, we’re fucked.
He tromps past us, his shadow visible under the partition, flashlight beam like a meteor streaking across the sky. Piper’s hand trembles in mine as the light swings back again, shining over the top of our hiding place.
He calls out another order for us to show ourselves, but he’s winded, losing steam. I let my shoulders drop away from my ears as he moves on.
Piper’s gaze meets mine. She points to the left, a different route than we took to get to the manta rays, but one that must lead toward escape.
I nod.
We’re gonna run for it.
She slips off her Reefs. I tighten the laces of my Pumas. And then we launch ourselves onto the dimly lit path, silent and swift, two missiles firing through the night.
Thank god, the ramshackle fence comes into view quickly, the ocean just beyond it.
We leave the same way we entered, then keep running down the beach toward home.
I don’t realize how far we’ve sprinted until Piper’s hand becomes heavy in mine.
I look back to see her dragging ass, practically wheezing.
I slow to a stop, dropping my hands to my knees to catch my breath.
I run distance, not dashes. When the stitch in my side loosens, I straighten to see the Towers about half a mile down the shore, lit up like twin Christmas trees.
Piper falls flat on her back in the sand, laughing in that noiseless, hysterical way that almost always ends in hiccups.
I glare down at her. “He could catch up, you know. We could still get busted.”
She calms down long enough to say, “Henry, we’re in the clear.”
She tries to sit up, catches another fit of giggles, and falls back again. I peer down the moonlit beach, checking to make sure we’re not being followed.
There’s no one around but us.
I collapse beside her, then empty my shoes of sand. I focus on the waves, inhaling and exhaling in time with their crests, trying to get a handle on myself. If Piper deals with stressful situations by laughing uncontrollably, I bulge at the seams with anger.
Seems like a century ago that we were joking about mermaid sex.
Finally, she sits up. She scoots toward me, matching my posture, touching her toes to mine. I’m so frustrated by how this night has panned out, I kind of want to put distance between us. But that seems mean-spirited.
“It’s okay,” Piper says, more solemn now.
“Is it? What if he saw us?”
“I don’t think he did.”
“He knew we were on the property, so someone obviously saw us. Someone called security. What if your boss figures out the trespasser was you? What’re you gonna do then?”
“That won’t happen.”
But she doesn’t sound so confident anymore.
“It could. I shouldn’t have let you—” I break off. I’m not going to slap her with all the blame. It’s not like she dragged me through that fence.
“You shouldn’t have let me what?” she prods.
“Nothing.”
I move my feet away from hers.
Her face falls.
I don’t know why I’m being so shitty to her. It’s myself I’m angry with. I could’ve said no. Could’ve refused to trespass, but instead I let a girl sway me because I like her. Because I want her to like me.
I know right from wrong, but I still fucking folded.
“I’m sorry,” she says, soft and rueful. “You’re right.
I shouldn’t have asked you to come. I just—I thought it would be fine.
It has been fine every other time I’ve done it.
” Her gaze drops to the sand. “Henry, if we’d gotten caught…
God. I’ve been in trouble before—I can deal.
But if I’d caused problems for you, I never would’ve forgiven myself. ”
She looks wrecked.
She looks like she might cry.
“Hey.” I reach over to touch her knee. Her eyes find mine, and yeah, they’re bright with tears.
Shit—when we left the Towers a few hours ago, I never would’ve guessed we’d end up having what feels too much like fight.
“It wasn’t all bad,” I tell her. “I liked watching the rays with you. I liked seeing your parents’ memorial. I want to learn more about them.”
“What, now?”
Laughter zaps what’s left of the tension from my system. “Maybe not right now,” I say, leaning back on my hands, stretching out my legs. “Like, tomorrow, or the day after that.”
“You want to see me again after what I just put you through?”
She sounds exceptionally anxious, like the suspense might do her in.
It’s a lot like how I felt behind that bathroom partition, like another second of uncertainty would liquefy my bones.
I shrug, letting her sweat it out for a second.
And then: “Yeah, I want to see you again. I’m kind of into you. I thought you knew.”
She lets a breath disappear into the breeze. “I’m kind of into you too.”
The distance between us makes me feel like a buoy bobbing alone in the gulf.
I don’t like it.
“Piper,” I say with longing that’s hit suddenly and insistently. “Come here.”
She rises to her knees and edges toward me, gaze locked on mine until—Jesus, finally—she’s hovering over my shins, my knees, my thighs.
As much as I want to put my hands on her, this weirdly masochistic part of me likes the challenge of waiting to see what she’ll do without influence.
She leans close, pressing her chest to mine, setting her cool palms against my hot neck.
She kisses me once, softly, barely, leaving traces of vanilla on my mouth.
I exhale, feeling like a grenade without a pin.
Her face catches the moonlight. She’s pleased with herself, with the power she must’ve just now realized she has.
I grapple for composure, but anticipation’s coursing through me, a second surge of adrenaline.
I focus on her, dragging my hands over her ankles, her calves, her thighs, trapping grains of sand between her soft skin and mine, until I find the tattered hems of her cutoffs.
I rub the denim between my fingers, wondering how far she wants this to go.
She’s breathing erratically, watching me, waiting to see what I’ll do next.
My hands blaze trails over her hips, her waist, her spine. I kiss her, a kiss that feels powerful in a way I’ve never experienced. I’ve moved from fiery devotion to absolute frustration to horniness that borders on embarrassing in the span of minutes.
It’s brain-melting.
I slow down, struggling to find even the most tenuous self-control because I want to enjoy kissing her, not barrel through it. She must understand, or want the same thing, because her body relaxes. She eases back, returns to me, eases back, swoops in again, teasing with lips and tongue and hands.
We dissolve into the sand.
When our fire fizzles out, I sit up.
I’m in over my head.
No, Piper’s not careless. She cares about her job, her sister, and her future. She cares about whatever happened with her best friend. She cares about minor stuff like mermaid books and acai bowls.
She cares deeply, maybe to her detriment.
And now she cares about me.
I need to get a handle on what’s happening between us, because August is closing in. I need to be certain I’m not going to tear a rift through her by leaving in a few weeks. But if she’s feeling anything close to what I’m feeling, I’m not sure that’s possible.
I fold her into a hug for my benefit as much as hers. Her scent washes over me: her rose-garden hair, her vanilla gloss, salt stirred up by the gulf air and our sprint.
I hold her close, breathing her in, changed in this colossal but indefinable way.
“Henry,” she whispers, her breath tickling my neck. “What are we going to do when it’s time for you to go back to Spokane?”
I bury my face in her curls.
I have no idea.
All I know is that I don’t want to go anywhere.