Breaking the Rules: The Honeybees, book 1 (10 page)

I remembered the invitation to our high school reunion, which was on my fridge, still unanswered. Could I face my high school classmates even though I wasn’t where I thought I’d be in life?
 

“It’s never really settled, though,” Olivia said thoughtfully. “You know? It’s like, the moment you think things are how they’re going to be for a long time, everything gets shaken up anyway. Someone dies, or you lose your job, or something happens to cause this big shift in your life.”

“True,” I said, “but I don’t like to think about that. It’s scary.”

Olivia laughed. “Of course it’s scary. But doesn’t the unpredictability make you appreciate what you have? Isn’t life more fun because unexpected things happen that cause you to change everything, even if those changes are hard at first?”

I thought about Devin then, in the way on our first doggy play date I had realized that Matt was boring. That Devin had interests and hobbies and was still growing. He seemed so unpredictable when I had first met him, so spontaneous, and I had interpreted it as instability. But what if that’s not what it was? What if spontaneous could just be…fun?

I stood very still for a moment, asking myself Olivia’s question one more time in a slightly new way. When I thought about Devin, how did it make my body feel?

The answer came to me right away. There was no confusion. Thinking about Devin made me feel excited, like something was bubbling up within my chest, this aliveness that I hadn’t felt in way too long. Thinking about him made my body feel happy and light, full of possibility.

And it also made me feel turned on. There was no denying that. I could feel my nipples stiffen under my shirt just imagining the way his hair bounced out of control as he ran. I’d never met anyone who could be so simultaneously goofy and sexy. And the way he looked at me, he made me feel like I could be those things too. And like maybe, just maybe, my life had room for all of it: for spontaneity, for fun, for goals, for stability, for new experiences, and even for my rules for getting my life back on track. After all, Devin ran marathons. Devin attended training twice a week.

As I thought, I had been idly browsing through the rack in front of me. Now, my eyes landed on a polka-dotted shirt. Normally I wore solid colors and would never have considered something this bright – the shirt was aqua and the polkadots pink. It wasn’t my colors at all.

Yet something about the shirt caught my eye. Maybe it was just thinking about spontaneity and considering how other people live, how I could possibly live too. But I pulled it off the rack and held it out in front of me, examining it.

“That’s cute!” Olivia said. “Are you going to try it on?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I am.”

Matt would hate the shirt. I had a feeling Devin would like it.

When we left the shop together a few minutes later, Olivia had bought the navy blue pea coat. And I, with a smile on my face, was carrying a bag containing the pink and blue polka-dotted shirt. 

Devin called on Saturday afternoon.

“You missed training again today,” he said. “Is everything okay? Is your knee still bothering you?”

“A little bit,” I admitted. “I’ll be back on Tuesday, I just didn’t want to push it too hard.” I was embarrassed to have injured myself and was anxious to start training again. I had to admit, I was anxious to see Devin again too. And Taco.

“Well, we missed you today,” Devin said. I smiled to myself. “What are you up to this afternoon? Maybe you and Paco and I could get together so you can take him for a while. I’m sure you miss him.”

I glanced at my to-do list, which was sitting in front of me on the kitchen counter. “Um…” I hesitated. “Yeah, I think I can do that. What did you have in mind?” I felt flustered at needing to rearrange my day, but it was worth it to see Devin. And Taco.
 

“Nothing in particular,” Devin said. “Let’s get together and then figure it out.” I smiled. Of course Devin would take the spontaneous route. And of course I was the one who wanted to plan my whole day.

“Can you give me a couple of hours to run some errands first?” I asked.

“Of course,” Devin said cheerily.

We agreed to meet at the park outside the running store where we began our training runs, and I hung up with a giddy excitement that I immediately scolded myself for.
This is just for Taco
, I told myself.
This is all about Taco
.
 

Nonetheless, I had an extra little spring in my step as I gathered my things to head out the door for my errands. The blue sky seemed extra blue as I headed out into the cool but sunny San Francisco day, looking forward to meeting up with Devin and Taco that afternoon.

By the time I met them in the park, a few minutes early, the sun was shining even more brightly, and the coolness of the day had burned off into an endless warmth that made me want to lay in the grass beneath the trees for hours, reading. I sat down on the grass, ignoring the picnic table nearby, and stretched out my legs, glad I’d worn a dress. The grass felt cool against my skin.

A minute later, I saw Devin and Taco trotting toward me and couldn’t help the smile spreading across my face as I noticed Devin’s hair and Taco’s ears bouncing as they jogged. Devin smiled in greeting as Taco jumped up onto me in excitement, smudging my dress with lightly dirty paws. I had to admit, I was thrilled to see that dirty mutt, and I hugged and patted him, deciding to worry about my dress later.
 

Devin, apparently, had aspirations not too far off my own. “What do you think about the beach?” he asked.

I hesitated a moment. I’d assumed we’d stay in or near the park. I didn’t have a swimsuit with me, or a towel. I hadn’t even shaved my legs, though my blond fuzz was light and fine enough that it was hardly noticeable. And I had only lost two of the fifteen pounds I was trying for. But instead of running with my excuses, I instead stared up into his open face and said, “Sure.”

I followed Devin back to his car, Taco zigging and zagging around us. We climbed in and I stared at the muscles in Devin’s arms as he shifted gears in his old but well cared-for stick-shift.
 

“Have you eaten?” he asked, glancing over at me.
 

“Not since breakfast.” I wasn’t particularly hungry, though—being around Devin made me a little too nervous to want to eat. But I kept that part to myself.

He nodded and didn’t say anything, but a moment later he pulled up at a street parking spot outside a small boutique grocery store, and I followed him inside. “Why don’t you choose a bottle of wine while I grab some food?” he said.

Aha
, my brain warned.
Day drinking? He’s a party boy. Don’t fall for him.
But a glass of wine in this beautiful weather—and on the beach, no less—sounded pretty fantastic right now, so I searched the fridge case for a bottle of chilled white that would pair well with sand and salt spray.

By the time I’d picked out the wine, Devin was already waiting for me at the register, his part of the groceries already bagged, only a baguette peeking out the top of the paper. He held out a hand for the bottle of wine, and I protested. “Let me get this.”

“No,” he said. “I invited you.”
 

I handed over the wine.
 

Back in the car, he handed me the bag. “Guard this with your life,” he said.
 

I snuck a suspicious look back at Taco in the backseat, who was sniffing hard in the direction of the baguette. “Not a chance,” I told him, and, seeming to understand, he collapsed back down onto the seat with a resigned sigh. It amazed me how human he seemed at times.
 

We started to pull away from the curb when I said, “Wait, what about cups?”

“Cups?” He looked confused. “Oh—for the wine! Of course!” Devin shook his head, smiling at me. “I would’ve had us drinking straight from the bottle.”

I shrugged and smiled back. “I plan ahead almost to a fault.”
 

Devin hopped out of the car, and I expected him to go back into the grocery store, but instead he jogged a couple of doors down to a little gift shop. Thirty seconds later he re-emerged with two hand-thrown glazed mugs in his hand. I laughed as he got back into the driver’s seat.
 

“They didn’t have wineglasses,” he said.
 

“Good thing,” I told him, “because I don’t think we’re supposed to have glass at the beach.” I stopped myself before adding, “Probably not ceramic either.”

“Oh!” he said again. “Right! Well, see, everything works out.” He handed me the mugs, and I found a place for them in the grocery bag, trying to see what all was there. All I could identify was some olives.
 

“They’re beautiful,” I said, which was true. The mugs were glazed in black with drips of red and gold running down from the rim. Who was this man, who would buy mugs on a whim for us to drink wine from? It was so unlike the measured approach to life that I took, but I loved it. His spontaneity was fun and exciting, and I found myself thrilled to be spending the afternoon with him.
 

A few minutes later he pulled up at Baker Beach, which was, unsurprisingly, crowded on the cloudless Sunday afternoon. Baker was an off-leash beach right in the city, so it was popular among dog owners, and Taco quickly found another dog to play with, a tan Rhodesian ridgeback mix.
 

While I made sure Taco didn’t get into too much trouble, Devin pulled a blanket out of his trunk and we walked down to an unclaimed area of the beach near some rocks. I set the bag of groceries down and lay on the blanket, my feet hanging off. I dug my heels into the sand and closed my eyes for a moment.
 

Cool sand hit my ankles and my eyes flew open. “What are you doing?!” I laughed as Devin continued to pile sand on me.
 

“Burying your feet,” he said matter-of-factly, as though it were obvious—which, really, it kind of was.
 

“You watch it,” I said, and grabbed a handful of sand and playfully tossed it at his waist, careful not to get it on the blanket.
 

“Now you’re in for it,” he said, and went around to the hand that had thrown sand at him, where I was gathering up a second handful. Devin bent over and, before I knew what was happening, started throwing sand on my hand.
 

I couldn’t help laughing. “And now what do you think you’re doing?” I asked.
 

“If I bury your hand, you won’t be able to throw any more sand on me.”

“Oh, right,” I laughed, “you’re completely immobilizing me.”

“I am,” he said. “Just try to get your hand out of there. Just try.”

I turned to stare at my loosely sand-covered hand and wiggled my fingers, then pretended to try to lift the hand. “Oh no—I can’t do it! I’m stuck!” I joked.

“You see?” he said. “That’s what you get. Let that be a lesson to you.”

Then Taco ran up to us. Devin sat down beside me on the blanket and coaxed Taco to sit between us. With a heaving sigh, the dog plopped down on the blanket, and I turned over onto my stomach, freeing my hand from its sand prison. Devin and I lazily stroked Taco’s fur, and I thought about how close his fingers were to mine, how easy it would be to reach over and touch his hand.
 

A few minutes later, Devin reached into the bag we’d brought. “Ready for some wine?”

“Sure,” I said, propping myself up on my elbows and watching him unscrew the lid and pour some into the two mugs. “Good thing you got screwtop,” he said, and I laughed and shook my head.
 

“I told you, I think ahead,” I said. “You’re telling me we’d be screwed right now if this bottle had a cork?”

“Um…” he looked up, thinking. “Yes.” He handed me the cup. “I don’t usually drink. Kind of messed with the running. It’s not like I keep a corkscrew in the car.”

“I don’t drink a lot either,” I said, and peered at him, wondering if the party boy image I’d conjured earlier had been wrong. “But on a day like this? At the beach?”

He cocked his head to the side and opened his arms up to me as though to say, “What can I do? It’s out of my control,” and I nodded. “Solid point.”
 

“Exactly,” he said, and held up his glass. “To nice weather.” I clinked mine against his.
 

We each took a sip. “And to the marathon!” I said.
 

He held up his glass again. “Doesn’t count unless we clink them.” I tapped his mug with mine obligingly, and we took another sip.
 

“And to getting to spend time with my dog again!” He raised his glass a third time, and a wave of guilt hit me as I met his. He just seemed happy, though, his grin electric. I was so glad that he was grinning at me again, even more so now that we’d agreed to share Taco.
 

“And to my dog too,” I couldn’t resist adding, “who helped me through the roughest night of my life.” We clinked a fourth time.
 

“Want to talk about it?” he asked, and I paused to consider.

“No,” I said, and I meant it. Matt was in the past, and I much preferred being right here, right now, with Devin.
 

We sipped in silence for a few minutes, and then Devin jumped up, Taco excitedly following.
 

“Come on, let’s get in!” he said.
 

I glanced down at his jeans. “Do you have a swimsuit?” I asked in surprise.
 

“Nah,” he said, and leaned over to roll up his pant legs while Taco jumped around him in excitement, then ran a few yards away, looking back at us as though trying to get us to follow him. “You’re in a dress, you’re fine,” he said, and flashed me that irresistible smile again.

“Okay,” I said, smiling and then looking down in embarrassment at the way his grin melted me.
 

 
I finished the rest of the wine in my mug and then pushed it down into the sand and followed Devin to the surf, glancing back every few moments to make sure no one was messing with our stuff. Taco led the way, galloping straight toward the waves.