Beyond Me (14 page)

She relaxed and laughed with me. And I kept my promise.

I showed her everything. We walked around Hemingway’s house with a bunch of other tourists, and enjoyed the lush greenery, open balcony, and numerous cats prowling around the property and peering through bushes. Quinn listened intently to the tour guide, seemingly processing the endless information about Hemingway’s hobbies, love interests, and extraordinary writing skills. I’d been there many times before, but this time I saw everything through Quinn’s eyes. The architecture and presence of such a powerful legend permeated through the space, making me appreciate things I’d never seen.

We listened to Jimmy Buffett’s endless loop of his famous song “Margaritaville,” but I learned Quinn was tone deaf and could barely hum the familiar bars without my wincing. She punched my arm and threatened me with her rendition of Adele, so I surrendered and bought her a frozen margarita instead of her usual Sex on the Beach. We feasted on salsa and chips, mozzarella sticks, and fried conch fritters, then moved on to book a reservation for glass-bottom boating.

“Are we going to see lots of fish?” she asked, craning her neck around the plates of glass set up on the bottom of the boat.

“Should be decent. I’ll point out some to you when we get started.”

I tried not to laugh as she fought off some stranglers who tried to squeeze in her viewing space, until a child wobbled by and gave her a toothy grin. She melted on sight, and ended up helping the baby sit down and cooing at him. She laughed with the mom, and chattered easily. She knew her place in the world at only twenty-one, and radiated an inner light I wished would spill into my own dark soul. But it didn’t work that way. My chest tightened with pain, so I excused myself to get a beer and tried to get my shit together.

The boat slowed and the speaker boomed with information on what types of fish they were currently looking at. I sipped my Coors Light, brooding a bit about our differences, and noticed Quinn was holding her stomach.

I put the bottle on the bar and walked over. The baby was banging on the glass, distracting the mother, but one look at Quinn told me what the problem was. She was pure green.

Seasick.

I gently helped her to her feet and she swayed. “James. I don’t feel so good.”

“Aww, baby, you’re seasick. Let’s go out on the deck so you can get fresh air.”

“I don’t get sick,” she insisted, but she held tight to my arms and allowed me to lead her out the doors.

“Take deep breaths, slow and easy. Damn, I should’ve thought of making you take some anti-nausea medicine.”

“I don’t get sick,” she said again, but her voice grew faint, and she moaned.

“Sure, you don’t. Probably too busy taking care of everyone else. Let me get you some water. Can you stay here? I’ll be right back.”

She leaned over the rail. “Not going anywhere.”

I hid a grin and got water and a bunch of napkins from the bartender. By the time I got back, she was clenching the rails with a death grip. Her jaw worked as if trying madly to hold back from hurling. “Babe, drink some of this. Look out way in the distance, as far as you can see. And breathe deep.”

“Think I’m gonna vomit,” she said miserably. “You gotta go.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Drink.”

She gulped in a breath and took a sip of water. Then creased her brows in a fierce frown as she concentrated on the horizon. I stroked her hair and rubbed her back, waiting it out. Finally, her muscles relaxed. “I feel a little better.”

“Good. It should be over soon. I wouldn’t advise going back in there. Something about looking at the bottom of the boat as it moves makes a lot of people nauseous.”

She drank some more water and leaned into me. My arms slid around her stomach, and I rested my chin on the top of her head. We finished the boat ride in comfortable silence, until the buzzing of my phone interrupted. I fished it out of my back pocket and glanced at the screen.

Adam.

I declined the call and waited to see if he’d text. I hadn’t spoken to him or Rich since they promised to stay away from Quinn and me. Probably checking on the stupid bet. I made a mental note to tell them it was officially off, whether or not I’d meet my mentor, but the text threw me off guard.

Dude, confirming party tomorrow at your house. Invited a bunch of new people. Gonna be epic.

Shit. I usually held the parties for spring breakers Sunday, Wednesday, and Friday. They were the big events of the week. I thought of the empty conversations, alcohol, and half-naked girls who meant nothing to me. Was I ever gonna stop? Why was I even doing it? I was way past the age for spring break. Hell, most guys my age were digging into a career and planning their futures. Disgust boiled in my gut.

“What’s the matter?”

Her quiet voice brought me back to the present. “How’d you know?”

“You got all stiff on me. And not in the good way.”

I laughed and held her tighter. “Adam texted me about a party I’m supposed to throw tomorrow. If I do it, will you come?”

She shifted her weight and silence settled between us. Uh-oh. “Of course, I’ll go.” I let out my breath. “I’m just—I’m just not that big into those type of parties.” She sounded glum, so I turned her around and forced her to meet my gaze. “I have to tell you something, James.”

My heart pounded, but I kept my voice calm. “Go ahead.”

“I’m kind of a nerd.”

I waited for more, but that seemed to be the big confession. Relief whooshed through my body. “You’re a very sexy nerd,” I said.

Her lips twisted in a half-smile. “I’m serious. I’m lame. I don’t get off on drinking hard, parading myself around, and making endless conversation with people who don’t care. I’m sorry. But if you want me to go, I will.”

It didn’t take me long to make my decision. In fact, the moment I accepted what I was about to do, I was completely at peace. I didn’t want to hold these parties anymore. I wanted to spend the day alone with Quinn and let it take us wherever it would. I was done with that part of my life, and it was about time I did something about it.

“I’m canceling the party, Quinn. I’ve been trying to get out of them for a while now. Hell, I don’t even enjoy it. Time for someone else to take over.”

She gnawed on her lip. “Don’t do it for me.”

I smiled and ran a thumb over her now swollen mouth. “I’m doing it for me. Will you spend the day with me alone?”

Her face lit up and my heart stopped. “Yes. And I have a long list of activities for us.”

“More?”

Her eyes danced. “Yeah. But tomorrow we’ll keep it all horizontal.”

The blood whooshed to my other head. “My kind of activities.”

“Thought you’d like that.” She studied my features, and her hand lifted to push my hair back from my brow. Her gentle touch burned like charcoal against my skin. “You remind me of Gatsby.”

“F. Scott Fitzgerald? Didn’t they make a bunch of movies about Gatsby? Wealthy guy with a mansion, lusting after a girl from his past?”

She continued her caress, smoothing her fingers down my cheek, across my jaw, and touching the center of my lips. Her sweet scent carried on the ocean breeze and tangled me in its spell. I’d never be able to smell coconut without thinking of her. “Yeah. He has all the money in the world, and holds these lavish parties that everyone flocks to. Handsome, smart, mysterious. He’s a celebrity everyone wants a piece of. But inside, he’s lonely. Separate from the crowd. He ends up pinning all his hopes on Daisy because she made him feel something.”

I felt as if we were on the verge of something huge, and if I said the wrong words, the moment would pass forever. The boat pulled to the dock, and the crew scattered to begin debarking. “Do you feel sorry for Gatsby?” I knew I’d walk away if she said yes. I could take anything but this woman’s pity, or becoming one of her pet projects.

She cocked her head. A touch of a smile rested on her bow lips. “Of course not. Gatsby had all the power. Daisy never did.” Her dark eyes shimmered with heat and truth and possibility. “He just didn’t know it.”

A couple bumped into us. I took her hand and led her off the boat, wondering what she meant.

T
HE SUNSET
festival was like a circus with the backdrop of water and sky. I held tight to James’ hand as we weaved our way through the staggering crowds and watched performers take turns dazzling us with their talents. Trained dogs doing flips and acrobats were in the right corner; the middle had a man on a unicycle juggling; and the left boasted a woman who seemed to have no muscles or bones, bending her body into insane positions for the approval of strangers.

I munched on popcorn, safely past my seasickness, and the glowing sun began to sink. Music pounded around us—Jimmy Buffett again—and people merged into one group. I enjoyed watching public events for the way separateness merged into unity. Usually, people tried to avoid one another, heads bent to our phones for email, texts, and video games; ears covered by headphones, ducking down to avoid contact. But today, waiting for sunset, there was magic in the air and everyone sensed it. We laughed and bumped into each other and didn’t try to hide.

Excitement built as the three performers melted away and welcomed the sword swallower. He perused the audience, boasting a dangerous tale, and asked the crowd for silence and meditation to avoid injury. His mouth opened and the sword slipped down his throat. I gasped along with everyone else, stunned at the display. I knew James had seen it countless times, but I clung to him in sheer fear that something terrible would happen.

The sword sank in deep, and he slowly pulled it out to the thunderous applause. I jumped up and down and James laughed, his face open and soft as he gazed at me. My heart turned to mush, and my gut churned. I was getting very attached. The fact he’d cancel his big party to spend alone time with me affected my firm position not to feel anything past sex. There was a piece of a lost soul beating within him that called to me. Probably the classic cliché of fixing the wounded, one of my weaknesses. I couldn’t walk away from someone who needed me; it was my calling card. But James gave me something priceless, that I’ve never experienced before.

Magic.

When I was him, I became someone else. Someone better. I was sexy, and confident, and silly, and just me. I’d never felt comfortable enough to shed my outside skin and show a guy my real self. I knew he wasn’t faking liking me to get me into bed, we were past that part, but stuck at a crossroads where neither of us really wanted to define what was happening.

“Here’s the finale,” James pointed out. A tightrope was strung across the dock, over the water, and the performer was climbing the ladder and getting himself settled on the left landing. The sun sank inches lower, hovering on the edge of the horizon. He held a long stick and wore some type of ballet slippers.

The audience fell quiet. He ventured onto the rope, step after step, making his way to the middle. Filled with poise and grace, his movements flowed into one another as he hit dead center, and the sun dropped out of sight, scattering the skyline with sparks of vibrant orange and blackness.

His shadow was beautiful as he completed his ballet dance over the water, then with a flip, he steadied and reached the right landing.

I whistled and clapped hard until my hands stung. “Do they do this every night?” I asked, craning my head up to look at James.

“Every night,” he confirmed. “And it’s always crowded.”