Until We Meet Again(8)


“Nothing. Never mind.”

I narrow my eyes. He didn’t see the flash of light too, did

he? I’m about to ask him when he stretches his arms out and

inhales deeply.

“Ned was right. It’s the perfect night for a party.”

“I suppose,” I say dryly.

He sits up, folding his arms across his knees. “So, what are

you doing out here all alone?”

The feeling of reckless abandon spreads in me again, drowning out any socially acceptable small talk I could offer. I have nothing to prove and no one to impress.

“Not much. I’m just pondering the subtle anguish of life.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Well.” He studies me, probably

thinking I’m some crazy emo girl.

Then he nods, turning his gaze back to the ocean. “That

makes two of us.”

He doesn’t seem to be mocking me. In fact, he looks rather

lost in his own thoughts. A little smile comes to his lips.

“For each ecstatic instant, we must an anguish pay.”

The words are oddly familiar, and then I remember. “Emily

Dickinson.”

“That’s right,” he says. “You seem surprised that I would

quote her.”

“I am.”

He lets out a single laugh. “And why is that?”

“You

don’t

look

like a

pondertheanguishoflifeandquoteDickinson kind of guy.”

He seems amused. “Don’t I? Tell me, what does that kind of guy look like?”

He’d look like Mr. Perry, my balding, spindly English

teacher. Not a young, stylishly dressed, uncomfortably goodlooking ninja.

“Let’s say you look like you fit right in at the party, not a

poetry reading.”

His smile fades a bit. “I suppose it was rude of me to leave the

party. But I couldn’t think with all that noise. I was standing

there and I realized I’d had quite enough. You know?”

“So you left because it was too loud? That’s not exactly a typically accepted reason to brood, but I suppose I’ll allow it.”

“It’s more than that.”

“Okay, so what then?”

He sighs. “Have you ever been in a room full of people and

felt completely alone? And everything around you, the lights,

the champagne, the people, it all feels so…”

“Empty?”

“Exactly.”

He studies me so directly that my skin starts to tingle.

“I’ve felt that,” I say, holding his gaze.

“Is that what brought you out here to the beach?”

This guy is either well-rehearsed at wooing angsty, artistic

girls, or he isn’t quite the jerk I had him pegged to be. Adrenaline

pushes aside my usual wall of sarcasm.

“I think I wanted to do something crazy, but I chickened out

and came here to sulk instead.”

“What would you have done?”

“If I hadn’t chickened out, you mean?”

He nods, watching me.

“I don’t really know. That’s part of the problem.”

He laughs a little. “You’re different. I could tell by the way

you sat here looking out at the shore.”

“You’re pretty strange too, you know.”

“Guilty as charged,” he says, with a wink. “So what do we do

about it, you and I? A pair of odd ducks searching for meaning.”

“I guess we have to do something crazy.”

“Let’s,” he says. “What will it be?” Then he springs up. “I

know.” He grabs my hands, pulling me to my feet. “We’ll jump

into the ocean!”

I laugh at the irony of his suggestion. “No thanks. I had a

nice swim last night, and that got me into enough trouble.”

“Aw, come on. It’ll be fun.”

“Nope.”

A sly smile creeps onto his face. “You didn’t come out here to

talk. You could have done that at the party.”

Without warning, he bursts into a run down the beach, pulling me along with him. We run into the rush of stormy ocean wind. I can barely stay on my feet to keep up with him.

“Hey!” I shout, my hair streaming behind me. “Stop!”

“Enough talk! Now we act!”

“I said no swimming!”

He keeps running. “We’ll dive off the point, see if we can

catch a mermaid.”

“No! I’m too young to die.”

He laughs, and I can’t help laughing too. We run until we

reach the base of the rocky point, where we both stop, bending

over to catch our breath.

“Push me in that water and I’ll drown you,” I say between

gasps of air.

He grins. “I thought you wanted to do something rash.”

“I do. I’m just not into dying with a complete stranger. Not

quite what I had in mind.”

“I am getting a little carried away, aren’t I? I don’t even know

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