Scene 14

"Zero chance you'll ever kick it in."

"No?" Dillon looked over her shoulder at Kameryn, shifting the child-size soccer ball from hand to hand. She raised an eyebrow. "And what do I get if I win?"

Even in the neon glow of the Saturday night lights on the Santa Monica Pier, she could see the color touch Kam's cheeks. But tonight, instead of growing reticent, Kameryn remained committed to her flirtation, holding Dillon's insinuating gaze.

"It appears you'll have a choice between a pink dolphin or a blue leopard," she deadpanned, tilting her head toward the stuffed animals hanging on either side of the carnival game.

"Ah. High stakes, then," Dillon returned, dropping the ball to her feet. Her legs felt rubbery and unpredictable, weariness finally setting in from the race earlier in the day. Or, more likely, she knew, from jet lag and lack of sleep. The race had been irrelevant. A breeze of a swim along the shoreline, a flat cycle through the city, and a run down the famous oceanfront footpath with two hundred weekend warrior Southern Californians who'd turned out for the Christmas Charity fun.

Tom Hanks was going to be there , Kameryn had texted her the night before.

If he had been, Dillon never saw him. A disappointment, since she'd have enjoyed lapping him on the run.

But the race had given her the excuse to be in California over the holiday. It had given her an excuse to be standing on the overstated landmark pier, packed in amongst the sightseers and local teenagers, playing silly boardwalk games. It had given her the excuse to be there with Kameryn.

She sighted the target, drew back her foot, and tried to flick the ball through the largest hole at the cardboard goalkeeper's feet. It was poorly struck and sailed harmlessly off the fake net.

"All the good that soccer tattoo did you now," Kameryn whispered over her shoulder before reaching down to scoop up the ball and placing it on the plastic turf. Before Dillon could sling back a response, Kameryn neatly arched the ball through the smallest target in the furthest corner of the net.

"Winner winner!" The disinterested game attendant unenthusiastically rang a bell, waving his hand at the wall of stuffed animals. "Take your pick."

Kameryn smiled pointedly. "Did you hear that?" She grabbed a ridiculously large dolphin and pressed it into Dillon's arms. "I'll have you remember, I've won choice on prizes."

It wasn't often Dillon found herself flustered. Dalliance was her pastime sport, something in which she was well-versed. She knew how to play her cards and maintain the upper hand. It was seldom words or wit ever failed her. But tonight, Kameryn had her number. Dillon wasn't sure if it was because she was home, on her own turf, secure in her surroundings, or if she'd simply grown more comfortable in her skin—more comfortable with the idea of whatever this was. More comfortable with each other.

They'd talked almost daily since parting in Key West. About anything, everything, nothing. Dillon had worried, after the six weeks that had passed since they'd last seen each other, that an uncertainty may have arisen once again. But as soon as Kam showed up at the coffee bar where they'd agreed to meet earlier in the afternoon, she knew something had shifted. Something had evolved. There was none of the awkwardness she had expected. For the first time, nothing about them felt like strangers.

But in that absence of unfamiliarity, a different tension was beginning to surface—an awareness they both knew where this was heading, but with neither one willing to take the first step in that direction.

Kameryn had taken her free hand, drawing her away from the games toward an empty spot on the pier railing.

"I can't believe you swam in this this morning," she said, leaning over the side, staring at the gentle tide lapping against the pilings. "I can't even handle Dani's heated pool in the winter. Let alone the ocean."

"It's balmy, compared to the water off the Isle of Anglesey."

"Is that where you're from?"

"No, I was born in South Wales, in a village called The Mumbles, not far from Swansea. Anglesey is in the northernmost part of the country. My dad used to take me camping there every spring. It's where I learned to swim."

"Is he the one who got you into triathlons? Your dad?"

Dillon hesitated. It was such an innocent question. It deserved a simple answer—not the vortex of emotion it unintentionally summoned.

He'd taught her to swim, to bike, to run, hadn't he? So by default, the answer was yes, wasn't it?

It didn't matter that it was Henrik who'd crafted her—who'd molded her into what she was.

No, Henrik did not deserve the credit. He'd not been the one to spend hours treading water in the river, helping her perfect her stroke. Running behind her bike after removing her stabilizers, making sure she didn't fall. Doctoring every scraped knee and elbow after her runs down the trail.

All Henrik had done, day by day, year by year, was teach her to hate herself.

Shifting the oversized dolphin under her arm, she leaned her shoulder against Kam's.

"Yeah," she tried to curb her sigh, "he was."

Kameryn misunderstood the sorrow laced beneath her tone. "I feel guilty keeping you out this late. Isn't it past your bedtime?"

Dillon cleared her thoughts, inhaling the warm California evening, so different than the cold, rainy winters on the coast of Wales—where she would usually be celebrating the holidays with her mam and Seren.

"Well, technically it's almost morning back home. So at this rate, you're going to owe me breakfast soon."

"Oh yeah?" Still holding her hand, Kam stepped close enough that her hair—hanging loose around her shoulders—fluttered against Dillon's cheek in the breeze. "Is that what you expect from every girl who keeps you up all night long?"

"Only the ones I want to see again." Dillon knew she hadn't managed to hide the quiver in her voice, her breath falling shallow in response to the nearness of their bodies, standing as close together as they were. She darted her eyes away to the glittering reflection of the water, certain her pounding pulse was visible in her throat.

Kam smiled, clearly aware of the effect she had on her, and doubled down on her teasing as she leaned closer.

This was a girl Dillon could picture in the movies, a girl who made sense on the silver screen. There was no shyness, no uncertainty.

"And what do you think?" asked Kam. "Are you going to want to see me again?"

All at once, the current coursing between them made the sea air torrid. Dillon suddenly couldn't stand the people milling around them. The jaunty Christmas carols blaring through the buzzing speakers. The bright lights of the Ferris wheel. The laughter of rowdy teens enjoying the freedom of their weekend. She wanted shadows. Quiet. A cooling breeze.

"C'mon, Kam-Kameryn," she drew her off the rail, walking backward toward a set of wooden steps that led to the beach.

"Where are we going?"

"For a swim."

"No, absolutely not!" Kameryn laughed, defiant, but offered no resistance as Dillon lured her toward the sand.

Stepping off the staircase, she pulled her into the shadow of the pier, moving closer to the water, where the barnacled pilings grew mossy, the air turning damp, smelling of salt-soaked wood and drying seaweed.

"Okay, this is where I draw the line," Kam protested, still laughing as she drew up short just feet shy of the rippling tide. "I don't want to get my shoes wet."

"That's why we generally take them off for a swim," needled Dillon, kicking off her trainers and tossing the stuffed dolphin further up the sand.

"You know I'm not swimming with you," Kameryn said, even as she stepped out of her sandals. "I know you know that."

"Just your toes," Dillon coaxed, backing a few steps into the chilly water, stopping when it reached her calves. "Don't bottle out on me now."

"I'm not bottling out ," Kam mocked her accent, taking a tentative step and gasping as a gentle comber broke against her shins. "Holy shit! It's freezing!"

Dillon laughed. It was cold. But she wasn't willing to admit it. "It's tepid, at worst."

"You're crazy. Has anyone ever told you that?" Kameryn stepped to her, catching her hands, preventing her from moving further away.

"Yeah, maybe once or twice." Dillon cocked her head. "Is that going to scare you off, Kam-Kameryn?"

"No." Kameryn brought her hands to her neck. "It's one of the things I like most about you." The response was more serious than Dillon had been expecting, the answer firm. It was as certain as the hands Kameryn slipped into her hair, pulling their faces together. As adamant as the mouth that covered hers.

Her thoughts, chaotic, spinning, diminished into a single collective channel as she became aware only of the warmth of their bodies pressed together, and the unfettered desire flaring through her, head to toe. She couldn't feel the water rising, soaking her to her thighs, or hear the muted strains of Mariah Carey belting out of the speakers fixed to whirling carnival rides.

She knew only that Kameryn's skin smelled faintly of jasmine, that her mouth tasted of peppermint from the tea she'd sipped as they'd strolled along the pier.

How long they stood there, knee-deep in the surf, she wasn't sure.

Long enough for her feet to go numb in the undulating tide. Long enough for the cold winter moon to work its way toward the middle of the starless sky.

When they finally drew apart, Kam's breath was shaky, despite her attempt to make light. "So, was that the swim you were hoping for?"

Dillon could feel a shiver flow through Kam's fingertips as she drew her back to dry land.

"Better than, I think." Her thoughts were momentarily derailed as her eyes swept across the dark shoreline. Wherever their shoes had been, the advancing surf had claimed them for the Gods of the Sea.

Kelsey would have gone mental. Kameryn only laughed as she realized the situation, kicking a clump of seaweed in her direction.

"It's going to be a long walk back to the car barefoot."

"Look on the bright side," Dillon scooped up the stuffed dolphin that had survived the rising tide, "we didn't lose your choice prize."

"Good thing. I'm expecting you to bring that all the way home with you, you know?"

"I'll buy it its own seat if I have to."

"First class?"

"Business, at least," said Dillon, tucking it under her arm as they started the trek across the sand toward the car park.

"So," Kam stopped to dig through her pockets in search of her keys as they approached her car. "Have you come to a conclusion?"

"About?"

"Whether you plan to see me again. Have I made the cut for breakfast?"

Coming up behind her, Dillon brushed aside her dew-damp hair and kissed the nape of her neck, drawing her lips slowly to rest against her ear. "What if I said the verdict was still out?"

"In that case," Kam huffed, feeding into her teasing, "I'd tell you—"

Her rebuke was cut off as she attempted to unlock the doors, inadvertently hitting the wrong button and setting off the car alarm. The sedan's headlights flashed and the horn and siren wailed, disturbing the peacefulness of the late-night atmosphere. "Shit!" She fumbled with the fob, punching at buttons until she silenced the car.

"You'd tell me what?" Dillon smiled against her temple. "To get stuffed? To go to hell?"

"Something like that." Kam leaned back against her.

"And what if I told you," Dillon whispered, breathing in the intoxication of the simple warmth of her body, the scent of her saltwater hair, "I was hoping for breakfast… lunch… dinner… midnight coffee… afternoon tea… whatever time you'll give me…?"

"Well, then," said Kam, carefully disentangling herself and reaching for her door handle, "I'd tell you I'd have to check my schedule. To see if I could pencil you in." She offered her a lofty smile before climbing into the driver's seat of her car.

"Don't break my heart, Kam-Kameryn. I make a pretty good omelette."

"I thought it was the girls who kept you up all night that owed you breakfast in the morning?"

"There's always an exception to the rules," Dillon laughed, bending down to kiss her before closing her door.