Bree #3
The wet sand grabs at my feet, but laughter bubbles out of me. Before I know it, I’m ripped from the water and my feet are tossed in the air. I throw my arms around Benny’s neck. He high-steps it out of the surf, a smile over his mouth while water splashes beneath me.
“I was walking just fine,” I argue.
“Want me to put you down?” He fake-drops me.
I squeal, holding onto him tighter. “No!”
Benny’s smile is a full-on grin. I want to take off his sunglasses so I can see the way his eyes crinkle and the lines that fan out beside them. “Thought you wouldn’t want to get your leggings wet.”
“They’re yoga pants,” I say defensively, but there’s a smile in my voice. “They’ll dry quickly.”
I don’t know why I’m trying to convince him I didn’t need the help, especially when I love being held against his firm chest. He marches up the beach a little further before lowering my feet to the ground.
I stay in the circle of his arms for a moment, my hands unwilling to release his neck.
I feel sixteen again. The whole thing is like an otherworldly experience, like we took a step backward and slipped into ease and comfort.
The same piercing blue eyes are looking down at me, but they aren’t in the same face, and they’re hidden behind shades so I can’t read them as well as I want to.
He’s aged into an even more attractive man than he was a boy, sending heat through my belly.
“Benny—”
“Hey!” a man calls, jarring us from the moment. “Ben! Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”
Benny releases me like I’m made of wasps. I gain my footing and step back, but it’s hard to hear while my heart is pounding so hard in my ears.
“Don’t talk,” he whispers, then turns to face the guy coming our way, Hawaiian shirt flapping open over a tan bare chest and blue shorts.
He looks about thirty, with golden hair that’s darkened somewhere between blond and brown.
“Because it would mean having to speak to you,” Benny finally says, but I can tell by his tone and expression he means it as a joke.
The guy approaching gives me a slow once-over. His blond eyebrow goes up. “New friend?”
“Peter, this is…”
“Anne,” I say, shooting my voice up an octave. It’s the last half of my name, anyway…not that anyone knows that. Well, Benny knows, and judging by the look in his eyes, he catches on.
“Peter is on a beach beautification board with me.”
“The Triple B,” Peter says, flashing a perfect smile. “Which is an excuse to surf more.”
My mouth falls open, and I look at the water. “You don’t surf in that. You can’t be serious.”
“Dead,” Peter says. “It’s dangerous, yes, but worth it.”
I was thinking of the ice bath situation, but okay.
“We haven’t seen a Great White in a while,” Benny says.
Peter waves him off. “You’re just trying to sound brave.”
Benny shakes his head, but his smile looks good-natured. It’s hard to get a pulse on their relationship, though.
Peter crosses his arms over his chest, and I get the sense he’s trying to show off his biceps. They look worth showing off, but still. “Any particular reason you’re visiting, Anne?”
Is it too much to say I’m running away from my life and some massive mistakes?
“Vacation,” I eke out.
“Nice. How long are you in town for?”
“Her plans are fluid,” Benny says.
If Peter’s surprised I didn’t get a chance to answer for myself, he doesn’t let on. “Fluid enough to come to our Clean the Beach activity tomorrow? We’re picking up trash, then there’s a BBQ at the community center afterward.”
That sounds…how does it sound? Like there will be a lot of people around, yes, but also kind of nice. I’m wishing I’d worn a different wig, though. Now I’m more committed to long blonde hair than I want to be. It’s not the easiest thing to manage in this wind.
“I don’t know. Maybe.” I could tell him about the initiative I started in high school to keep our Florida beaches clean for the sake of the sea turtles, but the less personal info I share, the better.
“Hopefully, I’ll see you both there.” Peter sends me a wink, then he calls to a golden retriever, who runs toward him with a frisbee in his teeth like an ad for anti-depressants.
Benny heads toward the parking lot and away from the ocean, so I fall into step beside him. “I can tell him something came up,” he says.
The moment we shared hovers at the back of my mind. I don’t really want to think too deeply about things, but evidently my disguise is working. Spending more time with Benny is like an early birthday gift I want to hold on to with both hands, even if he’s trying to pry it free. “Sounds fun to me.”
“Cleaning the beach?” he verifies, stopping where we left our shoes and bending to pick them up. He hands me my sandals. “Brianne Belacourt wants to clean the beach?”
I want to spend time with him. “Yes.”
“Okay. It’s actually not that surprising, I guess. I remember how obsessed you were with saving those dolphins.”
“Sea turtles,” I correct. “But all sea life matters.”
His smile is warm. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”
Which is what leads me to grin for the rest of the day.