Page 65 of Crashing Tides

“Ugh.” I imagine Aleo advertising homemade hooch as part of the deal and wince. This is absolutely the kind of thing he would do.

By the time we park, the sun is just starting to set. Exhaustion has settled into my bones, but I force myself to stay awake, to step from the heated seat into the whipping wind.

“So what are we doing?” asks Duncan, leaning against the car, watching me expectantly. The light hits him just right, highlighting his high cheekbones, his soft mouth, the line of his jaw, the swoop of his bangs as they ruffle in the breeze. “Just observing, or…?”

“I wanted to walk,” I manage. I’m about to make things weird. I’m probably going to regret this.

But I have to ask. If I don’t, and nothing ever happens, it will haunt me for the rest of my life. Last night, I worried about rebounding, but I can’t let Jeremy control me anymore.

Besides, Duncan doesn’t feel like a rebound. I can’t really articulate why, but he feels safe, steady. Like home.

And I also want him to fuck me. As far as I’m concerned, that’s a winning combination.

We’re only a hundred or so feet from the water when I finally work up the courage to say, “Can I ask a weird question?”

He looks at me. “Can I give a weird answer?”

He’s joking. I’m not. “Um.” I hesitate. “No?”

That gets his attention. “So it’s a serious weird question.”

I should’ve waited until the sun set fully. My face is burning, and I’m sure he’s noticed. “Yeah. Hey, listen, I can ask another time⁠—”

But he’s shaking his head. “No, no. Go for it.”

Briefly, I consider racing ahead and vanishing into the ocean. I shouldn’t have said anything. Should have accepted our friendship as it was.

I don’t say anything and he gives me a worried look. “Should I be concerned?”

I kick up sand with my rain boots, give a humorless laugh. “Maybe?”

The speech I practiced last night has erased itself from my memory. “I—Do you want to go on a date sometime? Or—” I think of every guy I’ve ever dated and how the relationship actually started, and panic. “Or we could just fuck,” I add hurriedly.

When I dare to look at him, he’s stopped in his tracks, staring at me, wide-eyed.

I have fucked up. It’s definitely time to disappear into the sea. I’m just going to have to hope I can figure out how to shift.

“Dominic,” he says, his voice strangled. “I, um, can’t do casual.”

Well, that makes two of us. “Who said anything about casual?”

He makes a face, says, “I don’t… I don’t want to just fuck you.”

This is the faintest glimmer of hope, but I latch onto it like a lifeline. “We can do other things,” I suggest, even as my heart sinks.

I shouldn’t have said anything. I overestimated my ability to handle rejection right now, especially when it comes from someone I actually like. Wrapping my arms around myself, I say, “Sorry. I told you it was going to be weird.”

Something about that must bother him, because he looks like he wants to contradict me. But he stays silent.

I sigh. Rub my jaw. “I think I misread some things,” I finally say. “Sorry. You can forget I said anything⁠—”

“I didn’t say no,” he interrupts. “I just want to make sure I understand. You want to go on a date with me?”

I nod slowly, trying not to panic. “Yes.”

“OK. I don’t want to do a one-night stand or anything.”

“I just—” I blink sand from my eyes. “That’s just what I expect most people to want.”