Chapter 10
TEN
REID
I am no expert in date planning but this date is going great so far, and Annika hasn’t even shown up yet.
I slept great last night and woke up just after eight and walked to the coffee shop a few dorms down from me.
I saw that guy who Annika’s friend, Chloe, is dating there.
I gave him a big wave that was met with a blank stare.
I picked up veggie sandwiches from this great walk-up sandwich spot near the beach and laid out the spread of goodies over a couple of blankets.
Even though it’s a little cooler today, the sun is out, and the beach isn’t too crowded.
I decide to walk up to the pier to wait for Annika so she can see me when she arrives.
Nothing is worse than meeting up with someone and having to look frantically for where they are.
I was too excited and might have got here an hour early.
But apparently, Annika was too because I see her walking towards me a half hour before noon.
She’s quite possibly the coolest person I’ve ever met. She’s wearing an oversized denim jacket and big sunglasses. She saunters over to me and pushes her sunglasses up on her head, pushing her hair back. She has little black flicks on her eyes and rosy cheeks.
She is taking her sweet time walking to me. “Hurry up before the seagulls eat our food!” I shout over to her and then decide to just jog toward her.
“I thought you said you were a professional beach picnic goer? You should know how to wrangle a seagull.”
“I never said such a thing. But don’t fret. The food should be safe in the picnic basket.” We stand about a foot apart, just looking at each other for a full minute. “I’m glad you actually showed up.” I interrupt the silence. “I was worried you’d cancel on me.”
“I may have drafted a few cancellation texts, but I couldn’t pass up a veggie sandwich on the beach.” She rewards me with a little half-smirk.
Motioning over to the stairs to the sand, I say, “Shall we?” And kick off my sandals.
I jog over to the spot I picked to make sure the blankets haven’t shifted since I laid them out.
It’s the perfect distance from the water so we could dip our toes in, but not too far, so we can keep an eye on our things.
I plop down next to the picnic basket, enjoying the view of Annika walking over.
Her breezy cotton pants make her look like a goddess floating over to me.
I can tell she is examining my setup as she picks a spot on the other blanket.
If I’m being honest with myself, the date is starting off a bit slowly.
We eat the sandwiches and exchange a little chit-chat.
She’s studying marketing, and I get the idea it’s probably not her favorite thing.
I wonder if I’ve just hyped up this moment in my head too much.
I wanted it to be perfect, and maybe that is ruining the vibe.
“Can I ask you a random question?” Annika says to me as she’s finishing up her lunch, interrupting my intrusive thoughts.
“Of course,” I say, clapping my hands to dust off sandwich crumbs. “Ask me all the random questions.”
“If the zoo was giving away an animal, what animal would you take? All supplies included.” She leans in, squinting a little. I can tell there’s a wrong answer to this question.
“Penguin,” I say with zero hesitation.
“Ahh, that’s a good answer, small, cute. Probably cuddly.” I can’t help but smile at her analyzing my answer in depth.
“What about you? What would you take?” I’m guessing she’s going to say some cat.
“A baby giraffe.” She’s clearly answered this question before because she doesn’t miss a beat.
I can’t help but laugh at her response. “An interesting choice. Definitely not small, but cute and maybe cuddly. Why a baby one?”
“They are clumsy and silly. Plus, I could raise it, and maybe it would think we are family.” My heart can’t take these sweet lines she keeps delivering and probably doesn’t realize it. She’s still so cute and I’d never admit that to her in fear of being met by her eye daggers.
“Okay, my turn to ask a random question.”
“Is that how this works? Otherwise, I don’t think I would have started.” But she seems on board with the back and forth because she starts rifling through the basket I brought and pulls out a bag of barbecue chips.
“What’s your weirdest hobby?” I ask, leaning back and digging my hands into the warm sand.
“Great question, but I don’t have one. I’m completely normal and not strange. Next question.” She flips her hair and pops another chip into her mouth.
“Ha! Yeah, right, everyone has a weird hobby. I’ll even share mine first.”
She rolls her eyes up off to the side and says, “Well, go on then.”
“I like watching a new movie once a month.”
“That is probably the opposite of weird, and a hundred percent does not count.”
I chuckle and say, “Yeah, except new means new to me. So, for example, I’m watching my dad’s favorite movies I’ve never seen. Like old westerns and cheesy nineties comedies.”
“I will say it again, that is not weird. In fact, it is very cool. How dare you say that is a weird hobby.” I cannot help but laugh at her response. She does not let that feisty demeanor of hers fade a bit.
“All right, stone skipping.”
“Excuse me? What? Did you say stone skipping?”
I nod, a chuckle pouring out of me. “You heard me. That’s my weird hobby. Whenever I’m near a body of water, I look for some rocks and try to skip stones as far as I can throw, trying to make as many bounces as possible.”
“Prove it,” she says, giving me a squint and then nodding toward the ocean.
I get up and scope out the sand. Not too many rocks are around today, so I walk a bit closer to the water until I find a decent-shaped stone.
It’s smooth and flat. I can probably skip this a few times.
I turn around, waving the rock to Annika as she sits on the blankets.
I notice she’s moved over to the blanket I was sitting on.
She has her legs crossed and her arms propping her up behind.
I have a sudden urge to run over and tackle her.
She gives me a big thumbs up, which is my cue.
I turn around, wind up my arm and skip the rock into the ocean.
It takes 6 fast skips before plopping into the water.
Annika starts slow-clapping for me as I return to our spot on the beach. “Wow, very impressive, Parker, but still not that weird. I’m weirdly impressed if anything.”
“Whatever, maybe you just think all my weird hobbies are fun and cute ‘cuz you like me or something,” I say, nudging her shoulder.
She gives me another glorious eye roll and says, “I don’t remember when I said they were cute, but okay.” I notice her face blushing a bit in response.
“Lay it on me. I bet I won’t find your weird hobby that weird at all.”
“Okay, fine.” She looks off like she’s thinking about it. Or maybe she is thinking if she wants to tell me the truth. “I like collecting postcards.”
“That’s not—”
“No, no, not like new postcards. Although I usually pick up at least one from museum gift shops. I like going to garage sales and flea markets and finding old postcards that were already written on and mailed. I like seeing the little messages that people write and the old stamps. There’s something nostalgic about it.
I think it’s sweet, and not many people send postcards anymore. ”
I can tell she wants to keep going on because she leans forward and starts taking her jacket off, so I stay quiet while she goes on.
“Chloe and I used to send postcards to each other when we’d go away on a holiday break. It’s silly, but I like it. For my birthday in October, Chloe took me to a tattoo parlor, and I got a little stamp tattoo on my back shoulder.”
“Okay, that has to be the dopest hobby I’ve ever heard of, especially when it involves a tattoo. Can I see it?”
She nods and turns her back right shoulder toward me.
She’s wearing a T-shirt, so she lifts the sleeve up a bit, and then I see the little one-inch tattoo peeking out.
It’s a black line work tattoo of an old stamp.
It has swirly edges and an ornate rose on the inside with the number eighteen in the corner.
My instinct is to give it a little kiss where the rose is. But I refrain.
“How did you decide what number to pick?”
“Well,.” She shuffles back, facing me, putting her sleeve down. “I thought about putting my birth year, but I’ll always remember that. But I might not remember when I got my first tattoo, so I thought my age would be better.”
“I love it. That’s the best tattoo story I’ve heard. I don’t have any myself.”
“Well, thanks. Maybe you should get a tattoo of a rock.” She falls back laughing at her own joke.
“Ha ha, don’t joke, I just might.”
“I still think my hobby is weirder. Both of yours are total normal hobbies. So you still owe me a weird fact about you.”
“Oh, I probably have a lot of weird facts, but I’ll give you one. My car doesn’t have a radio.”
“And?”
I knock my head back laughing. She’s relentless. “Well, since it has no radio, I’ll sing songs in my car with no music playing.”
This must’ve hit a target for Annika because now she plops her back against the blanket, laughing hard. She’s even holding on to her belly as she cackles. I think I see tears forming at the corners of her eyes.
“Are you crying? Do you pity me that much?” That only makes her laugh even more.
She takes a deep breath and finally says, “What do you sing in your car?”
I lie next to her on the blanket and meet her joyous expression face-on. “Whatever is stuck in my head, which is usually nineties and early aught’s rock.”
“Like Nirvana? You had a Nirvana T-shirt on the other day.”
“Yeah, sometimes I’ll belt a little Cobain.”
“What did you sing on the way here?”
I love that she is wondering about this. “In Too Deep by Sum 41.”
“It sounds familiar, but I’m not sure if I know that one. Sing some for me.”
“I’m sure you’ll recognize it once you hear it. But I’ll only sing it if you dance with me.” I stand up and reach down for her hand.
“Looking to redeem your square dancing days?” she asks, reluctantly eyeing my hand before reaching up to grab it.
“You could say that.” I pull her up and spin her around while we spin around the beach, dancing hand in hand. I look down at her and start singing the start of the song.
I twirl her around in a big circle as I sing the bridge, and she starts laughing. “Cool it with the twirls, Parker. I just had lunch.”
“Do you recognize it yet?”
“No, not yet. Keep singing. This is kind of fun.”
I smile and keep singing as I dip my hand to her low back and sway her gently. I’m addicted the euphoria I feel around her.
“Okay, now the chorus, ready?”
“Ready for what?” As I launch into the chorus, I take her arm and draw her out and twirl her back into my arms, dipping her.
As I bring her back up, I meet her face against mine and press my forehead to hers, singing the last line of the chorus again.
She doesn’t move her head from mine. “You are a better dancer, but a terrible singer,” she says as that signature smirk shows up.
I lean down as she angles her head up toward mine.
My nose grazes over hers, and I move it back and forth.
We are still holding hands and swaying together to the sound of the waves.
I breathe her in and close my eyes, getting lost in the smell of the warm florals.
I lean closer with my eyes still closed, feeling the warmth of our lips just hovering over each other.
I wish I could bottle up this exact moment.
Seal up the feeling of warmth and new beginnings.
I want to always remember the ambient beach sounds and the remnants of her laughter.
The smell of her perfume and the touch of her hands against mine.
I lean further and press my lips against hers.
Soft and smooth. She tastes like strawberries.
I think for a moment if I should leave it at a peck until she leans forward more and matches my kiss.
I put my hand on the back of her neck and kissed her more deeply, bending her backward slightly.
When we separate, my eyes linger closed a bit longer, and I feel her give me a small peck again on the lips. I open my eyes, smiling at her and giving her another twirl in the sand. Scratch that. This is the moment I want to bottle up and save forever.