Lucky(35)

“Thank you,” Lucky mumbled as he handed her the cone.

“You’re most welcome…” He trailed off, expectant. She realized she was supposed to say her name.

“Lu—” She stopped herself. “Alaina,” she finished lamely, embarrassed.

“You’re most welcome, Lu-alaina,” the boy said, grinning a lopsided grin and taking a bite of his ice cream. “I’m Alex.”

“You finally talked to her,” said a boy with a navy cap pulled low over his face, and Lucky started to blush.

“Just Alaina,” she said, her cheeks now officially flaming.

“What are you doing tonight, Alaina?”

Lucky saw the dismay on the girl’s face deepen. She looked away from her and back at the handsome boy who had just bought her an ice cream, wiped her fingers with a napkin, shrugged as casually as she could.

“Not sure,” she said.

“There’s a bonfire down at the cliffs. Meet us there later?”



* * *




Lucky wasn’t sure what time she was meant to go to the bonfire. She didn’t want to be too early, so she read until after nine and then scrawled a note for her father, who was working at the restaurant that night, saying she’d made some friends and was meeting them on the beach.

She headed back the way she had come earlier that day. In the darkness, she could hear the sound of someone strumming a guitar, and a soft voice singing a song about how everything was made to be broken. The fire came into focus, and the cliffs behind it loomed large in the light. Lucky stepped into the area of sand and surf lit up by the bonfire’s flames, and Alex jumped up from where he had been sitting on a low rock wall. He had been the one strumming the guitar and singing.

He leaned his guitar against the wall and came forward to greet her. He had a red cup in his hand. “Hey. You came.” His smile lit up the night more than any bonfire could. “Here, try some of this. Catch up to the rest of us.” The group from earlier that day was there; they smiled and nodded but kept their distance.

“What is it?”

He shrugged. “No clue.” He looked older in the darkness. She wondered how old he was, and if he was going to think seventeen was too young. She took the cup from him and had a sip, trying not to sputter and cough. It tasted like paint thinner smelled. There was grape juice mixed in, but it didn’t help. They sat in silence, staring at the bonfire for a while. When they had passed the cup back and forth between them so many times it was empty, Alex asked her if she wanted to go for a walk on the beach.

“Sure,” she said, but when she stood she felt light-headed, while he didn’t seem affected by the alcohol in the cup. She’d never been drunk, or even close to buzzed. Most teens her age had had many experiences like this one, but this was her first party. She often felt out of place, but tonight the sensation was even more acute. Everyone else was dancing to the same beat, and she was out of step.

Alex didn’t seem to notice, though. “Are you here on vacation?” he asked her. “I always see you on the beach, but never with anyone. And you seem to have been here for a while.”

Had he been watching her? She felt flattered, and nervous. “Oh. Um. Yeah. I’m here with my dad. We live on a sailboat in the bay.”

He glanced at her sidelong. “Oh, yeah? Cool. Do you like it?”

“It’s different.”

“Different from…”

“Anywhere else I’ve lived.”

“Where else have you lived?”

“A bunch of places,” she said. “My dad… worked in sales. We’re staying here awhile. I’ll be going to SFU in the fall.”

“Cool! That’s a great school.”

“Do you go to college?”

“Taking some time off right now.”

His hand reached for hers in the darkness as they walked. His palm was warm and dry, and she was afraid that her nervousness had caused hers to become hot and damp. “What program are you going into at SFU?” he asked.

“Business management. Accounting,” she said, suddenly self-conscious of how vanilla that sounded.

But he squeezed her hand and said, “I love numbers.”

She found herself squeezing back. “You can always count on numbers,” she said, then laughed. “God, I sound like such a nerd.”

“Maybe I like nerds,” he said. “Especially beautiful, mysterious nerds. I like numbers a lot, Alaina. I like how predictable they are—when so many things in life aren’t.”

She felt seen for the first time, and the pleasure of it made her feel like she was floating. They moved forward, hand in hand. The emotional intensity in the simple act of linking hands with another person, of becoming one in such an easy, wordless way, surprised her. He’d probably held hands with dozens of girls, but all of this was a revelation for her.

Soon they were approaching the bay, and the restaurant. The warm, happy feeling dissipated. Lucky tugged on Alex’s hand to stop him walking. She didn’t want to run into her father. This was her moment and hers alone—and her dad would ask her so many questions she wouldn’t be able to answer and didn’t want to. Who is he, where does he come from, how do you know you can trust him?

“Maybe we should go back,” she said. Alex was looking down at her, an unreadable expression on his face.