As if he can hear my thoughts, his eyes fly open. He turns to look at me with mesmerizing eyes, and I lose my balance. His hand darts out to steady me even though I wasn’t in danger of falling.
I’m only falling for him.
“Whoa. You okay?” he asks, his eyebrows lowering in concern.
“Yes,” I mutter quickly, giving him a nervous smile. “Thanks.” I should move away, but his hand on me feels like an anchor.
His touch loosens, then pauses as if he doesn’t want to let go just yet. After another wild thump of my heart, he releases me. He leans down to pick up his shoes from where he dropped them, letting them dangle on the tips of his fingers.
“You should try it.” He jerks his chin toward my toes.
I’m about to kick my shoes off when I remember the state of my toes. I shake my head. “I’m good.”
He smirks. “I don’t believe you. You want to do it.”
“Oh?” I raise a brow, eyeing him. “What makes you think that?”
“You’re looking at my feet longingly. Unless . . . you have a foot fetish.” His eyes widen, mouth falling open. “Do you have a foot fetish?”
“Oh my God, no!” I laugh. “Chipped nail polish.”
He looks down. “I bet your toes still look cute regardless.”
“You’re so good for my ego. I think I’m going to keep you,” I joke, kicking off my shoes and bending down to pick them up. When I straighten and look up, his gaze is on mine.
“Keep me?” he asks in a low voice that sweeps down my spine like a caress.
“I mean, I didn’t mean keeping you like a pet or something. It’s just—”
All of a sudden, he laughs the kind of laugh that comes from deep within his stomach, shaking his entire body. I forget I’m horrified by his suggestion and just stare at him, trying to remember the last time I laughed that hard. These moments with Sol are worth everything, so I steal them and tuck them in the pockets of my heart for later.
He notices me staring, and his laughter dwindles to a stop. His eyes, Lord, his eyes soften, heat replacing the humor.
“You’re so cute when you’re flustered,” he says with a chuckle, but I’m still watching him, mesmerized. “You’re staring, Gracie.”
I snap out of the hypnotic moment. “I love the way you laugh. It’s beautiful.”
He scratches the back of his neck, his mouth quirking to one side. I’m certain he’s blushing, too. “Thanks.” His voice is a husky whisper.
We walk along the beach in silence, lost in our own thoughts.
“What’s your story?” Sol asks over the lulling of the crashing waves. “Tell me something about yourself that you haven’t told me before.” He pauses, unhurried. It feels like forever is ours at that moment. With a soft voice, he continues, “Tell me, who is Grace Miller?”
Dread is quick to make a nest in my throat, and it feels as if I’m choking on my own memories and emotions. Talking about myself is not something I like. In fact, I hate it. But I understand his eagerness to get to know me, the real me, because nobody wants to befriend a brick wall. In my core, I know there’s nothing malicious about his intent. He’s genuinely intrigued.
“Um, yeah . . .” I cough, trying to think of something, anything, to say, and when my mind goes blank from the anxiety, I laugh nervously. “I don’t know. I’m not that interesting, I guess.”
He shakes his head. “Quite the contrary. You’ve had my attention from the second I first saw you. Believe me, you are interesting. You intrigue me.”
I shake my head and inhale a shaky breath. “I grew up here. I’m terrible at making life decisions, and I love baking, love making origami . . .” Damn it, that all sounded really lame. I scramble to find something more interesting to say. “I love cliff jumping.”
He grins at me, probably remembering our day at Ranger’s Cove.
“And I love kissing you.”
His grin grows even wider as he pushes the locks of hair off his forehead. He didn’t wear his usual baseball cap, like I asked. “You do?”
I give him a shy smile. “I do.”
Those two words hang in the air between us. A breeze blows softly across the shore, sweeping the words up to the stars. A familiar shiver runs down my spine as I lift my nose, breathing in the scent of the sea. But there’s a new scent mixed in. I smile happily, and his eyes seem to sparkle at that.
“It’s going to rain soon,” I announce.
He steps in front of me, and I stop abruptly. “How do you know? I’ve been wondering how you knew it was going to rain ever since that time when I was leaving the diner.”
“Can’t you smell it in the air?”
He shakes his head, his forehead creased in a frown. “What does rain smell like?”
“It’s earthy, fresh. I can’t really describe it. According to my mom, my great grandmother had the same . . . gift. Well, that’s not the right word. But you know what I mean.”
“Are you sure you’re not supposed to be a scientist?”
“God, no. I wish.” I laugh. “I’m not too fond of science.” Looking into the distance, I say, “I’ve always been able to tell when the weather is about to change.”
“Superpowers, huh?” He shakes his head, smiling. “You’re badass, you know that, right?”
“I am, aren’t I?” I toss him a smile.
“Charming, Gracie.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “I mean, the way you accept a compliment. Very graceful.”
I swat his shoulder with the back of my hand. “Ha! Ha! Very funny.” I roll my eyes playfully at him. “Are you looking forward to sharing a room in the dorms with someone you’ve never met before? What if he ends up being weird or snores? Or likes to walk around naked?”
He huffs a laugh, but his gaze turns somber as he glances down at our ankles, deep beneath the surface of the water. “Yes, actually. Well, not the naked part.” He chuckles. “I’m excited and nervous. But living with people who have the same goal as I do is going to be great for me. Have you decided what you want to do?” he asks, swiftly changing the topic and tilting his head to look at me. “In college, I mean.”
I shake my head, crossing my arms around my middle, gaze focused on the ocean ahead.
We watch the way the green, blue, and yellow lights from the pier bounce on the undulating waters in silence, both lost to our thoughts. It looks magical, as though I could just wade over there and be swept into a different world. But, like most things, it’s just an illusion.
I look at him. “You know when you’re a kid and never thought you’d be required to make decisions because your mom or dad would always make them for you? Then suddenly, you’re eighteen, and there’s this pressure bearing down on you. Everyone wants to know what you want to do. Which college you’ll go to, what your plans are . . .”
I press my right foot into the wet sand, digging deeper with my toes. “It’s . . . that’s when you start realizing you’re not a child anymore. That the little bubble of innocence and bliss you’d been living in up until that point has well and truly been popped.” I sigh loudly. “My mom and I argued before I left the diner today. I said some really mean things to her, Sol. I was such a bitch. She’s been doing her best to protect me my whole life, and what do I do? I bitch and moan like a spoiled brat.”