Chapter 8 #2
He stops to reach down and pick up a shell from the beach. Brushing off the sand, he holds it in his palm, and when I see what it is, I reach for it without thinking.
“A unicorn horn,” I say, running my finger along the shell, feeling the ridges that spiral around its length.
“Well, that has to be pretty rare,” Damien teases. He watches my fingers graze the shell. “I always thought unicorns would be bigger.”
“Not in Oregon,” I say, picking the small shell up so he can see it better. “Our unicorns are very tiny.”
“I hope so. It’d be really sad if they were full-sized and sporting teeny tiny horns.”
I laugh at the image and say, “That would be sad. When I was little, I did actually think they were unicorn horns. I was devastated when I found out it was just a common turritella shell.”
“And the magic was killed,” Damien says. “Childhood can be a real bitch.”
I put the shell back in his hand, but he closes his fingers, quickly locking them over mine so our hands are pressed together.
Another gust of wind hits us, blowing my hair against his chest and face, but he doesn’t bat it away.
He watches me before flipping our hands so the shell is now pressed against my palm.
His thumb brushes along my skin right before he says, “Keep it.” The corner of his mouth quirks up again before he says, “Every time you look at it, I want you to picture a horse-sized unicorn with a teeny tiny horn.”
I laugh and when he pulls his hand back, I keep mine wrapped around the shell that’s not feeling quite so common anymore. “I will. Thanks for giving it to me.”
We both turn our heads when we hear Bran clapping his hands.
He’s way ahead of us by now and waving for us to catch up.
Damien doesn’t know it, but the cave is close, just around the natural curve of the beach.
As soon as we pick up our pace and join Bran, I notice that Damien makes sure to stay by my side instead of letting my cousin scoot in between us.
My thumb keeps tracing along the ridges of the shell while we follow the curve of the beach.
I decide to turn it into a necklace as soon as I get home so I can keep it close to me.
The beach opens up in front of us, and when Damien looks up and sees the large opening that cuts into the cliff beside us, he signs, Wow, and looks over at Bran and me. How far back does it go?
Bran shrugs and signs, We don’t know. It floods when the tide comes in, so we need to hurry if you want to see it.
Wonderful, Damien signs, and I laugh at the look on his face, not bothering to tell him how shallow the cave actually is.
Bran pulls two flashlights from his back pocket and hands one to me before walking towards the cave’s opening.
“You’re getting good with the sarcastic signing,” I tell him.
“Thanks. I’ve been practicing.” He looks back at the cave.
“Why do I feel like every part of Oregon is constantly trying to kill me? They say the city is dangerous, but that’s because it’s filled with people.
That’s at least a violence I can understand and protect myself against. Sea caves that go on for miles and fill with icy cold water?
” He laughs and shakes his head. “It’s fucking insane, Sitka. ”
I smile at hearing him say my name and grab his arm, pulling him towards the opening. “Come on. I won’t let you drown.”
His dark eyes stay locked on mine when he asks, “Promise?”
“I promise,” I say, feeling like he’s asking for a lot more than just a safe tour of the sea cave that Bran’s already disappeared into.
Keeping my hand on his forearm, we speed up, only slowing down when the sand turns to rock. The beam from Bran’s light is visible in front of us, and when he waves it around, I aim mine towards him and do the same, letting him know we’re coming.
“Watch your feet,” I tell Damien. “Some of the rocks can be sharp.”
“I’m not at all surprised to hear that,” he says, and when he hears me laugh, I see the smile he gives me before we step into the shadows.
Damien might be a little leery of our side of the country, but it’s obvious he loves the place. I can see it in the way he looks out at the ocean or up at the trees. He’s not fooling me. He might be a city boy, but a big part of him is loving every second of this.
Watching my footing, I slowly make a path for us. The rocks are wet and slippery, and after several feet, the air changes from the brine-filled scent of the ocean to something that’s undeniably fishy.
“I’m afraid to ask, but what is that smell?” Damien asks from behind me.
Still using his arm for balance, I turn and put the flashlight under my chin so my face is lit up and hopefully comically scary instead of downright ghastly.
“The sea monster,” I whisper as I widen my eyes in pretend terror.
He laughs and says, “I feel like you’re constantly trying to get me killed, Sitka? Anything you want to tell me?”
“Why would you think that? We haven’t even gone surfing yet.” I use the flashlight and wave it around the large cave we’re in. “This is nothing compared to being in the ocean.”
“See,” he says, pointing a finger at me. “That’s what I’m talking about. You look giddy at the idea of my ass in that ocean.”
I want to tell him that I’d look giddy about anything that had to do with his ass, but I don’t. Instead I squeeze his arm and say, “Come on, we need to hurry before the tide comes in.”
Bran is waiting for us near the side, sitting on one of the large rocks with the flashlight in his hand.
With both our flashlights and the light that’s filtering in through the wide opening, there’s enough for me to see everyone’s face.
Bran’s eyes drift to where I’m still gripping Damien’s arm, but he doesn’t tell me to stop or look like he’s angry about it, so I don’t let go.
He signs a quick, Go for it, Sitka.
Without warning Damien, I tip my head back and let out a loud howl that ricochets off the stone walls and ceiling, echoing around us in a never-ending loop.
When I’d first yelled, I’d felt Damien put his hand on top of mine, worried I’d been hurt, but when he realizes what I’m doing, he laughs and tips his head back to let out a howl of his own.
Our voices join, and when I look over at Bran, his eyes are closed and both his palms are pressed flat against the rock he’s sitting on.
He feels us, even if he can’t hear it. When he lifts his hands and signs more, we both tip our heads back and give him what he wants.
By the time we feel the first inkling of cold water at our feet, I flash my light at Bran and sign that we need to leave. He nods, and hops down from the rock, joining us as we make our way back out.
Damien’s grinning when I look back up at him. “That place is amazing,” he says. “But seriously, what was the fish smell?”
I point down the beach and say, “The sea lions love to come on land about half a mile down that way. Sometimes they’ll venture up this far and go into the caves. They’re really fun to watch, but man do they stink. You also don’t want to get too close, because they can get pretty aggressive.”
“I’ll mark pet a sea lion off my Oregon to-do list,” he says.
“Yeah, definitely mark that one off,” I say.
We start heading back as the cave slowly fills, and I realize I’m still grabbing onto his forearm. “Sorry,” I quickly say, letting him go.
He looks down at where I’d been touching him. I’m not expecting him to say anything, so I’m surprised when he looks at me and says, “Please don’t ever apologize for touching me. It makes me feel like I was the only one who enjoyed it.”
I’m too stunned by his words to say anything, and without waiting for me to find my voice, he starts walking again, falling in step beside Bran. I jog to catch up, and keeping my eyes straight ahead, I say, “You weren’t the only one who enjoyed it.”
When I step closer so my arm brushes his, I feel him look down at me, but I resist the urge to look up and let him see how much I’m enjoying this.
I have zero experience with guys, and I’m afraid of being too eager too soon.
He knocks all that on its ass, though, when he scoots in even more and hooks a finger under my chin, lifting my face to his.
It’s a brief touch, over far quicker than I want it to be, but he holds me long enough for our eyes to meet.
Whatever he sees makes him smile before he lets me go and stands back up to his full height.
We’re still walking, and when I chance a quick look at my cousin, he either didn’t see anything or is pretending he didn’t.
We get back to the house, and after brushing the sand off, Damien helps me stand.
Instead of walking inside with me, he says, “If I don’t see you before tonight, be careful, Sitka.
I know you’re good and you know what you’re doing, but,” he pauses for a second and rubs a hand through his dark hair, “just be careful.”
“I will be,” I tell him. “I always am. Maybe I’ll see you afterwards?”
“I’d like that. I’m not so sure your brothers will, though.”
“Your cousin is married to my cousin. There’s nothing wrong with us hanging out together,” I say.
The soft huff of a laugh and the amused look in his eyes has me adding, “They don’t need to know everything I do. We’re allowed to talk, aren’t we?”
“We are allowed to talk, yes,” he says, but I can tell it’s only a cautious sort of agreement to what I’ve said.
“We are,” I say with more conviction, and to prove it, I ask, “Can I see your phone?”
He raises a curious brow at me but pulls his phone from his back pocket, unlocks it, and then hands it over.
I can’t help but grin when I see his screensaver is a photo of his brother’s kids.
I don’t tell him how relieved I am that it’s not some photo of a gorgeous model or a girl he knows from back home.
Not wanting him to think I’m snooping, I keep the screen so he can see it and then put myself in his contacts.
I lift my eyes when he says, “Add a photo of yourself.”