Free Better Than Perfect by Melissa Kantor Page B

he asked, his mouth gentle against my ear.
    I shivered and pulled him up so that our lips were level with each other, and I kissed him even more deeply. As we kissed, I could feel his questions—along with the rest of the universe—floating away, like the clouds I’d been watching overhead earlier.

7
    I woke up to the sound of my phone buzzing like an angry beach insect.
    Declan’s arm was still under me, and I was curled into him, my legs intertwined with his. As I slipped out of his embrace, he stirred, but he didn’t wake up. It was dark and cold, and the moon had dropped behind the trees. A few feet away, Sean was still snoring. I dug my phone out of my bag. Sofia was calling, and it was 1:08 a.m.
    â€œHello? Sofia?” I whispered, sidestepping away from Declan. My foot made contact with my tank top, which was a sodden mass of salt water and sand. I picked it up and shook it, scattering sand everywhere.
    â€œWhere are you? I’ve been calling you for twenty minutes. I’m at your car.”
    â€œI’m . . . I’m at the beach.” I tucked the phone between my chin and shoulder and rubbed frantically at the fabric of my shirt, as if the sticky wet sand were a bright, scarlet A .
    â€œThe beach? What beach?”
    â€œUm, here. I’m here. At the club.”
    â€œJuliet, are you okay?”
    â€œI’m fine,” I said, giving up on cleaning my top. I dropped it over my head and winced as the cold, wet, sandy fabric slid over my bare skin. “Where are you?”
    â€œI said, I’m at your car.”
    â€œRight,” I said quickly. “Sorry. I’ll be there in two minutes.”
    â€œOkay,” said Sofia. “I’ll be here.”
    I hung up and turned to where Declan was lying.
    He was fast asleep. I put my hand on my hair, which was gritty with sand. Images of what had happened with us came at me fast and furious . . . my taking off my tank top . . . his saying, We have time. Let’s not rush this. . . . I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the movie to stop.
    What had I done?
    â€œDeclan?” I whispered. When he didn’t move, I said it again. “Declan?” This time he stirred slightly, and I held my breath, not sure if I was more scared that he’d wake up or more scared that he wouldn’t. He shifted slightly in the sand and threw his arm out as if using it to fill the space I’d just vacated.
    What had I done ? I pressed my hand to my forehead. My mother was in the hospital tied to her bed. My boyfriend of four years was innocently sleeping in France. My best friend was working her ass off, barely able to focus on her job she was so freaked out about how I was.
    Meanwhile, I was merrily getting with a complete stranger on the beach.
    Declan stirred again, and I froze. If he woke up, what was I going to say to him?
    You know, this was amazing, but I’m not really into relationships. Except with my boyfriend.
    Did I mention that my mother might have tried to kill herself earlier today?
    Do you mind pretending this never happened?
    Declan stopped moving, and I held my breath, frozen as an animal sensing danger. Was he waking up? He breathed deeply, then settled his head on his hand.
    There was no way I could face him after what had just happened. I could barely face myself after what had just happened, but I was stuck with me.
    Please don’t wake up, Declan. Please do not wake up.
    He kept sleeping. I forced myself to stay where I was for a count of ten, then ran silently across the sand, barely slowing down to grab my shoes as I raced to the stairs that would carry me up to the lawn. I was sorry, and I knew Declan would think I was a head case, but that was better than having some awkward conversation with him.
    Maybe he’ll be relieved, I thought to myself. Maybe he’ll be just as glad that you’re gone.
    But his saying We have time came back to me, and I squeezed my head between my hands,