My eyes bug out as if he’s just said my coffee had poison in it. “We aren’t getting married!” I yell a little too loud for my headache.
“Ooo, this is fun. See, I’ve decided that I like bothering you. I am attaching myself to you forever. Like a leech.” He looks bemused as I continue to glare at him.
“Leeches suck the life out of people,” I state dryly.
“Yes, I believe they do,” he answers. “So, why diet? Why can’t I be normal Pepsi?”
At least he can keep up with me this much. “Because,” I say while grabbing the pastry with one hand and my coffee with the other, “Diet makes people think it’s better for you when actually the fake sugar causes cancer. So in reality, it’s just as bad as the real thing. Only people don’t know it, because on the outside it says zero calories.” I’m shaking my head. Why doesn’t he get this? I walk out toward the patio and sit with my breakfast.
“So wait,” he says following me. “Are you saying I’m a fake? Not as good as the real thing, even though I pretend to be?” He asks innocently. He puts his hand over his heart with a wounded look then shrugs. “I think you’re projecting,” He takes the newspaper off the chair and sits down.
“Wow, thanks, Doctor,” I answer with sarcasm.
“No, seriously. I think you want me to be fake so you don’t have to like me. It would just be easier for you. You wouldn’t have to put yourself out there and be vulnerable.” He looks at me critically, before going on. “Like I said before, you’re afraid of me. But it’s okay. I’ll get you through it.” Then he suddenly gets up and goes back into the kitchen. How in the world did this conversation turn on me so fast?
I’m scowling after him when I hear a knock on the door. Preston rushes to open it, and in walks Kristin and Brad. Kristin immediately walks to where I am sitting and grabs a seat, taking my coffee and pastry in the process.
“Whoa, rough night?” Brad asks as he joins us on the patio.
“You have no idea,” I say squinting my eyes at Preston, who gives me the I-have-no-idea-what-you’re-talking-about look as I pull my coffee from Kristin’s hands.
Kristin appearsas animated as ever. “You will never guess what happened last night,” she says, looking back and forth between us.
“I’m sure I could,” Preston coughs to himself, masking the words while I hide a chuckle.
“We saw them!” Kristin exclaims, throwing her hands in the air. “And they were so nice, and we bought them champagne, and they toasted to us!” She’s now yelling, making my headache all the worse.
“You don’t say.” Preston plays along, making me smile even harder.
“Yes!” Kristin says, totally not getting Preston’s sarcasm. “And you know what’s so great?” She turns back to me. “I hear they’re going to be staying the rest of the week.”
“They are?” I say through clenched teeth, glaring at Preston.
“Yes!” Kristin does a little fist pump. I never knew she was so in to celebrities. Must be the new mom thing. She definitely needs to get out more, poor thing.
“So, you guys ready to go or what?” Brad asks, looking directly at me and my train wreck face and just-rolled-out-of-bed clothes.
“Ready for?” I ask.
“Snorkeling,” Brad says, standing up. “I thought Preston told you. The boat leaves in like a half hour.”
I bite my lip so I won’t lunge for Preston’s face, then smile. “Of course, I’ll go grab my stuff.”
I hurry into the bathroom, throw on my swimsuit, brush my teeth, put on waterproof mascara, and am out the door. I’m wearing my new swimsuit cover up as well as my giant sunglasses to hide my swollen eyes.
“For later,” Preston whispers and drops something into my beach bag. I can’t seem to be able to keep my stomach from doing a flip flop as my eyes scan his kissable lips. And okay, I know I’m supposed to hate him, but it’s hard not to feel totally 007 right now with us sneaking around together. I mean, it’s fun pretending to be someone else, and it’s not like I’m going to marry the guy. Clearly he’s not marriage material. Plus, he’s probably just stringing me along until he can embarrass me like I did him. Although, in his defense, he’s had many opportunities to do so already.
Today he’s wearing long board shorts and a tight muscle T. His skin is more bronzed than mine, making me all the more pathetic-looking next to him. We drive our rental car to the spot where the boat is waiting and get out. Preston and I are the last to leave the car, but only because Brad has to chase down Kristin as she charges the boat. Like I said, she needs to get out more.
“I think you’re wine,” Preston says and takes my bag from the trunk.
“What do you mean?” I fall into step with him, and we head in Kristins direction.
“I mean,” he says. Wait, is he turning red? “You’re anything but diet.” It was as if the mask which was once in place—the mask dripping with selfish pride and sarcasm—had fallen away, and it’s just us. Me and Preston. I stop and look him square in the face and grin. His eyes light up, and before I know it, he leans over and kisses my cheek.
“But don’t go around telling people about this side of me. It might ruin my reputation,” he says, then he playfully trips me as we walk onto the dock.
“That’s the last thing you should be worried about,” I say, returning the trip and causing his flip flop to sail into the water.
“Go get it,” he says seriously.
“No, you get it.”
“Children?” Kristin comes up to us. “A problem?”
“Yes.” I point at Preston. “He just called me stupid and tripped me. When he tripped me, his flip flop fell into the water, and now he wants me to go get it. And you know how much I hate the water.” I stomp my foot for effect and shed a fake tear, all the while Preston stares at me, mouth open in shock.
“Preston! Be nice to her! She has a legitimate fear. Now stop being a bully, and get your shoe out of the water. We’re going to be late for our snorkeling appointment.” She pulls me into her side and escorts me safely to the boat. I turn quickly to stick my tongue out at Preston. He smirks, then wades through the shallow water to retrieve his flip flop.
Two can play that game, buddy, I think.
****
I should have never underestimated him. I don’t know how I get myself into these situations. Honestly, I don’t. I mean, sometimes in hindsight, I can see myself make the choice, and I want to yell at myself to stop. You don’t know what you’re doing! But it’s always too late, and, seriously, how was I supposed to know the boat actually had a high dive?
Stupid Preston and his dares. He knows how much I hate water, yet here I am, standing on what I would like to refer to as the “plank of death”, waiting to jump into the dark abyss. “Jump! Jump! Jump!” I hear the voices chant, but all I feel like doing is passing out. Heights and water do not mix. This is at least thirty feet, and I feel like I might be sick.
“You know you don’t have to do this,” Preston teases and leans over the edge next to me.
“Shut up!” I squeak. “I’m doing this.”
“Smart girl.” He jumps in before me.
You see, it happened like this. Preston dared me to fit a whole chip into my mouth at the snack bar, which, let’s be honest, was a stupid dare. I did it, then proceeded to dare him to take a swig of Tabasco sauce. We went around the boat daring each other to do things until we reached the top, where he noticed the high dive. He immediately suckered me into it before I had the chance to say no. I mean, I was winning the game. It was Preston who didn’t’ have enough guts to down the whole bottle of Tabasco. I’m the one who proved it and did it myself. I was winning… until the high dive incident. Now here I am, shaking at the top of this giant boat, listening to complete strangers chant my name.
Far below me, I can see Preston treading water and joining in the chant. I immediately start to pray for a thunderstorm. Maybe lightning will strike his smug little face. The visual brings a smile to my lips. Okay, I can do this. I can do this. I close my eyes and jump. I feel my stomach heave as I hit the water, forgetting to pencil my legs and making a big slap. The sting runs all the way down my now throbbing red legs. I swim up gasping for air and see Preston swimming toward me like he’s fighting for a role in Bay Watch.
“Nice,” he says breathlessly, as he notes my shaking body.
“I—”
“Hate me, I know. Save it for later though. We should get you and your bruised body back on the boat. I thought I told you to pencil it?” He laughs and swims ahead so he can pull me onto the back of the boat.
“I think you’re hazardous to her health, buddy,” Brad says while Preston pulls me onto the boat. I feel like a beached whale.
My legs aren’t just red anymore. They’re now swelling to the size of…well, I don’t want to give you that visual. It’s too depressing.
“Hey, at least you did it!” Preston tries to sound encouraging. I give him the look of death reserved for only the worst of mankind.
“So not the point,” I say, teeth chattering. Suddenly, I don’t feel so well.
“Let’s go inside and get you dry.” He helps me to my feet. We move inside to the covered part of the boat and sit. I watch in awe as Preston winks at the snack bar lady who then brings us free snacks.
“Sure you aren’t a wizard?” I ask. Must be the trauma of the fall talking.
“A wizard? As in Harry Potter? I feel like I should be offended.” He hands me my drink.
“You could be, but he is the best magician at Hogwarts,” I say defensively.
“Please don’t tell me you’ve read the entire series of Harry Potter.” He laughs and shoots me a look reserved for small children who’ve been naughty.
“Fine, I have not read the entire series…only parts.” I sip my ginger ale. At least he had enough common sense to bring me something to calm my stomach.
“So, why would I be a wizard anyway?”
“The magical powers you have over people. It’s wizardy,” I say.
“Wizardy is not a word.”
“It’s in my dictionary.”
“Doubtful you’ve ever even seen one,” he counters.
“Whatever.” I cross my arms.
“What are you? Five?” he says, noticing my body language.
“Six, now go away.”
“Is that any way to treat your future husband?” He leans closer, and I fight to quiet my thumping heart as his breath caresses my face. Like a moth to the flame, I lean in before answering.
“I’d never marry you.” I look down at my hands. My voice sounds surprisingly convincing.
“But you’d at least go out with me?” He leans closer to my lips.
“When pigs fly.” I say, glaring at him.
“Good to know.” He gets up from his seat and clasps his hands together. “Now for our plan.”