Riptide (9 page)

eleven

Reality has become so intolerable,
she said, so bleak, that all I can paint
now are the colors of my dreams.
—Azar Nafisi,
Reading Lolita in Tehran

By the time Saturday night arrives, I’m stoked about attending my first bonfire.

Mom and Dad decide to enjoy dinner and a night out at the movies. Things have been okay since the episode last week. Whatever it was, Dad’s seemed to get things out of his system, for a while at least. I’m not naive enough to believe things are different. He’s making the effort to be on his best behavior again. I take what I can get, and Mom seems happy they’re getting along for the moment.

After stressing out over which outfit to wear, I end up choosing a light green sundress with an empire waist. I put it on, and then I look in the mirror and play around with my hair. Hold it in different pigtails. Ten minutes later, I have two loose French braids parted down the middle and flowing back into a messy bun. It looks awesome. Messy. Cute. Sexy.

I put on lip gloss and mascara. Then I head for the living room and wait for Ford to pick me up. It’s funny, but I know the only person standing between me and a no-strings-attached night is Ford. The one all my strings are attached to. I can’t risk them getting snipped. He’s not the one for a flirty, fun night. He’s too important for that. But he’s the one picking me up.

He knocks on the door at a minute past eight.

I walk calmly to the door and swing it open with a huge grin.

Ford makes no pretense he isn’t drinking me in with his eyes and ends up focusing on my face. “Dang,
Mamacita
.”

I say, “You ready?”

He looks into the house. “Do I need to check in with your parents or anything?”

I shake my head no. “They’re getting ready to go on a date.”

And hello, right on cue, Dad walks into the room, wearing an immaculate linen suit. He defies the laws of wrinkles.

I say, “Hey Daddy. We were just about to head out.”

Dad strides across toward us. He shakes Ford’s hand and his voice booms, “So you’re taking Grace to a bonfire tonight.”

Ford’s smile seems a little strained as my dad keeps shaking his hand. “Yes sir.”

Dad claps his other hand on top of Ford’s and all motion stops before the handshake ends. “I’m counting on you to take good care of my baby girl.”

Ford stands like a soldier at attention. “Yes sir. You can count on me.”

“That’s the idea. You heard about Mierl’s latest case? I’m telling you, those are some sharp guys. Well, enough office talk. You two have fun.”

Ford says, “Yes sir.”

I tug onto Ford and we walk out to Esmerelda. Man, Dad laid it on thick tonight. Poor Ford all but saluted him.

Who cares? We’re free and I feel super cute in my dress. I half skip to his truck.

“Who are you trying to impress?” Ford asks.

“Nobody in particular. How about guys in general?” I laugh softly. Is the world spinning faster tonight? Everything is dizzyingly beautiful. Tonight is happy. I’m happy.

“You sure you don’t want to go get a sweater or something … so you can cover up?” Ford mutters as he opens the passenger-side door and I walk down our front porch steps.

I ignore the Grampa remark and scoot in. Ford shoves the passenger door closed. He struts to the driver’s seat and starts the engine. U2 is playing on the radio. They’re one of my faves.

“Sweet.” I don’t know if it’s the excitement of my first real beach party or the fact that I feel like Rapunzel freed from her tower, but I’m feeling a bit reckless. I’m sick of trying so hard to color in the lines. To say the right thing. To walk the tightrope across the Niagara Falls that is my home.

And then there’s this tension, always beneath the surface when I’m around Ford. This attraction I have to keep at bay. I try to pretend like tonight is normal and nothing between us will ever change. But somewhere deep down, I worry it will. Relationships are like the ocean; always there, but the conditions never stay the same. Even some of the sweetest surf spots in the world have crappy days.

Ford pulls up into the beach parking lot and leaves Esmerelda running. “Okay, Parker. Here’s the lowdown. The usual crew will be there. Alcohol will be involved. If someone hands you punch, don’t drink it. If you drink anything, make sure it comes out of a can you open.”

I roll my eyes. “Okay, big brother. I’m not the village idiot.”

“Hey, you usually don’t come to this kind of stuff. I want to make sure you’re okay. And, in spite of your
I’m a big girl
attitude, if anyone bothers you, let me know and I’ll take care of him. All right?”

Impatient, I bounce on the seat like a little kid. “Oh, okay. I’ll call you if someone tries to feel me up. Now let’s go.”

I start to push my shoulder into the passenger door.

He grins. “Nope. Tonight, milady, I’ll take care of that!” He hops out, runs around the truck, and opens my door. He tumbles an imaginary top hat off his head and bows.

Once more, I laugh. It feels good. A slight spark ignites, the kind that couldn’t flourish at home. Not enough oxygen. But I remind myself tonight is not the night for sparks to fly. Tamp it down, tamp it down.

The bonfire blazes, little sparks getting caught up in the wind and eventually blowing out in one final glow. One of the local crew strums a guitar, adding a melodic quality to this bohemian shindig.

“Parker? Let’s snag these lawn chairs.”

I turn around and the fire’s reflection shines on his black hair. He’s sitting in a ratty old lawn chair and gesturing to a red-striped one next to him. I join him and stare at the fire, enjoying the general chaos. People all over the place are in various stages of flirting, hooking up, getting drunk, dancing, or breaking up. Another in-my-face reason not to get together with Ford. And then there’s my promise to Mom. Besides, high school relationships don’t last. There’s an endless supply of drama to watch safely from my vantage point. I prop my feet up on the edge of Ford’s chair and inhale everything from the salty ocean air to smoke from the fire to an occasional whiff of beer as folks pass by.

Ford puts his hand on my foot. I tense up, unsure about what to do. That small amount of real estate on my ankle is enough to undo all my resolves.

My mouth’s as dry as cotton balls. “I’m thirsty.”

He starts to get up.

“No worries. I got it.” I escape, scurrying off toward the coolers, leaving him with an empty lawn chair.

I pass Damien. He checks me out in such an obvious way, I’d normally blow him off, but I’m flipping out and he’s been giving me rides, helping me with moves. I know he’s got more depth than Ford would have me believe.

I feel on edge and scrambled.

I stare right back at him and we connect. I take two steps and he finishes off the distance between us in a few quick strides. He’s wearing a Volcom hat and board shorts.

He does the
double head bob I’m cool
move and says, “Come here often?”

I tilt my head and try to look coy. “No. You?”

“Maybe I would if more girls like you came here.” He gives a wide grin, his teeth super white in contrast to his dark skin. His dreads are chill and make him look that much hotter.

“Well, maybe I will.”

“Damn, girl.”

I blush. I didn’t mean to come on to him that strong.

He cocks his head at me. “It’s all good.”

I place my hand on his muscled forearm and croak, “
Yeah
, it is.”

He seems amused, his lips curled in a faint smile. His eyes switch focus for a millisecond somewhere behind me.

I turn around to see Ford, who’s now two steps away from us with a couple of Gatorades.

Oh man. He’s taking this big brother thing way too serious. He’s not in charge of me.

Ford says, “Hey, guys. Grace, you said you were thirsty. I brought you a drink.”

I say, “Hey, Ford. Thanks.” I look back and forth between the guys and watch Ford’s usually calm expression tense up.

Damien peers down at Ford, then reaches out and takes the other drink. He says, “Thanks, Brah.”

Ford’s too stunned to move. “What?”

Damien says, “C’mon girl. Let’s dance.” He takes a sip of the Gatorade and hands it back to Ford. Then he places his hat on me and slowly backs up toward a crowd of
people dancing. He motions for me to follow him, and even though I feel like I might be setting something irreversible into motion, I perversely take a few steps, knowing it would be easier to lose someone who isn’t my lifeblood—losing Ford would undo me in more ways than I could count.

Confused and anxious, I set my drink on a nearby cooler.

Ford’s face has turned panicky. “I promised your folks I’d take care of you.”

Damien laughs. “It’s all good. We’re not running off anywhere secret, Brah. We’re dancing.” Then he points. “Right over there, in plain sight.”

Ford’s eyes turn into slits. I can tell he’s annoyed by the way he works his jaw. He needs to realize he’s not on the clock right now. I wish Dad hadn’t said anything to him—he took that whole “take care of my baby girl” speech way too seriously.

I make an uncomfortable face at him and follow Damien, to the background of Bob Marley and the Wailers. This is out of control. Ford’s gonna be pissed. But this is a bonfire. It’s fun. Flirty. No strings attached. This is my one night to party. Things have been crazy at home—I just want one night with nothing on the line. Is that too much to ask?

Damien’s got the moves. His dancing makes me self-conscious. I’m not even close to his league. He dances toward me, hips swaying to the beat. He closes in on me and all of a sudden what was a couple of feet of space between us is now a couple of inches. The heat between us is palpable as we move in unison.

What was intended to be a quick dance turns into more songs than I can keep track of. Damien’s a freaking awesome dancer. He moves to the beat, kicking in an extra one every now and then with a shake of his chest. It makes me laugh and want to dance until the sun comes up and dissolves the magic that flourishes in the night. Then he spreads his arms out wide, shaking his hips and bobbing his knees at the same time. I shake my way in closer. And the best thing about Damien? He never settles down with anyone. I feel like Cinderella at the ball, but I welcome the safe pumpkin ending, because glass slippers belong in fairy tales.

If it weren’t for the few glances I keep stealing at Ford because of the ridiculous amount of guilt gnawing at me, I’d be having a lot more fun. I feel like such a jerk. But Ford seems okay now. He went from sitting by himself in a lawn chair to picking up a guitar and playing with a couple of guys. Girls are already headed his way.

I can’t stand it. I need to go over and make sure everything’s good between us.

The song fades out, and before Damien’s hands on my hips make me forget my need to check in on things with Ford, I pull away—barely.

“I need to go check on something. Maybe I can catch another dance in a few songs?”

“Catch ya later, babe.” Then he shrugs, like no biggie. His head’s already moving in rhythm with the new song, dreads swaying to a new beat.

I walk over to Ford, winding my way through a few groups of people. He looks so cute, playing guitar. I get a big goofy grin on my face and say, “How’s it going?”

Ford stops strumming for a millisecond and then starts back up again. He says, “Oh, it’s cool. Yeah, things are real cool.”

Feeling somewhat disappointed, although I’m not sure why, I say, “Good. I’m glad you’re having a good time.”

What is up with us, using the words “cool” and “good”? Hello? We have a plethora of options to choose from, thanks to the SAT.

Feeling awkward because Ford doesn’t say a word, I say, “Sweet. Well, I’ll find you later.”

I turn around and head back toward Damien, feeling a little distant and awkward after talking to Ford. More than anything, I feel kind of lonely. Damien’s dreadlocks swaying above the rest of the crowd catch my eye. We connect once again and he nods and waves for me to come back over and dance. It perks me up a little. I strut over to him, realizing that in my absence the Betties have begun flocking. Instead of the two of us dancing, I’ll be one of a group of girls gathered around him. He laughs, and I’m not sure if it’s because of all the girls or because he loves dancing so much.

So much for flirting, so much for feeling special. I retreat and make my way back over to Ford. My stomach sinks. He’s not alone anymore.

Awesome
. Anna, one of the ho-bags of the century, is writing something on his hand and leaning into him all seductive. Then she walks off, in search of someone else to flirt with.