I stare at him, considering how stupid his question is.
“Your phone’s off,” he says.
Lois rolls her window down as she drives by, waving.
I wave back, calling a good-bye. “My battery died.” My voice is so neutral; I’m impressed and shocked at the same time.
“You didn’t come back to the house last night.”
I shake my head. “I stayed with a friend.”
“I’m sorry about last night. Pax and Ian got wasted and could barely walk. I helped Arlo get them into his SUV, and he was worried they’d throw up, so I rode home with them. But, when I came back, you were gone.”
I glance around the parking lot, hoping his presence doesn’t create more hushed rumors about me. I’ve worked at the aquarium for years, successfully keeping my personal life and drama far from it. “I didn’t know where you went, and you weren’t answering your phone,” I admit.
He nods. “I lost it. I spent the morning at the store, getting a new one.”
Hans, the leader of our outreach time, drives by, honking and waving as he passes.
“I’m not trying to create doubt or make you chase after me. I was planning for us to talk, I just didn’t know what was going on last night and figured it was best if we slept it off. Was everything okay with Pax and Ian?”
He shakes his head. “It was nothing. They slept it off, and Poppy probably hates me because I borrowed Paxton’s phone last night to call you, and when you didn’t answer, I called her to make sure you were okay. I should have let you know what was going on. I told you not to be alone, and then I left you inside.”
“Technically, I was surrounded by a ton of people.”
He grins, running a hand over his eyes that reveal his exhaustion.
“Are you trying to apologize?” I ask, kicking a loose rock with the toe of my boot. “Because you kind of suck at it.”
His arms drop to his sides, humor sparking in his dark eyes. “I left you.”
“I noticed.”
“I didn’t mean to. I’ve never been good at this stuff.”
“You don’t have to,” I tell him. “You had every right to leave.”
His lips look fuller as he clenches his teeth, making his jaw become so defined it looks nearly sharp, giving Charlie Hunnam a run for most gorgeous jawline. “Why didn’t you go back to the house?”
“I didn’t know if you’d be there,” my reply tumbles out too quickly, sounding more like an argument.
“Was that a lie? Because you kind of suck at it,” he uses my own words against me.
“It’s weird,” I admit.
“Why?”
“Because you guys have your own routines, and I don’t want to ruin that.”
“You won’t.”
My shoulders rise, my muscles still tightly wound from the boat ride as I work to find the right words so it doesn’t sound half as lame as it does in my mind.
Lincoln steps forward, his hand gripping me above my elbow. “Stop censoring yourself.”
I shrug him off, taking a step back from the energy that floats through me when he’s too near. “I have to.”
“That’s bullshit. You say you can’t be yourself around me, but that’s only because you refuse to.”
“Because you make me feel … messy.” I shake my head once, swallowing the word vomit that I feel like I’m choking on. “I care what you think. I care more about what you think than I think I’ve ever cared about what anyone has thought about me. Poppy calls me fearless and claims that I have all this confidence, but when I’m around you, I lose it. I lose it all.”
The mask I’ve become so accustomed to seeing him wearing slips, and his eyes flare. “Was that so hard?”
I throw my head back, growling at the sky and him and at the multitude of emotions that are turning so fast, I’m sure I’m about to drown in them.
Lincoln steps closer, humor and warmth pooling in his eyes. “I like that you care.”
I shake my head. “Then stop telling me to stop censoring myself.”
He laughs softly, then licks his bottom lip, his gaze catching on my mouth, making me wish he’d step closer and kiss me. “I wanted to make you feel dirty, but I can live with messy.”
“I already regret telling you that.”
Lincoln rubs his lips together, then smiles. “I know.” He takes the slowest step on earth, closing the space between us, and I feel like it’s the day we first met when I was a mess as I push wet strands of my hair back with my red, freezing fingers. “Does this mean you’re done with Derek?”
“Derek, who?”
Confidence shines in his eyes as he smells the victory, licking his lips again.
“No, I’m serious. Which Derek? I was dating like five of them.”
I’m trying to study the flash that appears in his eyes, but before I can label it, his lips crash upon mine, equal parts punishing and victorious as he swipes his tongue across my lips, coaxing them to allow him access. I breathe him in, the fine drops of rain dancing across my cheeks and forehead, tickling my nose. His tongue expertly slides against mine, an invitation into the current I’ve experienced and know will turn my world upside down. And I jump with both feet.
He pulls back before I’m done, his gaze traveling past my shoulder. “You went out on the water?”
I nod, looking back across the ocean that still seems so unfamiliar.
“How was it?”
I swallow. “Harder than I expected. I thought I’d feel more comfortable once we got out there, but it all felt very raw still. But, I saw Blue.”
His eyes turn soft, and his hands tighten at my waist. “But you did it. You took a big leap. You should be proud of yourself. I’m hella proud of you.”
“I didn’t help them with anything. I was literally a boat ornament.”
He shakes his head. “You went out there. That’s huge. Don’t discount this accomplishment. We all have to start somewhere. Trust me. After I was cleared to play this summer, I didn’t start off with hardly anything. It takes time to build back up.”
I pull in a deep breath, wanting to believe his words so badly I nearly ask him to repeat them so I can create a new playlist of words in my mind to drown out the doubt. But, then he looks down as he links our fingers and pulls me in the direction of his truck.
“I’m soaked,” I tell him, watching the water from my coat run across the leather seat.
He glances at me from the driver’s seat where he starts the engine. “I was hoping you would be.” He grins mischievously, closing the doors, blue lights illuminating the space as he sits beside me.
“Is everything sexual with you?”
“When you’re involved.” He leans closer, reaching for my jacket. “We have three hours until you work, and probably one until you get hypothermia.”
“How do you know when I work?”
“I stopped at the coffee shop first.”
“Stalker.”
He grins, reaching for my coat, tugging the zipper down to reveal my red Brighton U sweatshirt. He peels it off, tossing my jacket to the front passenger floorboard with a thwack of wet fabric. “Have you had breakfast?”