“Okay,” he says quietly. “I promise I won’t.”
Then, completely out of nowhere, I start to cry. Not big sobs, but steady tears that slide down my cheeks one by one. The fact that I’m embarrassed about this emotional display only makes me cry that much more.
We’re on opposite sides of the surfboard, so he reaches across and holds my hand as he navigates his way around the sawhorse and wraps me in his arms. I cry a little harder as I bury my face in his chest, and he gently strokes my back. I start to apologize for being such a drama queen, but he just shushes me and holds me tighter.
“It’s okay, baby.”
Just hearing him say that fills me with this warmth. In a weird way I’ve never felt worse and better at the same time. I close my eyes and listen to the sound of his heart beating.
Okay, I’d like to officially apologize for whatever that was earlier,” I say as we walk along the beach a few hours later. There’s only a sliver of a moon hanging over the water, but stars fill the night sky and it’s stunning.
“You don’t have to apologize,” he says. “You’re allowed to show emotion. That’s part of the package.”
“Well, it was both unexpected and unprecedented,” I explain. “Although I will say that there was a sort of emotional cleansing quality to the whole thing.”
“Is that your way of saying you feel better now?” he asks.
“Well, if you want the SparkNotes version, yes.”
“I am perfectly happy with the SparkNotes version,” he says. “But also more than willing to go into greater detail if that makes you happier.”
I stop and put my hands on my hips in mock protest. “Are you saying that it doesn’t matter or just that you don’t care?”
“Neither,” he answers as he skillfully snakes a hand through my arm and pulls me closer to him. “I’m saying that I’m here for you however you need me to be.”
I give him a playful nod and counter, “You’re a slick talker, Ben Taylor. You always seem to say just the right thing.”
“And is that a problem?”
“It kind of is.”
“Let me get this straight,” he replies, looking down at me. “Are you now criticizing me for not saying the wrong thing?”
“The female mind is quite the riddle,” I joke. “Besides, I’m not criticizing you. I’m just keeping you on your toes.”
“How about I keep you on your toes instead?”
He wraps his arms around my waist and lifts me ever so slightly, so that now I’m on my tiptoes—the perfect kissing height. At first I think it’s going to be a peck, but our lips linger and I close my eyes. The instant it’s over, I pick up the conversation where I left off.
“See what I mean? You always say the right thing. That’s suspicious, don’t you think?”
I break free from his arms and sprint ahead of him.
“Where are you going?”
“I thought you were a runner,” I call back. “Yet I’m the one winning the race to the lifeguard stand!”
Up ahead of us is a lifeguard stand. It looks like a giant high chair that’s twelve feet tall and made out of bright orange two-by-fours. I’ve got a good head start, but he quickly closes the gap and we both get there at the same time.
“I won,” I say, catching my breath.
“Hardly,” he laughs. “It was a tie and you cheated more than a little bit.”
“That’s not what I meant. I won because I got you right where I want you,” I say as I climb up into the seat. It is big and roomy enough for a lifeguard to sit with all of his gear. Or, in other words, it’s the perfect size for two people to squeeze into.
“So this was your plan all along,” Ben says as he climbs up and slides in next to me.
“Bwahahaha,” I reply with an evil master villain’s laugh. “And you, Ben Taylor, were just my puppet.”
This high up, there’s a cool night breeze that makes it perfect for snuggling. I’ve known that couples do this and I have always imagined what it would be like. (Spoiler alert: It’s awesome!) Ben puts his arm around me and I slide up next to him, and we just snap together perfectly like pieces in a jigsaw puzzle.
“Are we even allowed to be up here?” he asks.
“Of course we are,” I say. “It’s for lifeguards during the day, couples at night. It really fits right into the whole ‘reduce, reuse, recycle’ philosophy that we encourage here at the beach. Very multipurpose and good for the environment.”
I rest my head on his shoulder and look out at the sea. More than a minute passes without either one of us saying a word. We just listen to the slow and steady music of the waves washing up on the beach and then pulling back into the ocean. Everything at this moment is perfect. So of course that means I have to screw it up.
“Can I ask you something?”
“There’s an ominous beginning,” he says.
“Whose idea was it to break up?”
“What are you talking about?” he asks. “We’re not breaking up.”
“No. I mean between you and Beth. Whose idea was it to break up?”
He lets go of me and turns so that his back is against the side of the chair. I may not be fluent in body language, but I can tell he’s not thrilled with the question. “Why would you even ask that? Everything about this moment is perfect. Excuse me, was perfect.”
“I know.”
“So why would you ask that?”
“I told you. The female mind is complex.”
“It’s not a joke, Izzy.”
“And I’m not joking. I know it doesn’t make sense to you, but this is all new to me. I’ve never had a boyfriend. Nothing even close to one. That means you know every single thing about my past relationship history. So when we’re sitting like this and everything’s perfect, you know what’s going on in my mind.”
“Trust me when I say that I have no idea what’s going on in your mind.”
“Okay, that’s a fair point,” I answer. “But all I know about Beth is that she was beautiful and wonderful and everyone thought you two were a perfect couple.”
“And after I told you that, you ignored me for two weeks,” he says. “In fact, just a few blocks up from this very spot you told me that you couldn’t be the girl I talked to about other girls.”
“Things are different now,” I reply. “And to be honest, since the only things I know about Beth are how wonderful she is, a little part of me could stand to hear how it ended.”
I really don’t know what it is about me that takes perfect moments and twists them into psychodramas, but I can’t help it. I am who I am.
There’s just enough moonlight on his face for me to tell that he’s biting the left side of his lower lip. He’s in deep thought mode, so I stop talking. Finally, after what seems like forever, he responds.
“It was my idea. We were out by the lake. She was talking about the prom and how important it was and how it would be this signature moment in our relationship. I mean, I know it’s a big deal, but it is just a dance. She was obsessed with what table we were going to sit at, where we were going to go for photographs, and I just couldn’t get excited about it. Maybe it’s because I was in a pissy mood about my parents, but I just couldn’t. Then, somewhere in the middle of it all, I just knew it was over.”
He stops for a moment and takes a deep breath.
“Some of my friends said that I should’ve just hung on until it was time for me to come to Florida, but I couldn’t do that to her. She didn’t deserve to be strung along. So I told her that I was really sorry but I couldn’t go to the prom with her and that we couldn’t see each other anymore.”
“You dumped her right before the prom?” I say, almost feeling sorry for her.
He nods. “I know. I’m a terrible person.”
“You’re not a terrible person,” I say. “The timing was unfortunate, but if that’s how you felt, you did the right thing.”
“Just for the record, Beth did not agree with your take on it. She made sure everyone knew how much it was not the right thing. I can’t blame her, I guess. Somehow she did manage to bounce back and find a guy who was more than happy to sit at the right table and smile his way through God knows how many pictures. He’s a good guy, actually. I hope it works for them.”