Chapter 15
Cassie
The week roars by like a Lamborghini in the hands of a reckless teenager. On Monday, Bethany set up shop in my conference room, and we’ve been at the whiteboard ever since, brainstorming marketing ideas for the rollout to South Carolina and the neighboring states. I outlined a rollout strategy in my business plan but going viral on Instagram wasn’t included. You can’t assume a social media frenzy is going to propel your product into the national consciousness. Not that MatchAI is going national, but my livestreamed dates with Luke have a combined total of over three million views, most of those coming from Luke’s encounter with Sonja’s breasts.
While Bethany and I have been holed up in the conference room, Sarah has been making sure both of my businesses receive proper attention, taking care of customer service calls, including the occasional complaint, and making sure my tour guides are happy. She’s been fielding my emails too, including the responses from Luke’s neighbors regarding my potential tour there. Several ghost stories need my attention, but since I don’t have time to look at them now, she’s been tucking them into a folder for me to peruse whenever I catch my breath.
“So, you’re going to write the copy for the Facebook ads, and I’m in charge of the Reels,” I confirm.
My back is to the glass partition. Bethany is across from me, her back to exposed brick, a pile of notebooks and scratch paper between us, the remnants of rejected ad copy and discarded TikTok scripts. The final drafts are stored safely in our computers, ready to be launched into the world.
Neither of us has washed our hair in days. She’s hiding hers in a sloppy bun. I have mine pulled back in a limp ponytail.
“Yep,” Bethany says. “The videos are all you. We’ve already established that your face sells. Mine? Not so much.” Her rosy lips pucker as she sucks in a breath. Yes, even when she’s exhausted, she wears lipstick. Can’t say the same for myself. My lips haven’t seen a tube of lipstick in over a week.
“Do not underestimate the marketability of your visage.” I circle my face with my finger for emphasis.
“Do you guys need a break?” Sarah says from the conference room doorway.
“Yes. Definitely,” I say. “We’ve only slept eight hours in three days.”
Sarah pulls out the chair next to me and sits. “You’re gonna have to hire a customer service rep. I’ve been on the phone all afternoon telling people to shut down their computers and start them back up again. It’s a web app people. Just close the browser and reopen it.”
“Is the app glitching?” I ask, worried. Last thing I need are more technical difficulties.
“Mostly just people who don’t know their way around a computer. Also, I didn’t sign up to be an IT helpdesk.”
“I know,” I say. “I’m sorry. I—”
“Kidding,” Sarah cuts in. “I don’t mind.” She crosses her legs. Wearing a light blue, puff-sleeved blouse, gray slacks, an actual hairstyle, and a full face of make-up, Sarah looks more put together than me even though she agreed to miss her Tuesday classes to put in an extra day of work. I’ve been letting her come and go at reasonable hours, while Bethany and I burn our candles at both ends.
“Are you really telling people to shut down and restart their computers?” I ask.
“Only a couple times. It worked. Most people are using the app on their phones, though, so I just tell them to click the big Choose button. That usually works.”
“I’ll see about contracting a call-center,” Bethany says.
Neon dollar signs buzz in my mind. “Can I afford it?”
“If you’re rolling out to three states, I don’t see how you can afford not to.”
I see her point. We’re moving fast. Faster than I planned. Thanks to Luke. Well, and me.
Which reminds me, I haven’t heard from Luke all week. I expected him to text me, or accidentally drop by on his bike sweating buckets and asking to borrow my shower, but I haven’t heard a peep. It’s almost like he’s exercising restraint.
I groan.
Bethany and Sarah zero in on me.
“We have enough investment capital,” Bethany says. “It will just—”
“No. I promised Instagram I’d go on another date with Luke. A fourth date.”
Bethany looks at me, confused. “Why is that a problem?”
“Because Cassie is using Luke for likes and subs,” Sarah answers for me. “And she showed him how to tie his shoe using the bunny ear technique.”
Bethany rears back in her seat, her befuddlement creating a deep line between her carefully plucked eyebrows. “You taught a grown man how to tie his shoes?”
“Right before she almost kissed him,” Sarah adds.
“I did not almost kiss him,” I retort.
The skin between Bethany’s eyes flattens as her eyebrows raise. “You almost kissed your primary investor?”
I sink into my chair and shrug. “No?”
“You told me you two were putting on an act for Instagram, to garner subscriptions.”
“There’s more to it than that,” Sarah says.
I cross my arms before spilling the truth. I tell Bethany about my history with Luke, how he inserted himself into my launch, how he still has feelings, how I... I don’t even know.
Bethany is speechless for a moment. “Well... Goodness,” she says finally. “That’s complicated.”
“Isn’t it?” I answer. “Not very professional.”
“He hijacked your launch,” Bethany says. “That wasn’t very professional.”
Sarah and I nod.
Maybe I shouldn’t rollout to three states. Maybe I should delete the livestreams and come clean to everyone who invested time in our little act. This could stop now. I could resume a slow, manageable rollout, instead of making myself crazy while Nana and Granny boil in their house that’s about to collapse around them.
“Maybe I should call off the fourth date,” I say.
Bethany looks at me like I grew snakes for hair.
“Are you kidding me? Have you seen your latest subscriber count? You’re almost to three thousand.”
“That’s not a lot,” I say.
“That’s exponential growth. You’re on a roll. You can’t stop now.”
I focus on Sarah. “What do you think?”
“I think you’ve come this far, so why not? Also, you almost kissed him.”
“Would you stop saying that?”
Sarah grins.
I groan again.
Luke was right. This little exercise for the Instagram audience could crash and burn. I could fall for Luke all over again—if I haven’t already—and he could cheat on me. Or dump me. Or fall deeper in love with me. I don’t know which is worse.
“How do I look?” I ask.
“Like you haven’t slept in three days,” Sarah says.
“That bad, huh?”
“Maybe it’s the lighting.”
I grab my phone and laptop and walk over to the window. An extra seat is already waiting for me there, so I plop down, balance my laptop on my knees, and tap the mousepad to wake it up. I copy the URL for my last livestream with Luke and paste it into the Instagram comment picker that I already have bookmarked. Then, I open Instagram on my phone and start a livestream.
Sarah wasn’t lying. I am not looking my best. I smooth a section of frizzy hair and angle my face toward the light to camouflage the bags under my eyes.
“Hey, fam. Time for another Live. How’s everyone doing?”
I fake being excited and energetic as I respond to comments. Five minutes later, I get to the point. “I promised a fourth date with Luke, and I said you could pick.” I turn my phone around so the audience can see my laptop screen. “I’ve already entered the URL. Here we go.” I click enter and the comments roll by, eventually coming to rest on a selection.
“Tidewater Island Beach Ecology Tour,” I read. I flip the phone around. “That’s a relief. If we got scuba diving lessons, I would have backed out.”
I tell everyone to keep an eye out for further announcements, tell them to check out my app, say a few niceties to balance my sales pitch, and then I sign off.
“Thank goodness you’re the spokeswoman, not me,” Bethany says.
“It’s my company. I do the dirty work.”
Sarah raises a hand. “So do I.”
“Yes, because you are going with me.” I add a smile to soften my demand.
“I am?”
“I need a videographer for this one.”
“Wow, my resume keeps growing.”
Bethany and I wrap up at seven in the evening. I retreat to my apartment, fill up the bathtub with hot water and bubbles and soak for half an hour. Then I grab a snack and settle onto my couch with phone in hand.
Tidewater Island Beach Ecology Tours, I text Luke.
A few minutes later I receive: ???
That’s our next date.
Oh. Yeah. OK.
I tell him I’ll schedule the tour and let him know when and where to meet.
OK let me know, he answers in a very restrained way that leaves me looking puzzled at my phone.
Later when I’m in bed, I replay the moment on the pier overlooking Charleston Harbor. This time, instead of walking away, I kiss him and my heart sings in time with the crashing waves.
The crowd at the Seagrove Beach entrance plaza is light at this hour—nine o’clock in the morning on a Friday with children already back in school. Mostly older folks make use of the colorful facilities which include restrooms, changing rooms, and a concession stand, all on a raised deck. Our tour guide instructed us to meet at the concession stand’s umbrella-covered tables, which is where Sarah and I are parked waiting for the rest of the tour group to arrive, including Luke.
The tour group consists of two retired couples and a small class from College of Charleston’s marine biology program. The older couples sit at a table next to us, both women wearing fanny packs along with their flowered cotton blouses. They’re more than acquaintances judging by their conversation about some fellow back home in Ohio who’s building a mansion with his retirement funds.
I cease my eavesdropping as Luke approaches. My brain ceases all activity when I see him in his wide-striped swim trunks in three shades of blue, hemmed just above the knee to show off the beginnings of his well-defined quads and the fullness of his chiseled calves. Even his feet look sexy in a pair of cheap foam flip-flops. His white tank top displays his capped shoulders and veiny arms, while the sun highlights the curves and angles of his muscles and adds a yellow glow to his tanned skin. I’m stunned. Why am I swooning? It feels so juvenile, yet here I am. He can’t see me like this. I look down.
“Am I late?” he asks before sitting across from me.
Brain. Not. Functioning.
He was always well-built, but my, he’s been hitting the gym since we dated. I fumble for simple words and phrases.
“Um. The tour hasn’t— We’re wait—”
“We’re waiting for the tour guide to arrive,” Sarah says.
I peek at Luke and then avert my eyes from his well-defined chest as I try to regain my composure.
“It’s Sarah, right?” Luke asks.
“That’s me,” Sarah answers.
“I didn’t realize this was a threesome.”
I take a deep breath. I think I’m ready to resume adulting.
“She’s our videographer,” I say.
Sarah picks up my phone. Sun glints off its glass screen as she waves it in the air.
“Ah,” Luke says. “Yes. The livestream. I can’t wait.”
“That sounded sarcastic,” I say.
“It was,” Luke answers cheerfully.
I can’t argue with him, really. The idea of being entertaining for prying eyes is low on my list of fun things to do on a Friday morning. Hopefully, the tour guide will do the entertaining for us. I already asked her if it was okay to stream the tour. She said absolutely and was excited about the free marketing.
Speaking of, she arrives in a pair of khakis and a tan button-up shirt à la Steve Irwin with a young male assistant in tow whose arms are balancing several buckets and a plastic container full of beachcombing tools. Her flaming red curls bob in the gentle wind, framing her pale skin which should have an aversion to sunny Charleston, yet her complexion is fresh, freckled, and wrinkle-free. She smiles at us and welcomes us to the tour, explaining why she scheduled it at such an odd hour.
“We always schedule the tours during low tide because that’s when we find the most critters crawling and wiggling about.”
I tap Sarah’s arm. “I guess we should start recording.”
She logs into my Instagram account and starts the livestream. While our tour guide continues her welcome speech, I whisper into the phone.
“All right, guys. We’re here. Date number four.” I hold up four fingers. Why do I always do that? “Luke is here with me, and we have a videographer this time. This is Sarah, everyone.” I angle the phone toward Sarah, and she quickly turns it away. I forgot to ask her if she wanted to show her face. I just got my answer.
Our tour guide, who introduced herself as Alice, begins telling us about some of the unique features of Tidewater Island’s beaches.
“We do our tours on Seagrove Beach because this is where we tend to see the greatest variety of animals, particularly around the jetty where pools form when the tide goes out. You’ll get to poke around the beach, investigate the tide pools, and see what you can find. When you find an animal, bring them over to the touch tank. I’ll introduce you to each critter and tell you a few fun facts about them.”
I look at Luke. He’s focused intently on Alice. I focus intently on his veiny forearm that’s resting heavily on the recycled plastic tabletop. Sarah catches me and points the camera at my face. I stop myself just before scowling, and I flit my eyes back to Alice.
I’m not sure how riveting her speech is for the Instagram audience. I feel a bit antsy thinking I need to provide higher-quality entertainment, but I guess this is what they signed on for.
Alice’s assistant goes around and hands out shovels and dip nets, and then we head to the beach. Luke and I walk shoulder to shoulder along the long boardwalk that carries us over grassy dunes. Sarah follows us. I can feel the camera drilling into my back.
When we reach the sand, we start to spread out, but Alice calls us back. She takes several minutes to point out bumps and lumps in the sand, indicators of life, and she shows us how to retrieve the burrowed animals with our shovels.
After a few more interesting details about the beach’s ecology, she sends us off with our nets and our shovels to dig, poke, and wander in search of life.
“Shall we?” Luke points his shovel and dip net toward the ocean, prompting me to head that way.
“Um. Should we search the sand first, or—” Luke’s muscles distract me again. I’ve never seen such perfectly sculpted arms. Has he been chugging raw eggs and protein powder?
Sarah widens her eyes at us and circles her finger in the air, trying to rally the troops. We aren’t providing good entertainment.
I walk over to Luke, grab his elbow, and pull him toward the water’s edge. “Maybe this was a bad idea,” I whisper. “I feel self-conscious.”
“You? I feel like a hermit crab in a touch tank.”
I laugh. “Let’s just try to be ourselves, okay?” I release his arm, but my hand remains warm with the memory of his skin against mine.
“Hey.” Luke points to a hole in the sand. “A sign of life. Should we dig?”
“Sure.” I nudge Luke so he’s facing the camera and position myself in the shot. Luke starts digging carefully beside the hole. At a foot and a half down, he crumbles the sand around the tube and pulls out a red, slimy worm. It’s over a foot long.
I gag. Luke laughs at me, and then he dangles the thing in front of my face.
“Don’t hurt the worm,” Sarah calls from behind the camera.
“Do you want to hold it?” Luke asks.
I wave my hands between my chest and the vile creature. “No. Just no. God should have never created that. He made a mistake.”
“I think it would go nicely in your hair.” Luke moves to lay it on my curls.
“Oh no, you don’t. This isn’t second grade. We’re all adults here.”
“Speak for yourself,” Luke says. He winks at me, and then sobers a bit, placing the worm in his drop net for safekeeping.
We wander back to Alice and show her our find. She tells us the name of the worm—a strange word starting with a “P”—and tells us they usually live two to three feet down and feed on plankton when the tide comes in. We leave the creature for others to see and then we head to the jetty to search the tide pools.
I find a crab skittering about one of the salt-water puddles. It’s under a rock, so I can’t use my dip net to capture it. Luke dares me to use my hand.
“Are you crazy? That thing might bite me.”
“I don’t think they bite.”
“Look at its hands. They could clip a fingernail.”
“Those are pincers, not hands,” Luke chuckles. He reaches under the rock and grabs the crab.
“You’re crazy.” I look at the camera and point at Luke. “He’s crazy.”
With his fingers safely out of pincer range, Luke carries the crab over to Sarah, gives the Instagram audience a good look, and then we meander back to the touch tank to learn more about the species of crab and how it interacts with its environment.
When we return to the jetty, we wade into the water a bit and peer into the crevices between the rocks for more finds. Luke keeps looking, but I pause for a moment, enter the water to my shins, and suck in the salty ocean air, with its hint of decay that somehow comes off smelling sweet.
It’s been awhile since my last beach day. Whenever I come, I bring a low beach chair and set it at the shoreline, letting the waves come in and wash over my legs.
The waves are gentle this morning with long intervals between surges. Water sloshes against my shins as they arrive and sand sucks away from my feet as they recede.
I turn to see what Luke’s up to. He’s still intent on finding marine animals among the rocks.
We used to come to the beach often in the summers. One Saturday we decided to buy boogie boards and bring them along. The waves were calm that day too, so riding the boards wasn’t particularly exciting. We saw young kids perching their boogie boards at the water’s edge and running to them from a spot far back in the sand. When their feet met the boogie board, they glided over the water for a bit before jumping off into the waves.
I’m not sure whose idea it was to try the same, but I do remember that Luke went first and successfully rode the board several feet, deftly hopping off to avoid crashing face first into the water. I wasn’t so lucky. When my feet hit the Styrofoam board, it stuck to the sand, and I took several clumsy strides into the ocean before face planting in the water.
Luke made sure I was okay, which I was, except I hadn’t intended to get my hair wet that day. It hung like a mop against my cheeks and my back. I tried to twist it into a bun to no avail.
Stupidly, I made a second attempt, gathering speed as I ran from the sand. This time, my board skidded onto the water, but my body’s forward momentum was greater than the board’s, and I somehow managed to do a flip. I landed on my back in shallow water, knocking the wind out of my lungs.
As I lay there blinking the stars from my eyes, Luke’s concerned face appeared in my vision.
“Are you okay?”
The waves tickling my scalp and cheeks made me laugh. Soon, I was clutching my stomach, laughing hysterically.
“I guess that means you’re fine,” Luke said, still leaning over me. Water slid down his cheeks and formed droplets that fell onto my face.
“Whose idea was this?” I said, finally settled down, but still gasping for air.
“I think the flip was your idea,” Luke said smiling. He had one arm on either side of me, his broad chest shading me from the sun.
“I need to file a complaint with Isaac Newton.”
“He didn’t create gravity, he just discovered it.”
“That jerk.”
Luke smiled again, and then gravity pulled his body toward mine. Our lips met and passion weighted his kiss. I relished the moment as water lapped against our bodies. My body melted and I became one with the ocean, my essence mingling with the salt water.
When he pulled away, I grinned. “We’re in public.”
“Not for long,” he said mischievously. He grabbed my hands and pulled me to my feet, gathered me up in an embrace. “Let’s go home and take a shower to get that sand out of your hair.”
The throaty call of a passing seagull awakens me from my reverie. I realize I’ve been staring at Luke. For how long? I glance at Sarah to find the camera’s lens trained on me. She’s smiling broadly and gives me a thumbs up. The heat of embarrassment spreads into my cheeks.
I hastily walk over to Luke and pretend to be fascinated by a tide pool while I wait for the heat to subside.
“No way,” Luke says.
I don’t think he noticed my wistful staring. Maybe we can edit it out of the video later.
“What did you find?” I ask as I peek over his shoulder.
“I’m not sure, but I think...”
He uses both his hand and his dip net to reach far into a crevice between two large boulders. What he pulls out astonishes us both. The creature is small, multi-tentacled, with a bulbous body that flattens against his net.
“It’s a freakin’ octopus,” he says.
I press my hand to my mouth. “Oh my gosh. Get it to the touch tank, quick!”
We jog over to Alice and show her our find.
She’s just as astonished as we are. Luke carefully lowers the octopus into the salt water, and we watch in fascination as its tentacles undulate through the water. He wiggles his fingers in front of what looks like the creature’s eyes. It wraps two tentacles around his index finger and suctions on.
“That feels so strange,” he says. “Try it, Cassie.”
I eye the octopus warily. “I don’t know.”
“It’s not slimy.”
“Octopuses are intelligent creatures,” Alice says. “It’s studying you.”
The red worm slithers in a separate pan. In this pan are the octopus and a few small fish. No pinching crabs or stinging jellyfish.
“Fine,” I concede.
I dip my finger into the water near the octopus, near Luke’s hand. The octopus notices my presence and wraps a tentacle around my finger. I can feel the individual suction cups as they grab hold. They feel soft and reassuring. A moment later, my hand drifts into Luke’s as the small, but mighty octopus pulls the two of us together. We sit in amazement for a few solitary moments until other tour members crowd around to view the spectacle.
I gently remove my hand and give someone else a go at it. Taking my lead, Luke stands, and we retreat to the rear of the group.
“I’m not sure anything can top that,” he says.
I nod. “He was actually a cute little guy.”
“Better than the worm?”
“Much better.”
Luke smiles, wraps his arm around my shoulder, and pulls me close.
I freeze. This wasn’t in the manual. Unless I missed it.
I mentally tear through the Date Number Four manual, which I carefully composed before meeting Luke at the beach this morning. Side hugs definitely aren’t listed.
Luke notices my surprise because he drops his arm and mutters, “Sorry.”
I’m left standing alone, wondering why I’m being such a prude. I reference the manual again.
Oh yes. This is a pretend date. I’m still mad at Luke for...stuff. What “stuff” was that? It’s fading from my memory, sinking into a nebulous fog. I try to reach for it, but I grasp formless vapors.
“It’s okay,” I say.
Luke looks down at me, a soft smile playing on his lips. He doesn’t reach around me again, though. I’m a little disappointed.
I turn to Sarah and wave into the camera. “Hey guys, I think we’re going to call it quits here. I don’t think we can top the octopus. What do you think, Luke? Are you ready to sign off?”
“Do we have to?” He says it convincingly, but I know he’s lying.
“My battery is about to die,” Sarah says.
“Oh, no.” I feign disappointment. “We’re losing power.”
“Seriously, it’s about to die. I’m not just trying to rescue you guys.”
I feel my eyelids start to peel back, but I remember I’m on camera.
“Ha ha,” I manage. It sounds forced. “We love these livestreams, don’t we, Luke?”
Luke leans over my shoulder. “I love this like I love a rack of smoked ribs.”
I manage to raise an eyebrow at him while remaining focused on the camera.
“That’s some serious love,” I say. “He means it. Okay, thanks for picking the location of our date, it was wonderful to explore the beach.”
I plug Tidewater Island Beach Ecology Tours and MatchAI before signing off.
“Ever the saleswoman,” Luke says, smiling.
“Was it too much?”
“Not at all. You’re a natural.”
We continue enjoying our morning without the watchful eye of the camera. Sarah hangs back and pokes around in the sand, splashes a bit in the ocean.
When the tour is over and the animals have been returned to their habitats, we head toward our cars. Luke escorts us to mine. He lets Sarah open her own door but follows me to the driver’s side.
I rest my hand on the door handle. I don’t feel ready to climb in just yet. He grins and looks down at his feet.
Sarah peers at us over the hood. “I think I need to...” She flits her eyes between me and Luke. “Yeah. I need to do Number Two.”
“Really?!” I exclaim.
“Sorry!” She ducks her head, spins around, and runs toward the restrooms.
“Wow,” I say. “That wasn’t graceful at all.”
“Maybe she really has to go.” Luke flicks his thumb across his chin and gazes at me beneath his strong brow. The angle of the sun emphasizes the well-defined planes of his cheeks, his squared-off chin.
“Sure.” I cross my arms and will myself not to break eye contact. I want to study his physique: the cut of his biceps and the appealing curves of his pectorals. But I command my eyes to remain on his, even as the intensity of his stare sends my mind reeling through memories of his skin against mine.
“I’m sorry I grabbed you earlier. I forgot where I was. I think my brain warped back a few years for a moment.”
“You didn’t grab me,” I manage to squeak out. “It was a side hug.”
His gaze softens. “True. We don’t do those anymore, though, do we?”
Surely he knows I can’t answer that. If I say side-hugs are acceptable, then it’s on. Next thing you know we’ll be kissing, and exploring, and...
I do love how my shoulder tucks perfectly under his arm. Like I belong there, a part of him, two puzzle pieces forming a larger picture.
“No. I guess not,” I say finally.
Luke looks down.
“I’ve gotten several emails from your neighbors,” I say, trying to extend the conversation.
I need to decide what I want. Luke’s arm around me or not? Luke’s attention or not? Sarah is right. I’m stringing him along. Using him. No matter what he did to me in the past, he doesn’t deserve this.
“I’m busy this weekend going into next week,” I add. “We’re launching into three new states.”
“I heard that through the grapevine. That’s a bold move. I’m on board.”
“Yeah, it’s going to keep me on my toes. But things should lighten up, say, next Thursday or Friday? Maybe we could get together and go through the emails. You could help me decide if a tour on your street is viable.”
Luke meets my eyes again and my stomach flutters. “Would cameras and livestreams be involved?”
“You know...” I fold my arms behind my back and lean against my car, mostly because my legs feel like they’re melting, but also to appear casual. I hope Luke buys it. If he knew what was really going through my head right now... “I think I might be over the livestreaming deal.”
Luke’s face brightens.
“I mean, we can check back in with Instagram now and then. We’ll have to, just to keep the ball rolling if you’re okay with that.”
“Of course.” Luke nods. “Then yes, I’d love to meet. Should we pick a Joe and Go?”
“I was thinking my place.”
I watch Luke draw in a breath. His posture relaxes. “I’d love that.”
“Okay, then.” I smile and give myself a shove off the car. Luke reaches around and opens the door for me. “I’ll text you the details,” I say as I climb into the driver’s seat.
“Looking forward to it.” He gives the door a light push until it latches. I feel his eyes on me as I pump the brake and reach for the Start button. He’s still standing there when the engine revs, and when I throw the car into reverse. I glance up at him.
He motions for me to roll down the window.
“You’re missing someone,” he says after I open my window a crack.
Sarah.
Wow.
I’m not all here.
“Yeah. Thanks,” I say. “I’ll just sit here until she gets back.”
“Okay.” He gives me a low wave and walks away.
I guess this is it then. Things just got real.