Page 56 of Crashing Tides

I try not to be offended. This is scientific, I remind myself. I’m gathering data. If I’m going to hang out with him (and I kind of have to, he’s the only other shifter I know), then I should know what he can and can’t sense. “OK, but I don’t like, smell like shit or B.O. or anything, right?”

“Um, no?” His nose wrinkles. “Why would you think that?”

“No reason,” I say. “Actually, I do still have a headache.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Still?”

I point at him, accusatory. “You still have stitches in your neck.”

“Oh.” His hand flies to the bandage at his throat. “You mean… Right. That makes sense.” He squints against the waning sunlight. “You got yours out.”

I gesture to my temple, where a red scar disappears into my hairline. “They fell out.”

Sand squishes beneath our feet. A few people cast odd glances at me, probably confused by my rain boots. In his sneakers, Duncan is no more prepared. But it’s way too cold to walk around in swim trunks and flip-flops like some of our fellow beachgoers.

“Thanks for keeping me company,” I say. “And for driving.”

We’re nowhere near the water yet, but I slow my pace, suddenly nervous.

“No problem,” he says, but he sounds strangely hesitant. When I turn to look at him, worried I’ve done something wrong, he blurts, “Why did you ask me?” At my startled expression, he clarifies, “Instead of Jane.”

“Oh,” I say, and let out a little laugh. “I think I’ve stressed her out enough this week.” I don’t want to admit that I feel pulled to him, that I just can’t stay away. Because that sounds crazy, and after talking to Jeremy, I never, ever want to give someone the chance to call me crazy again.

“Isn’t she your girlfriend, though?”

I blink. “No. We’re just friends.”

His brows raise. “You’re together all the time.”

I glance around. I’m pretty sure I know what he’s angling for. We’re in public, and Duncan is relatively nonthreatening. I decide it’s fine to just say it out loud. “Yeah, but I usually date men.”

He does a good job keeping it together, but his eyes widen a fraction. “I didn’t know that.”

I kick sand at him in a way that I hope comes across as playful and not aggressive. “Probably because I didn’t tell you.”

This information must have broken him, because he’s silent a long moment. Long enough that I’m starting to worry that maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. (Look, he would’ve figured it out eventually if we kept hanging out. Better to learn sooner rather than later if he’s a bigot.) “So what’s your boyfriend like?” he asks eventually.

I snort. There’s a painful spike in my heart. I ignore it. “I don’t have one right now.”

“Any contenders?”

I want to tell him he’s being really, really obvious, but I don’t want to assume his motives. I get the impression he’s not totally straight, but I’ve been wrong before, and he’s obnoxiously unassuming. Maybe he just wants to set me up with a friend. “Nope. You?”

From the way his eyebrows bounce, I know that he had a split second where he thought I was suggesting he was a contender. If the burning in his cheeks is anything to go by, he realizes quickly enough what I mean. “I am definitely single right now.”

The last time we trudged through the sand together, we were nearly naked, and he leaned heavily against me. Now, he’s keeping a respectful distance, and I’m almost disappointed.

It’s just because I’m cold, I tell myself. Not because I want him attached to my side like a barnacle.

With every step, I sink deeper into the sand. Water pools in my footprints. The tide creeps nearer. I inch closer to Duncan. If he’s bothered by this, he gives no indication; he’s stalwart as a ship’s mast, or maybe just oblivious.

For some reason, that’s kind of hot. It probably shouldn’t be.

We reach the edge of the sea. Foam sloshes over my rain boots. I shudder, brace myself. “You won’t let me wash away, right?”

Duncan closes the gap between us. Our shoulders brush, and I definitely don’t shiver at the sensation. “Of course not.”

I don’t waste any time examining why this makes me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside, and I step into the sea.