Chapter 10
Can I Ask You A Question?
Carly
“How much longer until we’re there?” Crew asks me as we walk down a path of sand, dry grass, and worn-out stone.
“Almost there,” I assure him.
“You said that five minutes ago.”
I try not to roll my eyes because he’s right—I forgot about the long, winding path that leads directly to my favorite spot in Marbella Beach as we drove over.
East Pointe, one of the larger yet hidden beaches in this town.
Once my sandals finally touch the sand, I feel myself loosen up more. I did need to come back here. The weather never stops me from going to the beach, to be honest, but I haven’t been there in a while, especially by myself.
Yes, I know I’m not alone here, but Crew’s usually the silent type. Except right now, that is.
Once again, he’s usually quiet. Yet, he’s a chatterbox when he’s nervous. I’m learning so much already.
Crew and I reach the end of the steep path leading towards the beach, and I lead him towards a pile of large, smooth rocks. I climb up the shortest and flattest one.
“We’re here,” I announce, gesturing to the beach in front of us.
Since we’re nearing the end of winter, the weather is starting to warm up, but the cold lingers.
That’s why I switched out my sneakers for sandals but kept my favorite jacket and orange top with spaghetti straps paired with black leggings.
I remove my jacket and lay it down on the somewhat smooth stone, creating a place for me to sit. As I remove my sandals, Crew approaches.
“Why are we here?”
I scoff, gesturing to the view. The sun is on the horizon, and the light is glistening off the Pacific Ocean. What’s even better is the lack of people here—only surfers who are racing against the waves and wiping out before they hit the shore.
East Pointe is known by locals to be pretty barren and for having the best waves to ride. Since I don’t know how to surf and have a mild case of thalassophobia—fear of the sea—I just stick to relaxing on the sand.
“This is where I go to clear my head,” I explain softly. “When things become too much to handle. I figured that you needed something like this.”
He shakes his head and sits down. “I shouldn’t even be surprised.”
“Don’t be,” I tell him, digging my toes into the sand. “I’m not here to ask about what’s got your brain twisted—”
“It's better if you don’t,” he interjects.
I lift my chin to meet his eyes. Even though we’re sitting down, his posture is straighter than mine. “Fine, then I won’t. We can just sit here in silence.”
So we do. I’m glad that Crew needed something like this because I did as well. After re-creating the end scene for my film, I managed to splice everything together and submit the final product this morning.
And now? I wait, my nerves on high drive, and glad Crew doesn’t want to talk about anything because I don’t think I have the mental capacity to talk about my feelings.
Normally, I would pull out my film camera and take candid pictures of the beautiful view in front of me.
Occasionally, some will give me their contact information—mostly emails, but I did get a phone number from a sweet old lady once—to send the final results.
I’m not alone today, and I left my camera in the car.
So, my next best option would be Crew. I slowly turn my head towards my right and follow Crew’s gaze directly to the waves. What is this guy thinking? I barely know him, but I can’t help but be intrigued by how he operates.
Like a hyper-fixation that doesn’t let up until I get my fix before moving on to the next one. I could ask question after question and still not be satisfied with the responses.
He glances in my direction, raising a brow. “Take a picture; it’ll last longer,” he mutters sarcastically.
“Hm.” I glance back at the ocean. “Lucky for you, I left my camera in the car. Though I wish I had it to capture this.” I gesture to the view and the few surfers riding the waves. “I’ve taken pictures of so many people here.”
“Even the people you bring?”
I turn to face him. “You’re actually the first person I’ve ever brought here.”
His dark brown eyes widen slightly. “Not even Ali?”
I shake my head. “Not even my brother,” I add. Carson doesn’t know about this place, and that I’m here when I’ve either reached my lowest point or when I’m about to.
My mental health has spikes due to having ADHD, which is laced with both anxiety and depression as the leading symptoms. It starts high before dropping dramatically, and…well, it’s not good. So I don’t tell him about it because I don’t need him to worry about me.
I try not to let my mental health affect my directing style, but sometimes…it can get in the way.
“Then why did you bring me?” He asks, resting his chin on his knees.
I sigh. “Because you looked like you needed some air.” When I found Crew, he looked on the verge of a panic attack with the way his fingers dug into the palm of his free hand and how he was breathing. “What’s fresher than the outdoors?”
“It helps,” he admits. “A little. You just come here and think?”
“Pretty much.” I shrug, leaning back and placing a good chunk of my weight onto my arms, not adding more to my answer. I didn’t come here because I have problems—even though I do—but because I’m not the only one who needed it.
This isn’t really about me, but about letting the stress subside for now. Stress, though natural, should not be normal. Surprisingly, I didn’t think bringing someone with me would help more. Crew’s not even doing anything—he’s just here.
“Sometimes, I’m on the sand. I’ll walk around, but you’ll mostly find me sitting here.”
“Not in the ocean?” He questions.
Ah, hell no! “I don’t have a death wish.”
“But it’s the ocean.”
“And we, as humans, have only seen less than twenty percent of it, at most,” I remind him. “The rest we’ve never seen? Yeah, I’m not about to find the Megalodon while I’m swimming in the saltwater.”
He laughs softly to himself. “You won’t find a shark that’s been extinct for centuries wash up on the shore, Firecracker.”
“Still not taking the chance.”
Just then, my phone buzzes in my back pocket, and ‘Blackbird’ by the Beatles starts playing. I just know it’s a text from Ali because she loves that song and it’s her ringtone.
Ali
Where are you???
And have you seen Crew? You two were supposed to meet us at the library an hour ago.
Fuck, I feel like such a bitch right now for forgetting to text her. She knows I wasn’t trying to neglect her because I never would, but I can feel the guilt creeping in right now.
“Was that Ali?” He assumes.
I nod, typing away. “I forgot to text her that we weren’t coming.” Which reminds me of a question that I’ve been meaning to ask Crew. “Hey, can I ask you something?”
He shrugs, which doesn’t give me a definitive answer, but I go ahead anyway.
“Why do you love Ali?” I change my sitting position, crossing my legs over each other like a little kid, because it’s most comfortable.
He furrows his brows. “Love?”
“I can understand, since I’ve known her longer than almost everyone, but I want to hear it from you.”
Crew takes some time to think about it. “She treats me like a normal person.”
Unlike me. The words aren’t spoken, but it’s definitely implied, which makes the sting slightly worse. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
“What?”
“I asked why you like her,” I repeat. “Not about what she does that you like. There’s a difference.”
“I answered your question,” he states.
“That’s a shit response.” I brush the sand off my knees. “You would have a much better, and sappier answer to this.”
“Are you always this stubborn?” He questions.
“Well, I wouldn’t call it stubborn.” I define it as bringing the truth to light. The longer information and emotions are hidden, the more power they gain.
“Love would make someone act completely different from their natural state of being,” I proceed. “Yet, you don’t act like a complete sap or anything when she’s around.”
“Are you always this straightforward?”
I shrug. “I’m just not quiet. You should know that I’m not afraid to ask or say what’s on my mind, Movie Star. Some people just can’t handle that.”
“Then throw whatever you need to say in my direction,” he tells me. I turn to glance at him, but his gaze is straight ahead. “I can handle it.”
Except, I’m not sure he can. He may have grown up in the spotlight, but that doesn’t mean he’s strong. Everyone has weak spots.
Well, he asked for it.
“Do you really like her?” I ask, whilst figuring out how to phrase my words correctly without offending him. “Or are you just clinging onto the idea of someone pretending your not-so-glamorous Hollywood past doesn’t exist?”
He doesn’t say a word, but I see his brows crease with each word that escapes my mouth.
“The way I see it, you’re just trying to escape your old life instead of accepting that it will always be a part of you,” I finish. Then, I add, “no matter what you do.”
“Wow, you are unafraid.” He sounds shocked, even with the small warning I gave him.
I feel like I should take that comment with pride, let it build up my confidence, but I can’t. Because I’m not unafraid at all. Half the time, I’m fucking terrified but don’t know how to process it properly.
“Maybe think about your answer the next time I ask,” I mention casually, bringing my gaze back to the sun, which is beginning to set.
“There will be a next time?” His voice doesn’t suggest any hint of panic, but…is that hope?
Nah, that can’t be.
“Maybe there will be,” I taunt, oh-so lightly. “Maybe there won’t be. You’ll never know.”