Beyond the Rising Tide (24 page)

Lying on my towel, my hair is half-dry, coiled up like dreadlocks and sticking to my arms and back. The late afternoon sun warms my skin, and my muscles feel shaky from surfing all day. Kai lies beside me on his stomach, head resting on folded arms and turned toward me. His shoulder hides his nose and mouth, so all I can see are his eyes, but they hint at a smile. A tattered sheet of clouds moves across the sky, and his face alternates from shadow to light, and light to shadow.

“Thanks again,” I say softly, “for today.”

He doesn’t say anything, just keeps looking at me in a way that says,
My pleasure
. I think about what he did this morning, using his secrets as bait to lure me into the water, and all the things he told me are only now sinking in. His mom dying when he was eight. His dad in prison. Being separated from his sisters and growing up in foster care. I’m beginning to understand why he’s always hesitant to talk about himself. And then I think of something else he said, about how he’s on his own now.

“Kai—how old are you?”

Another shadow moves across his face, and a damp onshore breeze ruffles his hair. “Seventeen.”

“So … aren’t you still supposed to be in foster care?”

He props himself on his elbows and gazes at the ocean. The tide is low now, and the waves are steep and fast, curling into tubes at the break. Here and there, the sun breaks through the clouds and scatters patches of sparkling light across the distant sea. “The last foster parent I had died unexpectedly of a heart attack. He was this old guy, Charles.” Kai’s fingers are drawing circular patterns in the sand, going around and around and around. “I couldn’t bear the thought of going to another home. Another strange place with strange people who pretend to care about me, but don’t really know anything about me.” He sweeps away the pattern, making a clean sandy slate. “So I ran. I hitchhiked across the country, hoping that if I could talk to my aunt and uncle face-to-face, I could convince them that I wouldn’t be any trouble.”

“What did they say?”

“I never got the—” He pauses, then shakes his head and releases a long breath. “It didn’t work out.”

I find myself studying his profile—his strong brow and straight nose, his sharp jaw and generous lips. Something about his face feels so familiar, as though I’ve seen it somewhere, even before this week. His picture is probably posted on one of the missing person reports I’ve scoured. “So you’re a runaway.”

He gives me a sidelong glance and a slight, guilty smile. “Just give me a head start before you call the authorities.”

I tap his wrist lightly. “I won’t be calling anyone.”

He goes back to gazing at the sea, whispering, “Thanks.”

I roll onto my back and watch the frayed edges of a rain cloud inch across the sky in our direction. “What about your sisters?” I ask. “Do you ever get to see them?”

“Yeah—sometimes.” His voice is sad. “I like to make sure they’re being taken care of.”

With everything he’s done for me the last few days, this doesn’t surprise me. He must have been a great big brother, and it makes me sad to think that for the last few years they didn’t have him around to look out for them. Something occurs to me, and I sit up, twisting my hair over one shoulder. “Kai—when you fought with Tyler the other day, you said he hurt someone you cared about. Were you talking about one of your sisters?”

He sits up and dusts sand off his elbows, then says quietly, “No.”

“Then who was it?”

His eyes move slowly over my face, his lips twitching restlessly like he can’t decide whether or not to answer. The restlessness spreads to his limbs, and he stands up and wanders to a boulder nearby. He paces in front of it a few times, then hoists himself onto it and dangles his bare feet, brushing the sand with his toes.

When he finally gives me an answer, it comes out so quietly that I barely hear it. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

His heartbroken tone tells me it clearly does matter. And even if it doesn’t matter to him, it matters to me. “Was it … a girl? Someone you … love?”

His feet go still.
Bingo
. And then the rest of him goes rigid, as though he’s tensing every muscle, trying to keep the truth captive, or maybe trying to hold himself together. His lips are pressed into a tight line, the muscles in his jaw bulging, and his hands are squeezing the edge of the rock so tightly he just might break a piece off.

“You can tell me, you know,” I say softly. Even though it will hurt to hear him say he loves someone else, I want him to confide in me. He has spent the last few days drawing out my secrets, my burdens, and they’re lighter now because of it. I want to do the same for him, even if his secrets crush me. I stand up and brush the sand off my board shorts, and then cautiously go to him. “Who is she?” I ask gently.

His stillness shifts into unease, and his eyes dart around, looking for someplace safe to land. They settle on my hand, which is nervously clutching the hem of my shorts.

The line between his brows deepens, and he gets a faraway look in his eyes, as though he’s picturing her, or maybe recalling a specific memory. “She’s the reason I came here,” he says faintly.

“But … I thought you came here to see if you could live with your aunt and uncle.”

He grimaces, like he’s not sure how to explain himself. “The first time I came here, that was why. That was last winter. While I was here, I met this … amazing girl.” He looks into my eyes, and I pray he can’t see the hurt there. “Then I had to leave for a while, and … she’s the reason I came back.”

“Oh.” I try not to wince, but I’m not sure if I succeed entirely. “Where is she? Why haven’t I seen you with her?”

He looks away and feigns interest in a pelican floating on the water. “Have you ever wondered how a bird that heavy can fly?” The question seems so random, but then I recall something he said two days ago in the chocolate shop.
When questions are like daggers, I dodge.
He’s definitely dodging.

Like it’s the most natural thing to do, I put my hand on his jaw and turn his face back toward mine. His skin is like fire in my palm, and it burns all the way up to my cheeks. But I can’t seem to detach my fingers from his face.

“Please,” I say in the most persuasive tone I can manage. “Talk to me, Kai.” His face is so close to mine I can see the fine white hairs on his forehead and cheeks. I can see the gradations of blue and green in his irises, and the tears that are beginning to pool there.

“This is the one thing I can’t talk about,” he says in a broken whisper. “Please—don’t ask me.”

He looks so heartbroken that I don’t even think twice when I slide my arms around his shoulders and pull him into a comforting hug. Whoever this girl is, she must mean the world to him. And whatever the reason he can’t be with her, it’s tearing him apart. I force my own feelings aside and focus on what he needs right now—a friend.

I feel his arms hesitantly slide around my waist, and his head sinks into my shoulder. My hand moves to the back of his head, and I become keenly aware of the softness of his hair on my fingertips. Silky, smooth, light. He’s so warm, and it’s a warmth I can’t quite categorize as temperature. Whatever it is, it invites me in, and I draw him closer. I notice how we seem to fit together perfectly. My head falls into the place between his neck and shoulder, and I mold into him like soft caramel. The sun is hidden behind rain clouds, but my skin is tingling as though its rays are being redirected through Kai.

He tightens his arms around me, drawing me even nearer, clinging to me like a life preserver in a wind-tossed sea, and I realize just how much hurt he’s been holding in all this time. I want to take it from him, to draw it out and absorb it into myself the way he seems to have done with all my pain. And at the same time, I want to raise his face to mine and kiss him. So many emotions are warring inside of me that I feel dizzy. Sorrow and compassion, intrigue and desire, swirling around and around.

My heart is pounding so hard against my ribs that I’m sure he can feel it through my surf tee. And then, like hearing a clarion call, I receive the message my body is trying to send me.

I love him
. I love Kai. I love this boy who came into my life three days ago and changed me forever.

And he loves someone else.

But the way he’s holding me makes me wonder if he’s at least beginning to fall for me too. I search for a sign that he feels something more than friendship. I feel for his heartbeat against mine. I’m positive he can feel mine. But I don’t feel anything. His heart is still.

The clouds have long since smothered the sun, and now something inside of me feels smothered too. The wind picks up, brisk and sharp, and a drop of rain splashes on my arm. Goose bumps rise on my clammy skin, and I reluctantly pull back, feeling like my heart is being torn in two.

I can’t look at him, so I look at the sea instead. The waves are growing larger, wilder. Gusts of wind rip across the wave crests, turning them white. I’m suddenly uncertain about everything. As though I’ve taken a wrong turn and ended up in an unfamiliar city, and I’m not sure how to get back on the right track.

Unsure what Kai will see in my face, I step away and go gather our things. We load the car in silence, and even though I feel his gaze on me now and then, I don’t dare meet his eyes. When I slide into the driver’s seat, I see a text on my phone from Paige.

Movie night? Pick you up at 7?

I think about Kai, about the girl he loves. The more time I spend with him, the more it will hurt when things work out between him and this other girl. Suddenly a movie doesn’t sound like a bad idea. I could definitely use the distraction. I text Paige back.

Sure. Pick me up.

hy didn’t you tell me
he
was coming?” I whisper to Paige in the theater lobby. Tyler and Dillan are a few yards away, buying our tickets from a kiosk. When Paige picked me up, she said nothing about meeting anyone. But when we got here, Tyler and Dillan were waiting for us as though that was the plan all along.

“I thought you wouldn’t mind,” she whispers back, looking at me like I’m crazy.

I eye the glass doors of the theater. It’s pouring outside, and people are rushing in and out with jackets over their heads or umbrellas bursting open. I fasten the top button on my rain jacket, seriously considering making a run for it. But then I remember that Paige drove, so unless I want to make the five-mile trip home on foot, I’m stranded here with a boy I never want to speak to again.

“I thought you guys were working things out,” she says in a hushed tone. “I saw you kiss the other night at Dillan’s. So what’s going on?”

What’s going on? I’m in love with a guy I met three days ago. And he loves someone else. I don’t have it in me right now to face Tyler after what he said to me the other night. I just want to go home and hide under my blankets for the next twelve years. My stomach hurts. I hug myself, trying to squeeze the pain out. “We’re not working anything out.”

She tilts her head and offers a consoling look. “What happened?”

I don’t want to get into it with Tyler so close, so I brush off her question and say, “I can’t believe they agreed to come to a rom-com with us.” And then I question why I agreed to come to a rom-com. As if watching people get all lovey-dovey on a seventy-six-foot screen is going to make me feel better. “I thought Dillan hated Zac Efron.”

She shrugs. “He’s just jealous because I once pointed out how blue Zac’s eyes are. He insists the movie people Photoshop them or something to make them bluer than they really are.”

After buying the tickets, the boys come over. Dillan slings an arm around Paige and kisses the top of her head, handing her a ticket. She looks down at it, and her mouth falls open, appalled. “What! Batman?”

Dillan gives an apologetic shrug. “Your movie was sold out.”

She rolls her eyes. “Riiiight. Ugh. This is what happens when you let guys buy the tickets.” She punches him in the ribs, and he laughs.

“Come on,” he says, tugging her toward the concession stand. “I’ll buy you some nachos.”

That leaves me alone with Tyler, who up until this point I’ve been avoiding looking at. When I finally glance at him, he’s watching me uncertainly, one hand in the pocket of his hoodie, the other in front of him clutching our Batman tickets. He looks incredibly handsome as usual, but the butterflies that used to go crazy in his presence are now lying dead in the pit of my stomach.