I watch him, wondering what he’s thinking, wishing that I knew. I finally ask, “What are you thinking?”
Sean sits up on the sand and lets out a rush of air. He pushes his hands through his hair and looks down at me. “I wish things were different. I wish I...” He sounds tense, like he made a mistake. The muscle in his jaw tightens like he can’t swallow.
I sit up and lean back on my elbows. The wind catches my hair and lifts it from my neck, chilling me. I jump up. I reach out and take Sean’s hand and pull him to his feet. “This isn’t the time for wishing or regrets.”
Sean looks at my hands holding onto his. When his gaze lifts, he asks, “Then what time is it?” There’s more there, things he wants to say. I can hear his heart breaking all over again. I wonder if I’m echoing his wife. I wonder if he feels guilty. I know loss, but Sean’s is different. I can’t imagine his pain.
“Time for lunch. I’m treating. You’re driving. Come on, motorcycle man. Carpe diem and all that crap. Let’s go!” I bend over and grab the piggy kite and we head for the car.
Neither of us says anything for a while. Sean seems lost, like he’s floating with no anchor. I lean back in the seat, grateful for the heater. Maybe I’m a little nuts, always making myself cold, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t like getting warm. I like things that are predictable, things that I can control. It makes me feel better.
We head into Wendy’s and I tell Sean to grab us a table. He lifts an eyebrow at me. “You’re ordering for me? That’s kind of manly.”
“Get over it, bitch,” I tease, smiling at him. I meant it to sound more serious, but he smiles and I laugh. “Go sit. Let me treat you to the most wonderful lunch of your life.” I lean in and whisper in his ear, “It’s that good.”
Sean walks away and I order us a bunch of stuff off the cheap-o menu. This is a splurge for me, but it’s worth it. I get the idea that Sean doesn’t dine on a $1.99 very often. I wonder what expression he’d have on his face if saw my dorm room and my stash of Ramen noodles. The nak*d guy would probably be a distraction. Where the hell did he get a turkey from, anyway? I wonder if Amber’s plaything stole it from the cafeteria.
I smile to myself and walk back to the table. Sean looks at the tray and back up at me. “Milkshakes?”
“Don’t come between a girl and her chocolate. Here,” I had him a small burger, half the fries, and a cup of chili. Taking the burger, I unwrap it and pull the bun off. I spoon the chili onto the meat, followed by the fries, and then a dollop of the shake. “Happy lunch.”
Sean looks at the sandwich like it might bite him. He tilts his head sideways and looks at the frozen shake melting out the side of the sandwich. “And you can assure me that I won’t die from eating this?” He lifts it and takes a bite. There’s a crazy-ass expression on his face, like he can’t decide if it’s delicious or disgusting.
I shrug my shoulders as I make my own little weird burger. “I don’t know. This is the first time I’ve put these together.” When I put the bun back on and lift the burger to my mouth, Sean’s blue eyes are wide. He’s staring at me. “What?”
“I’m waiting to see if you’re screwing with me or if you plan on eating it, too.” He’s smiling, like he’s trying not to laugh.
“Oh, I’m eating it.” I grin at him and stuff the food in my mouth, taking a huge bite. The lettuce and ice cream are cold, while the rest of it is hot. The textures and tastes mix in mouth.
Sean watches me chew. “What’s your verdict?”
I smile and wipe some chocolate from the corner of my mouth. “It’s the most confusing thing I’ve ever eaten. It’s sweet and salty, hot and cold. It’s like the bipolar burger.”
“Created by the slightly insane spray-start car girl,” Sean says smiling at me. He takes another bite and makes a strange face when he swallows. I can’t believe he’s eating it. “I still can’t decide if it’s good or gross.”
I point a fry at him and say, “Eat the whole thing and then decide.”
“I think you’re just trying to see what you can put in my mouth, Miss Smith.” Sean’s eyes sparkle as he leans across the table and speaks in that velvety voice of his.
I poke him in the nose with a French fry. “I already know what I can put in your dirty mouth, Mr. Jones.”
He feigns shock and presses his fingers to his chest. “And I’ve barely told you about myself. My, my, what keen eyes you have…amongst other things.” There’s an older guy at the next table. He glances at Sean, his eyes wide.
My face flames red. I hide behind my burger, acting like I’m going to take a bite, but it just hovers in front of my face. Sean presses a finger to the food and pushes it back to the table. I glance up at Sean. There’s a wicked look in his eye. “How can you be so shy after what we just did? There were people, Avery, and you didn’t even pause. But this, talking about it later, this makes you blush?” He’s laughing, smiling at me, teasing.
I slap his arm. “I’m a complicated person, what can I say?”
The man next to us clears his throat. He’s thin, with leathery looking skin and silver hair. A green ball cap sits on his head. He’s wearing a flannel jacket. With his tray in his hand, he stands and says to me, “Be careful with that one.” His eyes flick to Sean as he passes us, like the old guy doesn’t like him.
The smile fades off of Sean’s lips, but I call after the guy. “Actually it’s the other way around.”
The old guy gives me a look when he dumps the trash off his tray. He walks out without another word.
“So, random men warn you away from me and that’s your response?” Sean looks at me oddly. I can’t tell if he’s playing with me or really wants to know.
“Random men say lots of things to me. One guy was like, that guy stole your car! He was really sexy. Turns out that he’s a bit of a sex fiend.” I laugh lightly and smile at him. Sean’s eyes hold mine and I feel my stomach sink. I said the wrong thing.
But Sean glazes over it. “I was kind of shocked. Most girls would scream and call the cops if they got carjacked.”
I point a fry at him and say, “I’m not most girls. I flashed half of Long Island that night jumping on and off your bike.”
Sean watches me. I can tell he’s going to say something terrible. I don’t want to hear it. I try to talk over him, but he puts his hand over mine and cuts me off. “You know that things can’t stay like this, don’t you? I’m not this guy.”
I don’t understand what he means. How can he not be himself? But, suddenly his words snap into place. There’s a darker version of Sean. This lighter one isn’t real. It’s an illusion. I pull my hand away and pick at my food. “That’s fine. I’m not this girl.”
“Avery,” he snaps, with a be serious tone.
“Sean,” I mimic him back, using the same voice. “Don’t tell me what I do or don’t see. I know you’re a f**ked up mess, okay. So am I. I’m okay with it.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” His voice is cold, warning. The rest of the meal passes in tense silence. I don’t know what to say to him. After everything that happened today, I feel closer to him and this feels like he’s pushing me away. I don’t understand why. Every time things seem okay, he acts like this. It’s driving me crazy.
Sean’s gaze doesn’t meet mine while he finishes eating. It’s like he’s stuck somewhere in the back of his mind. I wonder if he can’t come out of that darkness or if he doesn’t want to. The entire time I’m with him, I notice something. We’re very alike in how we dealt with the lot we were given, but there’s a cynical sharpness to Sean that I don’t have. He seems to guard it, carefully wielding it when someone gets too close. That smile on his face, the one he wore that night at the steakhouse, is fake. His entire façade is a house of cards. I can’t blame him for doing anything he needs to do to hold himself together. I don’t pretend to know how he feels about his loss. It’s almost like he blames himself, that it was more than misfortune that stole his wife. I glance at his beautiful face and wonder about his child. I can’t imagine Sean giving the baby away, not if that child is the last piece he has of his wife. But Sean doesn’t mention the baby.
My throat tightens thinking about it. Sean’s lived through hell and hides every last bit of it. Watching him at the cemetery was the first glimpse I got of who he really is, and every time that I think I know Sean, I find out that I don’t know him at all.
After lunch, Sean drives me back to campus. The silence continues, until he turns onto the main road. “Do I need to pretend that I don’t know where you live? Or would you like me to drop you by your dorm?”
I glance at him. How does he know which dorm I’m in? I wonder if I should be concerned, but I’m not. Not looking at him, I say, “Wherever is fine.” My emotions feel brittle like an old leaf. I’m afraid I’m going to lose myself and never crawl out of the grief that’s drowning me.
Sean pulls up in front of my dorm. I get out and see my car parked at the end of the lot. Before I shut the door, I turn back. “Thank you.” My voice is wrong. It sounds like I’m saying something else, something I should never say to him. I love you. I hold his gaze for a moment and try to swallow, but I can’t.
Sean nods. “Thank you. I’ll remember today for a very long time.”
My throat tightens. Why does it feel like we’re saying good-bye? I push back the feelings, and nod at him. I close the door and walk away, thinking that I’ll see him in a few hours. I think I know what’s in store for me that evening, but I was wrong.
CHAPTER 8
As I walk toward my room, I run into Mel. She darts out of her room when she sees me walk by. I don’t feel like talking and I need to change.
Mel doesn’t seem to care though, and yanks me by the elbow. “Whoa! Where do you think you’re going?” I whirl around and catch my balance before I fall over. Sand falls out of my pant leg onto the dingy gray carpet. Mel glances at the sand and back up at me. She crosses her arms over her ample chest and throws out her hip. Her head sways as she scolds me. “Have you lost your mind? I saw you with that guy on the beach. You can’t date anyone. Get your ass in here.” When I don’t move and flick my eyes longingly down the hallway, she snaps her fingers. “Now.”
I sigh. “Fine. Whatever.” I follow her into her room. Her roommate is out. Mel has at least nine books open with pages marked with little sticky notes. She’s working on her research project.
“Don’t give me that shit, Avery. I saw you and if I saw you, Black could have.” She shuts the door. After moving a book, she extends her hand to the chair I usually take when I visit her room. “Sit, and tell me what the hell you’re thinking. Black won’t pay you a cent if you violate your contract, which—by the way—you did by making out with some guy on the beach.”