Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Ella

Present

The next day, Jude and I manage to avoid each other for most of the morning, as if we’re both aware of the consequences that come with being too close. But despite my best efforts, there are these tiny moments of him scattered throughout the day that lodge themselves in my mind and refuse to let go.

Like how he still reads the morning newspaper and meticulously completes the crossword puzzle, a habit of his that he had then and now. Or the way his eyes briefly drop to my chest when I walk out in nothing but a skimpy tank top and black sweats, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. And how many countless times our eyes inevitably find each other, only to quickly dart away again as if we’ve been caught red-handed in this connection that neither of us can seem to shake .

After a lazy breakfast and a few cups of coffee, our group stumbles down a questionably safe set of stairs off the back deck to the beach. The groomsmen play soccer, kicking up sand and shouting over the crash of the waves, while the bridesmaids spread out on their towels or beneath neon beach umbrellas. We glisten in the intense rays, like we’re slowly toasting under the sun, our bodies here but our minds drifting elsewhere—lost in a hungover purgatory, lulled by the rhythm of the roaring ocean.

The beach stretches on for miles, so despite the crowd, we have our own little pocket of space tucked away beside a sand dune and rocky promontory. The cries from flocks of seagulls, gentle roar of crashing waves, and dull thud of the soccer ball being kicked are oddly relaxing.

Suddenly, I feel a tall shadow looming over me. The temporary shade provides a cool relief from the sun, but when I look up, it’s not the person I had hoped to see. Instead, it’s the one I should have expected.

Levi stands before me like a walking deodorant ad—tanned, abs glistening with a light sheen of sweat that makes them look almost too perfect, almost fake. I want myself to like him. I’m desperate to feel that same connection I have with Jude, with someone else. But you can’t conjure butterflies to life by pure force. And instead of that fluttering I should be feeling with Levi, I feel my stomach drop instead.

“You okay over here? Want to come play soccer?” he asks.

“I’m all good. Just catching up on some reading.” After my mixed signals last night, I’m realizing I need to draw the line and not lead him on.

“Boring. Come have some fun with me instead.” He extends his hand down for me to grab.

Shaking my head, I don’t make a move to grab it. “Thanks, but I’m already having fun. I’d like to finish this.”

“You’re really going to sit and read a book all day?” he says, bristling with annoyance—clearly not used to being told no.

“Yep,” I reply, turning back to my book.

“Ella, c’mon, put that down…” From my peripheral I see his hand start to make a move to grab the paperback from my hands.

But an even larger shadow walks up and looms over both of us. Levi pulls his hand away like he’s been caught stealing. While I turn my head, peeling my sunglasses up to look to see who it is standing right over his shoulder that could make him startle like that.

It’s Jude. Looking murderous, and like a replica of every dream I’ve had for the last ten years. His body is lean and solid, a backwards hat on his head that does more for me than most mens’ attempt at foreplay.

“Go, Levi. They want you back at the game.” His voice is final, no room for arguments.

Shaking his head in irritation, Levi turns and runs back to goalie for his team.

I tilt my head up, squinting against the sun to look at Jude. “Thanks for that.”

“No need to thank me. ”

Once again, ten years later, he has swung in to defend me from some pushy man. I know I could do it myself—stand up and make my boundaries firm and clear. But there’s an undeniable relief in having someone in your corner, always ready to protect you, regardless of how many years have passed. This sensation is foreign, since no one in my family was ever a place I could go to feel safe.

But then there’s Jude, who does it so naturally without even asking anything in return.

Silently, he turns and walks back to the main canopy we have set up near the dune. I assume the conversation is over, until he returns a minute later, laying out his own towel, with a book in hand and two bottles of water.

He holds a bottle, glistening with condensation, out to me. “Water?”

I take it, thanking him and being mindful to keep our fingers from brushing.

We both turn back to our books in silence. I attempt to read, but my body hums with hyper awareness of the six-foot-four man beside me. Each word on the page becomes a blur as I attempt to read and reread the same paragraph, my mind unable to grasp any meaning.

Giving up on concentrating, I close my book and pivot to face him. He seems oblivious, unaware of my stare behind the shield of my oversized sunglasses. My chest feels bright when I look at him—the sunlight playing on his hair, painting his dark locks with a golden sheen, the furrow of concentration etched between his brows. An overwhelming urge prickles at my thumb, wanting to smooth away the worried lines that form when he’s absorbed in thought.

“I know you’re watching me,” he remarks. The corner of his mouth ticks up, as he continues looking down at the massive book in his lap.

I should want to melt right into the sand and never return, but I can’t help the smile that erupts on my face instead. “What? No. I’m looking at the ocean. Besides, you can’t even see my eyes to be able to tell that.”

Looking up now, he gestures to my sunglasses. “I can totally see your eyes through those. Actually you might want to consider higher UV sunglasses to protect you from eye damage.”

“Okay, Doctor Beckett .” I say it teasingly, but I think I turned myself on a little by calling him doctor.

Turning his attention back to his book, he quips, “I’m not looking again, you can go back to staring at me.”

“Oh, please. I think you like it when I check you out.”

“So we can admit, that is what you’re doing?”

The blood rushes to my cheeks when I realize I outed myself. The real question is, who can not check him out?

Honesty, I decide, is the best course of action here. I gesture towards his face. “You’re beautiful and you know it. I’m practically defenseless with that symmetrical bone structure of yours.”

“Sure, El. Imagine how I feel.”

“What do you mean?”

He closes his book, turning his full attention on me. “You’re easily the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. I have to actively tell myself not to just sit there and stare at you.”

The air is sucked out of my lungs, veins running cold with ice despite the heat outdoors. I begin to open my mouth to say something. I’m not even sure what exactly, since it feels like I’ve been gut punched by the most genuine compliment I’ve ever received. But as if fate is playing a cruel joke, a seagull flies by and poops right on the towel between us.

That seagull probably knew I was about to say something I couldn’t take back. I should be thanking it by tossing a few chips its way. Instead, I end up gagging as I spot the fresh splatter of bird feces inches away from me.

Jude jumps up, grabbing napkins to clean it while I sit there, thoroughly disgusted and of absolutely no help. As he wipes at it, he looks up at me with a grin. “The seagull burglar strikes again.”

I grab his arm, the one he’s cleaning with, intending to tell him how much I’ve missed this—our dynamic that’s so natural and easy. The moment my fingers brush his skin, he stills, and our eyes lock. A current of electricity seems to hum between us, buzzing where my hand meets his forearm. “Jude, I?—”

With more unfortunate timing, Delaney runs up with Cole trailing protectively behind. She’s shivering and laughing from swimming in the numbingly cold Pacific Ocean water.

Jude and I glance at each other, knowing our conversation is coming to an end with so many things still left unspoken .

“That was amazing. But I’m never doing that again,” Delaney announces as she sits down beside Jude and I, who are the two only awake people in our section of the beach.

Shaking off the daze from being around him, I wrap my jacket around Delaney as her teeth chatter. “I take it the water was a tiny bit cold?”

“Excruciatingly. Worth it to see Cole fret over me from the shore, however.”

“You’re going to put me in an early grave,” Cole remarks, sounding tough and grumbly, but with so much affection in his eyes.

Jude leaves to go wash up after the seagull incident, as Delaney, Cole, and I chat. The sun beams brightly as the tide steadily rises throughout the day. The waves crash with increasing force, inching closer and closer to where we sit.

It’s a lot like my feelings for Jude—growing stronger, drawing nearer, becoming more dangerous, and entirely beyond my control.