Page 46 of Crashing Tides

I’m getting all choked up, so I force myself to stop before I start crying again. And fine, Duncan’s seen me basically naked, half-drowned, terrified out of my mind, possibly the most vulnerable I’ve ever been except for when Jeremy cheated on me and then my mom fucking died.

His hand lands on my knee. I stare down at it, taking in the neatly trimmed nails, the popping tendons, the green veins, the tapered fingers. “It’s traumatic as fuck, right?”

“Right,” I groan, tipping my head back. His hand is too warm. I don’t want him to move it, but he does. We’re in public. We barely know each other. There’s no reason to leave it there. “God, fuck, I was so afraid it was going to be tentacles.”

He blinks at me. “Tentacles?”

“I don’t know.” I bury my face in my hands. My head throbs. “I knew there was a reason my mom told me not to go into the ocean. It was like, her whole personality. And then I got here and I thought maybe she was in a cult or something, and I-I was just really worried about tentacles.”

His answering laugh is warm, almost fond, and it takes some of the ache out of my shoulders.

“I don’t want to be a tentacle monster,” I groan.

“I have good news for you,” he says, and there’s something genuine in his voice that makes my chest hurt. “You’re not.”

“Thank fuck,” I moan. Now that my nausea is starting to fade, my brain is working again. And I have questions. I force myself to look him in the eye. “But seriously. Why did you jump?”

He studies my expression, then drops his gaze. “I told you. I didn’t want you to drown.”

I drag my fingers down my face and sigh. “The smartest person I know just said she would’ve called 911.”

Duncan hums in thought. “Sounds like there’s a reason she’s the smartest person you know.”

Do I detect a note of bitterness? Have I somehow offended him? “I mean, I’m really grateful. I just… I don’t understand.”

When he answers, he sounds like he’s about to break in half. “I didn’t want you to die.”

“Yeah,” I say. “But I barely missed the rocks. Why risk it? Are wo—” I only just catch myself. “Are you a really good swimmer?”

He folds his arms. I watch his Adam’s apple bob. “Yeah. I’m a good swimmer. Maybe not as good as you,” he adds, sounding thoughtful rather than resentful.

When I answer, I’m resentful. “I don’t know about that,” I grumble. I want to keep arguing. I want to protest. You could’ve died, rings in my head. I don’t want you to die.

Instead of examining that thought, I settle for another question. “How come you keep passing me notes?”

Even in the dim light, I can see the color burst into his cheeks. “Um,” he says, like he’s panicking. Like he really doesn’t want to answer this. “You said you were new to this.” He gestures around us.

“Yeah.” I cross my arms. “But I’m not stupid.”

He’s quick to protest. “I never said you were!” Now it’s his turn to look away. “But you panic when you don’t know the answers.”

My nausea returns. I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted. Finally, I say, “Thanks, I guess?”

Duncan looks like he wants to climb out of his skin. Like he’s wildly uncomfortable all the sudden. “I’ll stop,” he says, more to himself than to me. “I can do that.”

Why is he always so weird? I should’ve barfed on him. Then he’d never come near me again.

But I don’t want that, either.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate it⁠—”

“I just said I could stop⁠—”

“But why are you doing this in the first place?” I cry, exasperated. “You don’t even know me.”

He shrugs. “Why is it so hard to believe I want to help?”

It’s difficult to put into words. Maybe it’s because we aren’t friends. He hasn’t exactly tried to be my friend—at least, not in any normal capacity. Maybe it’s because he’s so weird around me. “We aren’t friends,” I finally admit.