18. Scarlett #2
“Then I guess that’s a you problem,” I say, and he shakes his head, making me laugh.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Morgan says as he attempts to break a crab leg in half with the cracker.
“Well, first of all, that is the least effective way to do that if you want to get the most meat out,” I tell him, and he just stares at me.
“Watch,” I tell him, picking up a similar leg.
“Am I not supposed to use the tool?” he asks.
“You want to bend and pull,” I explain. “Like this. Find the joint and bend it backward. Then, as it starts to break, pull it slowly and–voila.” I smile, showing him a large chunk of crab meat and popping it into my mouth.
“Interesting,” Morgan says. And despite his normally stubborn nature, he follows suit, and a nice piece of meat slides out.
“See?” I say. “I learned that in Alaska,” I tell him, grabbing another piece.
“You’ve been to Alaska?” Morgan asks, dunking the crab meat into the ramekin of melted butter.
“Twice.” I smile at him.
Then he holds the bite up to my mouth, and my lips part. His fingertips brush them, and he smiles. Meanwhile, cameras are going off left and right around us. I even hear someone say something about how cute they are. And Morgan Bale has a girlfriend?
And for a moment, all I can do is smile.
“For real, though,” he says as we eat. “I want to know something about you. Something the whole world doesn’t already know. Seeing as how you’re kind of a celebrity and all.”
I narrow my eyes in thought as I think about that.
“I’m not afraid of anything,” I finally tell him, and Morgan just studies me.
“Nothing?” he asks.
“Nope,” I say. “Not that I am aware of anyways.”
“The dark?” he asks, and I giggle.
“Not at all.”
“Spiders?”
“I owned a tarantula when I was a kid,” I answer. “Her name was Hermione.”
“The dentist,” he tries again.
“I love getting my teeth cleaned,” I say.
“Snakes,”
“I have an entire blog about them,” I say.
“Heights,” he says.
“I’ve been skydiving,” I say.
“Public speaking?” he asks.
“I’m an influencer,” I point out.
“Touche,” Morgan scratches his chin, and it isn’t until we are in the light of the Pacific sunset that I realize how much gray he has in his facial hair and in his otherwise golden temples.
I don’t mind it though. Honestly, I’ve never been into guys my own age.
And the fact that Morgan is offensively good-looking for his age is just icing on the cake.
“I got it,” he blurts out. “Being alone.”
I think about that. I’ve never minded being alone. It’s why I do so well with a travel job. But I have wondered if it will ever get old.
“I haven’t been in a relationship in so long,” I answer. “I think I am used to it.”
“I mean doing things alone. Forever. You know, never having a partner in crime. What good are life milestones if you have no one to share them with?”
His words go deep, and I think he can see that. Because I have had those moments. Enjoying a sunset and realizing how I’d love to be enjoying it with someone. Trying a new dish and wondering what someone else would think of the flavors.
Having a child and seeing the joy on the father’s face when they’re born.
“I guess I never thought about it,” I answer with a forced smile. He studies me for a moment and then, luckily goes back to eating. I feel like I dodged a bullet here. And yet…it also feels like it grazed me.
“Excuse me.” The woman walks over to our table with a modest smile. “I’m sorry to interrupt. But the two of you are just so cute together. I was wondering if you’d like a photo?” she asks.
At first, I think she means on her phone. So she can post it. And while it’s probably not going to hurt our image, I’d prefer the first posed picture of us was one taken by me, posted by me. But then I realize she means a photo on my phone. “Sure.”
“Let’s do it against the banister. With the ocean and the sunset in the background,” she says, and I smile, handing her my phone.
Then I tug Morgan with me.
We stand the way couples usually do, his arm around me, my arm around his waist, my other hand on his chest.
“Are you sure about this?” he whispers through a smile as she gets the angle right.
“It will be great for the image,” I tell him without moving my lips.
“Alright, now a fun one!” she suggests.
I make a funny face. Morgan, of course, does not. I poke him in the side, and he doesn’t react. Then he pokes me and I shriek, collapsing against his chest with a laugh.
He smiles and then the woman takes the photo.
“You two are so naturally photogenic,” the woman says, handing me my phone back.
And as I look through the photos, she’s right. They’re perfect.
For the blog, I mean.
“You want to go for a walk?” Morgan asks, and I look up to see him paying the tab and grabbing our things.
“Sure,” I say. And with that, he grabs my hand, and we walk off the pier.
To my surprise, he wants to walk along the beach. I giggle as he attempts to tread through the sand in wing-tipped shoes.
“What are you laughing at?” he asks.
“It would be a lot easier if you took your shoes off,” I say.
“I’m not really a beach kind of guy,” he admits, physically cringing with every step.
“Then why did you suggest it?” I ask.
“Content?” he grits out, clearly struggling.
And while I am enjoying watching him struggle, I also feel kind of bad for the guy. He very clearly does not get out very often.
“Here,” I say, stopping him and pulling him towards me. “What if we just stand here?”
“Just stand here?” he asks.
“Yeah. We can take photos. Watch the sunset. Other things…” I trail off.
The beach is actually pretty private right now. Most people are eating dinner or out on the town and are done with the beach for the day. Apart from a few people walking in the distance, we pretty much have the beach to ourselves. The entire ocean to ourselves.
And speaking of that…
“Oh, look!” I say, pointing at the water. “Did you see it?” I ask.
“See what?” he asks, turning his head to look out over the water.
“There was a whale!” I tell him.
“A whale?” he asks.
“I saw a whale!” I say. I’m so excited by the idea of it that I am almost unaware that we are basically embracing.
“Are you sure?” Morgan asks skeptically. “I don’t think you can see whales unless you’re near the cliffs.”
“I saw one!” I insist. And a moment later I see it again. “See!?”
“Oh. Wow,” he says. Then he looks back at me.
“It’s crazy!” I exclaim. “I’ve never seen one from the beach either! It’s beautiful,”
“Yes. It is,” Morgan says gently, and I turn to look at him. Sure enough, he’s staring at me and not the water.
“Wow.” I shake my head. “What a line.”
“Who says it was a line?” he asks. “I’m complimenting you.”
“Yeah, with the cheesiest line in the book,” I say.
“What book?” he scoffs.
“You know. The girl says the view is beautiful. The guy agrees. All the while he’s staring at her and not the view,” I rattle off.
“I have an idea,” he says. “What if the girl shuts up and kisses the guy?” Morgan asks, and my heart does a backflip in my chest before Morgan’s lips cover mine.
As the kiss goes deeper, he pulls me against him. But it’s not like in the bedroom. Hurried or in spite of anything. It’s slow, sweet, deep and warm.
And despite the lack of alcohol or promises of any kind, I kind of allow myself to just get lost in it. Even if it’s all for show, it’s kind of like the rest of my job, isn’t it? There’s nothing wrong with enjoying it, right?