35 #3
The more he spoke, the more our boat ride in France came back to me, when he shared why his work wasn’t something to be proud of. It wasn’t because of critics or people online. It was his father.
“As for my last name, I agreed to drop it when my father let me leave for acting school in the States after graduation. No affiliation to the family was our deal, down to the color of our hair.”
My heart deflated. I wanted to push my family story through a shredder for assuming he was happy at home. “Kieran, that’s terrible.”
He paused to reach for a pink scalloped shell in the sand, placing it in my palm. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. None of this is fine. Just because your father doesn’t think acting is a respectable career doesn’t mean he’s right. You’re successful for a reason, there’s no mistake about that.”
The hand at his side grazed mine. “I appreciate that.” But he didn’t believe me.
“You should take it back,” I proposed.
“Take what back?”
“Your name—your full name.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Why not? You’re halfway there with the hair.” I let my hand travel to the nape of his neck. We both knew it felt too intimate to be an exchange between friends, but neither of us questioned it.
“Hair is one thing, but my name directly ties back to everyone here.”
“Everyone who loves you,” I reminded him. “How about this: If I somehow find the strength to win the US Open, will you find the strength to take Alvarez back?”
“Okay, I can do that,” he agreed. But sadness tainted his tone. I wanted to pull it off of him and drape it over myself to give him a moment of peace. A moment of laughter.
He started again, “All right, it’s your turn—Wait, what are you doing?”
I pocketed the shells in my sweatshirt before letting it slide from my shoulders into the sand. “I want to feel the water,” I said, slipping my sandals off and jogging away.
“Why would that involve leaving your sweatshirt—Oh, God.” His voice was muffled as I reached the tide, stepping in past my knees.
“Come on, you baby!” I shouted. The water fought back as I ran through its tide. Soon enough, my shorts were heavy with the ocean’s touch, and my tank was sticking to my stomach.
He ran for the shore, tossing his shoes and shirt in the sand. “Damn fountain all over again!” A deep, genuine laugh rolled out of him as the water hit his feet.
I inhaled and plugged my nose, dropping beneath the water. The warm waves wrapped their arms around my body, swaying me in a dance. It ended as soon as Kieran’s arms found me, pulling me to the surface.
I wiped the water from my eyes and brushed my hair out of my face. “Hi,” I said.
“Hi,” he responded, a slight lift at the corner of his mouth. His own wet hair was pushed from his forehead, but water still fell in a slow stream down the sides of his face.
The waves rocked us back and forth, even with our feet pressed into the sand. He placed his hand on my hip to keep me from floating away.
“Do you often jump into bodies of water mid-conversation?”
“Not particularly. I think I just like getting a reaction out of you.” I cracked a smile.
I expected him to laugh, but his eyelashes, dotted with droplets, dropped to my lips.
“What you said, at the hotel, did you mean it?” he asked.
My heart nose-dived. Twenty-four hours ago, I would have had no idea what he wanted. But between last night, kissing him at that fountain, and meeting his family, I knew what response he wanted. I wanted to give it to him. And it terrified me. Because I wanted it too. I wanted him.
One moment, I could handle holding his hand for a photo, and now I couldn’t look at him without the urge to kiss him crawling through my body.
For weeks, I had been falling in love with him.
Falling in love used to be my strength. My mother used to say my heart was my guide. Women could find something to love in any moment if we looked at it long enough.
But Jeremiah had said my heart was too big with the same shame infidelity deserved.
He wasn’t wrong. My heart was too big. When I loved something, I loved it with every breath.
I couldn’t just dip a toe in and test it.
I had to dive headfirst. Even when he was grieving and distancing himself, I adapted.
I learned to find love in those moments. And it ruined me.
If I dove in again and was pushed away, I think I’d drown.
“Talk to me,” Kieran whispered, the rustling of the ocean around us.
The descending sun caressed his face, pulling out the flecks of gray and shades of blue in his eyes. I steered my focus away, staring down the coast where a mountain hit a peak. I wanted the ocean to take me away. Pull me to a place where it didn’t matter who I was or how I felt.
I love you.
“I don’t know right now,” I lied cowardly.
He nodded in understanding, his eyes still glued to me. They were so blue, it looked like they stole from the ocean around us.
I leaned in and pressed my lips against his.
Peace. I craved just a moment of peace.
Kieran obliged. His lips embraced mine as the birds stopped calling home and the sun disappeared.