17 EVIE
E VIE
We didn’t feel like strangers, but rather like we’d found someone who had been missing for a lifetime and then suddenly there they were. Puzzle pieces sliding into place, my nervous system both stirring and calming in the most remarkable way in his unusual presence.
On our way to the beach that day, we drove at a lazy speed, as if we had all the time in the world, which I suppose we did back then.
A beach hut that came alive with live music at night was quiet as we picked up lunch after navigating down Dune Road, past views of stunning houses and the bay and eventually to my favorite spot—by the inlet on the westernmost point of Cupsogue Beach.
On one side was the Atlantic Ocean, with waves and a few kids playing in the low surf.
To the right were the waters of the bay.
“Thank you for being here,” he told me. He reached over and spun a turquoise beaded anklet above my bare foot. “This is nice.”
There was an unspoken intimacy in that gesture. The electricity coursing through my veins, originating from the point where his hand had touched my ankle. “The day or the anklet?” I asked.
He smiled. “Both.”
We had a conversation at one point, about bands on the road and the lifestyle that comes with it. “We’re not all the cliché, I promise,” he reassured me. Then he waffled a bit. “Well, I mean, we’re not always like that, anyway.”
“You don’t have a girl in every town who you randomly call on Tuesday mornings to go to the beach with you?” I joked.
He laughed. “Not so far.” I remember how thoughtful he looked when he turned more serious and continued.
“It would be easy to fall into that kind of life. Except that it’s not really me.
Never has been, I guess. I don’t like to waste my time and energy that way.
” He watched me for a moment. “Is that why you said no at first? Is that what you were worried about?”
“No, not really. It wasn’t that. It’s the rest of it. My job mostly.”
And the fact that I promised myself I would never get involved with a musician.
“Okay, good. Well, at least that part is settled. Because this”—he gestured in a small circle between us with his finger—“is definitely not typical for me. At all.” He narrowed his eyes, smiling. “Okay? Okay then,” he repeated, settling the issue.
“But just so you know . .. , ” I added. “This is typical for me. The norm,” I teased.
“Is that right?” He smiled at the joke.
"Absolutely, I block off every Tuesday. Multiple days, really. Whoever played in town that weekend, I end up at the beach with them, half-naked in a bikini. It’s just what I do.
The invitations abound. I have to choose the cutest guy.
Usually the lead singer, but not always.
You’ll do.” I shrugged and winked at him.
“Oh, I see! Good to know where I stand!” He laughed gamely at my obvious joke and then stood. “All right, you. Come on, let’s go.” He took my hand and tugged me to my feet, taking us to the water.
“I should warn you, this isn’t the kind of water to swim in,” I told him. “The currents are unpredictable near the inlet. I usually just cool off in the shallow parts.”
He pulled me along into the water. “Come on. I’ll keep you safe.”
It was as if someone had given him a manual—a playbook of things to say. He had an uncanny way of making comments that felt like a vitamin I hadn’t realized I’d been deficient in. Nourishing.
“The sea where I grew up is pretty rough. Very different kind of water—and freezing cold all the time—but still, beautiful,” he told me. “I don’t go in much.”
I gestured into the distance, where a few surfers sat waiting. “No surfing for you?” The suggestion seemed to amuse him, and he shook his head. “What?” I asked.
“I’ve sorta got a thing about sharks.” I think it might have been the only thing I’d ever heard him say he was afraid of, and I still think he was mostly joking. He was fearless, which, to me, was dazzling.
Something about the way he said it made me giggle, and I pretended to write it down. “Oh, that’s definitely going on the record. Sharks.”
He cocked his head. “Oh, really? Now who’s the one who should be nervous? Hmm?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe.” I echoed his earlier comment. The warmth that spread through me as I said it was reflected equally in the way his eyes softened. After a beat, I added, “Well, I’ll keep your words safe, anyway. I don’t know what I can do about the rest of it.”
“Is that all? Just my words?”
“Mm-hmm.”
He was standing just inches away from me, the water glistening on his skin. His gaze left my eyes and moved down, landing on my mouth. I thought he might kiss me then, but just like that, he was gone, making me laugh as he dove under, picked me up, and brought us splashing into the water.
That was a perfect day. A warm, sandy blanket; piping plovers darting this way and that; the salty water; and watching the sun cross the sky.
When the sun started to dip, he reached into his bag and pulled out an extra shirt.
Soft, worn chambray, a bit tattered at the cuffs.
“You’re getting cold,” he told me, wrapping it around my shoulders.
I walked back down to the water’s edge one last time in an attempt to hold on to the fleeting day.
As the cool water danced around my feet, I felt his warmth behind me.
He took my hand in his and slowly turned me around to face him, brushing the windblown hair away from my face and adjusting the collar on the shirt.
He met my eyes for a long moment and took a step closer.
“We can’t do this,” I whispered, the words taking every bit of strength.
“Why.” He said it like a challenge.
“You know why. Carter, I’ve worked ... so hard to get here. You have no idea how hard. And I can’t mess it up. I can’t get involved like this. It’s too confusing.”
“Evie, I care about this project. I promise I will do whatever I can to make sure it goes well. For all of us.”
I looked away, but he turned my head back to face him. “Okay?”
When I nodded, a smile began to form on his face. “Just consider yourself warned.”
“Warned, eh?”
“I think there’s a whole lot more going on here than just the film. But we can pretend a little longer if you’d like.”
I rolled my eyes and laughed, exasperated. “This is ridiculous. I can’t objectively do a profile piece on a band when I’m sleeping with the lead singer!”
The moment it came out of my mouth, my cheeks flushed crimson, and he cocked his head as devilish amusement danced into his eyes.
“Ohhh, now who’s being presumptuous?” He laughed, clearly enjoying the moment.
“Oh, stop it. You know what I mean.” I walked away so he couldn’t see me laugh.
“Fine. But I’ll have you know that I had only the utmost gentlemanly intentions with you,” he called.
I spun around and gave him a look, picking up my bag.
He put his hands up. “Truly. You won’t get a single bit of impropriety from this moment on. Strictly business.”
I put my hands on my hips stubbornly. “Ugh. I’m writing about the sharks.”
“Try it.” His eyes danced, turning dark.
I swallowed, melting. After recovering, I sighed. “All right, c’mon. It’s getting late and we have a drive ahead of us,” I said, changing the subject.
“You’re not coming to the house?”
I stopped. “What house?”
“Oh, right, so about that.”
That’s when he told me that instead of spending time with them in the city to discuss the film, as had been the original plan over the next few days, the band had rented a beach house—just up the road, in fact. A change in the itinerary he’d conveniently neglected to mention.
“You are supposed to be living alongside us, after all,” he said. “So ... ”
“Alongside. Not with . Big distinction. I have a meeting with the label in a few days, and in the meantime, I have work to do, and I think we’re supposed to be coming up with some ideas. Seeing ... I don’t know ... what the chemistry is like.”
He raised a brow. “Oh, really? And how would you say the chemistry is going so far?”
He was incorrigible.
“Don’t worry, it’s a very big house,” he added a moment later.
“How do you know? You haven’t even seen it.”
“Okay, you win. But let’s at least have dinner somewhere. I know you’re hungry.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What are you up to?”
“Just trust me.”
Trusting him was never a problem for me, for the record. Not really, anyway. It was trusting myself that often needed some work.