'But if I told you any more, I'd have to kill you.' His tone was serious and I looked up in surprise. He laughed.
'Oh, I see. CIA or FBI?' I played along, remembering the old secret-agent movies Mom liked to watch. 'Oh, no, wait, probably Scotland Yard. Or maybe the KGB?' I widened my eyes in mock horror.
He laughed again. 'You're way off.'
'I'll figure it out,' I promised lightheartedly.
He frowned and his tone darkened. 'Yes, I'm sure you will. Some day.'
'Would that be bad?'
The frown quickly disappeared, as if he hadn't realized it was there until I said that. He peered down at me as we walked a few steps in silence. 'I don't know yet.'
There was definitely honesty and seriousness in his tone…and a bit of sadness. I sighed in frustration. He raised more questions than he answered.
'Something wrong?' he asked.
I wanted to tell him how annoyingly cryptic he was. But I didn't. Because he could always turn that back at me.
'No, I guess not.'
'We better turn around,' he said.
I looked behind us and saw we had walked much farther than I realized. We played in the water on the way back, kicking it up at each other and running away from the splashes. Then he took my hand and pulled me to dry sand, where we sat to watch the sunset. We gazed in silence, both in the same position—knees pulled up, arms wrapped around our legs. I rested my chin on my knees.
God displayed His divine artistic ability, painting the sky with brushstrokes of dark violet, lavender, magenta and soft pink against a light blue canvas, with a bright splash of gold at the horizon reflecting on the water. Waves gently lapped at the sand and seagulls cawed at each other. I inhaled deeply, trying to pull it all into my body and embed it in my memory as one of those perfect moments to be cherished forever. The brackishness of salt water and the sweet-tanginess of Tristan's scent nearly intoxicated me.
The sun dipped behind the water, leaving darker purples and pinks behind it. I turned my head toward Tristan, resting my right cheek against my knees. He cocked his head to look at me, his beautiful eyes sparkling. I felt so content. His conversation with my mom seemed vague and nonsensical now. He was right. She needed to let go. Because I wanted to be nowhere else than right here with him.
'Ready?' he finally asked.
I frowned. Ready to go back to my empty house and spend the evening alone? No, not really.
'I can hang out with you…if you want, I mean,' he said, as if reading my mind.
'That sounds…' Wonderful. Fabulous. Perfect. '…good.'
As soon as we entered the cottage, I panicked. I hadn't been truly alone with anyone besides my mother in years. I suddenly realized just how inexperienced I was—not just in the whole man-woman thing, but in any kind of relationship. I stopped abruptly in the small foyer, not knowing what to do in my own house.
'I'll be right back.' I dashed into the bathroom and couldn't close the door fast enough. I leaned against the back of the door and took deep, calming breaths. My stomach twisted itself into knots, untwisted and twisted again. What do we do? Eat? Watch TV? What if he's bored? Oh! What if he's expecting something?! How much would I give?! I jumped at the knock on the door.
'Alexis?' Concern filled Tristan's voice. I could only imagine how terrified my face looked before I fled to the bathroom. 'I was thinking…I'm actually kind of hungry. You want to go get a pizza at Mario's?'
I took a deep breath, picturing it. Public place. Lots of people. He seemed to know exactly what I needed. After another deep, cleansing breath, I opened the door and said, more calmly than I thought possible, 'That'd be great.'
Mario's was a pizza-parlor-slash-bar. When we arrived at nearly nine o'clock, it took on more of a bar atmosphere. The lights were dimmed and neon beer signs glowed colorfully on the walls. The jukebox played oldies music and people talked and laughed loudly over it. We shared a sausage-and-mushroom pizza and, after eating, Tristan somehow convinced me to play darts.
He was excellent at it. I sucked. He seemed to be able to easily zero in on his target—several times I swore he aimed away from the bulls-eye to prove he could 'miss.' Most of the time I couldn't hit the board, let alone any specific place on it.
Tristan's close eye on me didn't help. He leaned against a table about halfway to the dart board and to my right, watching me with an amused expression. He made me nervous. I held the dart in my hand, up near my face, eyeing the board—no particular place, just the board in general. It's a big enough area. Surely I can hit it at least once . Just before I let the dart go, my eyes slipped to Tristan.
And the dart flew. And missed the board. By a long shot.
'Oh, oh, oh !' Both hands flew to my mouth. Holy crap! I stabbed Mr. Beautiful!
I stared at the dart lodged in his bicep. He raised his eyebrows with an I-can't-believe-you-just-did-that look as I hurried over to him. 'I'm so sorry ! Are you okay?'
He grimaced. 'I don't know.'
I lifted my hand gingerly to pull the dart out. He flinched and I jumped back.
'Don't touch it! Aren't you supposed to leave these things for the doctor to remove?'
I fretfully bounced on the balls of my feet. 'Then what do I do ?'
The grimace disappeared and a huge grin spread across Tristan's face as he easily plucked the dart out of his arm. He leaned forward and whispered, 'You can kiss it and make it better.'
I narrowed my eyes and scowled at him. He burst into laughter.
'I'm…sorry…but…you…should've…seen….your face!' He nearly fell over from his belly laughs.
I crossed my arms against my chest and glowered at him. I couldn't hold it for long, though. He was laughing so hard and he was so dang irresistible. I couldn't help it. I started laughing, too.
'I am seriously sorry,' I said again once we regained our composure. 'I can't believe I did that. Are you really okay?'
He lifted his sleeve. The only evidence of my assault was a miniscule hole, though I was sure the steel- tipped dart had pierced at least half an inch, maybe more, through his skin. I exhaled with relief, expecting it to be worse.
'I think I'll live,' he said, grinning. 'But you are rather dangerous. Let me show you how it's done before you really hurt someone.'
He stood close behind me and tried to teach me the proper way to hold the dart and when to let it go, but the electricity distracted me every time he touched me. We laughed at my absurd technique. I had more fun than I'd had in a long time—maybe ever.
When he slid the bike into the driveway a little after midnight, though, the panic started to set in again. Not like earlier, but enough to make my stomach flutter.
'Did you have fun?' Tristan asked as he walked me to the door.
'Yeah, I did. Thank you.' I watched the ground.
'My pleasure. Maybe we can do it again sometime?'
I took a breath to steady my nerves and looked up at him as we stood on the front porch. 'Hmm…you're brave.'
He chuckled. 'I'll just be sure to stand behind you next time.'
'You saw my throws. That doesn't guarantee anything.'
'Yeah, you're right.' He smiled. 'But I'll take my chances.'
My heart raced as I looked into his sparkling eyes and wondered if he was thinking about kissing me.
'I better let you get some rest,' he murmured.
'Mmm, yeah. I do have to open the store in the morning.'
He held my gaze for a moment and then cupped his hand gently around the side of my face. My skin tingled. Then he leaned over and ever so lightly brushed his lips across my cheek, then whispered in my ear, 'Good night, ma lykita .'
I closed my eyes as the sensations washed over me—his smell, the warm breath on my ear, the electric
