4. SOPHIA
4
SOPHIA
I see him.
It’s hard to miss a sports car like that.
I didn’t know it was his car at first, but when he steps out, I recognize him immediately.
I try to act like I’m not paying attention by referring to the lunch order we placed at the deli at the end of the strip mall, and I think he buys it.
Why am I doing this?
Why am I trying to hide? I have nothing to be ashamed of. I’m just doing my job. If anyone is out of place, it’s him.
I hold my head up high and cast a quick glance in his direction, but he’s already entering the restaurant.
Like a lot of “bad boys,” I sense Ethan is "broken”.
Maybe it’s because of his family, maybe he’s just like that. Like a lot of women, I have the urge to fix him.
That whole idea gets a bad rap. It’s not like we’re masochists who are drawn to men who will only bring us heartache. It’s just that we’re empathetic, and we only want to make people’s lives better.
Maybe we also have an innate maternal streak to where we have the impulse to care for people who are hurting.
I’m also realistic enough to know it’s a fool’s errand. Bad boys can’t be changed.
I know from experience.
Like a lot of girls, college was my first opportunity to really get out from under my parents. It was only about an hour away up the coast, so realistically I could commute daily, but the university encouraged first-year students to live in the dorms, if possible.
I thought having to make that trip twice a day would really cut into my studying time ... and, if we’re being honest, party time.
Dax was a junior when we met. He rode a motorcycle and wore a leather jacket. The reality was that he came from a solid middle-class family, and 99% of his tough guy persona was all an act, but I thought he was cool.
The reality was that he was actually just an asshole and didn’t have respect for anyone other than himself.
He was my first.
He was romantic enough, at least at first. Long walks along the beach, bringing me gifts just because. He took my virginity among the dunes, which isn’t nearly as romantic as it sounds.
To begin with, it was early October, and a little too cool for that. I was freezing the whole time. Then, for days, I was cleaning sand from places I didn’t even know I had.
Once he thought he had “claimed” me, the games started. Putting me down in front of his friends, dismissing my ideas.
I was young and naive, but not stupid. As much as I was attracted to him. He expected me to do everything for him and didn’t make an effort. I wasn’t going to put up with that.
Ever since, I’ve been wary of guys like that. And, unlike Dax, Ethan made no attempt to hide his disdain for me.
Speaking of the beach, after I get off work, I plan to head down there for a swim. It will be the first time since I've been pulled from the surf by Ethan.
Even though I had grown up on the beach, I have to admit, I’m a little apprehensive about going back into the water. Being caught in a riptide is nothing to take lightly.
“The dark alleyway, illuminated only by the dim rays of moonlight that filtered through the clouds, seemed especially foreboding in this particular city, the city of vampires. I hear a soft rustle like the fluttering of a bird’s wings, and it seems very close. I think fondly of my lover Henri and the time spent in his passionate embrace.”
Ah, this seems promising.
It's been a while since I indulged myself with a good steamy beach read. I especially enjoy romantasy involving vampires or witches, and it’s certainly a nice change from the dry marketing textbooks I’d been forced to study for the past four years.
There are only a few people on the beach. Not surprising for a weekday. A few translucent, diaphanous clouds stretch from horizon-to-horizon, and a couple of lonely seagulls squeal overhead, looking for a bite to eat.
None of my friends have joined me; they all had work or claimed prior commitments. It’s overly self-conscious of me, but I half wonder if my near drowning had somehow spooked them, as if bad luck was somehow contagious.
The constant roar of the surf provides background as I study the water for patterns in the incoming waves that might indicate a riptide is present.
Patches of ripples in otherwise calm water or waves coming at an angle are telltale signs, but obviously they’re not foolproof. Otherwise, I never would have been caught in one a few days ago.
The water seems to be fine. Still, I’m hesitant to go in.
I recall the feel of being inextricably pulled into deep and deeper water, unable to touch bottom.
Of course, I remember the lesson that had been drilled into my head since I was little that if caught in a rip current, swim parallel to shore until you’re out of it, but no matter how much I struggled to paddle out of it, I wasn’t making any progress.
I started to panic.
I don’t remember screaming, but I must have.
Suddenly, as I had almost given up hope, a powerful arm wrapped around me.
It felt strong and confident, I knew I would be fine.
Many people are so desperate that they struggle against their rescuer, but I relaxed into my savior’s grasp.
I remember looking up into the sun as I lay on my back, thinking that if I wasn’t fighting for my life, this might not be so bad.
I wade in, the frothy sea foam swirling around my ankles.
I’m still in shallow water, but I can already feel the powerful grip of the ocean as the small waves roll in only to be pulled back with the immense force of gravity.
As I stare into the distance, the larger waves curling and breaking in a magnificent display of nature’s power, I find my mind drifting back to that day.
There was something different about Ethan. Maybe his muscles were a little bit bigger, his jaw stronger.
No surprise, really. He’s always been well built and took care of himself, and surely his SEAL training has refined his body even further.
But that wasn’t it. It was something in his eyes.
I’d heard that some people who were in combat developed what was termed the “thousand-yard stare," sort of a blank look of a person who has seen it all and is just mentally detached.
That wasn’t it either.
Maybe it was that he had developed a deeper understanding of human beings in general and now understood that there were good people along with the bad.
And maybe – just maybe – a little empathy had managed to force its way in.
Stepping out of the water, I squint against the afternoon sun and the salt air, tickling my nostrils.
Two men are playing volleyball a little way down the beach. Their bronzed bodies gleaming in the sun, their hair ruffled by the stiff onshore breeze.
I find my heart leaping a little when I consider that one of them looks a little like Ethan from a distance.
It’s not. Ethan’s hair is shorter now, not a buzz cut, but definitely more military than the longish fringe-up style he wore before he enlisted.
I can honestly admit that I always liked Ethan’s hair. It gave him a rakish look, like a rock star on his day off.
I wonder if I’m beginning to get a little bit obsessed about a man I don’t even like.
Not like I don’t have enough on my plate to worry about already anyway.
What if my hesitancy to go out into deeper water is my subconscious warning me that I’m maybe going in too deep in other aspects of life?
I still hadn’t had any callbacks on the marketing jobs I had applied for. Maybe I was pushing too hard too soon.
There is also the fact that I was still living at home. Thankfully, my parents aren’t intrusive, but I’m the only one of my friends who still lives with her parents. Bringing a guy home is kind of difficult in that situation.
But who am I kidding? I haven’t had a serious – or even non-serious – relationship in over a year. With senior year projects, work, and just dealing with life post-college, that hasn’t really been on my radar.
Sure, there had been guys, but none of them seemed interesting enough to engage with. My friend Melanie says I set my standards too high, but I just can’t deal with a guy who has nothing to offer intellectually.
My phone chirps, and when I reach down to grab it, I look at the caller ID.
Liam.
Instantly, I’m on alert. Liam never calls me ... unless it’s an emergency.