Wet: Part 2 by S. Jackson Rivera Page B

breathing and tried not to faint.
    “Thank you, God,” he whispered over and over.
    When his heart recovered and his mind cleared, he remembered their conversation about her having a phone.
    There’ve been times I’ve needed to talk to you but couldn’t , he’d said.
    Only because I didn’t want to talk to you, she’d answered . —on the phone or otherwise.
    He sighed, knowing this was one of those times, and he wished he could take it all back, do last night over again. He took care of a few things before he ran across the street to check his apartment, the closest possibility first. As expected, the lock hung on the door, a sign she wasn’t inside.
    He broke into a run and didn’t stop until he’d reached Oceanside. He flew up the stairs two at a time and bent forward to rest his hands on his thighs, taking a moment to catch his breath, when he saw the door open.
    Relief—he finally felt optimistic. All the thoughts running through his head since he woke up that morning, fears he’d betrayed Rhees, fears she’d been left stranded in the ocean, fears she’d figured him out and wanted nothing more to do with him—he wouldn’t blame her, but the thought bothered him and he wasn’t used to feeling that way. He needed to breathe. He didn’t call out. If she was inside, he wouldn’t find her happy.
    He pulled the screen door handle. The door opened.
    Why didn’t she lock the damn door? He shook his head and tried not to be too upset about her careless disregard for her own safety. Not today, anyway. He tiptoed in, quietly, looking to the right to find her bedroom open as well. He almost sobbed, overcome with relief when he finally saw her. She lay safely on the bed, her back turned to the door. He didn’t hear crying, but his pillow displayed a telltale wet spot and he felt like such an ass.
    “Rhees?” he said softly, in case she was asleep. She didn’t answer. He crept in, delicately crawled onto the bed, and snuggled up next to her. “Hey.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say.
    She stared at the wall, sniffed, grabbed a tissue from the box she had on the bed, and wiped her eyes.
    “You’ve always known I’m an ass. Last night shouldn’t have come as a shock.”
    She laughed and rolled onto her back to look at him. “You called me Dani Girl.”
    He huffed out a quiet laugh. “Of all the horrific things I need to apologize for, you’re starting the list off with a new nickname? I knew you hated them, but I guess I never realized how much.”
    “I liked it.” She laughed again.
    “Oh. So we’re starting with the only thing I did right .” He furrowed his brows, confused and cautious.
    “My grandpa called me Dani Girl when I was little. I haven’t heard it since he passed away.”
    Paul studied her for a few seconds, but then rolled onto his back and rubbed his face. His breathing sounded harsh and he moaned. He was drained.
    “Aw, Rhees.”
    With a warm smile, she leaned up on her elbow to look down at him, pulling his hands away from his face so she could see him. His eyes felt tired and bloodshot. After all he drank the night before, yes surely, they were bloodshot. He probably looked pale too. He only hoped he didn’t look as miserable as he felt.
    He did have the hangover from hell, but his misery didn’t have as much to do with the hangover as the reason for it and the things he, thankfully, hadn’t done, but could have. 
    “You don’t deserve this. You’re too good to have to put up with me. You need someone who can treat you right.”
    “Stop it.” Her smile dropped as fast as it had formed. “Wait . . . are you breaking up—I mean pretending to break—breaking up, pretending to be my . . . What am I trying to ask? You’re bored, already ?”
    “I’m not bored! But maybe it would be for the best.” He sighed loudly. “I should—if I was a better man, but when I die, the last thing I’ll be remembered for is my altruism.” He looked at her, sadly. “If