Heart Bones(56)

Marcos looks at Sara and says, “This would have been a great marriage proposal moment with all these free fireworks in the background. Too bad we just met over spring break.”

“Bring me back here next year,” she says. “I’ll pretend I forgot this conversation.”

They make me laugh.

After a few more minutes, Sara tells Marcos she needs down because she’s feeling nauseous. They leave, but Samson and I stay on Marjorie’s roof.

I find myself watching him more than I’m watching the fireworks. He looks enamored with everything.

“I’ve never seen Darya look this beautiful,” Samson whispers.

Wait. What? Darya is the name of the girl he said broke his heart.

“Look how the fireworks reflect off of her,” he says, pointing out at the ocean. I look at where he’s pointing, then back at him, confused.

“Are you calling the ocean Darya?”

“Yeah,” he says, matter-of-fact. “Darya means the sea. It’s what Rake used to call her.”

“You told me Darya was the ex-girlfriend who broke your heart.”

Samson laughs. “I told you Darya broke my heart, but I never said I was talking about a girl.”

I try to think back on that conversation. This whole time, he was talking about the water? “How does an ocean break a heart?”

“I’ll tell you on—”

“August second,” I finish with a roll of my eyes. I adjust myself and reach into my pocket for my phone. “I’m taking notes. You owe me a lot of explanations.”

Samson laughs. “Can I see the list?”

I hand him my phone after I add the last one. He starts reading off the list.

“Why don’t you like talking about your father’s rental houses? Who was the guy that interrupted our dinner? What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done? Why don’t you like talking about your family? What’s the whole story behind Rake? How many girls have you had sex with?” He pauses and looks at me for a beat, then goes back to the list. “What’s your full name? How did the ocean break your heart?”

He stares at my phone for a moment, then hands it back to me.

“Ten,” he says. “But I really only remember nine. My memory of one of the girls is fuzzy.”

Ten. That’s a lot in comparison to me, but not much compared to what I assumed his past was like. He could have said fifty, and I don’t know that I’d be surprised. “Ten isn’t very many.”

“Compared to your one it is,” he says teasingly.

“I just thought there were more. The way Sara talked about you, it seemed like you slept with a different girl every week.”

“I rarely slept with them. I have no idea how many I’ve made out with, though. Please don’t ask me that question on August second because I won’t be able to answer it.”

A huge blast of fireworks begins shooting off straight in front of us. Samson’s attention gets pulled away from me, but I continue to stare at him.

“Sometimes I wonder if I even want all the answers to my questions. I think the mystery that surrounds you might be one of my favorite things about you. While simultaneously being one of my least favorite things about you.”

Samson doesn’t look at me when he says, “You want to know what my favorite thing about you is?”

“What?”

“You’re the only person I’ve ever met who would probably like me more if I were poor.”

That’s the honest truth. “You’re right. Your money is definitely my least favorite thing about you.”

Samson presses a kiss to my shoulder. Then he looks back out over the water. “I’m glad you showed up this summer, Beyah.”

“Me too,” I whisper.





TWENTY


I don’t like birth control. I’ve been on it almost a week now and I feel like it’s messing with my emotions. I’m starting to feel things even more than I did after showing up here. There are moments I severely miss my mother. Moments I convince myself I’m falling in love with Samson. Moments I feel excited to have a conversation with my father.

I don’t know who I’m becoming, but I’m not sure I like it. I doubt it really has anything to do with the birth control, but it feels good to have something to blame.

Samson has been gone most of the day. Sara and I spent time without him and Marcos on the beach. It’s past time for dinner and we’re hungry, so we start packing up just as three guys begin to set up a volleyball net on the beach between our house and Samson’s. When Sara and I drop our chairs in the storage compartment on the stilt level, I look back at them.

There’s a weird pinch in my chest, like volleyball is something I miss.

I never thought that would happen.

“I’m going to ask if I can play with them,” I say. “You want to play?”

Sara shakes her head. “I want to shower. I have sand in my crack.” She heads for the stairs. “Have fun, though. Kick some ass.”

When I reach the guys, they’re just about to start a game of one-on-one.

One of them is sitting on the invisible sideline while the other two are in position to start their game. “Hey,” I say, interrupting them. All three of them turn and look at me. Now that I’m closer, I’m a little bit intimidated. I might make a fool of myself now that I’ve seen the size of these guys. “Need one more?”