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When I get to the beach, Carter’s car is already parked right in front, and I pull in next to him. He doesn’t notice me at first, because his gaze is fixed on the ocean. It reminds me that one of my favorite things about Harborview is the fact that locals willdrive to the ocean just to stare at it for a few minutes, as if they simply wanted to say hello.
I get out of the car and tap on his window. He turns and a smile lights up his face when he sees me, an expression I’m not sure I’ve seen him make for anyone else. It’s unguarded and honest, no calculation or control to be seen.
Carter gets out of his car and immediately pulls me in for a hug, his fingers pressing into my hips. I nestle my head into his neck and breathe him in as subtly as I can manage. Carter always smells amazing, and something about his woodsy scent always gives me butterflies.
I pull back, but he doesn’t let go, and I’m left staring into his eyes—hazel flecked with green and gold, and as unguarded as his face was a moment ago. They are filled to the brim with joy, and something softer that I can’t quite put my finger on. It’s rare to see him like this, with all his walls down, and I’m not even sure he knows he’s doing it.
But I feel myself start to tumble headfirst into those eyes, and only the tiniest breath of fear follows me as I do.
“Hey,” he says, tucking a loose curl behind my ear.
“Hi.”
He tips my chin upward and studies me for a moment.
“Cataloging?” I ask.
“I don’t want to forget anything. Any single moment. I want them all,” he says, gaze moving over me.
And then he leans in and kisses me, his lips just brushing mine. He starts to pull away, but I reach out and haul him closer, deepening the kiss. Carter’s hands roam my hips and ass as my tongue strokes into his mouth, and he lets out a low, guttural noise.
“You keep that up Angel and I’m worried we won’t make it to the surprise part of the evening,” he says.
“Speak for yourself,” I say, pulling away. “I’m perfectly fine.”
I’m also a liar.
“Sure, sure,” he says. “Totally unaffected, I can tell.” He brushes a thumb along my cheek, which I’m sure is flushed.
We untangle our limbs and then walk hand in hand over to the beach. Carter heads in the direction of the lighthouse, which is perched on the cliffs above Point Beach that jut out into the ocean. We must be going on a scenic sunset walk, and I bet Carter has a blanket and snacks in the backpack he’s carrying.
We walk along the rocky beach in silence for a few moments, absorbing the natural beauty around us. I haven’t been to Point Beach much since moving back, and I forgot how stunning it is. High cliffs crowned with pine forests rise above a beach dotted with rocks, and the ocean laps gently at the shore. It’s a much more wild beauty than that of the sandier beaches like Inlet and Huddle’s Cove. It’s peaceful here, too, so quiet that I almost feel like we’re back on Isle North together.
Carter must be thinking the same exact thing, because he tells me, “I’m grateful we got stranded on Isle North.”
“I never thought I’d say this after being so desperate to escape that island while we were on it, but…I’m grateful too, Carter. I’m grateful for all of this. I know I haven’t been the best at telling you things like that,” I admit.
Carter stops and pulls me towards him. “You don’t have to tell me a damn thing, Angel. Not before you’re ready to. Being here with you is all that matters to me.”
We walk the rest of the way down the beach until we reach the end, where the cliffs curve out into the sea. Point Lighthouse is small and squat, but somehow still charming with its chipped red and white paint and its bell shaped cupola.
I walk over to get a better look up at it, tracing the lines with my eyes and promising myself that it will be the first thing I paint.
When I turn around, I see that Carter has laid a picnic blanket down on a sandy part of the beach. And on top of it, he’s set up a small folding easel, a pad of paper, and a vibrant set of oil pastels.
“Carter,” I say, and he looks up from where he’s fiddling with the easel.
“Is it alright? I know you wanted to get back into painting but that seemed complicated for the beach so I thought pastels might be better.” He looks truly concerned, like he actually thinks I might not enjoy this.
“It’s perfect,” I say.
And I mean it. Because this took a lot of planning on Carter’s part. And what’s more, it shows how much he genuinely cares about me. Not just as a one-week fling, not just as a high school crush. He really, truly cares about me.
“What are you going to do?” I ask, because I can already feel my hands itching to try out the pastels. I don’t know if what I’ll do today will be any good, but I don’t even care.
Carter reaches into his bag again and this time comes up with binoculars.
“I’m going to hike up into the cliffs and do some bird watching before the sun sets completely. I might get lucky and see some of the ospreys that nest around here.”
