7. Chapter 7
seven
~ Jasper ~
“ T hat is a sloth.” Adorable, yes, but it had no business inside an aquarium.
“Why is there a sloth here?”
Beckett’s hand pressed against my back, natural, easy, like it belonged there.
“I feel like everywhere should have sloths. Target would be a lot more fun with sloths. Imagine if your dentist had an emotional support sloth.”
I turned my head away to hide my smile.
“You are ridiculous.”
“Oh, look, monkeys.”
He steered us toward a mesh enclosure that housed three of the tiniest, fluffiest little animals I had ever seen.
They didn’t even look real, more like those felt toys I’d had as a child.
They still weren’t aquatic.
“What kind of aquarium is this?”
“The best kind?” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and brushed his thumb across my cheek.
The move hadn’t been flirtatious, but it had been intimate.
One might even call it domestic.
Not me, but other people.
And he didn’t even seem to realize he’d done it…
or that I had stopped breathing.
“Try to have fun.”
“I’m having fun,” I answered, instantly defensive.
“You are one more primate away from an unhinged Yelp review.”
When he turned and walked away, I stuck my tongue out at his back before following after him.
I wasn’t that bad.
Granted, it had been years since I had visited the aquarium, but I remembered it being much different.
And I had a lot of questions about the setup of the place.
For starters, where were all the fish?
We entered a dark room with walls of terrariums filled with snakes, lizards, and toads.
We saw ghastly spiders, and another mesh enclosure with a very confused-looking chameleon.
We stopped to snap a couple of pictures of an albino alligator, which had at least been in the water.
There had been racoons.
Because nothing screamed deep blue sea like a trash panda.
By my estimation, we had been in the building for nearly an hour before we encountered our first actual marine animal.
Stepping into a stark, blindingly white room, I grinned at the circular glass columns that filled the area.
And inside each one was an abundance of ocean life, from anemones to tigerfish.
Three of the tanks housed different species of seahorses.
I’d always liked the way they clung to the seaweed with their little tails.
They looked so unbothered by life as they floated in the current created by the water’s circulation system.
Farther down the row, I found myself absolutely entranced by a striped cuttlefish.
Tucked beneath a hollow branch at the bottom of the enclosure, I had almost missed it at first. Then a flash of color had caught my attention, stopping me in my tracks, and I had been treated to a mesmerizing show of shifting light patterns.
“Hey, look at this.” Beckett called me over to a column near the back wall as he crouched down in front of the glass.
“This little dude looks like he wants to throw down. I swear he just tried to punch me.”
His enthusiasm about a hypothetical assault from a shrimp was deranged and kind of adorable.
“That’s a mantis shrimp. They have the most powerful punch in the world, and they have been known to crack aquarium glass.”
He instantly pulled his hands back and held them up in surrender as he rose to his feet.
“Maybe he’s just mad because he’s lonely.”
I couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not, but it still made me smile.
“He’s in there alone because he’s a little nuisance that will kill other fish and even crabs.”
“That’s just disrespectful.” Chuckling, he turned to face me.
“How do you know all this stuff?”
Because I had been even more socially awkward as a child than I was now.
As a result, I’d spent a lot of time in my room, making friends with books instead of other people.
By this point, I knew Beckett could handle my weirdness, but that felt a little too heavy, so I shrugged and told a half truth instead.
“I read a lot.”
“That’s kind of sexy.”
My brain instantly malfunctioned, unsure of the appropriate reaction.
Did I laugh? Blush uncomfortably?
Ignore the way my stomach fluttered?
Before I could fully process that statement, his eyes lit up, and a bright smile stretched his lips.
“That reminds me. I forgot to tell you I finished Kendall’s book.”
“Oh, that’s great.” I latched onto the information so I wouldn’t dwell on his previous comment.
“What did you think?”
“It was good. I’m not a big reader like you, but it held my interest.” He spoke earnestly about different scenes he’d enjoyed while we continued through the aquarium, explaining not just what he had liked but why.
“I was really impressed with all the procedural stuff. The kid did her research.”
“I’m sure she’d love to hear that.” I didn’t have the same experience or knowledge as him, but I had also thought the scenes sounded authentic.
“So, are you going to continue the series?”
“I already pre-ordered the next book.”
Could he be any more perfect?
While I believed he had honestly enjoyed Kendall’s work, he had just admitted he wasn’t really into reading.
As such, I had to conclude that he’d pre-ordered the sequel as a show of support.
And maybe because he knew how much it meant, not just to Kendall, but to me as well.
We entered a wide, dimly lit corridor made of clear glass, the space awash with a soft, purple glow.
These tanks didn’t boast corals or seaweed, nor did they house a single decoration.
Just dozens of radiant jellyfish drifting lazily in the water.
They looked peaceful, almost ethereal, yet something about these alien-like creatures had always unsettled me.
In that moment, however, I wasn’t thinking about the fact that they lacked brains or could theoretically live forever.
Instead, the UV light that filled the tank had transported me back to the previous night, to the paint, to Beckett’s hard, chiseled body pressed against mine on the dance floor.
It had taken three more shots of cheap vodka, but I had eventually loosened up enough to actually enjoy myself.
At least to some degree.
It had still been too loud and too chaotic for my tastes, but I’d discovered that if I just focused on Beckett, everything else didn’t feel so overwhelming anymore.
“I had fun last night.”
If he found my comment abrupt or out of place, he didn’t show it.
“Yeah, me, too. Though probably not something I would want to do again.”
“God no,” I said, a relieved chuckle mingling with the words.
“It took forever to wash off all the paint.”
“Probably would have been easier with help.” His grin said he knew exactly what that comment had done to me, and he had no intentions of taking it back.
“You look good today, by the way.”
My initial instinct was to deflect the compliment, but I paused and reminded myself that I didn’t have to do that with Beckett.
Not an easy habit to break, but one worthy of effort.
“Thanks. I researched it.”
Although I hadn’t poured myself into bed until well after three in the morning, I had woken just three hours later and immediately jumped onto my computer.
I couldn’t even count the number of fashion blogs I had read or the YouTube videos I had watched.
They might as well have been in some archaic language for all the sense they made.
Two hours in, I had finally given up in frustration and decided to copy one of the looks the best I could.
I didn’t own skinny jeans, so I had settled on a pair of fitted light-wash denim with a black leather belt.
Instead of combat boots—I was going on a date, not to war—I had donned the sneakers I wore to play basketball with the kids.
The top had taken the longest to select, and I had changed at least a dozen times before settling on a blue-and-white striped tee I had purchased on a whim and never worn.
Beckett chuckled, warm and indulgent.
“Then it was time well spent.”
I loved that he never made me feel stupid or inept when I admitted things like that.
He didn’t try to fix me or change me.
He just met me where I stood, as if researching outfits and spiraling over accessories was the most normal thing in the world.
In a few short weeks, he had become a part of my life I hadn’t realized I’d been missing.
A reliable constant, an unshakable foundation that never made me question my footing.
The way he looked at me, touched me, the things he said, they broke me.
Not in irreparable ways, though.
They shattered my walls so I could build something better, something stronger.
Beckett made me want things I had never wanted before, but he also made me brave enough to reach out and take them.
“Jazz? Everything okay?”
Coming out of my thoughts, I blinked at him, my eyes open and clear for the first time.
“I’m great.”
“You looked like you checked out for a minute.”
“Just having an epiphany.”
He tilted his head, his brow scrunched.
“Do I ask?”
I shook my head and started walking again.
Not yet. It had been a pretty big realization, and I needed to sit with it for a while.
“I’ll tell you later.”
“Fair. Let me know when you’re ready.”
That was it.
No prodding. No guilt.
Just an invitation, a promise that he would be waiting when the time came.
“Where to next?” I asked.
“I want to see the water heifers.”
Frowning, I turned the phrase over in my head until I realized he meant the manatees.
“I think they’re called sea cows.”
“That’s what I said.”
We exited the jellyfish corridor and rounded the corner, where we came to a bridge that extended over a manmade island with a flock of flamingos.
Some waded in the water, searching out their lunch, while others stood in their signature one-legged pose, their heads tucked beneath their wings.
Beckett sighed. “That looks incredibly uncomfortable.”
Then he proceeded to try to recreate the position with the exact results I had expected.
In the past, I probably would have been mortified by his antics, afraid of being judged for his behavior.
Now, I simply didn’t care.
“You look like an idiot.” I turned away with a snort.
“Where are you going?”
“Don’t mind me. I’m just going to be over here pretending I don’t know you.”
“I was just trying to make a point,” he argued.
“And what point would that be? That your neck isn’t two feet long?”
He pretended to consider this for a moment before bobbing his head.
“Okay, that actually makes sense.”
Good grief, he was an absolute menace, and honestly, I loved it.
I couldn’t remember the last time I had laughed so much or so freely.
After years of striving for perfection, I was starting to realize that not everything had to be so serious.
Sometimes, it was okay to be a little messy.
When we arrived at the penguin enclosure, Beckett wasted no time mimicking their waddle.
This time, I had expected it, and after the briefest of hesitations, I actually joined in.
Only for a second, and without his animation or flair, but it felt good to be part of the fun rather than a bystander to his joy.
Eventually, we found our way to the manatee exhibit, and while I knew millions of people loved them, I just didn’t see the appeal.
“They look like wet beanbags.”
“That’s fat shaming, and we will not tolerate it.” Beckett pressed his hand to the glass and lowered his voice.
“Isn’t that right, Petunia?”
I blinked rapidly, my pulse tripping into a wild gallop.
Thankfully, my momentary panic at being perceived as bigoted didn’t last long.
Once I realized he was teasing—and that we were talking about a half-ton sentient potato—my anxiety vanished as quickly as it had come.
“Apologies. I didn’t realize you two were friends.”
I also had it on good authority, courtesy of the placard on the wall, that this was a bull and definitely not named Petunia.
“She is from the order Sirenia . A literal siren, sir. Show some respect.”
He might have dropped the animal fact casually with a side of drama, but it told me a lot.
Beneath his snark existed a candid love for the creatures.
Unless auditioning for a game show, the average person didn’t make it a point to memorize the scientific name for things.
They called them water heifers and went about their day.
“You really like manatees, don’t you?”
“I do,” he answered, dropping the bluster.
“I grew up in Florida, and I used to volunteer at a rehabilitation center during high school.”
Although I felt honored that he had shared this piece of his history with me, I instinctively knew he wouldn’t want me to make a big deal out of it.
Again, I reminded myself that not everything needed to be serious.
It didn’t need to be dissected and analyzed.
Sometimes, it just needed to be.
Instead, I retrieved my phone from my pocket and opened the camera app.
“Would you like me to take a photo to commemorate the moment?”
In response, he angled toward me, gave a double thumbs up, and adopted a million-watt smile that had probably broken countless hearts.
I snapped half a dozen pictures, then passed him my phone so he could choose the ones he liked.
“Good?”
“One more.” Grabbing my wrist, he dragged me close and pressed his cheek to mine as he held the phone out at arm’s length.
“Did you know some people think ancient sailors actually mistook manatees for mermaids, and that’s where the myth came from? Can you picture Petunia in a seashell bikini?”
I had never considered it, but now, it was all I could think about, and once I started laughing, I couldn’t stop.
“Perfect.” Beckett turned the phone around to show me the pictures he’d taken while I had been mentally living in a Homer epic.
“What do you think?”
With a shaky hand, I flipped through the images, one by one, judging them with a critical eye.
They weren’t polished or front-page worthy.
But they were real, and they radiated with happiness.
“I love them.”
“Excellent.” Beckett passed the phone back to me and took my hand, lacing our fingers together.
“I think that’s about it. Do you want to swing by the gift shop?”
“Sure.” I shrugged, more focused on the feel of his palm against mine than overpriced souvenirs.
“Are you hungry?”
“I could eat.” In reality, I was starving.
I had been too nervous to eat breakfast, and we had skipped right past lunch while at the aquarium.
“Do you want anything in particular, or are you kind of done with outside nonsense for the day?”
While I hadn’t quite reached shutdown mode yet, between my pre-anxiety about our date and the nightmare of navigating downtown Dallas, I teetered on the edge.
Beckett had recognized it before I had, and he’d given me an easy out, but I wasn’t ready for our time together to end.
“Maybe something low-key,” I suggested as we made our way toward the gift shop at the front of the building.
“Want to order something and eat at my place?”
Talk about a loaded question.
Although benign on the surface, he hadn’t just offered a meal.
He had invited me into his space.
And god help me, I wanted it.
Maybe it would backfire, and I’d end up regretting it, but I wanted to try.
“Yeah, I’d like that.”