If I Can't Have You (13 page)

“No.” A smug grin curls on his full pink lips and I know he knows I’m lying.

“So it’s true then?” he asks as his breathing returns to normal.

“So what’s true then?”

“You are avoiding me.”

“Not technically,” I say as I focus on the sky and marvel at how the colors have faded to a dull purple and deep navy blue. “You’re the one who keeps interrupting my private moments.”

“In case you didn’t know this,” Elliot says, “This is a public beach.”

I narrow my eyes and shake my head at his sarcastic comment. “I know.” I stare up at the stars. “But I can still have a private moment on a public beach.”

“Well, excuse me,” he guffaws. “I’ll let you get back to that then.”

Elliot turns to walk away and I grab him by the elbow. “Wait.” He freezes mid-turn and crooks me a demure smile. “Now that you’ve crashed the party you might as well stay for it.” I release my grip on his elbow and Elliot falls back in line with my steps.

For about ten minutes neither one of us says anything. We both silently admire the stars burning, miles and miles away from us illuminating the heavens until Elliot cuts into the quiet and says, “So what’s your story?”

“My story?”

“Yeah.” He lets out a deep, throaty chuckle. “Tell me about yourself.”

“I thought you knew all about me?” I question. “You know, “the kid” Drake saved from drowning once.”

“Okay, so I know a little bit. I know you tend to walk into doors and people and I know my brother saved your life once. But that’s not enough. I want to know more.”

“What do you want to know exactly?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs and I swear I see a twinkle in his pale blue eyes. “What are you majoring in in college?”

“I’m pre-law, you?”

“A lawyer, eh? You don’t strike me as the type.”

“What? You have to be a specific type to be a lawyer?”

“No.” He laughs. “You just don’t seem argumentative.”

“I can be when I want to be.” I punch his arm playfully. “You never answered my question.”

“Ah, yes.” He massages his chin with his forefinger and thumb, pretending to be scholarly. “I’m a biology major?”

I fight the smile that’s working its way over my lips. “Really? You don’t strike me as the type.”

We share a laugh and Elliot says, “Very funny.” Elliot breaks away from my gaze and stares out into the ocean. “You ever do anything spontaneous?”

I’ve done spontaneous a few times. And one of my spontaneous moments was with his brother.

I quirk an eyebrow. “Spontaneous as in—?”

“Spontaneous as in swimming in the ocean in the dark.”

I follow Elliot’s gaze out to the water. “Don’t you think that’s a little dangerous?” I point to a sign over my shoulder. “That sign says no swimming after sunset.”

Elliot runs the tip of his tongue over his teeth, smiling devilishly. “We both know how good you are at reading the signs on the beach.”

“Hey!” I snap.

Elliot shrugs. “Why don’t you try living on the edge a little bit, Robin? I promise you, you’ll like it there.”

I open my mouth to protest again, but in one swift motion, Elliot scoops me up, throws me over his shoulder, and makes a mad dash for the water. I loop my arm through his armpit, clinging on as tightly as I can. My head bobs up and down every time Elliot’s right foot then left foot plows into the sand and for a moment I think I’m going to be sick. I can feel my dinner inching its way up my esophagus, but before I can hurl, Elliot picks me up off his shoulder and chucks me into the water.

I’m sailing through the air and everything seems to be moving in slow motion. My limbs flail. My shrill, high-pitched scream pierces the quiet night air. Finally a loud slap rings out as my bare back smacks against the surface of the water.
 
The impact knocks the wind out of my lungs and sends a series of small pin-prick-like tingles through my skin. By the time I stand and wipe the water of my eyes my whole back is on fire, I’m soaked and I’m seething.

The fact that Elliot is a foot in front of me, grunting and puckering his lips, trying to do everything he can to contain his laughter pisses me off even more. I lurch toward him, my heart beating with a vengeance and sneer, “You think this is funny?”

“Funny,” he blurts out, finally letting the laughter he’s been holding in for the last three minutes. “It’s freaking hilarious!” Elliot chokes on a chuckle. “You should have seen your face.” Elliot mimics the way he thought I looked in mid-air, puffing out his cheeks and flapping his arms. “I thought you were going to crap yourself.”

I feel a smile pulling on my lips and I fight it off, frowning. But as hard as I try to keep a straight face, I just can’t and as laughter explodes from my lips, I trudge through the luke warm water and lunge for Elliot’s waist, circling my arms around it and yanking him down into the water with me.

I push his head under, still laughing and back away waiting for him to come up for air. A few seconds pass and Elliot doesn’t come up. I spin around in my spot, eyes on the water, trying to find air bubbles in the dark. Then a minute passes and I start panicking. “Elliot!” I go under and open my eyes and they sting from the salt and I can’t see anything but blackness surrounding me.

Breaking the surface I call his name again. “Elliot!” The panic inside me has escalated into full blown fear and I can feel it working its way through my veins. “Elliot!”

My heart is pounding. Constricting. Racing. I need to get help. What if something happened when I pushed him under? What if I was too forceful and I slammed my hand into the side of his head too hard?

I start for the shore, panting, and a warm puddle of tears flood my eyes. And just as I’m about to step foot on the wet sand Elliot breaks the surface like a dolphin out of water and growls playfully. He slaps his fists against his chest like Tarzan and I turn slowly, facing him.

Elliot howls with laughter and if he thought I was mad before he hasn’t seen anything yet. “You asshole!” I walk back toward him and point my finger. “You had me scared half to death! I thought you drowned or something!”

“Easy,” Elliot says finally able to control his laughing. “Look at me.” He places his hands flat on his abs. “I’m fine.”

I shake my head, growl, and scoop up an armful of water, splashing him in the face. “That wasn’t funny.” Then I pivot on heel and walk back toward the sand.

“Come on!” Elliot calls after me. “I thought we were having fun!”

Obviously Elliot and I have different ideas on how to have fun. “We were!” Then you had to go and ruin it.

I’m out of the water and making my way back toward my house. Elliot’s legs kick up water and a loud splashing sound throbs in my ears. I want him to leave me alone—no—I hope he leaves me alone because realistically, I know Elliot leaving me alone for the rest of this vacation is a delusional fantasy.

“Robin! Wait up!” I listen to the thud of Elliot’s footsteps against the sand and he sprints toward me.

“No.”

“Seriously. Would you cool it?” Elliot appears next to me. “I was just trying to have a little fun. It was only a joke.”

“It was a sick joke.” The fear and hysteria he brought on in me still feels too fresh, too recent.

“I’m sorry,” he tells me. “Is that what you want me to say? Because I mean it, I’m sorry.”

I don’t want to hear his apology right now. There’s still some anger surging through me, pumping blood into my heart and the only thing I can think about is crashing for the night. I exhale. “It’s fine, Elliot.” I hope that maybe he can sense the exhaustion in my voice and will give it a rest for now.

“Are you sure?” There’s an apprehensive tone to his voice. “Really, Robin. I thought you’d know I was joking.”

What person in their right mind would think that was a joke? Yes, we were having fun, playing around in the water, but when a person goes under and doesn’t come up for minutes that automatically goes from horsing around to a serious situation. A life or death situation. I’d been there once myself, so maybe that’s why I’m not taking his so-called joke lightly. “Look, Elliot,” I say. “I’m tired. I’m just going to turn in for the night.”

I expect to hear his footsteps behind me, but he’s stopped following me and I’m glad. I’m too angry and too tired to deal with this trifecta of a triangle between the Robertson brothers that I’ve gotten myself into.

“Are we still on for tomorrow?” I hear Elliot shout.

“What’s tomorrow?”

“You know?” he calls. “Sailing?”

“Maybe,” I shout back, distancing myself further from him.

The fact that Elliot isn’t following me anymore fills me up with more happiness than I’ve had on this entire vacation. There’s one thing that I know for sure; Elliot without a doubt irks me. He gets under my skin like an annoying rash that hasn’t oozed, bubbled or broke through the top layer of my epidermis and I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing…

Yet.

****

Just when I thought I’d had about all I can take my night takes a turn for the worst.

Drake sits on the wooden steps to my cottage and he stands up, his back as stiff as a board when he sees me approaching. “Kid, I—.”

I wave my hand and cut him off. “Don’t waste your breath. I don’t want to hear it.”

Drake blocks my front door and as I try to move around him, he moves with me. “Just let me explain.”

I stop in front of him and cross my arms. “What is there to explain, Drake? I thought you liked me. I was wrong. You led me on and then I caught you screwing around with one of my old friends. Believe me, I get it. I don’t need an explanation. Now can you please move? I’m tired.”

Drake scans me from head to toe and huffs, “What crawled up your ass and died?”

I roll my eyes. What I really want to say is you, you and your brother, who makes me feel something and who knows what that something is. But instead I say, “Nothing. Like I said before, I’m tired.”

Drake shakes his head and steps aside, extending his arm like a lowly peasant bowing before a queen. I brush passed him and stomp up the steps. All I can think about is my pillow and how in few minutes I’ll be closer to dreaming than living in this fucked up reality. I hope I have good dreams because I don’t think I can take any more bad today.

“Kid?” Drake calls and I glance at him over my shoulder as I open the door. “I never meant to hurt you to know. I just—.”

I cut him off. “I know. I know. You just don’t want to be in a relationship now, right?”

“Yeah.” Drake nervously runs a hand through his gold locks. “After Sydney, I told myself I was going to swear off of relationships for a while. I’m not with Sadie. We’re just having a little fun and I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression.” He turns, shoves his hands in his pockets, kicks up sand with his bare feet as he walks away.

“Drake!” I call after him.

He stops mid-step and turns around facing me. “What’s up?”

“Can I ask you a question?” I don’t know if I love torturing myself or what is really wrong with me, but for reason I need to know if he ever liked me at all. No matter how bad it hurts and no matter how much I might regret asking him this question I know I have to.

“Sure.” He takes a few small steps closer.

“Did you ever like me like that?”

He raises an eyebrow. “You mean like, like?”

“Yes.”

He hesitates for a moment and I feel like every passing second is a decade. He’s staring into my eyes and then suddenly he breaks away from my gaze, staring out into the dark abandoned beach. He fidgets nervously for another second and replies, “No. I’ve never liked you like that.”

I stop breathing and I try to conceal the pained look that I’m certain is on my face.

Inside every part of me is shattering into a million pieces and I do my best to keep my composure. “Oh,” my vocal chords quiver. “I see.” I swallow a wad of saliva that’s built up in my throat and hurt, loathing, and anger are filling me up. I’m about to snap and sob so I tell him, “Have a good night.”

Then I run up the steps and slam my front door, crouching down behind it, hoping that before I made it into the safe-haven of the beach cottage that I didn’t give Drake the opportunity to see me cry.

~19~

Sometimes the truth hurts, but it’s always necessary and always something you need to hear.

Mom loves the phrase;
the truth shall set you free
.

She says honesty is better than going through life lying to everyone. After last night, I find myself wishing more than anything that Drake would have lied to me. I find myself wishing that he would have told me anything but the truth.

His words haunt me, plague me, and fuck with my emotions.
No. I’ve never liked you that way
. I know he doesn’t deserve any of my time. I know I shouldn’t spend any more time thinking about him, but I can’t help it. Even though he looked like he didn’t want to say those words to me, he did and I’ve replayed them over and over again in my head thinking that somehow I might be able to forget about them if I think about them too much, but I can’t. I can’t and the words are piercing through my skull, stabbing at my brain and they’re killing me.