Riley

Beach break. Noun. [beech breyk]. A wave that breaks over a sandy seabed.

I ease myself from underneath the cool seashell sheet draped over me and wince as my bare feet hit the cold floor and it creaks beneath my weight. I glance up at the bunk above me and hear Lucy moan in her sleep, rolling over.

"Ernie," she groans. "Let's have a wittle baby soon. Pwease?"

She flips over again, one leg hanging over the edge of the bunkbed, but her pillow muffles the rest of the sleeptalk. I grin wickedly up at her. I should have been recording. Lucy talks more in her sleep than anyone I know, and it's always hilarious. Yesterday, she kept asking her mom why she was on a double date in Cracker Barrel. I don't know if she ever got an answer, but I was craving biscuits and gravy for the rest of the day.

I kneel in front of the bed and reach beneath the dark stained board for a square shoe box that I take with me everywhere I go. I made it in fourth grade in Miss Gornicky's class when we were studying world geography. We taped a world map to the lid and then decorated the sides of the shoe box with fun travel stickers--binoculars, globes, hiking boots. I probably should have thrown the box out years ago, but instead it has become a repository for all of my postcards and trinkets from my travel.

And now I need to find something to show Ross. I pick the box up and scamper out of Lucy's and my bedroom into the empty hallway. I can hear Ronald's snores from the Covingtons' bedroom and I smile to myself, grateful for this little moment of peace before everyone else wakes up. I sit cross-legged on the floor and lean against the wall with the box on my lap.

As I pull off the lid and sift through the box, I'm hit with a wave of nostalgia. There's a picture of Mom pretending to hold up the leaning tower of Pisa. A postcard from Mount Rushmore. A piece of rock I found near Stonehenge. A magnet that says, "I got kissed by a sea lion at the San Diego Zoo!" Just a note: Being kissed by a sea lion is not as fun as it sounds. Stinky slobber galore. I grin as I sort through the contents of the shoe boxes.

So maybe my life hasn't been all bad. I mean, compared to Ross, I've seen so much of the world. I've traveled to other countries, lived in other cultures, and met hundreds of people I never would have known if I'd grown up in small town USA like I always dreamed. Granted, my dad worked during most of our trips and I grew up in army barracks all across the U.S., but still. I pick up a picture of the three of us, Mom, Dad and me, standing in front of Old Faithful in Yellowstone National Park. We're dysfunctional, but we're still a family, more or less.

"Is everything alright, honey?"

I drop the picture back into the box and whirl my head around to see Merry Gene peaking out of her bedroom in matching seagull pajamas and a pair of hot pink slippers. I drop the picture back into the box and try to cover it with my arms. Subtle, Riley. Real subtle.

"Uh, yeah, I'm great. Just dandy."

Merry Gene shuffles out the door, closing it shut behind her, and sits on the floor across from me, curlers in her honey blonde hair. "Whatcha got there?"
"It's just some, uh, souvenirs and stuff," I say, reluctantly removing my arms so she can peer into the box.

"Oh, isn't this just precious!"

She picks up the picture of the three of us at Yellowstone, taken when I was in first or second grade with two pigtails poking out of the sides of my heads.

"Gene and Bri look so young and happy here," she says, pointing to my parents' smiling faces.

"You'd be surprised what time can do."

I can't remember the last time my dad smiled, especially concerning me. His mouth is set in a permanent frown, set off by a salt and pepper mustache. The man in this picture doesn't even look like my dad, smiling with his arm around Mom.

Merry Gene sighs and stares down at the picture, eyes glazed. "They were so in love that summer we spent here together."

I furrow my eyebrows. Something must have changed between then and now--oh wait, I know what. Me. I came along and ruined everything.

"Well, a lot changes in twenty years."

"They look happy in this picture too, here with you," Merry Gene says, gesturing to the photo again.

A blush creeps up my face. I know my parents love me--they're parents, it's in the job description--but they've never shown the same kind of affection and adoration I've seen from my friends' and classmates' parents. There's always been something missing between the three of us, but in this picture, she's right. We almost look happy.

I pull the picture from her hands and stuff it back in the box, cramming the lid on. "Yeah, well, that's in the past. I just needed to grab something out of here for a friend."

"You're spending some time with the oldest Montgomery boy this morning, right?"

I start to turn as red as I was when I sprayed ketchup all over my face. Why do I feel like I've been caught making out with the captain of the football team? You're an adult, Olson. Act like it.

"Yeah," I say, standing up and holding the box to my chest. "You know him?"

Merry Gene chuckles, clambering to her feet with cracking joints. "He's an islander, honey. We all know each other. I know he hangs out with Lucy sometimes, such a sweet boy. He's had a hard go of it."

My ears perk up. Ross, confident, charming, easygoing Ross, has a hard life? I know he mentioned taking care of his siblings, but I figured he's just another smalltown kid who wants to make it off the island.

"What do you mean? What happened to him?"

She eyes me for a moment. "Honestly, dear, if he hasn't told you yet, then I don't think I should. It's none of my business, you know."

Curiosity itches at me and I wonder how I'll make it through the morning without inundating him with questions. I guess I shouldn't be surprised; my own past is plagued with pain and heartbreak. Maybe I'm not alone. Maybe there are lots of people like me who have struggled and suffered through life and try to pretend they're alright. The difference is that I suck at pretending.

Clutching the box to my chest, I turn away from Merry Gene. "I should, uh, get ready to head out."

Merry Gene just stands there and smiles at me. "I don't know if I've told you this recently, but I'm so glad you're here, Riley."

I stand there like a deer in the headlights for a minute, not quite sure what to do. Taking compliments has never been my strong suit.

"Really?"

"Yes. We're lucky to have you."

The words strike at something in my chest. They're happy I'm here. They want me here. I can't remember the last time anyone wanted me, and I can feel the ice wall around my heart melting just a little from Merry Gene's warm words.

"Uh, thanks. I mean, I'm glad I'm here."

And for once, I don't infuse the words with sarcasm. For once, I'm happy to be where I am right now.

I give Merry Gene a small, hesitant smile and rush back into my room. I dig through the box of trinkets and choose the rock from Stonehenge to show Ross. Somehow, I can't quite let him see my not-so-happy family yet. Just like he hasn't told me about his past, there are some parts of us that are harder to share, even with someone who seems to already know us.

I slip out of my tank top and pajama bottoms and pull on a pair of turquoise gym shorts, a lightweight t-shirt, and running shoes. Ross. Like some idiotic school girl crush, Ross hasn't left my mind since that spontaneous, magical, dangerous kiss on the beach the other night. And even though I know I should feel nervous right now, preparing for this pseudo-not-quite-date, I don't. I'm eager to see him again, to talk to him and laugh with him and hopefully make out with him again. I should be afraid that I'm jumping into the deep end way too quickly, but fear has never gotten me anything. I'm done living a shadow life; I want reality in startling color and heartbreaking clarity, whatever the cost.

I tiptoe out of the room and head out of the Covingtons' house for the beach. The sun is still rising in the east, casting a warm glow over the quiet island. I walk towards the beach, my pace and heartbeat quickening as I go. Although I would have considered this a complete impossibility two weeks ago, I'm excited for this. Not that I'll admit it to Ross, but he's turned this summer around into something pretty incredible.

I head for the entrance to the beach where the bonfire was the other night and as I crest the dune, my eyes search the horizon--not for dolphin pods or great white sharks, but for this annoyingly charming islander with perfect dimples.

As my feet sink into the sand, I see him walking towards me, wearing a pair of gym shorts and a thin t-shirt that shows off his lean biceps. Working in a warehouse may be grueling minimum-wage work, but it pays off in Ross's physique. Between that and the lifeguarding, I have no complaints.

I start to jog towards him, and now the anxiety strikes. The last time I saw him, I kissed him and ran away. What happens now? Do we hug? Shake hands? Kiss? Pretend it never happened? It's not just that I have no experience with relationships; I don't do them. I never have. Sure, I've made out with a few guys at parties or held hands with a boy for a week and called him my boyfriend, but I don't know what this actually is, and I care a lot more than I probably should.

Ross gives me a sideways grin, showing off the deep dimples in his cheeks, as the warm sun glints off of his messy blonde curls. "Hey, Riley."

I slow to a stop as we get closer, the wind tossing my hair behind me. "Uh, hey."

Ten yards. Five yards. Two yards. Holy crap, what do I do? Luckily, I don't have to flail like a fish out of water. Ross opens his arms and pulls me into a hug. I lose track of my surroundings as I lean against his chest, my hands knotted around his midsection.

"I wasn't sure if you'd show," he murmurs into my ear, his breath hot against my neck.

I lean back just enough to look into his ocean eyes. "Me, a quitter?" I laugh, thinking about all the times in my life I've deserted things that were too big, too scary for me to face. "Never."

Ross squints and stares down at me, only a few inches away. "Aren't you same the girl who dropped out of college?"

"Oh, shut up," I say, prying myself from his arms and shoving him in the chest.

He laughs and backs up a few steps, grinning at me. "You're cute when you're annoyed."

I cock an eyebrow at him. "Already showering me with compliments, huh? This is going to be a great date."

Holy crap. I just called this a date. Ross never said it was a date. In fact, calling me cute is the closest thing to any sort of interest he's shown in me. I'm the one who kissed him.

I'm one step away from having a total desperation meltdown when Ross speaks, "So it's a date, huh?"

"This was your idea."

"I know, and we're going to have a blast." He reaches out his hand and offers to me. "What do you say? Ready to go?"

I take his hand, my fingers interlocking with his.

I'm ready. But honestly, I don't think I'm ready for this at all. I don't think anything could prepare me for the adventures ahead.