“I listened a lot as a kid.” His smile fades and he busies himself. He’s doing it again, doing anything he can with his hands to distract himself from meeting my eyes.
“I’m sorry.” I’m such an ass, stepping on every emotional land mine he’s buried away.
“It’s okay. I, uhm, I stopped speaking when I was five and didn’t start again till I was around fourteen.” He stops and looks up the street, but he’s not really here. I wonder if this is part of thelaterhe talked about when I found his scars, but I don’t ask. “Went through some stuff and kind of shut down.”
It’s not the right time to ask him what happened and I’m not even sure I want to. We’re not there yet. It’s also not my place to ask about what kind of trauma a five-year-old experienced to go non-verbal for nearly a decade. He’ll share when he can, if he wants to. “Can I ask what got you talking again?”
His eyes finally meet mine, and there’s a slight pull at the corners of his mouth. Too many people want to talk about what caused the trauma because that’s where the good gossip is. The recovery? If it works, everyone forgets about you. I want to know what helped him, how he survived, and I’m betting not a lot of people ask that.
“Kid in my class, Coop. He was new, recently moved here from Canada with his dad and his kid brother. He wasn’t happy about the divorce and the move, so he was acting out. Some kids started shit with me on the playground, and he clocked them. They were going to throw him out of the school, and, well, someone had to speak up for him. Literally.”
“Holy shit, that’s kind of awesome of him. And you!”
“Yeah, he grew up around hockey, so he’s got a hell of a left hook. We’ve been best friends since.”
“Wait…Coop? Canadian? Hockey?! I mean, the odds are astronomical, but please tell me you’re not best friends with Chase fucking Cooper. You’re not, right?”
“Well, if I tell you I’m not, I’d be lying.”
“FUCK! You’ve seen my office, too. Oh god!” I cover my face while embarrassment floods my body.
“Yeah, well, just so I’m not alone under the bus, he’s friends with Dani, too. Personally, I would never stand in line for more than five minutes for the guy’s autograph.”
“Wait, I thought you were friends?”
“Yeah, if he makes me stand in line, I’ll kick his ass. Well, that and if he knew you waited in a four-hour line, he’d apologize to you for about a year.”
“Huh, so the brooding artist is besties with an A-list, legit Hollywood celebrity. That’s kind of cool. I’m not freaking out or anything.” I laugh at how unbelievable this all is. It’s like the world tilted oddly on its axis or something and nothing has been normal since running out to get coffee in the middle of a Thursday. “Guess that’s what you meant about contacts in the business, huh?”
I take off my shoes and let my feet sink into the sand. It’s an odd sensation against my skin. I always think of beach sand as warm, but this morning the sun hasn’t touched it yet. I’m surprised by the chill. I wiggle my toes and watch James take off his shoes and shove both pairs into his bag.
“Coop was the only person besides my dad who ever tried to stand up for me. He talked for me, and when he wasn’t, he gave me my space. He still does when I need it. Freaks people out sometimes because he and I can have an entire conversation without a word.”
“I can do that with my sister, but ours is a twin thing, I think. Do you write, too?”
“Sometimes. It’s not my favorite medium because I’m one of those people who doesn’t think words are enough to really get an idea across. Some people can, but I can’t seem to get them to be as deep and meaningful.” He watches me wiggle my toes as my smile grows to a giggle into a laugh. It’s freeing.
“Okay, when was the last time you came to the beach? Was it at least this century?” James is quick enough to catch the face I make on camera—so I stick my tongue out at him.
“Jerk,” I push him playfully and he tucks his cameras into his bag. “The night my sister and I moved here, we drove across the country. We wanted to end our trip by saying we literally traveled coast to coast. So, I guess that would be almost fifteen years now.”
“So you come to the beach on your first day in California, and it takes you fifteen years before you find yourself back on a beach? You do know that’s kind of what we’re known for, right? Beaches and sunshine? Alright.” He sighs heavily and holds out his hand. I stare at it for a moment. “We definitely have to do this.”
“Do wha—” He’s leading me down the beach in a full run, headed right for the water. I should let go, but I don’t want to. Instead, I scream and laugh like an idiot the whole way. He stops for a split second to drop our things in the sand, spins around, and lifts me into the air.
He runs into the water and the sting of cold hits us instantly. It’s positively freezing. We both shout as the first wave hits us, pulling us along as he jumps into it, but he doesn’t let go. He’s in up to his chest and holding me up higher as he goes deeper.
I should be mad because I’m freezing, but I don’t care. With each wave that hits us, I feel less and less of the chokehold life has had on me for nearly twenty years. I feel genuine happiness. I look down into his eyes as I slip into the water and our shivering lips meet.
Fuck, he’s pretty. Why can’t I stop laughing?
CHAPTER19
PICTURES OF YOU
THE CURE
She’s practically climbingme to escape the sharp bite of icy water, but she’s still laughing. It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard, and I know with every ounce of my soul that I want to spend the rest of my life making her laugh. She slips down into my arms. All I can do is stare into her eyes until the cold becomes too much and I race back into the sand with her.
