A Season of Eden (21 page)

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to be here?”

“I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t.”

I nodded, enjoying the wind blowing through my hair.

I looked great with the wind in my hair. I sat down and extended my legs. His gaze locked on them, then shifted to my eyes. I grinned. He sat.

Our arms brushed.

His stretched out pose mirrored mine. He had great feet—finely sculpted foot bones and nicely shaped toes.

“Nice feet,” I said.

He laughed. “You notice everything.”

“If we were at my house, I’d offer you a drink. Since we’re not, I’ll have to offer you the view.” I gestured to the choppy sea.

“I don’t drink, so I’ll take the view. I used to come down here after school and de-stress.”

“You surfed?”

He laughed again. “No. Watched.”

“I do that, too.”

“The waves, the seagulls, runners on the beach, that kind of thing. The sound of the waves always calms me.”

“I know what you mean. Off the back of our house is a seventy-five foot drop to the ocean. I like to stand there and listen.”

His eyes met mine. “What’s your dad do?”

“He’s a lawyer.”

“Aah. That explains the house.”

“Does the house scare you?” I brought my legs to my chest and wrapped my arms around my knees. The breeze had changed course and now my hair fluttered around my face. “Because it’s just a house,” I said.

The green in his eyes flickered. He didn’t respond, but studied me without a smile. He looked back out to sea.

“This feels strange.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not worrying, I’m feeling it.”

A fluttering of panic let loose inside of me. I was enjoying this moment, and wanted more of the same.

“What do you do for fun?”

He smiled at my obvious change of subject, and picked up some sand that drained from his fingers. “I told you, I’ve been out of things. School took all my time. Still takes all my time, now that I teach.”

“You have to change that, James. Look at you. You’re far too…” His eyes locked with mine. My heart pounded faster. “You’re way too hot to stay isolated.”

He barely smiled, like he wasn’t sure if he should believe my words. “You throw that word around pretty easily, Eden.”

“Everybody does.”

“Hasn’t it lost its meaning?”

“Maybe.” I looked out over the ocean, feeling the air around us thickening with something I hoped was heat. “I guess it depends more on who’s saying it and who they’re calling hot.”

His sharp gaze still had me pinned. “And that’s what it all comes down to, doesn’t it? How close can we get to the edge?”

“The very,” I said, rising to my feet. I crossed toward the water racing at us from the ocean. He joined me, staying at my side. Moving closer to the rushing pull of tide didn’t ease the tension between us, it drew it to a head. I couldn’t help but feel like something was going to happen.

James walked right into the licks. “There’s power in that beast.”

“Yeah.”

“Not the place to find yourself sleepwalking,” he said, and laughed.

“No.” I laughed. “Do you? Sleepwalk?”

He nodded. “Weird, huh?”

“Like, how do you know?”

“Mom found me one night walking down our street.”

“No way! Alone?”

“As far as I know sleepwalking’s a solo activity.” We shared a laugh.

“Wild,” I said. It was just one more fascinating thing about him that intensified my draw to him.

“I was seven.” He looked out over the ocean, the breeze ruffling his hair. “I’d been cast as Peter Pan in our neighborhood play. Mom came home late one night and found me ‘flying’ down the middle of the street.”

“That could have been dangerous. I hope you live on a quiet street.” Knowing that he did, I hid a grin.

“Yeah, I do, thankfully.”

“How crazy. Do you still do it?”

“Sometimes, usually when I’m under stress. I’ll wake up somewhere other than my bed.”

I licked my lips, and it drew his gaze to my mouth. A warm tremor ran through me. His hands shifted in the depths of his pant pockets.

I wanted to kiss him, right there on shore both of us holding onto each other for life and anything else we could hold onto before the tide swept us to sea. I took a step toward him, bringing my body flush with his. He didn’t move, but his nostrils flared a little, and his breath quickened. I held onto his flickering gaze, my feet sinking into wet sand, my breaths deep.

He moved closer. In the distance, waves crashed violently, then hissed to our feet, soaking us with cold, foamy water. Thrill raced through me, paralyzing, freezing me with both fire and ice. His hands grasped the sides of my shirt, then slipped tight around my waist when he pulled me against him. His mouth pressed eagerly against mine.

I wound my arms around his neck and our bodies pressed together. The breeze slipped around us, chilling my legs and I shivered. The response brought his arms around me completely, as if he’d felt me tremble and he wanted to warm me, or stop me from shaking, or both.

I’d been kissed by a lot of guys but nothing so electric had ever bolted through my system. The hot, sweet, gentleness of his mouth moved over mine with surprising skill, lightly at first, then fast and hard.

One of his beautiful hands slid up my side and touched my face. The move melted my knees. The urgency to hold onto him kept my arms locked around his neck, my lips chasing his.

When both of his warm hands held my face, my heart and breath caught. He eased back, and I felt the cold, sea air singe my wet mouth. I looked up into his face.

I didn’t know what to say. Words seemed not only insignificant, but silly and useless. I felt beautiful. Special. I wanted to say thank you. I wanted to tell him everything in my heart. I wanted to wrap around him again and not let go. At the same time I felt fragile. How had he learned to kiss like that if he hadn’t been around? Had he lied to me?

“What?” He must have sensed I was distracted. A faint line appeared between his brows. Afraid he’d take his hands from my face, I placed mine over his.

“Where did you learn to kiss like that?”

The line between his brows deepened. “Learn?” His hands slowly slid away, he took mine with them, and held them between our chests. “It’s not something I set out to learn.” He studied me a moment. “I just did what I felt, Eden.”

I felt dirty. Embarrassed. I’d never kissed with anything but technique in mind, with the need to maintain my reputation. Or manipulate someone.

I couldn’t ever remember kissing from my heart.

I looked out toward the ocean, wishing I could bury myself in the water and come out clean. All of my backseat, couch, and corner kisses reeked with sleaze. His touch no longer warmed and comforted me, but reminded me of where my life had taken me and who I was.

I stepped back, the cool air surrounding me. As I gazed at the blue sea, I saw him move a little closer, still watching me. “Everything all right?”

Everything sucked.

I wasn’t worthy of him.

His pure kiss had poured over me like holy water.

Awakening, yet not cleansing me. I let out a sigh.

I felt his hand touch my arm and looked at his long, gentle fingers. Fingers that had just touched my face in a gesture more intimate than sex had ever been. Fingers that made beautiful music no matter what they touched.

Tangled in thought, I turned, picked up my boots and headed across the sand toward the ramp. I wished he wasn’t there. I wished I’d never laid eyes on him, never known how unique he was because that had changed me forever. Nothing would ever be the same. I couldn’t look at guys anymore. How would I look at men?

I felt him come up behind me, then next to me. “Did I say something?”

“No.” There was such earnest innocence in his voice, if I looked at him, I’d start to cry.

“Eden, what?” He took my elbow and the move jolted me to a stop. His face was fraught with concern.

“I’ve just… this is different for me.”

“In what way? Can we talk about it?”

The angles of his eyes squinted in piercing intensity, like he wasn’t going to move one inch unless I told him.

“I think… I should go home now.”

Shock shifted on his face. Hurt passed through his eyes. Confusion, plain and raw distorted his features. “I’m sorry if I—”

“Don’t.” I cut him off. Suddenly I saw him in his church, on his knees, confessing. Or praying. I couldn’t be the reason he sinned. Lost his job, left his church—whatever.

That was a weight I could never bear. I started for the cement walkway. Again, he grabbed hold of my arm.

The muscles in his throat constricted, as if he was struggling to keep himself from saying more. I felt guilty for making this hard for him. He deserved something easy.

Something better.

He slowly came toward me, his face taut with anguish and confusion. “I don’t know what I’ve done, but…”

I closed my eyes. “Please don’t apologize. It’s not you.”

A tear escaped, and rolled down my cheek. My chest surged with quarantined remorse.

I felt his finger steal the tear and I opened my eyes. A shade of relief brightened his face, still tight with concern.

“If you want to talk about whatever is bothering you, I’m here,” he said.

Waves fought in the distance, a crashing battle that rolled onto shore in watery submission. Maybe he was right, maybe this was wrong. But then we were both here.

He’d kissed me.

Still, when I looked into his face, illuminated with a joy I was sure I wasn’t imagining, the purity behind his motives shamed me. It didn’t matter what he said. I wasn’t worthy of him.

After I’d purged myself of every last tear, I lay on my bed wasted. William lay snugged against me, having witnessed hours of sobbing. His head rested on his crossed front paws, his droopy eyes looked ready to weep.

I petted his body and he groaned, bringing the first smile to my lips in hours. My fantasy had dropped right at my back door: James and I kissing on the beach and I’d blown it. Head clearer after the crying jag, I realized I hadn’t blown anything, just seen things for what they really were. James was unreal—a statue carved of marble— something beautiful but untouchable. I’d broken some theological and ethical rule kissing him. Forget that he was a teacher. The spirit inside of James was far more off-limits than Mr. Christian the teacher was. He would never look at me the same again. Whatever he’d seen in me would be veiled now by some confessional curtain once he realized what he’d done by kissing me.

He’d given himself to me in that kiss, opened his heart, his feelings. I’d never done that when I’d been with a guy.

Had he sensed that?

I saw him in my mind again, and again the picture was in some dark confessional on his knees, crossing himself, shaking his head. Knowing that I would cause him to unload regret in this way leadened my heart with more guilt.

A knock at my door startled me. When the door opened, my dad came into the room. The way he blinked, I knew he was taken aback by my puffy, red face.

“Eden.”

I petted William in the vain attempt that Dad wouldn’t look at me. He came close to the bed, something he hadn’t done in years.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m okay.”

For a minute he stood in silence. He was used to staring at people, getting them to open up, say what he wanted, do what he wanted. So I kept petting William and didn’t look at him.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I did. So badly I wanted someone to unload to, but this was a solitary road I had chosen to walk. “I just miss Mom.”

I always missed her, so I wasn’t lying. I was sure, in fact, that she would listen to me if she had been there. And I could trust her, if I told her.

“I’m sorry.” He moved closer and stood twitchy as a racehorse at the gate, not sure if he should touch me or not. He kept his hands in his pockets. For years we hadn’t exchanged anything more than obligatory hugs. I wanted him to hold me. Not ask questions, not say anything.

But comforts like that had died long ago and I’d learned to bury that need. When the need resurfaced, I lost it in hanging with my friends or in being with boys.

My skankiness made me shudder with guilt. Again, I saw James’ face, felt the softness of his lips, the beat of his heart.