Snapping out of my thoughts, I stand up and fish my shorts from my bag. But the thought of leaving begins to weigh heavier on my heart the closer it comes time to go; a pang of disappointment settles in my chest, and I find myself struggling to do the simplest of things: stepping into my shorts, buttoning them closed, finding the right words to say good-bye—there are no right words, I quickly realize.
Luke is still staring out at the water.
After shuffling my feet into my flip-flops, I reach down and take up my bag, shouldering the lighter weight of it without my towel inside.
Luke is still staring out at the water.
I pause, thinking more about how to say good-bye until I realize how ridiculous something so simple is and then I say with reluctance, “Well, I guess I need to head back. I enjoyed—”
“Stay,” Luke says, looking up at me at an angle. “Why don’t you stay for a while longer? Just a few days.” The serious look in his face takes me aback; the determination, although subtle and soft, makes my throat dry up in an instant.
“I-I—Luke, I can’t.” Yeah, I can’t stay and I can’t fathom what made him say that to me, or why every part of me wants to.
He rises to his feet, and the intensity of his gaze sends a shot of warmth through my belly and rushing into my heart.
I’m so confused … so—
“I know this sounds crazy,” he says, stepping even closer. “I mean, it even sounds crazy to me, but I want you to stay.”
Suddenly his hazel eyes light up as if an idea just flashed in front of them.
“Hey,” he says with a bright face, “you could even give me some pointers on setting up a charity art event at the community center I’m helping organize.” His mouth turns up on one side teasingly. “You could show me some of those mad event coordinating skills you have—I’ll even pay you for your time.”
I start to smile back at him because that grin of his is infectious, but then I just shake my head. “Luke, I really … I mean, I’d love to help out, but—”
He takes both of my hands into his and his eyes soften, but with such sincerity and determination. I look down at his hands, his strong fingers curled around mine. I can’t fight the feeling his touch compels, and I tighten my fingers around his in response to it.
Oh God, what’s happening? Where is this coming from? And why is it not making me want to take off running in the other direction?
The soft touch of his fingers against the skin of my arms makes my whole body shiver. But I keep my head on straight and take a step away from him.
He frowns, and I can’t help it—so do I.
“I … I really can’t,” I say and hate that it’s true. “Maybe we can exchange phone numbers.”
He shakes his head and buries his hands in his pockets, looking past me, sifting through his thoughts, it seems.
“I know I probably overstepped my bounds,” he says. “I’m not a freak, I swear, but I just thought I’d take a risk.” He laughs lightly, trying to cover up his slight embarrassment.
The smile finally returns to my face and my eyes soften on him.
“I don’t think you’re a ‘freak’ at all,” I say, stepping closer. “It did catch me by surprise, but … well, it wasn’t scaring me away, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
He blushes and his gaze strays from mine momentarily. He’s ridiculously adorable.
“But I’m curious,” I say, and he looks at me again, waiting, those hazel eyes swimming with something magical I only wish I could figure out. “What made you say it?”
He looks past me on both sides again, a knot moving down the center of his throat.
“I’ll tell you what,” he says as a small smile tugs the corners of his mouth, “if I tell you why I said it, will you give me your word that when you go back to San Diego you’ll at least think about spending more time with your camera?”
Surprised all around, at first I can’t do much but look at his tall height and hard shoulders and the perfectly sculpted bone structure of his face and wonder where he really came from and why he was sent to cross my path, because everything that comes out of his mouth manages to intrigue and excite me and make me feel like I need to stay here.
I think on his terms for a moment, pursing my lips in pretend contemplation.
“I give you my word,” I agree with a quick nod.
His smile lengthens.
“Good,” he says, and then draws his shoulders up, tightening his arms at his sides with his hands still buried in his pockets. He hesitates as he prepares the answer. “OK, being completely honest, what made me ask you to stay is because I know that if you get on that plane I’ll never see you again.”
I smile gently.
“Why do you think you’d never see me again?” I ask. And why are you worried about never seeing me again? My heart sings behind my ribs like a finch in a cage.
Maybe it’s to distract me, but instead of answering, Luke leans over and picks my beach towel up from the sand. He shakes it out and holds it out to me. Slowly I take it into my fingers, absently stuffing it inside my bag hanging from my shoulder.
He smiles and buries his hands inside his pockets again.
“Look, I really enjoyed hanging out with you today,” he says. “And if you’re ever on Oahu again, look me up.”
Oh no, is this good-bye? What about your phone number? Do I offer mine? Would that seem desperate?
My phone rings inside my bag, breaking me out of my thoughts.