Free Pulled Under (Sixteenth Summer) by Michelle Dalton Page A

Nicole.
    “It won’t be official until he loses the tan line from his socks,” adds Sophie. “But he’s definitely getting there.”
    “I can hardly believe it,” I say.
    He takes it to mean that I can’t believe how well he’s got the look down. And while that’s true, it also means that I can’t believe this is happening to me. The cynic in me is waiting for the bubble to burst.
    A fter we leave the shop, we head down to the beach and walk barefoot along the waterline. I point out some shells and a shark’s tooth, but for the moment the lessons are over. I just want to enjoy . . . this.
    Whatever “this” is.
    It is the most romantic moment in my life, which is a bit of a problem because for all I know I’m just his shopping buddy. I mean, he really seems to like me and we’ve spent the day together, but I don’t know how to know for sure. It would be great if he held my hand as we walk along the beach, but his hands are full because he’s carrying two Surf Sisters shopping bags.
    I decide to add a little stop.
    “Let me teach you something,” I say. “Stop, look out at the water, and wiggle your feet like this.”
    I wiggle my feet side to side and they start to sink into the wet sand. He does the same, and we both settle in about ankle deep.
    “I like it,” he says.
    “It’s cool, isn’t it?” I reply. “I always love to do that when I’m walking along the water’s edge.”
    We spend a quiet moment looking out over the ocean. It’s peaceful and nice, but inside my head I’m going a million miles a minute. Finally I snap and blurt out, “So, do you have a girlfriend back home in Wisconsin?”
    It is very unsmooth and made worse by the fact that it is not followed with a quick denial. His face looks a little pained, and I wish I could erase the question.
    “I’m sorry,” I say. “It’s none of my business.”
    “I don’t mind,” he says. “I don’t have a girlfriend . . . anymore. I did for a long time. For over a year. But we broke up during spring break.”
    That sounds pretty recent considering they dated for so long. I should stop asking questions, but I can’t help myself. “Did you break up because you were coming here for the summer and she didn’t want to try long distance?”
    “That may have been part of it,” he says. “But there were a bunch of little things. I think a lot of it has to do with my parents. I mean, I always thought they were a perfect couple, happy and in love with each other. Then it turned out that they weren’t. It made me realize that things aren’t always how they seem. I started to question what was going on with Beth and me, and eventually I decided that we weren’t right for each other either.”
    Beth and Ben . Ugh. They even sound perfect together.
    “I’m sorry. It really isn’t any of my business.”
    “No, it’s okay,” he says. “Actually, it’s kind of nice to have someone I can talk to about it. Things were so crazy at home, I didn’t even tell my parents until a month after it happened. And my guy friends were useless. They don’t usually have much to offer when it comes to relationships.”
    I have killed the mood and totally lost control of this conversation. I have done the boy-girl version of pearling and it’s my own fault. Yet I can’t seem to make myself pull out of it. I just have to know whom I’m competing with.
    “What’s Beth like? I bet she’s pretty.”
    “She’s really pretty,” he says, in an automatic way that I could never imagine a guy saying in reference to me. “And smart. And funny. Everyone thought we were perfect together.”
    I would like to go on the record here and declare that I completely hate Beth.
    “But that’s history,” he says with a trace of melancholy. “She’s in Wisconsin and I’m in Florida.”
    Izzy Lucas, door prize.
    I really have no idea what to say next, so I just stand there and try to imagine how I can possibly compete with the girl he just