Chapter 4 Kayla
KAYLA
As I turn the key to lock the cafe, the seagulls are already circling.
“All right, calm down,” I call to Mr. Red. He flutters to the ground, pulling in his wings and looking chastised.
“I’ve got enough for all of you,” I tell the impatient birds.
I don’t want them hanging around the cafe, so I walk along the waterfront until I’m out of the way of the shops. It’s not ‘til I’m almost at the pier that I open my bag of breadcrumbs.
The birds flutter into the air, cawing at each other as they compete for the tidbits.
I’ve only got a few handfuls of bread, and it doesn’t take long to throw all of it to my bird friends.
“That’s all for today.”
Mr. Red cocks his head, and I like to think he’s nodding a thank you.
I’m shaking the crumbs out of the bag when the birds disperse. As one, they lift into the air, cawing to each other as they fly away and come to land a little further along the waterfront. I squint into the sun, trying to see what’s caught their attention.
There’s a man sitting on a bench, dipping his hand into a bread bag.
A smile creeps across my face. The cheeky beggars are getting a second snack.
I glance around to check I’m not on my own walking toward a stranger, but the waterfront is busy with locals hurrying home from work and tourists out for a pre-dinner stroll.
Nevertheless, there’s a pinch of anxiety in my gut. There always is after what happened to Jo.
I’m heading in that direction anyway, and I stroll toward the bench, shaking out the last of the crumbs from my bag.
When I’m nearly at the bench, the man turns around, and my breath catches in my chest. He’s hot, like really hot, with rugged features and a peppering of stubble on his chiseled chin. The sun glints off his blond hair, making him look for a moment like he’s got a halo.
“No matter how much you give them, they’re always hungry.” His voice is deep and soft, like it could lull me to sleep, which may be why the birds like him.
But I can’t judge someone by the timbre of his voice. I’m uncertain whether I should get into a conversation with a strange man, but he’s got a kind smile, and anyone who feeds the seagulls must be a good person.
“That one’s Mr. Red,” I tell him, pointing to the biggest seagull. I immediately feel stupid. Naming seagulls like they’re stuffed animals. This man’s clearly older than me, and I desperately don’t want him to think I’m childish.
But he just smiles and looks over at the big seagull.
“Mr. Red,” he says. “It suits him.”
He turns his gaze back to me, and I notice how blue his eyes are—deep blue like the ocean.
“I’m Seth.”
I hesitate, not sure if I should give him my name.
I’ve been given the stranger-danger talk so many times in the last year that it’s a wonder I ever leave the house.
Don’t give anyone your real name online. Don’t tell them where you live. If you’re meeting someone you’ve met online, go somewhere public and go with a friend.
It makes sense after what happened to Jo, but it’s also suffocating. My dad’s become so overprotective of me that it’s hard to want to go out or meet anyone at all.
It’s part of the reason I had to get away. I needed some space. I know to be careful, but I still want to have a life.
I make a split-second judgement to trust this man, Seth. I mean, he feeds seagulls, and he smiles with his eyes. He can’t be a creep.
“I’m Kayla.”
Seth nods slowly. “Did you name him Mr. Red because of his red beak or because of his red feet?”
I look at Mr. Red, and his beady eye regards me carefully.
“It was the beak. It’s so much bigger than the others. I thought he must be the leader of the flock. If flocks have leaders…”
I trail off, feeling stupid again. I know nothing about birds, and I don’t know why I’m talking about birds. I just know I want to keep this man’s gaze on me.
“That makes sense.”
He nods thoughtfully as if what I’ve said is the most profound thing ever.
“I like this little cheeky one over here. He’s pretending to have one leg, but as soon as you throw some bread over, bam, his other leg comes down and he snaps it up.”
We watch the seagulls for a while, making comments on their character traits. Seth makes me laugh. He’s funny and thoughtful and freakin’ hot.
He doesn’t ask me anything personal, and he doesn’t ask me out, which I feel relieved and disappointed about at the same time.
Daddy lectured me about not going out with strange men, but how do they ever not become strangers if you can’t get to know them? And Seth is a man I’d like to get to know.
After a while, Seth stands up and tucks the empty bread bag in his pocket.
“It was nice meeting you, Kayla.”
I feel sad that he’s leaving, but I don’t know how to make him stay. It’s too forward to ask him out, so I don’t say anything.
“Nice meeting you too.”
As he walks away, he drags his left leg a little as if it pains him. I want to ask him what the injury is, how he got it. I want to ask him if he’ll be back tomorrow to feed the seagulls.
But anxiety gnaws in my stomach. I shouldn’t talk to strange men because they might be assholes who will assault you any chance they get. But how does someone move from stranger to acquaintance if you’re not supposed to talk to them?