“So I’m guessing it’s a yes, then?” He raises his eyebrows, beckoning me to take him up on the invitation.
I don’t know if I should. On the one hand, friends show friends cool secret things all the time. And I know for certain that I do want Logan as a friend again. Because now that I feel what it’s like to have him back in my life, I don’t ever want to go back.
On the other hand, I don’t like this slippery slope. I’m afraid I’ll do something I regret or give him the wrong idea. “Actually, do you mind if we drive back to the resort for tonight?” I can see his disappointment immediately. “It’s not that I’m not curious about your murder spot,” I say, trying to keep it light. “I’m just really tired. And I want to be able to wake up and be productive tomorrow. You know?”
He gives me a few quick nods. “Yeah, of course.” He starts the car in silence.
“Maybe you can take me there for our next outing,” I say to encourage him. Even though I don’t want to give him the wrong idea, I also don’t want him to think I don’t want to spend time with him.
“That’s an idea,” he says, but his mood has obviously changed. Shoot. A weight presses against my chest. I hope he’s not too hurt.
The drive back is relatively quiet, but I do my best to keep it light. By the time we’re back at my cabin, the air feels like static. It’s a good thing I said no because I’m finding it hard to keep my hands to myself.
“Good night, then,” he says as I leave his car.
“Good night, Logan.” I give him the best smile I can muster despite the weight in my chest. “And thank you. I had a great time. And I’m pretty sure I’m going to wake up more inspired tomorrow morning.”
“That’s the goal, isn’t it?” He gives me a quick goodbye with his hand. “I’ll see you soon, then. Sleep well, Avery.”
I watch him drive away and wrap my arms around myself, aware of the sudden chill of the evening air. I’m making the right choice. I can make a friend, get inspired, finish this project, and then focus on working on myself to get over this damn existential crisis.
Easy peasy.
CHAPTER9
Afew days later, I’ve gotten some progress done on the website, but the sweltering heat is begging me to go for a dip.
I head down the rocky path to the beach, my flip-flops slapping against the weathered stones. The wind whips my hair as I emerge from the cliffs to the shoreline. I shrug off my coverup and wade into the foamy surf, gasping as the cold water embraces my legs.
I plunge forward, swimming with sure strokes. The waves buoy me up and send me crashing down, the rhythm of the sea. I surface, blinking salt from my eyes, feeling alive. There’s nothing quite like the feeling of floating.
I want to stay in the water forever, but I suddenly glimpse a silhouette coming my way. Even though he’s still far away, I recognize Logan. He’s marching with a bounce in his step, looking like he’s in a great mood.
My stomach does a flip as I look at him approaching. It’s been a few days since our outing at the restaurant, and I haven’t seen much of him since. I occasionally took breaks and walked around to stretch my legs and potentially run into him, and even went to grab a drink at the lodge a few times, but every time I came back disappointed.
We did text a bit, but he couldn’t skip out early from work. I do still see him every evening at the bench, though. We sort of fell into this ritual without speaking a word about it. Every evening, I make my way to the bench facing the coast, and I’m always the first to arrive. But I never wait too long alone before Logan joins me.
We’ll always chat a bit about how my writing is going, the renovations at the resort, and anything in between. But often, we’ll just drift into silence and listen to the waves crash and roll through the pebbly beach below. And it feels so right.
I did try to ask why I haven’t seen him around this week, but he’s been squirrely about it. He keeps circling back to supply runs for the renovations without going into too much detail, so I don’t push him. But the way he tenses up ever so slightly when I ask gives me the impression that there’s something he’s not telling me.
And that’s his right. It’s not like he owes me anything. I’m already lucky enough that he wants to spend time with me.
Logan is nearly at the waterline when I realize I’ll have to get out of the water in my bathing suit with him here. I’m suddenly self-conscious. With me being so short, the few extra pounds I’ve gathered as I’ve been approaching my thirtieth birthday aren’t so flattering. It’s not such a big deal, and I normally don’t make a fuss about it, but now I’m slightly petrified at the idea of being so exposed in front of Logan.
“Hey,” he calls out. “The water good?”
“Frigid,” I reply, just as a wave pushes me forward a bit.
Dreading the moment I’ll be uncovered, I start to make my way out of the water. To avoid the waves that swell near the shore, I’m at least ten metres away from the edge of the water. It was one thing to get there, but it’s quite another to get back out. The closer I walk to the shore, the bigger the waves are getting.
I spread my arms on both of my sides to balance myself, trying to focus on the way I’m moving my body instead of the fact I’m half-naked in front of Logan. I raise my eyes to see if he’s looking at me.
Big mistake. The distraction takes my focus away from my proprioception and a wave hits me from a weird angle, pushing me straight into the water. I cough and flail my arms in surprise, and before I know it, Logan is knee-deep in the water, holding on to me.
He’s got one hand on the small of my back and the other around my arm. My skin burns where he touches me. “Come on, here we go,” he grunts as he helps me up and out of the water before the next wave has time to get us. Soon we’re both away from the shore and standing on the dry pebbles, but I’m still coughing up seawater.
What a rookie mistake.
