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“Projector.”
“How on earth can you fit a projector in your dorm room?”
“I live off campus. Right on one of the beaches actually. You’ll have to come by sometime.”
Excitement flutters in my throat before I can remind myself that I don’t go outside. Which is exactly why Cove is going to get bored and ditch me soon. I may as well enjoy this ‘date’ while it lasts. I doubt there will be another.
“Sure,” I reply noncommittally, although a part of me would love to see his beach house. I’m sure I used to love the ocean if my collection of bikinis and the surfboard on my wall is anything to go by. Summer tells me I was always in the water. I don’t remember, but I feel a sense of something…like I almost miss it. The ghost of the salt wind on my face as I ride the perfect wave. I don’t know why I told Cove I hate it. I just…I’m so confused. Telling him I hated the ocean was a gut reaction. But then when I’m least expecting it, these memories, these feelings hit me and I’m reminded of before. But when I try to zoom in on that thought, I’m overcome with blinding pain and I have to stop.
I glance over at my surfboard. Seems redundant to have it now, but I can’t bring myself to get rid of it. I also don’t know what inspired me to name it all of a sudden when I got out of the hospital. Betsy. It just seemed like the perfect name somehow.
Pulling the curtains closed, I smile at the cosy atmosphere I’ve managed to create: the fairy lights bathe the room in a soft glow; my laptop is balanced on the end of my bed; my phone’s perched on my bedside table next to my basket of snacks; and I have a soda, my comfy hoodie and freshly plumped pillows. It almost feels homey. Like, if this wasn’t a prison of my own creating, I could finally feel at home somewhere in this world. At peace.
Maybe one day I’ll fit in somewhere, instead of always feeling like a fish out of water.
“I’m ready,” I tell Cove, climbing onto the bed and getting into position.
“Alright, press play in 3…2…”
“Wait. Are we pressing play on one or after one?”
“Does it matter?”
“It does if we want to be in sync.”
“I like the sound of that.” I can almost hear him smiling down the line and so I risk a quick peek at my phone screen. Sure enough, Cove is beaming back at me. My own lips curl upwards even as my stomach flips. He’s so cute. All blond locks, tanned skin and blue eyes almost as bright as his infectious smile. It could definitely be said that I have a little crush on him, and not just because he dropped off snacks.
It’s easy to fall in love with someone who feeds you, especially when you’ve known true hunger.
“I’m pressing play now,” I tell him before I do something stupid like blurt out what I’m thinking. I’ve never been good at keeping it all in.
“Okay, pretty girl, let’s do this.” My stomach soars. He thinks I’m pretty.
“I think you’re pretty too.” Damn it. My cheeks heat and I quickly glue my gaze to my laptop and busy myself starting the film. There’s no way I can look at him ever again now, especially when he chuckles lightly.
My god, that sound could make—nope. I’m not going there. I’m not about to bash out some cliché about weeping angels or naughty nuns. Nope. Not me. I don’t do clichés. And if I’m going to have a crush, it’ll take a damn sight more than a pretty face and a melodious laugh to make me fall. Even with delicious snacks.
We watch the film in relative silence, with Cove occasionally laughing or telling me I’ll love the next bit that’s coming up. In all honesty, I spend way too much of the film staring at my phone screen watching Cove watch his favourite film. It’s a sequel to an old 80s classic that I’ve never seen, but I really enjoy the soundtrack.
I know I said I couldn’t look at him ever again, but I can’t seem to help myself. There’s something magnetic about him, drawing me to him and reeling me in.
I couldn’t even say what the film was about, but he had fun judging by his smiles and laughs. I guess I did too if the stab of disappointment I feel when the credits finally roll around is anything to go by.
“So,” Cove says, muting his film as I do the same.
“So…” I echo reluctantly. I don’t want to go. I don’t want this to be over. That thought reminds me of the Dawson’s Creek theme song. Summer and I used to love that show. Everything I thought I knew about American culture came from watching that show, Sweet Valley High, Buffy or anything starring Melissa Joan Hart. Needless to say, life on Santa Catalina Island has been a stark wake up call. Though Cove does resemble someone from the cast of the OC.
I giggle.
“Do you want to go to sleep? It’s pretty late.”
“I’m not tired, but if you need to go I’ll just stay up and read for a bit.”
“I’ve got nowhere I’d rather be right now. Tell me about your book.”
I blush but hold up the book on my nightstand for him to see. “Looks cool. Is it paranormal?”
“Yeah.” I’m so glad he doesn’t seem able to tell it’s a romance. Not that I’m ashamed of what I like to read, I’m just not comfortable talking about the more steamy plot line. Especially with a guy.
