A Week at the Beach (9 page)

            He sighed loudly.  “I live by myself in a big apartment.  The last girl I dated was named Cheyenne.  She was twenty-two, had a fabulous set of fake breasts, but not much in the way of brains.  We dated for three months before I couldn’t take it anymore and dumped her.”  He spit out facts about himself quickly, hardly giving me the chance to digest it all. 

            He took a quick breath then continued, “I’ve never lived with a woman I was dating.  I’ve never had a heart-wrenching break up and I’m not particularly clumsy so I’ve never ruined anyone’s paint job, toes, or flower bed.”

            I smiled at him, “Well, thanks for the information.  I feel like I know you so much better now.”

            “What else would you like to know, Cami?”  He was obviously trying to make up for the harsh tone from earlier.

            I took a deep breath then smiled coyly at him.  “So you’re a breast man, huh?”

            He grinned back at me, “Who isn’t?”

            “I guess I just had you pegged as a butt man, that’s all.”

            He grinned some more, “Is that because you caught me staring at your butt when we were heading back up to the house yesterday?”

            I blushed, “Maybe.”

            “Well, that wasn’t my fault.  What else was I supposed to do, not look directly ahead of me as I walked up the stairs?”  He grinned, “Besides, I had to keep an eye on you just in case you tripped and came tumbling back on me as we walked up the stairs.”

            I rolled my eyes at him and he laughed. 

            “Although, to be honest,” he flashed a sheepish smile, “I was checking out your butt when you were trying to pull yourself back onto the surfboard.”

            My mouth flew open in mock horror and I tossed my napkin at him. 

            He caught the napkin, laughed, and shrugged, “I couldn’t help it!  It was right there in front of me and you just looked so funny trying to pull yourself up.”

            “Well if there is a more ladylike way to pull yourself onto a surfboard, I’ve never been taught it, and since you were my teacher, I blame you.”

            “Glad to see you two getting along again,” the waitress said as she refilled our tea.  “For a minute there, I thought my flirting had caused a fight between the two of you lovebirds.”

            Without missing a beat, I said, “Oh, you can have him.  He’s not much of catch once you take him home and look at him under different lights.”  I flashed Nick a sweet smile and took a sip of tea.

            “She’s sassier than I thought she’d be,” the waitress said to Nick with a nod and wink in my direction.

            Nick eyed me as I smiled back at him.  “Don’t listen to her.  She’s crazy about me, has been since the day she met me.” Nick said and cocked his eyebrow in my direction as if passing the ball to me next.

            “How long have you two been together?” the waitress, who was still hanging around our table, asked.

            Obviously, wanting control of our little game, Nick spoke first.  “Three years.”

            “Three years and you haven’t put a ring on that finger, yet?” the waitress put her hand on her hip and gave him a stern look.

            Seizing the opportunity to take over, I laughed and said, “Oh, he did.  Last week actually, except being the genius that he is, he bought me a ring two sizes too big.  It’s back home at the jewelers getting sized.”

            Nick smiled.

            “How did he do it?  I bet it was very romantic.  He seems like the romantic type.”  The waitress was getting into our story now.

            Nick, still smiling, watched me intently.

            “No romance.  He’s a straightforward kind of guy.  I came home one night last week and he had the ring and asked me.  We don’t need all that sappy romance stuff, right, honey?”  I smiled at Nick across the table.

            “Nope.  No romance for us.  We keep it simple,” he smiled back at me.

            The waitress, who clearly looked disappointed in the turn our story had taken, asked, “What about the ring?  What did it look like?”

            Figuring I’d throw her a bone, I sighed and put a dreamy look on my face.  “Now that is a different story.  See, he may not be the sappy romantic type when it comes to saying how he feels, but he can pick out a nice piece of jewelry.”

            “I didn’t pick it out.  I designed it and had it made.”  Nick corrected me.

            The waitress seemed much happier with the new direction of our fake love story.

            “It is beautiful.  It has a round cut diamond in the center, surrounded by a circle of diamonds.  The band is platinum with diamonds along the sides.  It has a very vintage look to it.  Words cannot describe it, really.”  With a mischievous smile, I said to Nick, “Don’t you have a picture of it on your phone, babe?”

            Nick stared back at me for a second then patted himself down, pretending to look for his phone.  “I must have left my phone back at the beach house.”

            “That’s too bad,” the waitress said in a disappointed voice.  “That ring sounds amazing.  Well, you two seem like you’ll be very happy together.”

            “Thank you,” I said politely, suddenly feeling bad for lying to her.

            “Your food will be out shortly.”  She smiled at us again then left our table.

            “So is that really what you’d want your ring to look like?” Nick asked when the waitress was far enough away that she couldn’t hear us.

            I shrugged, “I don’t know, maybe.  I guess it’s kind of up to him to decide.”

            “You don’t want to have a say in what your ring looks like?” He seemed to be surprised.

            “No.  I want him to pick out what he thinks would look good on me.  He’s paying for it, why shouldn’t he get what he wants?”

            “What if he picks out something that you hate?” Nick asked with a smile.

            “If he doesn’t know me well enough to know what I’d like then maybe we shouldn’t be getting married.”

            “You make a valid point.” 

            “Okay, I’ve got one Caesar salad and one bacon cheeseburger.”  The waitress put our food down in front of us.  “I put the dressing on the side for you sweetie.  I know how you bride-to-be types are.  It’s a shame though, isn’t it?  You spend months starving yourself to fit into a wedding dress and he eats whatever he wants and still manages to look fantastic.”  She smiled warmly at me.

            “Thanks for keeping an eye on me.”

            Nick smiled at her and laughed as she walked away.  I picked up the dressing and dumped it all over my salad. 

            “What’s that they say?  A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips,” Nick said over the top of his burger.

            I glared at him as I reached across the table and stole a fry off his plate.  “Who said I was planning on fitting into some stupid dress, anyway?”

            “What?  No big family wedding for us?” he pulled his plate out of my reach, preventing me from taking another fry.

            “No way!  I have absolutely no desire to force my friends and family to suffer through a wedding on my behalf.”  I picked up my fork and dug into my salad.

            “So, you don’t really want to get married?”

            I finished chewing most of the food in my mouth and held my hand in front of my face.  “No, I want to be married. I just don’t want to have a wedding.”

            He lowered his hamburger from his mouth, “Are you serious?”

            I nodded and put another forkful of salad into my mouth.

            “Won’t your family be upset?”

            I swallowed my food and said, “Are you kidding?  My dad would be ecstatic!  He’s got three girls, one of which he already knows is going to be a bridezilla making ridiculous monetary demands for her wedding.  Nothing could make him happier than knowing that I plan to sneak off and elope without spending a dime of his money.”

            Nick shook his head, “I don’t think I’ve ever met a girl who didn’t want a big fancy wedding.”

            “Can’t say that now, can you?” I grinned and stole another fry.

            He grinned back at me and shook his head.

            We had fallen back into our playful banter, and something was buzzing around in my head.  “So, I was wondering something.”

            “I wouldn’t want you to hold anything back, so please ask away.” 

            “Would you say that all your exes could be described like the last one?”

            He tilted his head to the side, “What do you mean?”

            “You know, big tits, small brain.  Have all your exes fallen into that category?” I shrugged and took a sip of tea.

            “No, not all of them,” he answered.  “Wait, did you say tits?”

            “Yes.”

            He broke into a wide grin, “That’s awesome!”

            I rolled my eyes at him.  “When they’re real, they’re breasts.  When you pay a doctor to make them bigger than God intended any woman’s breasts to be, they’re tits.” 

            He laughed and shook his head, “I can’t believe you keep saying tits.”

            Watching him laugh at something I’d said, and not something ridiculous I’d done to embarrass myself, was intoxicating.  Before I could stop myself, I’d joined him in laughter.

            We spent the rest of the meal, chatting and laughing at each other.  The waitress checked on us a few times, but left us to enjoy each other’s company.  When we were both stuffed, he picked up the check and led me out of the restaurant.

5.

“What would you like to do next?” he asked when we’d said our goodbyes and received another round of well wishes from the waitress.

            “I don’t know, but I’m not ready to get back on that bike.”  I made a face at the thought of being on the bike again.  “I like the feeling of having my feet on solid ground.  Plus, that seat is not comfortable.  It made my butt hurt.”

            Nick grinned, gently put a hand on my butt, and leaned close to me.  “Would you like me to massage your butt?”

            I swatted his hand away and squirmed out of his grip.

            “What?” he said with a big grin.  “I’m just trying to be a supportive fake fiancé!”

            I glared at him, “I’m giving you a real no, thank you.”

            He grinned, “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.  Turns out I’m a butt man after all.”  He smacked me on the butt and took off running towards the row of shops.  I followed behind him, struggling to keep up.

            When I reached him at the end of the street, he was smiling and waiting for me. 

            “No fair!  You didn’t give me a warning that we were racing.  You got a head start!” I huffed between big gulps of air.  I ran regularly, but I wasn’t used to sprinting quite so quickly.

            “That was the point.  I had to cheat to win.”