Chapter 13 #3
I don’t think I’ve been to a beach since I was a kid living in Portland.
My grandparents used to take me sometimes, but I hated seeing all of the happy families, the kids playing together and parents doting on them, buying them ice cream from the truck parked nearby and splashing in the water with them.
With memories like that, I never bothered to go again after my grandparents stopped taking me.
“They make black bathing suits, you know.” Elsie’s teasing snaps me out of my depressing memories. “I know you have this whole tough guy aesthetic going on, but you can still enjoy the beach. The beach is for everyone, Declan.”
“Is that so?”
I’d like to see her at the beach. She probably sprawls out in a skimpy bikini, sunbathing while she reads a book.
When Elsie licks a drop of aioli off her lip, it does nothing to stop the wayward path my thoughts are headed down.
My eyes zero in on the movement, watching the way her tongue swipes across her pouty lower lip.
Thankfully, she’s oblivious to my ogling.
She reaches for her drink again, downing the rest of it.
I wonder what kissing her might be like. Would her lips be soft under mine, or would she kiss hungrily, the way I’d like to devour her if given the chance?
I bet she’d taste like blueberries and mint.
“I think you’d like the beach in town. It gets crowded in the summer, but it’s nice.”
“Are you just trying to get me to take my shirt off, Elsie?”
She whips her head over to look at me, eyes widened in shock. “Excuse you?”
“It’s okay if you just want to see me shirtless,” I tell her with a wink. “That can be arranged.”
She mutters something I don’t catch over the noise around us.
“What was that?” I lean in with my hand cupped around my ear.
“I said,” she yells, leaning over so her mouth is inches from my ear, “you’re a pain in the ass.”
At the tail end of her sentence, the song that had been playing cuts out, causing a few seconds of quiet before the next song begins. I think everybody in the building – kitchen staff included – just heard Elsie say the word ass.
“Elsie!” Grace yells, shocked.
“Do I need to separate you two?” Ty chides from Elsie’s other side.
“Declan might fight you if you try,” Eddie says, loud enough for the whole table to hear. Everyone laughs at our expense and I ignore them, looking at Elsie. She’s embarrassed, furiously sipping her water and staring at the plate in front of her.
I settle my arm on the back of her chair and lean over, the tips of my fingers just barely grazing her bare shoulder. She takes a shuddering breath and holds it for a couple seconds before exhaling slowly.
“You good?” I ask, low enough that only she can hear. I’m a sucker for a blushing Elsie, but I don’t want it to be because she’s embarrassed.
I fight the urge to rest my arm on her shoulders and tug her close, though I’m itching to do it. We’re not there yet, even if on some strange level, it feels like she’s supposed to be mine.
We’re two comets whose paths shouldn’t cross, but they’re going to regardless. I’m just waiting for the collision. I think we’re both going to see fucking stars when it happens.
“Why do you even care?” She’s turned away so that I can only see the side of her face, but it’s enough to catch the way she rolls her eyes. Snippy Elsie with her claws out is back. Whatever camaraderie or truce we’d forged over the last hour is gone, just like that.
“Good question,” I mutter.
Fuck if I know what’s going on anymore. All I know is that I met a pretty brunette with a flower in her hair on a sunny day in April, and nothing has been the same since.
Elsie glances over at me, then away. I don’t know what else to say, so I pick up what’s left of my burger and ask Sean what’s on his schedule for the rest of the week.
For the rest of the evening I try to ignore Elsie, who sits with her elbows tucked in tight to avoid bumping them against mine. It’s impossible to ignore her at the best of times, but then she has to go and smile at her friends, and I nearly stop breathing.
This smile is different from the small one she shot my way.
It’s the one I spent the entire day peeking at in between tattoos, with eyes shining and mouth open as if she’s going to break into laughter at any moment.
If it wouldn’t be completely insane, I’d pull out my phone and snap a picture, capture the way her face lights up like fucking sunshine.
Goddamn, I don’t know what I’m doing here. I’m in over my head and not sure whether to toss in the towel or keep trying. I wish I knew what she wants me to do.
Does she actually dislike me, or is she just resisting whatever this pull is between us?
I can’t help wondering if I’m someone she could actually be interested in, beyond the obvious chemistry between us, or if we’re so different that I don’t have a shot in hell.
I know I’m probably the furthest thing from her type.
I’m all rough edges and harsh words most of the time. She deserves someone soft like she is, who doesn’t say fuck forty times a day and hasn’t let childhood trauma keep him from something as simple as going to the beach.
But I can’t stop myself from wanting her anyway.
If she’s the flowers, I’m the thorns. There’s always a chance of getting hurt if you get too close.
I just have to convince her I’m worth the risk.