Chapter 5
FIVE
Aunt Beatrice was so thrilled with Emmett’s plans to spend time outside of the house with another human being not related to him that she offered him her car for the day.
Driving up and down the highway in beach traffic wasn’t Emmett’s favorite thing, but it did open up activity possibilities.
And it limited his need to walk for blocks on end on crowded sidewalks, or to squash in close to tourists on the Shore Transit buses.
He used both GPS and Lincoln’s texted directions to find the three-story beach house, tucked off the main road on the bay side of Coastal Highway.
Lincoln surprised him by being on the front steps, sunglasses on, his styled blond hair glinting on the sunlight.
His blinding smile hit Emmett right in the balls and made him squirm in the leather bucket seat.
Lincoln stood and strolled over to the idling car. He hesitated a brief moment before opening the door and climbing in. “Hey, man. Nice car.”
“It’s my aunt’s.” No sense in taking credit for the sports car that wasn’t his own. “She was pretty chill about letting me drive it.”
“Excellent.” Lincoln’s head never stopped moving as he gazed around, taking in the restored interior. He seemed . . . nervous. Or excited. Or some mix of both, and Emmett wasn’t sure how to take it. Lincoln’s fingers plucked at the hem of his cargo shorts.
“Do you still want to hang out?”
“Huh?” His head swiveled, and Emmett had to guess that they’d made eye contact, thanks to those ever-present sunglasses. “Why? Don’t you?”
“Sure. I don’t know, you seem distracted. Is today a bad day?”
“Not at all.” He smiled again, and guh. “I may have gotten some really good news this morning, and I’m not sure how to process it right now.”
“You might have gotten good news? Doesn’t the major difference between good and bad news basically define the two?”
“It’s complicated because of my head injury.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“Not your fault. Anyway, I don’t want to think about that right now. It’s in the future, and today I want to have some fun. I haven’t had a fun day out in . . . fuck if I know.”
Emmett could do with some fun, as well. “It’s been a long time for me, too.”
“Then let’s go find some fun. Lead the way, local boy.”
He chuckled at the nickname. “Do you have a preference for pirates versus a safari?”
Lincoln’s lips dipped in a frown. “What?”
“Trust me.” Emmett couldn’t explain the insistent need to keep Lincoln’s spirits up, or his sudden urge to make this the best day out ever.
“Pirates, then.”
“Arrighty, matey.” His pathetic attempt at a pirate’s accent sent Lincoln into a giggle fit that made his cheeks pink up and his entire body shake. He had a musical laugh that Emmett wanted to hear over and over today.
For the first time in almost two years, Emmett couldn’t wait to simply hang with a friend and be a normal nineteen-year-old, far removed from the tragedies of his past.
Even if only for one day.
After three rounds of mini golf, Lincoln was positive of three things.
One, he totally sucked at putt-putt. His par was six or seven, while Emmett managed a max of three per hole. Not cool.
Two, he was fucking hot as hell under the blazing summer sun, and he’d removed his sleeveless T-shirt and tucked it into the hem of his cargo shorts in the middle of round two.
He had no idea how Emmett was comfortable playing in a regular T-shirt and jeans.
Sweat had plastered the shirt to his back, but he didn’t remove it or roll his jeans up.
The jeans were a weird choice for a beach summer, anyway, when everyone else was wearing bathing suits, board shorts, or swim trunks.
He’d ask about them over a cold drink and lunch, which led him to number three: He really, really liked spending time with Emmett.
Really liked.
They didn’t talk about much more than surface stuff while they putted balls into holes, around the cheesiest pirate-themed course he had ever laid eyes on.
And he didn’t actually mind the banal conversation, because it didn’t feel awkward or forced.
Standing next to Emmett, existing within his proximity, had a strangely calming effect.
He also liked that every time he glanced at Emmett, Emmett glanced away, as if he’d been caught staring at Lincoln.
By their third and final round playing, it had become a kind of game for Lincoln.
To see how many times he could make Emmett look away.
He didn’t even care that his sunglasses gave him an advantage in the game.
He could study Emmett in a less obvious way.
He could see the slender body beneath the somewhat oversized clothes Emmett wore.
He could stare at the way Emmett’s hips swung slightly each time he teed off.
He watched the way the tip of Emmett’s tongue poked out from between plump lips when he lined up a sink shot.
Little things that endeared him to Lincoln a bit more each and every time.
It also allowed him to observe the way Emmett tensed up when they crossed paths with other couples or groups.
His body shrank a bit, as if trying to be less noticeable.
Sure, Lincoln occasionally jumped when someone nudged him in passing, or accidentally brushed his arm or back, but this was different. Emmett didn’t want people to see him.
Scratch that.
Emmett only wanted Lincoln to see him, because when it was just them, those walls fell back down.
Emmett’s anxiety levels seemed to drop around him, and he loved being able to give Emmett even the tiniest amount of peace.
God knew Lincoln could sympathize with anxiety issues.
The big problem was he didn’t know the source of Emmett’s anxiety, and he was pretty sure that their first time out wasn’t the right time to ask.
The last thing he wanted to do was scare Emmett off.
After they putted their ball up a narrow ramp to the final hole, which fed it back to the main cage—well, Emmett did; Lincoln’s ball fell off course and into the wider chute at the bottom—they turned in their putters.
“So where to for lunch?” Lincoln asked.
“Lunch?” Emmett didn’t stop walking, but his surprise was clear in his raised eyebrows.
“Well, sure. I mean, I’m starving and could really use a cold drink. How about you?”
Emmett did stop walking that time, right in the middle of the parking lot. “Um, okay. Yes, lunch sounds good. I’m thirsty too.”
“I bet. Your jeans make me even hotter just looking at them.”
Emmett’s full-face-and-neck blush clued Lincoln in to how that had sounded.
“I mean, because it’s hot out,” Lincoln stuttered. “Not, ah, because I was checking you out in them. You look hot. I mean, overheated.” He wasn’t fixing this. “Can we forget I said anything?”
After a brief moment of them staring at each other, Emmett started laughing. “I think you stumbling for words is the funniest thing I’ve seen in months.”
Lincoln huffed and pretended to be insulted. “Gee, thanks.”
“And it’s okay, I didn’t think you were flirting with me.”
Then what was with the full-on blush? He didn’t ask, though, because getting out of the way of an SUV full of teenagers trying to park became first priority.
They made it back to Emmett’s borrowed car before either of them spoke again.
“So for lunch,” Lincoln said. “How about we leave the car and walk. Try to discover a place together. Something local, not a chain.”
Emmett’s bright smile hit him right in the feels. It chased away the shadows that always seemed to lurk right beneath the surface.
They joined the crowd moving up and down the sidewalk that ran parallel to the main drag, sticking close together in the throng.
Lincoln didn’t mind when Emmett’s arm brushed his, or when he had to walk behind Emmett, close to him so they didn’t get separated.
He didn’t know if Emmett’s anxiety issues manifested in panic attacks, and while he’d worked Dominic through a few in the distant past, he had a funny feeling that Emmett would be incredibly embarrassed to melt down in public.
Their trek south also gave Lincoln a chance to subtly observe Emmett—the way he kept his head angled down and worked hard to avoid making eye contact with anyone.
He didn’t check out others, boys or girls.
He simply walked, his entire goal to get from point A to point B with as little fuss as possible.
The reasons for that poked at Lincoln’s curiosity. He wanted to know more about what made Emmett tick.
He wanted to know who he might need to beat up on his new friend’s behalf.
“How about here?” Emmett said after four blocks. He stepped into the parking lot of a seafood restaurant that advertised crab-cake sliders in its front window, along with local brews on tap. They were slightly past the lunchtime rush, so the place didn’t look totally packed. No line out the door.
“Looks like a winner.” Lincoln put his shirt back on before he held the door open for Emmett and nearly melted under the blast of air-conditioning that instantly turned his sweaty body cold.
Emmett walked into a quirky place that was festooned with crab nets, fake plastic fish, and anchors and smelled pleasantly of Old Bay and grease. A hostess wearing an eye patch asked if they wanted the bar or a booth. Lincoln didn’t want the world at his back, so he picked booth.
She led them into a tightly packed section of booths and tables, to an empty one near the entrance to the bathrooms. Lincoln sat facing the door, with Emmett across from him.
He didn’t have a chance to glance at the menu before a server plunked down two glasses of iced water. Her shirt made Lincoln laugh.
A skin-toned T-shirt with a printed image of a coconut shell bra.
Classy.
“Can I get you guys started with drinks?” she asked.
Since Lincoln was on the outs with beer at the moment, he said, “The water is perfect, thanks.”
“Can I get a Sprite, please?” Emmett asked.
“Sure thing, doll. Be right back.”