Chapter Eight

Perry

I'm glad I brought a book. Because there's only so much to do when you're stuck off the coast of Willow Cove with a bunch of maritime researchers. Once the women suited up and dove into the water, Buzz began whatever it is he does on his techy television. It's all very interesting if you're someone who likes to watch people swim around underwater, but that got old after about five minutes.

Besides, everything they're doing is recorded, so you could watch it later from the comfort of your own living room without having the sun beat down on your neck. Or so Buzz says.

At least I can read until sleep overtakes me for my midday nap. Except every time I close my eyes and pretend to be alone with just Bertie and the rolling waves, images of Lola fill my mind. Like yesterday with those awful shoes she insisted were non-skid while she upended my whole morning. Then again last night in that skirt that showed off her toned legs. She looked different with her hair down and framing her face. Even more soft, more feminine. Just…more.

And I can't forget the way Weston flirted with her. Nor how I rode to her rescue and staked my claim, as he put it. Why did I even do it? What is wrong with me? I scrub a hand down my face and sit up on the makeshift bed in the cabin. My eyes track to the opening at the top of the ladder, and guilt presses down on me.

I should be up there asking Buzz if he needs help with anything. Maybe I should even be interested in whatever artifacts or history Bree and Lola might find down there. But knowing that I should do things has never actually helped me do them. Interacting with new people is extremely uncomfortable for me, even with Bertie in tow. She's supposed to help me feel calm in social situations, less stressed, yet not even her presence is helping me around these people.

It doesn't help knowing that there's a secret of my own buried under the water somewhere in this general vicinity. But of course, I offered to do this every weekday for the next several weeks until their job is done. All for some extra cash to help me build a store I'm not even totally confident I'll have the guts to run.

I sigh and push up from the bench made into a bed when something on my cork board snags my attention. I move closer and inspect the old prom picture of Brandi and me. "That wasn't here before," I muse aloud. I'd thought I'd lost the thing. And looking at it now, seeing how wrong I'd been about her, makes me instantly wish I had. Ripping it off and tossing it in the trash, I stalk up the steps in need of fresh air.

Buzz is still monitoring the girls from his recording device. I take a step toward him and clear my throat. "Everything okay down there?"

"Hm?" He whips toward me, then smiles. "Oh, yeah. Seems to be, at least. They're nearing the hull, looks like. I think they're measuring."

I nod, pretending I know what he's talking about. Measuring what? The ship? I move closer, then sit next to him, spreading out my legs as I do.

"Lola mentioned this investigation might take weeks. Is that pretty typical?"

Buzz offers a half-hearted shrug. "Yeah. It sort of all depends on what they find. If we can determine that this is in fact the Sirene , there's a chance our director will want to do a full excavation on it. I'm hoping he does because your little town is growing on me."

The way Buzz smiles at me seems friendly. But it could also be deemed calculating. What could a tiny town like Willow Cove have to offer an adventurous type like him? I'm not good at reading people, so I'm not sure how to respond.

I settle for, "It's pleasant. Hot in the summer, though." I wince at the dumb statement. Of course it's hot; it's South Carolina. And of course he already knows that, seeing as how he's been here for a day already.

"Eh, the heat doesn't bother me. Bree, though, would rather live somewhere with a cooler climate. Says the humidity makes her hair frizzy."

I dip my chin as if I know what that's like. "Right."

"Hey, I was wondering if you might let me come fishing sometime," Buzz says, turning his full attention on me. "I love to fish but have never seen it done with nets and stuff. If you could use a hand on one of your morning runs, I'd love to tag along."

I clear my throat, suddenly more uncomfortable. This dude doesn't know me at all, yet he wants me to take him fishing?

"Uh, I don't know. I don't really bring people along when I go out."

He gives me a slow nod. "Ah, gotcha."

And that's that. Buzz turns back to his device, and silence descends upon us like a breath-stealing bout of humidity. I've once again halted any further conversation, just like every other new social interaction where I kill the vibe with a single sentence. I rub the back of my neck and head back down below with Bertie. Where I belong. Where I don't have to interact with people I don't know and pretend to be a normal human being who knows how to hold a regular conversation.