16. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Charlotte

My conversation earlier in the week with Rory comes back to me when Andrew offers me his hand. Rory and I are not getting back together, but I'm not sure that I properly conveyed that to him before he left my home. I need it to be clear so I can move on with…Wait, what am I saying? Move on with who? Andrew? The guy I already told I wasn't interested in dating because he's an athlete?

Flirting with him and asking him to walk on the beach with me do not signify that I'm not interested.

Ugh, because I am interested in him. Everything is so terrifying right now that I have to secretly—because there is no way I'm telling Andrew that he has a chance—scout him out as potential boyfriend material.

I tuck my hair behind my ear and Andrew gets the hint. He drops his hand with nary a frown or scowl and nods toward the door. "Your chariot awaits, my lady."

I smile. I love that he so easily brings forth the joy I thought I'd lost after Rory's infidelity, but building trust takes more than tickling my funny bone. I need to see staying power. Gotta see where those eyes travel when other women are in the vicinity. Above all, I need to know he respects my boundaries while he pursues me, because make no mistake, I know I'm still being pursued. It's not outright, but it's in the subtle way he's open to flirting with me and lets me further it if I choose. How he doesn't show disappointment if I don't bite.

Destiny and the others are long gone. She skedaddled as soon as I agreed to stay with Andrew. She wants to be right about him, and more and more, I want her to be right too. My heart is worried but also cautiously optimistic that Andrew is not the same as Rory.

Before we exit, we stop by the table where his friends are in deep conversation about baseball and none other than Marco Martinez. I'd like to inject my opinion but refrain since I don't know any of them well enough to make a logical, fact-supported argument as to why I instinctively dislike the man. Emotionally? Yeah, I don't like him because he's out for Andrew's job. I don't like it, so I can't hide how my lip curls in disgust at his name.

"Hey, we're gonna head down to the beach for a walk. Cool?" Andrew only makes eye contact with one of them—Koa—and a silent communication occurs between them. I can't pinpoint what is exchanged in those steely stares, but it's enough to make Andrew's shoulders relax.

"Sure thing. Wanna take my car?" Koa asks.

I'm confused since Andrew said he'd take me home. He doesn't have his truck?

Andrew grins and settles his hand on my middle back. "You want me to borrow Koa's car or would you like to ride backpack on my bike? Full disclosure, I don't have an extra helmet."

"Oh, no." I raise my hands to signal my complete displeasure with the idea of zipping around on a motorcycle at night without a helmet or other protection. "I'm good with the car, thanks. I don't want to chance smashing my skull."

"I'd never let you ride without a helmet. I meant, I'd have to go without," Andrew says.

"I don't want that either," I say and scowl. Not a chance.

Andrew accepts Koa's keys and nods to the black helmet sitting on the bench where Andrew had been. "Take care of her. Don't go flying around town on my bike and get a speeding ticket like last time."

"No promises." Koa's impish smile says a lot more than his words. I can't help noticing how handsome all of the men are. In their own ways, they each have an alluring presentation—especially Koa's blue-green eyes and dirty blonde hair—but when my gaze shifts back to Andrew again, there's an undeniable attraction.

When we first met, he struck me as the model type but now that I look more closely, he also has a definite boy next door approachability paired with an unmistakable dominance that makes me feel… right. Safe. Protected. Wanted. Dare I say, prioritized?

Someone must have turned down the air conditioning because a wave of warmth brings sweat to my palms.

"Ready?"

I realize I've been staring and smile to cover my embarrassment. Rory never made me feel like this. Sure, I was attracted to him and thought he was gorgeous, but I didn't have the same reaction to him that I do with Andrew. Flirting with Rory in the beginning was awkward and stilted, and I always felt self-conscious. As our relationship progressed, I got used to feeling unequally paired with him. At least, that's what all of his fans thought in the beginning. There's nothing like having people say that you're not pretty enough for such a hot commodity.

But with Andrew, my unease stems from something else entirely.

And it isn't actually self-conscious behavior at all. It's pride. I'm ashamed that I haven't truly let Andrew be himself around me without judgment. I've put my needs and worries ahead of the truth—that Andrew has not given me any reason to believe he's anything like my ex-boyfriend. And worst of all? I've asked God to guide me and ignored Him because my fear has been greater than my trust. And the fact is, Andrew doesn't deserve to suffer for the wrongs of another man. He deserves a fair shot without the shadow of another man's mistakes hanging over him.

Out in the lot, Andrew leads me to a sleek little black sports car that is probably worth as much as my house. I can't make out the insignia, which means it's not a common brand. At least not among school teachers and my neighborhood folks. He waits for me to settle in before gently closing the door. I'm wrapped in buttery leather and surrounded by the masculine scents of pine and tobacco. It wafts toward me again when he sits behind the wheel and closes the door, but nothing prepares me for the gadgets that light up when he turns the ignition.

"You look nervous," he says and adjusts the seat.

"I'm afraid to touch it."

"You can't hurt this car. I promise."

"I'm not even sure I want to know how much it costs."

He chuckles and bites his lower lip. "Probably not."

When he pulls onto the main road, I settle deeper into the plush seat and wonder if they also make living room furniture. A girl could get used to such a cozy seat. It holds me like a newborn baby in swaddling and takes the curves tighter than a race car. A couple of miles pass before Andrew glances at me again.

"You're quiet. Is this okay?" He shifts gears and the car whines in protest for a blink before growling back to life.

"Yeah, sure. I asked you, remember?"

"I know but you're allowed to change your mind. This isn't a hostage situation. If you'd rather go home, I'll take you."

I laugh a little too loudly. What he said wasn't even that funny, but it has me wondering what a hostage situation with him might be like. Can't say I'd complain. It's hard to decide if I should tell him about my position with Rory or let it fade into the background. We're not in a relationship, but some part of not telling Andrew feels like lying and a little shady. Now. I've got to start being truthful now.

"Um, I don't know why I'm telling you this other than not telling you feels wrong, but Rory came to my house a few days ago. He popped in without calling and got his things, but he…" I should have thought this through more before diving in. I'm not sure how to phrase the next part without it sounding like I want to give Rory another chance. I don't, but I do want to forgive him.

"He wants you back obviously." Andrew glances at me again to see if he hit the nail on the head. "He'd be a fool not to want you back, but I have to be honest, you can do better even if it's not with me."

"Yeah, he wants to try again, and I actually believed him when he said he made a mistake and regrets it. Still, it's not enough to build a future. He destroyed my trust and while I can forgive him, I just can't forget. You know?"

Andrew works his jaw a little. I've put him in an awkward position. We've been on a handful of dates, so this is probably overkill in the information department.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't—"

"You don't have to—" He chuckles and takes the lead. "You don't have to explain anything to me, and you don't have to be sorry for how you feel or what you want. I do understand where you're coming from."

"Three years is a long time is all. And the break up was only a few months ago. It's going to take some time to process that and put it into perspective, I think."

"Probably, and contrary to what you might think, I do understand why it would be easier to forgive him and fall back into a comfortable routine." He pulls into a beachfront parking lot and turns off Koa's car.

"Except it would never be comfortable again. Every time he doesn't answer his phone or goes on the road, I'll wonder what he's doing and who he's doing it with."

Andrew shifts in the seat to give me his undivided attention. "Prayer can help with that. People have moved past infidelity before. You have to really want it."

If this isn't the most awkward conversation to have with a man who is interested in swooping in and making me forget all about Rory, then I don't know what is. Chewing the inside of my cheek doesn't distract me from his unwavering gaze.

"I don't want it." My admission hits me harder than I anticipate, making my heart race and my mind dizzy. I can't pinpoint when I fell out of love with Rory, but it's true. At some point over the past several months, I moved on but my sense of duty to him lingered. If it's duty and not love keeping me partially on the hook, then I need to figure out how to shift my loyalty to someone who deserves it.

"I get it. It's hard to get your footing after something like that. You're kind of stuck. That's okay, too." Andrew's husky tone doesn't help clear my confusion, but a little salt air and sand on my feet might.

"We should probably go for that walk."

"Absolutely." He wastes no time escaping the confines of Koa's tiny car and opening my door. Once I set foot on the sandy lot and inhale the cool, ocean air under a blazing orange sky, my mood improves. Behind us, the sunset is gorgeous already, and I can't wait to relax in the sand and watch the wild colors spread over the sky and reflect in the water before us.

We walk through the lot and down the rugged path to the coastline. It's a little cooler than I expect, but I remove my shoes and roll up my jeans anyway. There are a few other people walking away from us, but for the most part, we're alone.

"How's your shoulder?" My voice shatters the peaceful silence and I immediately regret it. I need the quiet. I need to think.

He wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead and frowns. "It's healing but it'll be a little while yet before I can pitch again. Could be a few days or a few weeks. It all depends."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Should we really be doing drum lessons while you're trying to heal? I can't imagine that's restful."

Andrew licks his lips and places his hand on my lower back to guide me away from a clump of seaweed. He leans close and whispers, "What do you think?"

I gasp. "Did I make it worse with the lesson? Andrew!" I shove him and lose my own footing in the wet sand. He tries to catch me but I have too much momentum and hurtle hands first toward the ground. At least I catch myself before I faceplant, but he laughs at me. Well, I'm not going to put up with that. I snatch the mass of seaweed and fling it at him. It smacks the side of his face, sticks for a second, then falls back in a plop on the sand.

"Lottie, shame on you."

His tone sends chills up my spine, and not out of fear. I'm giddy, excited to see exactly how he plans to dole out his retribution. I scramble on all fours until I can stand and dart away from him. Not once does it occur to me that he might be a fast runner, but I only make it a few feet before he catches me around the waist, flings me around, and plants me firmly in front of him using only one arm.

"Nobody asked for a seaweed pitch to the face."

I bite my lip and gaze up at him. "You laughed at me. I had to show you why that's a bad idea, didn't I?"

"Mmm. Maybe I should show you why it's a bad idea to throw things at me and run."

I lift on my toes and lean into him, pressing one hand against his chest. "You could, or I could do it again." I smoosh a small handful of seaweed over his face with the other hand. He scrunches his nose but takes it like a man…mostly. He digs his fingers deeper into my waist and I know I'm in trouble. Escape is no longer an option, and I'm weighing the intelligence of recent decisions since it seems like I'm about to pay for them all tenfold.

"Darling, why do you tempt fate?" He hoists me up and tosses me into the surf. Of all the things for him to do, tossing me into the water was not one I expected. After all, we've borrowed his friend's expensive sports car and now I'm soaking wet.

"Andrew!" I scramble and stand knee deep in the water with my arms out seriously reconsidering my entire life up until this point. Maybe not all of it, but much of my later years. Rory was fun, but never spontaneous. Everything was meticulously planned to the minute, yet he was sick of the routine? He planned it! If he was bored, it was his fault. And in turn, I lost a little of my sparkle and forgot how to exist in the moment and have fun with someone.

"You're very cute soaking wet." He laughs from the dry comfort of the shore. It's such a bad idea to continue on under the delusion that I can win this battle, but I'm having too much fun to care.

I bolt out of the water and chase him. He zigzags well enough to make it difficult to catch him, but it's just taunting and teasing enough to tickle my inner competitive nature. Ahead, a low rock wall blocks the way to a private portion of the beach. He'll either have to leap over it and trespass or turn around and face the music.

"Where are you gonna go? You gotta stop sometime!" I'm almost out of breath when he turns on a dime and I realize I have become the prey. "No! Andrew!" I squeal and dart away only to trip over a driftwood log I skillfully dodged the first time around.

He's on me in a second and dragging me to the water again. I kick at him, but he's got a good grip on my feet. I roll onto my back, certain I'm about to go under the water and I'll need my wits about me to keep from drowning. It's an overreaction but Andrew has proven himself to be unpredictable.

Where the water hits the dry sand before retreating, he stops and releases me but I can't get far. He's fast and has me lifted into his embrace, still with just his good arm. Despite his shoulder injury, he's strong. I find my arms wrapped around his neck, holding fast for the ride back into the unknown.

"What are you doing?" I screech and clutch tighter.

Andrew lowers his face closer to mine. He nuzzles my ear and whispers, "Playing with my friend." And he tosses me back in the water again before I can appreciate the warmth of his breath on my face.

Only this time, I've got him tightly enough that he can't escape and he goes down with me. The deep timbre of his laugh forces a feminine giggle from my lips. I try to escape, but he captures me and drags me closer to him in the water with his arm wrapped tightly around my waist. I couldn't escape if I wanted to, but…I don't want to. His warmth draws me nearer as the cold water tightens my muscles. We repeat this routine several times—I pretend to attempt escape and giggle and he drags me back into his warmth—until my teeth begin to chatter.

The sun has almost fully set behind the tree line on the other side of the parking lot, but there's still a light orange and pink glow on the water. I'm not ready to go home yet, not when I'm having so much fun with Andrew, but he's noted that I'm cold.

"We should get you warmed up." He takes my hand and leads me from the water. Once on the sand, I tug him back.

"Wait, let's watch the last of the sunset."

"East coast sunsets aren't all that great on this beach." He furrows his brow and scoffs. "What am I saying? Who cares?"

He doesn't continue arguing but wraps his arms around me from behind, keeping me warm as best as he can. Though it's too personal for friends, he rests his chin on my head and sighs.

This is perfect.

"It's beautiful," he murmurs.

Tight in his arms, wrapped in coziness, I can't think of anything better at the moment. I know all I have to do is tell him I've changed my mind, that I want to see how great this can be and he'll sweep me right off my feet. But I'm too scared to say so. I'm still not ready to dive into it with my heart so bruised.

Once the beach is plunged into darkness except for the moon's glow, Andrew rubs his hands up and down my arms, signaling it's time to head home.

"Uh, where are our shoes?" He glances around and we realize at the same time that we've left them behind during our antics.

"Guess we better walk back and try to find them." I run my hands through my salty, wet hair. I'm a mess, and I still don't know how we're getting home without ruining Koa's car.

Andrew offers his hand again, and this time I take it. "All right, let's hope they didn't end up in the ocean."