“What does that mean?”
Samson looks away from me, over to the full moon balancing right above the edge of the water. “It’s a long explanation. I don’t really feel like long explanations right now.”
Not surprising. He seems to want to stay in the shallow end when it comes to conversations.
“I can’t figure you out,” I say.
His expression doesn’t change at all, but his voice has a tinge of amusement to it when he says, “I didn’t think you wanted to.”
“That’s because I thought I had you figured out. But I already told you I was wrong. You’re layered.”
“Layered?” he repeats. “Like an onion or a cake?”
“Definitely an onion. Your layers are the kind a person has to peel back.”
“Is that what you’re trying to do?”
I shrug. “I have nothing else to do. Maybe I’ll spend my summer peeling back all your layers until you finally answer a question.”
“I answered one. I told you about my necklace.”
I nod. “That’s true, you did give me that.”
“Do you think you’re easy to read?” he asks.
“I don’t know.”
“You aren’t.”
“Are you trying?”
He holds my stare for a moment. “If you are.”
That response makes my knees feel like anchors. “I have a feeling we won’t get far with each other,” I say. “I like keeping my secrets. I get the feeling you do too.”
He nods. “You won’t get past my first layer, I can promise you that.”
Something tells me I will. “Why are you so private? Is your family famous or something?”
“Or something,” he says.
He keeps moving closer to me. It makes me think this attraction might be mutual. That’s hard for me to wrap my mind around. That a guy as good-looking and rich as him would find me interesting in any way.
It reminds me of how I felt the first time Dakota kissed me. Which is why I back away from Samson. I don’t want him to say or do anything that might make me feel the way Dakota made me feel right after our first kiss.
I never want to feel that again, but I can’t help but wonder if things would be different with Samson. What would he say after we kiss? Would he be as heartless as Dakota was?
We’ve somehow turned now and my back is toward the beach. It’s like we’re moving, but so slowly it isn’t noticeable. There are drops of water on Samson’s bottom lip and I can’t stop staring at them.
Our knees brush again. This time I don’t move away, but the connection only lasts for a second. I feel somewhat deflated when it passes.
I wonder what he feels. Probably not as confused about what he wants as I am.
“What’s your reason for being secretive?” he asks.
I think about that for a moment. “I guess I’ve never had anyone I wanted to tell anything to.”
There’s an understanding in his eyes. He says, “Same,” but it’s almost a whisper. He sinks under the water and disappears. I hear him come up for air behind me a few seconds later. I spin around and he’s even closer to me now. Our legs are definitely touching, but neither of us pulls away.
I’m not sure I’ve ever felt this—like my blood is zipping through my veins. My interactions with guys have always left me wanting more space between the guy and me. I’m not used to wishing there was no space between me and another person.
“Ask me some questions,” he says. “I probably won’t answer most of them, but I want to know what you want to know about me.”
“Probably more than you’ll give me.”
“Try me.”
“Are you an only child?”
He nods.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty.”
“Where did you grow up?”
He shakes his head, refusing to answer that one.
“That wasn’t even an intrusive question,” I say.
“If you knew the answer, you’d realize it was.”
He’s right. This is going to be a challenge. But I don’t think he realizes how competitive I can be. I did earn a full ride to Penn State thanks to my commitment to winning.
“Sara said you’re going into the Air Force Academy?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It’s a family tradition.”
“Ah,” I say. “A morsel. So your father was in the Air Force?”
“Yes. And my grandfather.”
“How is your family so rich? The military doesn’t pay that well.”
“Some people go into the military for the esteem. Not the pay.”
“Do you want to go to the Air Force or are you doing it because it’s expected of you?”
“I want to go.”
“That’s good.”
I don’t know if it’s him or the current, but he’s even closer now. One of my legs is between his knees and my thigh occasionally brushes his. I might be doing it on purpose, which surprises me. Maybe he is too.
“What’s your favorite animal?” I ask.
“Whale.”
“Favorite food?”
“Seafood.”
“Favorite thing to do?”
“Swim.”
I laugh. “These are typical beach rat answers. I’ll never get anywhere.”
“Ask better questions,” he says pointedly.
Another challenge. We stare at each other with heaviness while I think of a question I really want an answer to. “Sara said you don’t do relationships—that you only date girls who are here on vacations. Why is that?”