Chapter 11
BILLIE
Icould not be less surprised when Jacob looks like he’s getting bored of being at the harbor.
He hasn’t really said much since we started touring the hot destinations; not much beyond, do we get many tourists here and, how many people work at the harbor?
He’s clearly trying to put some sort of economic estimate on the island.
I wouldn’t be surprised if he closes it off for tourism altogether when he buys it.
If he buys it. I can’t let myself start thinking like that. He’s not going to kick us all out. I wouldn’t mind if he stopped the tourism, though.
I don’t hate the tourists. I do find it irritating, though, when they act like they’re entitled to our time and land because we’re the little locals to gawk at and they’re the big, smart, civilized city people.
Sounds like someone else I know.
We head back into town. I think I’ll show him the main street next. He probably already walked down it, but I guess I’ll point out some of the things he hasn’t noticed, old buildings and things that mean something to me.
Not that he’s entitled to my personal life. I don’t think he cares anyway. He seems quite detached from everything.
I guess in his world, he’s used to getting what he wants. I don’t think ‘no’ is a word he hears very often. Not until he came here.
“Why do you need to buy the whole island anyway?” I ask. “Can’t you find a house to buy and move here? Or build your dream house and leave the rest of us alone?”
“People,” he says, like that’s an answer, and when he sees my face, he expands a little. “I hate people.”
“Yeah, I could tell.”
He sighs. “I mean, they bother me relentlessly. Never leave me alone. It’s amazing being here. All of you hate me for being the billionaire who wants to evict you.”
“Weird, but okay,” I say.
Somehow his expression gets more solemn, like he thinks I’m totally misunderstanding him. He shakes his head. “In the city, everyone recognizes me as someone famous, as someone important. I’m tired of living like that. I want somewhere I can live all by myself. Without worrying about people.”
“Seems lonely,” I say.
He hums as if in agreement but doesn’t say anything else. I decide not to push. I don’t actually care about his personal problems. He can deal with them by buying a house like everyone else.
Not that buying a house is the sort of solution that everyone else would come up with. Not everyone can afford that.
“This is my mom’s shop,” I say, pointing as we pass Gracie’s Shack. “She’s a painter. She’s the best.”
“Ocean landscapes.” He sneers as he peers through the window.
“Great ocean landscapes,” I snap. “Don’t even think about saying something bad about my mom. She means the world to me.”
He throws up his hands again, and I grit my teeth. This mock-surrender thing he’s into is really, really annoying. Nobody I’ve ever spoken to has made me feel so unimportant.
“Everything in this town is important to me,” I say, and before I can really think, the words start flowing.
“I’ve lived my whole life here. I’ve loved my whole life here.
Look, see — this alleyway.” I run ahead, darting off the main street and toward some of the houses.
“My best friend used to live down here. We learned to ride our bikes in this place. I fell off my bike in this alley so many times. Our goal was to make it all the way downhill when we were learning. I’ve never known anything else but this. ”
“You’ve never wanted to travel?” he asks with this look of awe like he can’t believe what I’m saying.
I shrug. “I’ve been to the city. I’ve been to New York. I like going to other places. I like coming home better. I like the comfort of the familiar.”
We continue, and as the town starts to fall away behind us, the forest looms. “This is one of the best hiking trails,” I say, pointing to where the path starts winding away.
“We don’t have a lot of hills, but if you head up the trail, you can find places where you can sit and look out over the whole island. It’s really beautiful.”
“Should we go?” he asks.
“Up the hill?”
“Why not?”
I open my mouth and close it again, realizing I don’t have a good answer to that question.
Without a word, we turn onto the path and walk.
Jacob doesn’t say anything, simply looking left and right up at the trees as we wander.
When he tilts his head, I can’t help but notice his jawline and how defined it is.
How bold all his features are. He’s striking and handsome, and when the sun filters down and catches his eyes, they twinkle.
Looking at him like this, I can see why so many people fawn over him. Hell, if you just looked at him, you probably would think he was a heartthrob. But I’ve spoken to him for more than four seconds, so no amount of being attractive is going to make me like him.
Minutes pass, and the silence continues.
I start to feel awkward, so to fill the space, I tell him stories about when I was younger; about the mischief we got up to in this forest, about the best places to hide for hide and seek.
He doesn’t say a word as I speak. In silence, he lets me tell my stories.
For the very first time since we met, I have a feeling he’s actually being sincere about how much he’s paying attention.
His mouth doesn’t open, his eyes don’t roll, but he’s paying attention.
He hums every now and again in all the right places, keeps looking back at me before getting distracted by the beauty around us.
It’s only in this second that I’m realizing maybe he is a good listener. Maybe there really could be more to him than the cold businessman he’s been showing me so far.
He just wants people to leave him alone.
I guess I can understand that. I wish it wasn’t on my island he was doing it, but I recognize the sentiment. After all, it’s how I feel about him being here. I want him to leave us alone.
And I still do want him to leave us alone. I don’t think I’ve convinced him yet, but at least I think he sees us as human now, not as possessions that he can pick up and throw out as he pleases. I think he’s starting to realize that our lives mean more than he thought.
I hope he is, anyway.
We reach the top of the hill, and the sun shines brightly down over the island. I lead him to my favorite clearing, one where the trees part and you can spy on everyone on the beach below. I point this out to him, and he smiles, shuffling to the gap in the trees to look down. I don’t follow him.
Instead, I watch him watching them, looking at the smile on his face, wondering what he’s thinking about.