Chapter 10 Marsh
Marsh
We end up seeing two more houses on the Eastside—both beautiful, and both egregiously out of our budget if we were taking this seriously.
We stopped by a taco stand in Highland Park to get some mushroom and asada burritos, then iced lattes at a local coffee shop.
Everything about today felt easy. It felt like Lucy and I were on a real date.
There was no pretending or trying to play anything up for the sake of her stories.
Perhaps the next few weeks will be easier than I thought they would.
If this is what pretending to be in a relationship entails, I would have to be an idiot to resist.
As we drive back to the Westside, my gaze falls on Lucy in the front seat. It’s almost four p.m., and there’s that golden-hour glow hitting her face. I notice a slight sparkle on her cheekbones and admire the subtle swoop of her nose. Sometimes I can hardly believe she’s real.
“Every time I drive through this stretch I debate moving,” I say.
“I would move”—Lucy looks at me—“but the weather…”
“Oh, there’s no way I’m leaving this weather,” I agree and turn down the volume. “Okay, what’s an LA spot you think is overrated?” I ask.
“Hmm.” Her head cocks back and forth like she’s thinking. “Hollywood Walk of Fame.”
“Oh, awful.” I make a face.
“Awful!” she echoes. “Like who wants to see middle-aged men dressed up as Jack Sparrow and Spider-Man?”
“It just makes me depressed when I see families walk through there thinking that’s where the magic happens,” I agree.
“What do you think is an overrated spot?” Lucy asks.
“Probably the Hollywood Sign,” I muse.
“Oh yeah, or the Santa Monica Pier.”
“I’ve never been,” I say.
Lucy’s eyes widen. “Seriously?” she says, and I shake my head. “Never?”
“It always felt too touristy,” I say.
“I mean, it is,” she agrees. “But it’s a Los Angeles staple! Oh, that’s it, we’re going to Santa Monica tonight.” She taps on the car’s navigation system and inputs Santa Monica. “I’m going to pop that pier cherry.”
I switch lanes to get to the I-10 West. I’ve never in my life had the urge to visit the Santa Monica Pier, but there’s something about Lucy that makes me want to try things I never wanted to otherwise.
When we get to the pier, it’s exactly how I predicted: loud and crowded.
I wonder what the tourist-to-locals ratio is.
There’s a long boardwalk bridging the Santa Monica promenade to the Pacific Ocean.
Top 40 music plays on the overhead speaker system, a wide range of people walk from each attraction, and buskers perform to try to make a buck.
We pass by carnival games and souvenir shops until we hit a small area offering burgers and funnel cakes.
The pier has successfully achieved beachy, topsy-turvy chaos.
But beyond the liveliness, there is a seaside charm.
If you look for it. The coastal bike path that runs alongside the Pacific Ocean is busy, but there’s a synchronicity among the bikers, casual Rollerbladers, and pedestrians.
The old merry-go-round at first feels like it’s not worth seeing, but it’s been preserved from the golden age of entertainment.
“I’m still kind of full from lunch,” Lucy notes while eying the food stands. “But would you want to share a corn dog?”
“Yeah, that sounds good,” I say. I’m not super hungry either. “I’ll get it.”
I order a corn dog and a cup of lemonade that’s so comically big, my niece could fit inside. After finding a spot to sit, Lucy blows the top of the corn dog and then takes a bite. My mind shouldn’t go there, but she’s eating a corn dog of all things and I’m only human.
“So,” she says, her mouth full, “what do you think?”
“I’m glad I get to say I experienced it,” I say, then take the corn dog from her and have a bite of my own. There is something about carnival food that really does hit the spot every time.
“You hate it,” she says matter-of-factly.
“I didn’t say that!” I try and fail to conceal a laugh. “But I most definitely will never come back here.”
Lucy takes a sip of lemonade and then looks around her. “Okay, well, if we’re never coming back here, we have to at least do a ride.”
“Now that is something I’m on board for.” I look up at the giant vertical revolving wheel in the distance. “Ferris wheel?”
She looks up at the amusement ride, analyzing each cabin rotating. “Sure.”
“Okay, now I’m excited,” I say. “I love rides.”
“Really?” Lucy squeezes a packet of mustard on her corn dog bite. “Like roller coasters?”
“Oh yeah,” I say. “I’ll fuck up a roller coaster.”
“Do you prefer loops or drops?”
“Both.”
She looks at me with intrigue. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for the type.”
“And what type is that?” I ask, amused.
“I don’t know,” she says slowly, thinking. “You just seem like you’d like more…tame rides.”
I blink. “Like I’m some kind of a wimp?”
“No!” Lucy laughs, shaking her head. “Not at all! Just like…more mellow. You don’t seem like a thrill seeker.”
“Tame and mellow.” I repeat her own words back. “What every guy wants to hear.”
“No, that came out wrong!” she cries. “I meant safe—”
“Safe?!” I take the final bite of our corn dog and then wipe my hands on one of the napkins.
“I’ll have you know, Lucy Reid, I am one of the most dangerous, badass people out there.
In high school, parents would pace their living rooms waiting for their daughters to come home when they were on a date with me. ”
“Oh, is that so?” Lucy follows me toward the Ferris wheel, lemonade in hand.
“It is so.” I nod. “I am absolutely not making this up. I may seem like I spent most Friday nights at home with a puzzle, but I was a loose cannon. Nobody was safe. My nickname was actually Unsafe Oakley.”
Lucy bursts into laughter and then swats my arm. “Okay, I’m sorry,” she says through her giggles. “I stand corrected. You’re a rebel. A regular James Dean.”
“Exactly.” I walk up to the ticket booth and get us two passes. Lucy takes a final sip of lemonade before tossing it in the trash.
When we enter the passenger car, it’s a lot bigger than I expected. Rather than a two-seater pod, it’s shaped like a circle, large enough to fit a family of four or five. I let Lucy take a seat first and I sit across from her.
“Enjoy your ride,” the woman working says as she closes our door. A few seconds later, we start moving and Lucy waves her hand toward me.
“Sit beside me,” she says.
We have more than enough space, but it occurs to me that Lucy wants to sit next to me. Most likely to get the full effect of going on a romantic Ferris wheel date.
I inch around the seat until we’re side by side, and she loops her arm around mine.
I try my best to not let the contact faze me, but then I remember this morning and how it felt to have her underneath me while she was stretching.
Her unsurprisingly toned body and skin smoother than anything I’ve ever felt.
The collection of tiny droplets slowly making their way deep into the crevice between her breasts sent my thoughts into a spiral that I’m embarrassed to admit.
“It’s beautiful,” I hear Lucy say under her breath.
Ahead, the horizon begins to look like a ripe summer peach, pinks and oranges bleeding into a soothing hue.
An amber glow illuminates around us as the salty sea breeze tingles my senses.
I remain concentrated on the breathtaking view of Los Angeles ahead of us, the sparkling ocean lapping at the pier.
When the ride moves a few feet higher, Lucy’s fingers grip my arm.
I look down at her. “Are you afraid of heights?”
Lucy peels her gaze to mine, a sheepish smile on her face. “A little.”
“Then why are we on here?” I frown, concerned.
“Because you’ve never been,” she says, and my stomach plummets.
“Lucy, if you’re afraid of heights, we should get off when it comes around—”
“I’m fine,” she insists. “It’s not a phobia or anything, I just sometimes get nervous. Seriously, I’m okay.”
I look at her intently and she’s serious.
I haven’t known Lucy very long, but I trust that she doesn’t do anything she doesn’t want to.
So, if she’s up here, that’s her choice.
Instinctively, I wrap an arm around the back of the seat, careful to not touch Lucy’s shoulders but also wanting to make her feel secure.
She leans in a little until our sides are pressed against each other.
The quick banter we had back and forth all day is now at a pause. The two of us just watch the rippling of the water in the distance and the lights of the Malibu hills along the Pacific coast. It feels like mechanical, chaotic energy beneath us, but up here, Los Angeles is beautiful.
On our final round of the ride, Lucy rests her head on my shoulder.
It’s brief, but I could’ve fallen asleep there if we were allowed to go around a few more times.
When we get off the Ferris wheel, we walk through the rows of carnival games.
We both agree to not try to win the ring toss because it’s a scam and nobody in the history of carnival games has ever won.
It seems like neither one of us wants the night to end because we continue to walk farther away from where we parked.
We end up along the shoreline, the Pacific Ocean to our left.
The night air has now dropped almost twenty degrees from earlier today—standard for Los Angeles, especially by the water.
I give Lucy my jacket while I hold both our pairs of shoes.
“When was the last time you walked along the beach at night?” Lucy says, staring at our feet and the imprints we’re making in the sand with every step.
“It’s been years.” I try to remember. “Maybe when I first moved here. I don’t come out to the beach as much as I’d like. It always seems like a chore, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, but this is nice. Maybe we should do it more often.”