imagining what it would be like to fall in love with him? In real
life, he’s probably a snotty rich kid, obsessed with his soupedup Camaro or getting laid in the backseat of said soupedup Camaro, or both.
I sigh. A little too loudly. Ninja Boy whips his head around
and looks right at me.
My spine straightens. I contemplate running. Or perhaps
feigning blindness. Anything’s got to be better than owning
up to the fact that I’ve been creepily watching him for the past
five minutes.
Great. He’s walking over.
“Sorry,” he calls out. “I didn’t see you there.”
I open my mouth to sputter some fumbling apology, but
then a stab of rebellion cuts through me. What’s the point? I
don’t owe this guy an apology for sitting on my own property.
So what if he thinks I’m weird or psycho? After this summer,
I’m never coming back to Crest Harbor, which means I’ll never
see this guy again.
My pulse speeds up in spite of my resolve, but I stand my
ground.
“Don’t mind me,” I say. “There’s plenty of room on this beach
for all brooding loners.”
A half smile pulls at his lips. “That so? Well, is there a required
distance between brooders or can I take this spot here?”
He’s pointing to the sand right beside me. Without waiting
for a reply, he sits down and smiles. It’s a pretty fantastic smile.
Add to that sandy blond hair that’s been slicked back and deep
brown eyes, and it’s settled. He’s too gorgeous to be anything
but a rich jerk looking to get laid.
Sad, really. I almost don’t want to talk to him and have my
perfect construction ruined. Couldn’t he have stayed in the distance looking mournful and poetic?
He bends back on his hands and looks out over the water.
“Some moon, huh?”
I follow his gaze. The moon is now a huge, golden circle
of light.
“Yeah, pretty spectacular.”
“Very interesting moonrise too.” The boy shoots me a sidelong glance. “Did you by chance see…?”
I tense. “See what?”
Looking suddenly self-conscious, he shakes his head.
“Nothing. Never mind.”
I narrow my eyes. He didn’t see the flash of light too, did
he? I’m about to ask him when he stretches his arms out and
inhales deeply.
“Ned was right. It’s the perfect night for a party.”
“I suppose,” I say dryly.
He sits up, folding his arms across his knees. “So, what are
you doing out here all alone?”
The feeling of reckless abandon spreads in me again, drowning out any socially acceptable small talk I could offer. I have nothing to prove and no one to impress.
“Not much. I’m just pondering the subtle anguish of life.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Well.” He studies me, probably
thinking I’m some crazy emo girl.
Then he nods, turning his gaze back to the ocean. “That
makes two of us.”
He doesn’t seem to be mocking me. In fact, he looks rather
lost in his own thoughts. A little smile comes to his lips.
“For each ecstatic instant, we must an anguish pay.”
The words are oddly familiar, and then I remember. “Emily
Dickinson.”
“That’s right,” he says. “You seem surprised that I would
quote her.”
“I am.”
He lets out a single laugh. “And why is that?”
“You
don’t
look
like a
pondertheanguishoflifeandquoteDickinson kind of guy.”
He seems amused. “Don’t I? Tell me, what does that kind of guy look like?”
He’d look like Mr. Perry, my balding, spindly English
teacher. Not a young, stylishly dressed, uncomfortably goodlooking ninja.
“Let’s say you look like you fit right in at the party, not a
poetry reading.”
His smile fades a bit. “I suppose it was rude of me to leave the
party. But I couldn’t think with all that noise. I was standing
there and I realized I’d had quite enough. You know?”
“So you left because it was too loud? That’s not exactly a typically accepted reason to brood, but I suppose I’ll allow it.”
“It’s more than that.”