face.
Ten
Noah
I took to the beach behind the aquarium, not really expecting to find anybody. I still stunk of chlorine and "stupid" might as well be my middle name. I’d managed to humiliate myself in front of Miss Friggin Disney Princess twice in one week. This time I had no one to blame but myself.
I’d let Jax get to me. Again.
The upside was that I had gotten a chance to talk to Erin. It had gone better than I'd hoped. Before I had left, every time we had seen each other, one or both of us would end up breaking down. But there had been a peace between us tonight, an acceptance of what neither of us could change. And more importantly, no tears. Not even when she’d given me one of Jamie’s old t-shirts to wear. I still had it balled in my fist.
My intent had been to do a quick check on Ellie before I went home. She’d been lethargic today and had barely eaten and I was worried about her.
The beach wasn’t empty, though. Jeb sat by a small fire and the smell of frying fish hung in the air, drawing me in. Daniel and Quinn had dug themselves lounge chairs in the sand and were lying back, half tangled together. If they were surprised to see me, they didn’t show it.
“What’s up, Noah?” Quinn held her hand out, as did Daniel.
“Good to see you guys.” I walked over and slapped both before plopping down in the empty chair beside Jeb.
I felt like I’d swum to Mexico and back. The smell of fish frying over an open flame made my stomach growl and my mouth water. Jeb leaned over the fire, poking the fish with a stick. He sniffed me.
“You smell like chlorine.” He dug into the cooler beside his chair with his free hand and tossed me a beer. “You been in a pool?”
“Don’t ask.” I popped the lid and drank all twelve ounces in one long swig.
“Take it easy. If you were stupid enough to fall in a pool, that won’t help.” Jeb poked at the fish some more, eyeing me through the smoking fire.
“Yes, mother.” I let my head fall back and my eyes closed, the sound of my laugh full of self-deprecation. I wasn’t just stupid. I was a certifiable idiot. The humiliation still stung. But I was among friends now. My own kind.
“Who’s cooking?” If Jeb was firing up behind the aquarium it could only mean he’d been doing some lazy man’s fishing. Or in other words, he’d speared a fish from one of the exhibits.
“One-eyed Joe.” Jeb actually sounded sad.
I lifted my head. “You murdered One-eyed Joe?”
One-eyed Joe was a black grouper who had survived a previous attempt to make him the guest of honor at one of our cookouts. The spear had put one of his eyes out but not his life, so we’d decided he had earned the right to live. He’d become one of the untouchables.
“He was already belly up dead when I got here this morning. This is his wake,” Jeb said.
“Well, he smells damn good. Is he done? I’m starving,” Daniel said, prying himself away from Quinn. He grabbed a chair and scooted it closer to the fire.
“Here.” Quinn had gotten up and was holding a tray loaded with tortillas and slaw—which she was famous for making—and hot sauce. All the fixings for fish tacos. We each grabbed a tortilla. Jeb forked out thick chunks of flakey white flesh, and it was the best food I’d eaten since I’d come home.
Jeb chunked me another beer. Quinn and Daniel fed each other bites of fish, her strawberry blonde hair—more strawberry than blonde—reflecting the light flickering off the fire. For some reason it made me think of her. I could hear her again. She was happy and content, a feeling I hadn’t gotten from her in a few days.
“Who’s the girl?”
“What?” I cut my eyes at Jeb. Was he reading my mind?
“The one who put that smile on your face.” He laughed and held up another beer.
“Nah, I’m good.” Was I smiling? “What makes you think there’s a girl?
“Because if I just spent five months in the Deep, the first thing I’d be looking for was a girl. Tell
Ten
Noah
I took to the beach behind the aquarium, not really expecting to find anybody. I still stunk of chlorine and "stupid" might as well be my middle name. I’d managed to humiliate myself in front of Miss Friggin Disney Princess twice in one week. This time I had no one to blame but myself.
I’d let Jax get to me. Again.
The upside was that I had gotten a chance to talk to Erin. It had gone better than I'd hoped. Before I had left, every time we had seen each other, one or both of us would end up breaking down. But there had been a peace between us tonight, an acceptance of what neither of us could change. And more importantly, no tears. Not even when she’d given me one of Jamie’s old t-shirts to wear. I still had it balled in my fist.
My intent had been to do a quick check on Ellie before I went home. She’d been lethargic today and had barely eaten and I was worried about her.
The beach wasn’t empty, though. Jeb sat by a small fire and the smell of frying fish hung in the air, drawing me in. Daniel and Quinn had dug themselves lounge chairs in the sand and were lying back, half tangled together. If they were surprised to see me, they didn’t show it.
“What’s up, Noah?” Quinn held her hand out, as did Daniel.
“Good to see you guys.” I walked over and slapped both before plopping down in the empty chair beside Jeb.
I felt like I’d swum to Mexico and back. The smell of fish frying over an open flame made my stomach growl and my mouth water. Jeb leaned over the fire, poking the fish with a stick. He sniffed me.
“You smell like chlorine.” He dug into the cooler beside his chair with his free hand and tossed me a beer. “You been in a pool?”
“Don’t ask.” I popped the lid and drank all twelve ounces in one long swig.
“Take it easy. If you were stupid enough to fall in a pool, that won’t help.” Jeb poked at the fish some more, eyeing me through the smoking fire.
“Yes, mother.” I let my head fall back and my eyes closed, the sound of my laugh full of self-deprecation. I wasn’t just stupid. I was a certifiable idiot. The humiliation still stung. But I was among friends now. My own kind.
“Who’s cooking?” If Jeb was firing up behind the aquarium it could only mean he’d been doing some lazy man’s fishing. Or in other words, he’d speared a fish from one of the exhibits.
“One-eyed Joe.” Jeb actually sounded sad.
I lifted my head. “You murdered One-eyed Joe?”
One-eyed Joe was a black grouper who had survived a previous attempt to make him the guest of honor at one of our cookouts. The spear had put one of his eyes out but not his life, so we’d decided he had earned the right to live. He’d become one of the untouchables.
“He was already belly up dead when I got here this morning. This is his wake,” Jeb said.
“Well, he smells damn good. Is he done? I’m starving,” Daniel said, prying himself away from Quinn. He grabbed a chair and scooted it closer to the fire.
“Here.” Quinn had gotten up and was holding a tray loaded with tortillas and slaw—which she was famous for making—and hot sauce. All the fixings for fish tacos. We each grabbed a tortilla. Jeb forked out thick chunks of flakey white flesh, and it was the best food I’d eaten since I’d come home.
Jeb chunked me another beer. Quinn and Daniel fed each other bites of fish, her strawberry blonde hair—more strawberry than blonde—reflecting the light flickering off the fire. For some reason it made me think of her. I could hear her again. She was happy and content, a feeling I hadn’t gotten from her in a few days.
“Who’s the girl?”
“What?” I cut my eyes at Jeb. Was he reading my mind?
“The one who put that smile on your face.” He laughed and held up another beer.
“Nah, I’m good.” Was I smiling? “What makes you think there’s a girl?
“Because if I just spent five months in the Deep, the first thing I’d be looking for was a girl. Tell
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