Chapter 12 Playlist East Coast Summer #2
As soon as he asks about Kat, I realize how bitter my comment sounded.
I’m not sure how much I can trust Gregory, but we did decide to be friends, and I came here tonight for the whole purpose of making new ones, so.
Might as well start somewhere. “Yes, she’s one of those freaks who has perfect grades and rocks at sports. ”
“Eh, I’m not impressed by that kind of thing.”
“What are you impressed by, then?” I don’t care if Gregory finds me impressive. I swear, I don’t.
He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and I peek over at him. His brow is furrowed as if he’s deep in thought.
“Good taste in music,” he finally says. “Not everyone can laugh at themselves, so that, too. Spontaneity, because life’s short.” He nudges me with his elbow. “Pretty high schoolers with perfect GPAs.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, cheeseball.” But I’m smiling.
“What about you?” he asks.
“What impresses me?”
“Yeah.”
“Hmm. People who can cook without a recipe, for sure. The chef at Pearl’s comes up with a new special every day and just pulls it from his brain. Can you imagine being able to decide, ‘I’ll mix together some fish and cilantro and beets’ and it’s so delicious, it blows people’s minds?”
“That… doesn’t sound like it would taste good.”
“Clearly you haven’t tasted Chef Ray’s food.”
“Obviously now I have to,” he says. “What else?”
“Loyalty. People who stick with you no matter what.”
“That’s a good one,” he says quietly.
And because he said three and that makes me feel like I need three too, I add, “Good taste in music.”
He stops, and I turn around to face him. The moonlight bouncing off the waves illuminates the side of his face, and he looks so betrayed, I want to laugh.
“I thought you weren’t a music person,” he accuses.
“I never said that.”
He narrows his eyes, just watching me for a minute. Then his teeth flash white as he smiles. “Who’s your favorite author?”
I blink at him, thrown. Author? “We’re talking about music. Don’t you want to know my favorite musician?”
“Eventually,” he says. It feels like my brain takes a still of him in this moment, and I wish I had my camera with me.
Just standing there by the ocean, hat still backward on his head, one hand tucked into his hoodie and the other by his side, loosely holding the can of soda I gave him. “We’ll get there.”
“Get where?”
“To a point where we know all that stuff about each other.”
“Wow, you really plan to put in some time, don’t you?”
He looks at me like, Duh. “That’s what it means to be friends, doesn’t it?” He starts walking again. “So. Favorite author?”
“Jandy Nelson. You?”
“It changes every week.” That seems like a cop-out answer, but before I can call him out, he’s moved on. “What’s your dream job?”
I hesitate before responding. “Shark biologist.”
“Sorry?”
I don’t always tell people what I want to do with my life, because being the shark girl isn’t likely to win me any popularity contests.
It’s a little like the kid who still wants to study dinosaurs.
I’m not sure why I’m telling Gregory, but for some reason I feel like I can.
“A shark biologist. Like, a marine biologist, with a focus on sharks.”
He side-eyes me, like he can’t decide if I’m serious. “That sounds… terrifying.”
“Why?”
“Why?” he echoes, incredulous, and flings his arm to gesture toward the dark ocean beyond. “Because sharks!”
I shake my head. “Sharks are the most important part of the ocean ecosystem. They’re incredibly misunderstood.”
“Wow.” Gregory looks me up and down as we walk, not in a creepy way but more like he’s asking himself who he just decided to befriend. “I didn’t have you pegged as a Jaws apologist, Amelia Madden.”
“Don’t get me started on Jaws. The harm Hollywood has caused to the species may never fully be undone.”
“Oh, but I want to,” he says. “Please, give me all your thoughts on the cult classic.”
“It’s way too soon for that,” I say. If I get on my soapbox now, I’ll scare him off for sure. “What about you? What’s Gregory McLoughlin’s dream job?”
“F1 driver. Hands down.”
“Come on.”
“What? We’re talking dream job here. I never said it had to be realistic.”
He has a point. But I think my answer would be the same either way. My dream job is exactly what I intend to do with my life.
“Those racing jumpsuits are awfully sexy,” I admit. Especially the red ones.
“I know, right? Go ahead and picture me wearing one. I don’t mind. I just ask you to try to keep your hands to yourself.”
“I’ll try to control myself,” I say blandly. “What are you thinking for your actual job? Do you know yet?”
“I’m pretty good with computers, so something tech-ish. Maybe health-care informatics.”
“I have no idea what that is.”
“I learned about it during a career day last year. It’s, like, using technology to help hospitals with patient safety and stuff. Sounded pretty cool.” He shrugs like it’s not a big deal, but I get the feeling there’s something he’s not saying.
We walk up the shore for another few minutes, and then—
“Oh my God!” I barely process Gregory’s shout before I’m being lifted off the ground and carried several feet away. “What the hell was that? Something touched me!”
His arms are wrapped around my waist, and my feet dangle a few inches off the ground.
My boobs are pressed up against his chest, my face a breath away from his.
I blink, registering one of his palms halfway underneath my sweatshirt and touching the skin on my back.
That tiny area of my body goes from warm to hot like a branding iron in two seconds flat.
He’s breathing hard, his gaze over my shoulder to where we were just standing. I feel his heart pounding.
I take a deep breath in through my nose, which might have been a mistake, because I’ve just realized that Gregory smells very, very good. Like, maybe even better than Myles.
It’s something smooth and woodsy, like he’s just stepped onto the beach from a forest of lush pine trees.
“Hey, Gregory?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you put me down?”
“What? Oh, yeah… sorry.” He carefully lowers me, and my nerve endings ensure that I’m aware of every single inch of me that slides down every inch of him until my feet are down and I pull away from him. My breath comes a little quicker, and he scrunches his nose as he grips the back of his neck.
“I swear something moved,” he says, almost apologetically. “Right by my foot, and I—I just reacted.”
I refuse to laugh at him. Nothing out here would be dangerous enough to warrant that type of panicked escape, but he’s new here, and it’s kind of sweet that his first thought was to save me. From, you know… probably a seagull or crab or a tiny wave.
I pull my phone from my back pocket and turn on the flashlight, trying to hide my smile. I shine it on the sand and head back to where we were walking.
Then I spot it—a smooth, round dome with a thin tail trailing behind, blending into the sand.
“Oh! It’s a horseshoe crab. A big one too.
” I glance up at the sky. “They like to come up and lay their eggs when it’s a full moon.
I bet there’s more—” I aim my flashlight out farther, and my smile widens.
“Yeah, there’s another one! This is so great.
They only come out for a few nights, and I didn’t see them at all last year. ”
I feel Gregory sidle up beside me before he speaks. “Wow,” he breathes, bending lower to look at it. “That thing is cool-looking.”
“So… not scary, then?” I tease.
“It was instinct!” he whisper-yells. “I didn’t know what it was!”
I give him a nudge with my elbow. “I’m just glad you ran away rather than trying to hurt it. These things are super important to marine life. Sharks need them for food. Sea turtles, too.”
Gregory straightens and chuckles a little. “Shark biologist Amelia has entered the chat.”
“There’s more where that came from,” I warn. “If we’re gonna be friends, it’s best you know that going in.”
Gregory just smiles, a wide and happy one. “I can’t wait.”
We start walking again soon after that, and we talk until my phone alerts me that it’s only ten minutes until curfew, so I tell him I’d better get going.
“Oh, okay,” he says.
“Gonna head back to the party?” I ask.
He glances in that direction, then looks back at me. “Nah. I’ll probably head home too. See you around?”
I smile. “Yeah, I’m sure I’ll see you later.” On the way to my house I send Myles a quick text.
Me: Sorry I bailed, but: curfew. See you at work!
It’s not until I get to my house that I remember Kat called, and I promise myself I’ll call her back tomorrow.