The memory of that day in the water smacks me hard. That terrible day when I thought I was going to die. Hell, I nearly died in an accident. Why do I need to relive yet another day when I almost passed away?
What the hell was I thinking, agreeing to number six?
Screw swimming.
We can go for a stroll.
A gentle, pleasant stroll.
Claire probably didn’t mean it anyway when she wrote get your feet wet and learn to swim.
More likely she meant swim through life.
Swim through choices.
Don’t drown in the stupid.
That sounds like Claire.
I dig my heels into the sand.
“I’ve got you,” Jesse says, resting a hand lightly on the small of my back.
I turn back to him, forcing what I hope is a breezy smile even though my heart is pounding so hard my ribs feel like they’re vibrating. “You know what? I don’t think this is the best way to spend our day, after all.” I loop my arms around his neck and lean into him. “I mean, we don’t have much time left before you leave. Wouldn’t you rather spend it naked and happy than splashing around in disgusting water?”
He stands tall and firm, refusing to bend close enough for me to press my lips to his or take my persuading to the next level. “The water is fine. This is the cleanest beach in the city.”
“But there’s still fish pee in there,” I say, casting about for any reason to backpedal, and run far away. “And fish poo. And sharks. The sharks are getting way more aggressive these days. Didn’t they bite a bunch of people in Massachusetts last summer?” I shudder and widen my eyes as the fear clutches my ankles, climbs up my legs like vines. “And who needs a shark bite? I mean, I have cards to paint, and you have to pack for L.A. I really don’t have time to lose a limb right now.”
Or to drown.
I slip away from his solid body, starting toward the boardwalk leading away from the sand, but he catches my elbow, swinging me back around in a circle with a gentle tug of his fingers.
“No one’s losing a limb today.” He nods toward the water’s edge, where at least a dozen bigger kids are riding boogie boards while a flock of mothers in wide-brim straw hats stand in the water, chatting as their little ones splash in waves by their feet. “Sharks don’t like crowds. We’ll be perfectly safe.”
I swallow.
Or try to swallow, but it suddenly feels like Gigi’s ruffle-necked, gauzy black cover-up is trying to strangle me.
I tug at the bow with clammy fingers. “I think a pool would be better, though, right? I should have thought of that before we left.” Yes, a pool. A nice shallow pool. Duh. “Easier to teach in a pool. Fewer waves and seagulls and—”
“The waves aren’t that big, and the seagulls won’
t bother us. We didn’t bring any food.”
My skin prickles. My voice pitches higher. “But we probably should have.” I point back toward the subway station, desperate to go. “There was a sandwich shop up there. Should we grab sandwiches? Maybe have a beer and consider our options? I’m on vacation; I should totally have a beer at eleven a.m., right? I mean, when’s the last time I did that? Have I ever done that?” I laugh nervously. “I don’t think I have. Have you?”
“We’ll have a beer after,” he says, his fingers curling farther around my upper arm. “To celebrate.”
“Celebrate.” I huff. “I hear that’s hard to do when you’re sleeping with the fishes.”
“Ruby.”
“What? I just . . .” My tongue slips out to dampen my lips as I meet his unflinching gaze.
I told him I wanted him. Surely, I can tell him this truth too. That I am so scared.
I am terrified.