Chapter 6

July 2003

When I go back to the beach the next day, Fred pushes Dave aside and insists on being the one to take my lounger and umbrella to another perfect spot. I avoid the smirk Dave aims my way and give a big smile to Fred instead.

"How's this do you?" Fred says twenty feet from the water.

"Perfect."

He sets the equipment up for me, and I hand him my towel to spread over it to give our fingers a chance to touch again. I thought about his hands a lot last night. How his skin felt against mine. How I wanted something more than those brief touches that was hard to describe.

"All set," he says, patting the lounger.

I sit down where he indicates, and he sits next to me. Now the side of our knees are brushing, the light hair on his leg slightly ticklish.

"You know how to do that?" He says, pointing to a set of kids bodysurfing in the waves.

"Of course."

"You want to teach me?"

"Really?"

"I've always wanted to know how."

"Let's do it then."

He stands and starts to peel off his polo.

"Oh," I say, dragging my eyes away from his chest, which is a bit pale but defined. "Now?"

"I have a break."

"Great."

I turn away and pull my coverup over my head, with my heart quickening. I didn't think about being in a bathing suit in front of him when I got ready to come to the beach. My cheeks are already burning at the thought of it.

"Ready?" Fred asks.

I turn around. He's taken off his khakis too, revealing a blue and white striped bathing suit that sits low on his hips. They're narrow and his stomach is flat and … Stop looking at it, Olivia. Eyes up!

I meet his amused glance and turn a darker shade of red. Then I turn on my heel and sprint toward the water, yelling over my shoulder. "Last one in pays for snacks!"

We spend ten minutes in the waves as I show him how to wait for the perfect arc, when to lift your feet up and swim. He's strong in the water, his strokes sure, and he picks it up almost immediately. We catch the perfect wave and surf it in together, laughing with delight as it dumps us on the sand. He helps me stand up, holding onto my wrists longer than necessary. Our eyes lock, and a shiver of something goes through me, making my arms turn to gooseflesh.

"Again?" I say, and it takes him a moment to answer.

"I have to get back, but … tomorrow?"

"Yes."

The next day we head right to the water and swim out past the wave break. It's a placid day, and we tread next to each other in the gentle surf, enjoying the sun and the calm.

"Who introduced you to the His Dark Materials series?" he asks as a wave pushes him closer to me. We're facing each other, and our swirling legs keep touching. Even though the water's calm, I'm out of breath. "Most people I know have never heard of those books."

"My mom. She …" A lump forms in my throat. "She got sick a couple of years ago, and she spent a lot of time reading because it made her feel better."

Fred's eyes darken, and he reaches out to touch my arm. "Is she okay?"

"No, she died."

"Oh, Olivia, I'm sorry. I know how hard that is."

"You do?"

A gentle wave comes in, pushing us up, then down. When it passes, we're almost in an embrace. I can feel his breath on my face, our eyes level. I count his freckles to keep myself from kissing him.

"Yeah. My dad … he died two years ago this September."

"I'm sorry, Fred." I put my hand on his arm this time, and it tightens beneath my grip, supporting me in the water. "Was he sick?"

"He was a firefighter. One day, his luck ran out."

I'm close enough to see the tears pooling in Fred's eyes, matching my own. I want to take that last move into his arms, to comfort him, to comfort me, but instead, we stay like we are, floating, looking at each other in a way I've never done before, our breaths matching as they go out and in. Like we want to get closer, but we're scared of what might happen.

"Olivia, I—"

Someone blows a whistle and we start apart.

"Fred!" Dave yells from the beach. "Break's over."

"Guess I better go," Fred says, but he doesn't move.

"I think I hate Dave."

He laughs. "Right now, I kind of do too. Tomorrow?"

"Yes."

He squeezes my arm, then runs his hand down the length of it until he reaches my fingers. My whole body responds, clenching in reaction, and I finally tear my eyes away from his. He runs his hand back up, then swims away.

I watch his sure strokes and then continue to watch as he walks out of the water to where he recovers his clothes from the sand and ties a towel around his waist. My heart is beating too fast, and my limbs feel weak, but it feels safer here in the water than exposed on the land, and so I stay.

We have a week of days like this. Sun-kissed afternoons where we find excuses to touch each other in the water until Dave blows his whistle on us.

We talk too about anything and everything. What his life is like in Boston. What mine is like here. Why I love tennis so much. Music and TV shows and stupid things that don't mean anything serious but are a way to distract ourselves from whatever is happening between us.

We haven't kissed, even though it's all I think about. But it's coming; I can feel it. Why else would he rest his hands on my waist under the water, his thumbs making slow circles on the small patch of skin between my bathing suit top and bottom? Why else would he look at me so intensely it's hard for me to concentrate?

We just need to find a minute where we're not on display.

I haven't told anyone about Fred. He's a secret, my secret, and my mind is full of him no matter what I'm doing. Coach Matt tells me I'm distracted, that I need to get my head back in the game as I spray forehands past the baseline. My piano teacher tut-tuts as I screw up basic passages I'd mastered at seven. I smile about him over dinner, happy, for once, that my self-involved family is too busy with their own lives to notice.

I even keep him as a secret from Ash. I want to share, to gush about Fred and discuss every little detail and touch and what it all means, but I also want to keep him—us—to myself for a while until I figure out what's going on. So I tell her I'm doing extra training for tennis and can't hang out, and she pouts her disappointment but doesn't question me.

And now it's July 3rd, the day before my birthday, and I'm trying to think of how I can see Fred outside his work hours, when Ash catches me at the gate that separates the club from the beach.

"OMG, I knew it." Ash's arms are crossed, one foot jutted out in front. She's got her hair in a French braid, and she's wearing pink terry shorts and a matching sweatshirt.

"Knew what?"

"You've been ditching me. For a guy."

I can't keep the blush from creeping up my cheeks. "I …"

"You are."

"I didn't mean to."

"Yeah, you did."

I yoke my arms around her neck. "Are you mad?"

"No, I'm impressed."

We start to laugh. "Didn't think I had it in me, huh?"

"Not in a million years."

"You want to come with me?"

Ashley cocks her head to the side. She's wearing a shade of bright red lipstick that she calls her Lolita look. "Gross," I said, when she told me that. "Did you even read the book?"

"I don't have to," she says, responding to my invite.

"I want you to."

"You're a terrible liar."

"It's true. But come. You can … meet him."

Her eyes light up. "Fred? You talked to him?"

I nod because talking seems like too small a word to describe it.

He gets me and I get him, and the way we get each other seems impossible and inevitable. At night, when I think over our conversations, I tell myself that it feels this way because it's the first time, the first boy. But I know that's not true. There hasn't ever been another person like this in my life, and my heart feels so full I'm worried about what might burst out of me.

Love,I think. This is love.

"Have you kissed him yet?" Ashley opens the gate and links her arm through mine.

"No."

"So, you're what? Hanging out? Friends?"

"We haven't talked about it."

"Oh, girlfriend, no."

"What?"

She wags a finger at me. "You have to talk about it."

We turn right on the beach, the wind whipping our hair around. "Why?"

"You don't want to be put in the friend zone."

"I thought that's what girls did to guys?"

Ashley purses her lips. "Nah, it can work both ways."

"I don't think that's what's happening."

"Which is exactly my point. Has he asked you out?"

There had been some talk, yesterday, of us maybe grabbing a bite after his shift ended, but I had piano, and if my father heard that I'd skipped my lesson, it would lead to all kinds of questions. "Not in so many words."

"It's a good thing I found you out."

"Ash …"

"Don't worry. I'm just going to help things along. I'm the reason you met, right? You're happy I did that?"

"Yes, but—"

"Leave it to me. Besides, your birthday's tomorrow. Don't forget the mission."

"I remember."

"Good."

We get to Cooper's Beach, and I let Ash take the lead. She barrels past the umbrellas and beachgoers and walks right up to Fred with a confidence I wish I had outside the tennis court.

"I hear you've been hanging out with my girl."

He gives me a wild-eyed look before burying it in a grin. "Nice to see you again, Ashley. Hi, Olivia."

"Hey, Fred." I stand back, wanting some physical space between us so he knows this isn't my idea.

"So, I'm wondering," Ashley says, oblivious to my body language or the fact that half of Fred's fellow beach dudes are listening in, "are you going to ask her out, or what?"

I'm sorry,I mouth behind Ashley.

"Isn't that between me and her?"

"Well, it would be, I guess, but we're on a timetable."

Oh no. No, no, no.

"Excuse me?"

"It's her birthday tomorrow."

"Ash …"

"I'm aware."

"Our July Fourth baby," Ash says. "All the fireworks go off to celebrate her."

"As they should," Fred says, and I do love him for saying that.

"I agree. So, what are you going to do about it?"

"Excuse me?"

"We just agreed that Olivia deserves fireworks on her birthday, did we not?"

His eyes dance. "We did."

"So?"

"I'm not quite sure how that works here. Are you allowed to do fireworks on the beach?"

I have to intervene. I can't watch them negotiate our first date anymore.

"There's a dinner," I blurt. "At the club. This lobster night thing. And after, they'll be fireworks. I can bring a guest." My heart is pounding, and is this what almost fainting feels like?

Fred gives me that slow smile. "Are you asking me out?"

"Of course she is," Ashley says.

"Olivia?"

"Yes. I'd lo—like you to come. If you can. I mean, there'll be a lot of grown-ups and my father and my aunt, so if you don't want to, I understand."

"I can handle fathers and aunts."

"You say that. But you haven't met them."

"Are you taking it back?"

"No!"

"Good. What time?"

"It's at six. We can meet here and walk over? Or—sorry—did you want to pick me up?"

"That is usually how dates work."

I sink in the sand. He knows how dates work. Because he's dated before. Unlike me. "Okay, then pick me up. At Taylor House. Do you know where it is?"

"I'll figure it out. Dress code?"

"Oh, um, I think the guys wear jackets?" I look to Ashley for help.

She's grinning from ear to ear, pleased with herself and enjoying my discomfort. "Jacket, no tie is fine. Chinos, pressed shirt, those shoes or something better." Ashley points to his boat shoes. "Can you handle it?"

"I think so."

"Good. And you've had lobster before, right? You know about the bib?"

"Ash!"

"I've had lobster before. I know about the bib."

"No offense or anything, it's just a lot of people are surprised to see a bunch of rich people wearing plastic bibs with lobsters on them."

Fred laughs. "No offense taken. I'll see you tonight, Olivia? Five forty-five?"

"Yes."

"Did you want a lounger today?"

"Yes, please."

"I even have cash," Ashley says. "Aren't you proud of me?"

We pay and Fred walks us to my spot. I want him to linger, but I'm also nervous about talking to him in front of Ashley. So instead, I help him lay my towel out, and let my fingers tangle with his and hope he knows by my smiles and silence how happy I am, and nervous too.

"I'll see you later," Fred says when everything's set up. His eyes rest on me, and the world slows down, and again my mind fills with that word, kiss, but now's not the time or the place. Instead, he turns and walks away, and I watch him until he reaches the other guys. He winces at an especially hard shot in the shoulder from Dave.

"Do you love me again now?" Ash says as she arranges herself on her towel.

"I never stopped."

"Is there room in your heart for both of us?"

"Ha ha." I sit down and bring my feet up on the lounger. "Dinner at the club. Yikes."

"It'll be great. And by the night's end, the mission will be complete."

"He's not going to kiss me in front of my father and everyone."

"No, but on the beach after, during the fireworks. You'll see. It'll be perfect."

I try to imagine it, what his lips will feel like, how magical it sounds. But I'm worried about what comes before. How my father is going to react. What bringing Fred to this dinner will mean to him. "You think William will be okay with it?"

"Why should he care?"

"Fred doesn't have any money."

"This isn't Shakespeare, Olivia. He's not going to, like, ask for your hand in marriage."

"You know what a snob William is. You should've heard the way he was talking about Fred's aunt and uncle when they moved here."

Ashley flips over. In her cat's eye sunglasses and lipstick and itty-bitty bikini, she really does look like that movie poster of Lolita. "Didn't your mom come from nothing?"

"Yes, but he doesn't apply the same rules to himself, and her family came over on the Mayflower, so that makes up for everything."

"Oh God, I forgot about that."

"How could you? He only brings it up all the time."

"Well, just tell him Fred came over on the Fortune. That ought to shut him up."

"What's that?"

"It's the ship after the Mayflower. I think it landed in Cape Cod. And he's from Boston, right? It's perfect."

"I shouldn't have to lie about him."

"You're right, but since when did logic apply to parents?"

"Ha! I just hope I don't regret it."

"Regret kissing a hot guy on a beach on your birthday? You need to chillax."

"I'll try."

"Good. Now tell me everything."