Beachwood Bay 04 - Untamed Hearts

dog’s name?” Brit asks.
    “Hans Solo.” I reply without thinking.
    She giggles. “You’re a Star Wars geek, huh?”
    I can feel my cheeks flush. “Yup.”
    But she doesn’t say anything cutting, just falls silent again. Comfortable.
    I walk beside her, just enjoying the feel of her slim hand in mine. Even though we’re both telling lies here, it feels somehow like we’re being more truthful than ever. Maybe you can tell more about someone from their daydreams than anything real in their life. Already, I know that Brit wishes she had a normal family, that she dreams of going to design school, that she wants a father who’s home after work every night. I don’t know the details of her real life, but knowing this imaginary one seems even more intimate: a secret she’s only sharing with me.
    Maybe the confession is too much for her, because Brit suddenly speaks up, her voice bright and loud. “But enough about everyone else,” she announces. “Tell me about you. Favorite ice cream flavor.”
    “You know that.” I shoot her a sideways look. “I order it every time.”
    “Chocolate fudge,” Brit laughs.
    “And you like those milkshakes, with mint chocolate chip.” I reply.
    Brit stops. “How do you know that?” she demands, surprise clear in her voice.
    Busted. I give her a bashful grin. “I see things.”
    “Like what?” Brit asks.
    My heartbeat pounds. “Little things.” I shrug, trying to make it seem casual, and not like I haven’t taken my eyes off her all summer. “Like, you always wear so much black, but your favorite color is purple,” I admit slowly. “And you never keep your hair the same way for more than a week.”
    “Oh.” Brit looks embarrassed.
    Now I’ve made her feel uncomfortable. Why the hell did you have to say that? “I’m not stalking you, I promise,” I add quickly. “I just notice you. I can’t not.”
    Brit doesn’t look at me, her expression impossible to read. I wish for a moment she was like the other girls I’ve know: their thoughts written clear as day across their faces, everything obvious, and right there to see. But that’s what makes Brit so special. Nobody else is such a mystery to me. Nobody can surprise me, the way she does.
    “This way!” Brit suddenly cries, loud. She drops my hand and hurries ahead, scrambling up a series of rocks and over the top of a small cliff. She doesn’t look back, so I start after her, feeling my way across the rough granite. It’s hard to find footholds, but Brit bounds ahead like it’s nothing. She must have been here before, a hundred times, to know the route so well.
    Has she brought other guys? A whisper of doubt sounds. Is this her usual spot, a hideaway she comes to all the time?
    No.
    I don’t believe the rumors, not for a second, and besides, I somehow know for sure that Brit is taking me someplace special, a place that means something to her. Tonight, we’re both letting our guard down, showing a side nobody else gets to see, and I feel privileged just to be scrambling through the moonlight with her, embarking on an adventure I know I’ll never forget.
    I’d follow her anywhere.
    I clear the ridge and see we’re in a private cove, sheltered from the rest of the bay. The shadow of an old lighthouse looms up ahead of me, and to my right, Brit is standing motionless on the silvery wet sand. The ocean waves roll in, soothing, and it’s like we’re in a world of our own, a million miles from anyone else.
    I approach slowly behind her. “What is this place?”
    “It’s my place.” Brit replies, sounding self-conscious. “Nobody knows about it, but I like it here. Everything’s so peaceful.”
    She sits on a large rock, hugging her knees to her chest. I wait a moment, unsure, and then go to sit beside her. I watch the lights of town shine out across the bay, and I understand. This is her escape, her own secret refuge. Like me and the ranch, this is where she goes to feel alone. Alive.
    “Just you and the ocean.” I say it quietly, and I see the relief slip across her face. She nods, reaching down to take a handful of sand. She lets it fall slowly through her fingertips, her breathing getting slower, more relaxed.
    “So, Bob,” Brit says, with a note of amusement in her voice. “What is it you want?”
    I jolt with surprise. Is she talking about now, tonight? Way to be obvious. “What do you mean?” I ask carefully.
    Brit gives a little shrug. “Now, tonight, in life? What do you