The Wish(20)

I stopped. As much as I wanted to see—and yes, pet—the dog, I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to engage in stilted conversation with the owner, especially once he noticed I’d been crying. I was about to turn away when the guy whispered something to the dog. I watched as the dog turned and trotted to a nearby garbage can, where it popped onto its rear legs and carefully deposited the Snickers wrapper.

I blinked, thinking, Wow. That’s kind of cool.

The dog returned to the guy’s side, settled, and was just about to close its eyes when the man dropped an empty paper cup onto the deck. The dog quickly rose, grabbed the cup, and put it into the garbage before returning. When another cup was dropped about a minute later, I couldn’t help myself.

“What are you doing?” I finally asked.

The man turned in his seat and it was only then that I realized my mistake. He wasn’t a man, but rather a teenager, maybe a year or two older than I was, with hair the color of chocolate and dark eyes flickering with amusement. His jacket, made out of olive-colored canvas with intricate stitching, was strangely stylish, especially for this part of the world. When he raised an eyebrow, I had the uneasy feeling that he’d been expecting me. In the silence, I felt a burst of surprise at the thought that my aunt had been right. There actually was someone my age around here, or at the very least, someone my age who was on his way to Ocracoke. The island wasn’t entirely composed of fishermen and former nuns, or older women who ate biscuits and read romance novels.

The dog, too, seemed to evaluate me. Its ears perked up and it wagged its tail hard enough to thump the guy’s leg, but unlike Sandy, who loved everyone immediately and intensely and would have trotted over to greet me, this dog turned its attention back to the cup, quickly repeating its earlier performance, once more putting it into the garbage can.

Meanwhile, the guy continued to watch me. Even though he was seated, I could tell he was lean, muscular, and definitely cute, but my whole boy-crazy phase had pretty much died the moment Dr. Bobbi spread that goop on my tummy and I heard the heartbeat. I let my gaze fall, wishing that I’d just gone back to the car and regretting I’d said anything at all. I’d never been good at eye contact except at slumber parties when I was having a staring contest with my friends, and the last thing I needed was another boy in my life. Especially on a day like today; not only had I been crying, but I hadn’t worn any makeup, and I was dressed in baggy jeans, Converse high-tops, and a down jacket that probably made me look like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.

“Hi,” he finally ventured, breaking into my thoughts. “I’m just enjoying the fresh air.”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I continued to focus on the water, pretending that I hadn’t heard him and hoping he wouldn’t ask if I’d been crying.

“Are you okay? You look like you’ve been crying.”

Great, I thought. Even though I didn’t want to talk to him, I didn’t want him to think I was an emotional wreck, either.

“I’m fine,” I asserted. “I was at the front of the boat and the wind made my eyes water.”

I wasn’t sure he believed me, but he was nice enough to act like he did. “It’s pretty up there.”

“There’s not much to see once the sun goes down.”

“You’re right,” he agreed. “The whole ride has been pretty quiet so far. No reason to even reach for the camera. I’m Bryce Trickett, by the way.”

His voice was soft and melodic, not that I cared one way or the other. Meanwhile, the dog had begun to stare at me, its tail thumping. Which reminded me of the reason I’d spoken up in the first place.

“Did you train your dog to throw out garbage?”

“I’m trying to,” he said before breaking into a smile, dimples flashing. “But she’s young and still working on it. She ran off a few minutes ago, so we had to practice again.”

My attention was fixed on those dimples and it took me a second to retrieve my train of thought. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why train your dog to throw out the garbage?”

“I don’t like litter, and I didn’t want any of it blowing into the ocean. It’s not good for the environment.”

“I meant why don’t you just throw it out?”

“Because I was sitting down.”

“That’s mean.”

“Sometimes the mean justifies the end, right?”

Ha ha, I thought. But actually, I’d walked right into the stupid pun, grudgingly acknowledging that it was kind of original as far as puns went.

“Besides, Daisy doesn’t mind,” he went on. “She thinks it’s a game. Do you want to meet her?”

Even before I could respond, he said, “Break,” and Daisy quickly rose to her feet. Walking over, she curled around my legs, whining, her tongue lapping at my fingers. Not only did she look like Sandy, she felt like her, and while I stroked her fur, I was transported back to a simpler, happier life in Seattle, before everything went sour.

But just as quickly, reality came rushing back and I realized that I had no desire to linger. I offered Daisy a couple of final pats and put my hands in my pockets while trying to think of an excuse to leave. Bryce was not deterred.

“I don’t think I caught your name.”

“I didn’t tell you my name.”