After following her directions, I pull into a small parking lot. I peer around the lot for Fran. Her car is parked, but she’s not inside. To the left, there’s a bike trail that wraps halfway around the lake with a semi-decent beachy spot to sit by the water. But there’s no Fran over there either.
To the right, there’s moss, tall grass, reeds, and eventually water, but there isn’t any beachfront—just overgrown brush that no one in their right mind would walk through.
And, of course, yards and yards away—through a sea of weeds, moss, reeds, and waist-high grass—stands Fran.
“What the—” I run a hand through my hair as she sends over a wave. “What is she doing over there?” I mutter to myself.
I’m in my nice loafers. She told me to dress nice—and tobring a long, light jacket. It’s nice out, it’s almost summer—I don’t need the jacket.
Ugh.
I pull my phone from my pocket and hit call.
“Why are you calling?” she says. “I can see you! You found it. Get over here. Hurry before the sun sets.”
“Uh… I’m calling because I don’t understand what’s happening. I thought you’d be on the beach.” Somewhere my shoes wouldn’t slosh through muck.
“Well, I’m not. Come on.” She waves again. “Did you bring the frock coat?”
“I—I don’t have— I don’t know what that is, Fran.”
“Did you bring anything? You had one job, Callum.”
“I brought a raincoat.”
“Is it long?”
“It’s a jacket…”
She hums in thought. “Hmm, it might work. Come on! Just get over here.”
“Why are you so far out? I?—”
But she’s gone. She hangs up, and I’m left looking at a miniature Fran waiting for me clear across this field. Grabbing the gift I brought her, I ditch the rain jacket and I start over. I weave my way through the grass, searching for the least sloshy parts. I sidestep and tiptoe for what seems like a very long time, just before coming to a clearing. Fran has set up a small table for two, with folding chairs on either end. Instrumental music plays from her phone.
She runs her finger over her ear. Her hair is pulled back, with wisps falling about her face. Then she lets her hands fall to her sides, brushing along the fabric of her long gold skirt and flowy white blouse. She’sbeautiful.
“You made it,” she says, and she’s grinning wide and joyful.
“What is all this?”
The sun sets just behind me. I feel its warmth dipping out of sight.
“You took a while,” she says, but she’s still got that red-lipped grin on her face. “The sun is almost down. I wasn’t sure you’d make it.” She moves in front of me and picks up my hands in hers. Her skin is cool and soft, and the feel of it does something to my insides. Something it shouldn’t be doing.
We. Are. Friends.
This girl is a goofball—an adorable, kind, loving goofball.
She tips her face up, her cheeks pink from being outside so long. “Can you say one thing for me?” Her cool fingers whisper over the back of my hand as she holds my hands to her abdomen—thoroughly distracting me.
My brows lift in question. “Say what?”
“Just look at me and say these words.” Her amber eyes shut, her chin lifts, and she whispers out the line she’s feeding me. “‘You have bewitched me, body and soul.’”
My brows cinch. “What is that from?”
“Don’t take me out of the moment, Callum. Just say the line.” She opens one eye to peek at me. “It’s for research.” She does have that paper due soon.
