Where Sea Meets Sky

“Anyway,” he goes on, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t really have any plans except just coming here and hoping to figure the rest out as I went along. I didn’t think I’d see you again because, I mean, I don’t even know your last name. But then I met Tibald and his friends last night and they kind of made it their mission for me to meet you. We figured out where you worked and . . . well, here I am, ironically in Mission Bay.”

He’s smiling but it’s stiff. He’s unsure of how I’m going to act. I don’t know whether to let him sweat it out a bit or tell him the truth—that I’m flattered.

I go another route. “Wait, so it was their mission for you to find me? You wouldn’t have done it without them egging you on?”

He shoots me a look of surprise, his dark brows snaking together in confusion. “Oh. Uh. Well, you see I was more concerned about coming across as desperate and stalkerish.”

“And are you desperate and stalkerish?”

He suddenly stops. “No,” he says adamantly. He hurriedly runs his hand through his hair and looks away. “I knew it was a mistake to come here.”

“Hey, I’m just taking the piss out of you,” I tell him. I reach over and grab his forearm, giving it a squeeze. His muscles are firm beneath my touch, his skin sun-warmed. “Seriously. You can stalk me all you want.”

He glances down at my hand on his arm but he’s still stressing. “I just wanted to say hello. I didn’t expect . . . I don’t expect . . .”

I apply more pressure. “And I’m glad you did say hello. Really. It’s just kind of crazy, don’t you think? When did you get here?”

He smiles and I realize I have to let go of him now. It’s not easy, but I manage to do it.

I should tell you I have a boyfriend, though, I think to myself as I take my hand back. I should tell you I have a boyfriend, I should tell you I have a boyfriend. Hell, Nick’s not really my boyfriend, he’s just kind of my . . . whatever he is. But Josh still should know, he should know.

But I don’t say anything. This is going to bite me in the ass very soon.

“I just got here yesterday,” he says. “Everything has been kind of a blur. We went out last night but I don’t really remember where. It was loud, though, and there were a lot of drunk douchebags in dress shirts.”

We reach the memorial park at the end of the road and walk over to an empty bench under the wide shade of a banyan tree.

“You were probably at the Viaduct,” I tell him, taking a seat. I wait for a moment, wondering if he’s going to sit next to me, how close he’s going to sit. I feel like I’m a hormone-frenzied teenager all over again.

He sits close enough that his thigh brushes against mine. I suck in my breath instinctively as he turns his head to face me. I’m needing nerves of steel here and I’m not finding any. Why does the urge to lean forward so that my lips touch his feel so palpable and impossible to ignore?

“Yeah,” he says throatily, his eyes resting on my lips. “That’s where it was. Terrible place.”

I nod, swallowing hard. “So what are your plans?” I’m almost whispering, like the strength has been squeezed out of my lungs.

The corner of his mouth lifts into a dry smile. He raises his brow. “I told you. I don’t really have any plans. My vacation is an open book from now until January thirteenth. It feels kind of nice.”

You know what else would feel kind of nice? Kissing him again. That would cure what ails me. I especially want to know what that feels like now that he has his lip ring in.

Tell him, I think. Say, I’m seeing someone. The words are so close to coming out of my lips. I’m afraid if I don’t say it, I’m going to do something stupid, though probably not regrettable.

“You should come traveling with me,” I suddenly blurt out. “Me and my cousin. We’re taking Mr. Orange to the South Island.”

All right, that’s it. I’m not allowed to talk anymore.

His head jerks back. “Mr. Orange?”

I sigh, trying to compose myself. I said it and I can’t take it back. “My cousin, Amber, she’s from the States. She’s here visiting. On Wednesday we’re heading down to the South Island, going to spend the month tooling around there and then come up to Napier for Christmas, maybe the North for New Years. My uncle Robbie has lent me his old VW bus called Mr. Orange. It sleeps six. Got one of those pop-up bunks up top. Would be nice to have someone split the petrol money with us.” I pause, catching my breath. “You know, if that interested you.”

He studies me carefully. “Didn’t you just go on vacation?”

I tilt my head back and forth. “Yeah, but I never get the chance to see my own country. With Amber here, it just seemed like a good opportunity to get away.”

“And don’t you have a job?”

I shake my head, feeling the tiniest bit ashamed. “No. I mean, I will in February but until then I’m kind of on-call, freelancing, that sort of thing. I’m supposed to be a personal trainer for the gym and their kickboxing instructor but it’s just not happening right now.”

An appreciative look passes over his eyes. “So we’re both kind of in limbo for the next while, aren’t we?”

I can feel my face light up. “I guess so.”

He grins at me. My god, it’s as panty-melting as I remembered. “Well, all right then. I would love to come with you. But first, you have to tell me your last name.” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">