I don’t know how to verbalize all this. Part of me thinks it’d be easier if Nate could read my mind. Not necessarily less complicated, but easier.
I’ve spent the evening convincing myself that I am in control. That I’m smart enough to grant Nate a wish without hurting him or exposing myself or bringing the wrath of the Afrit down on everyone I care about. If that’s true then this, being my teenage self with a boy, should be a snap.
Moonlight shining down on us, whoosh of the ocean serenading us, Nate smiling at me, it is easy, but not necessarily uncomplicated.
33
“I’m a little worried about you,” Nate says, pulling a flashlight out of his backpack.
He guides us through the marshy area at the far end of the beach, scanning the ground ahead of us until the beam of light settles on a sandy patch partially concealed by the dunes.
“That book you told me to read? About the guy who goes to live in Alaska and eats the poisoned apple?”
“Into the Wild?” I say. “It was seeds, I think.”
Nate grins. “I was trying to be cute.”
Oh, right. Flirting, which I thought I was getting better at.
“You don’t have to try,” I say.
Okay, not bad.
Nate winks at me as he slips off his backpack. He takes out a red blanket and shakes it to unfurl it. After spreading it out on the sand, he kneels down and adds to the ambience with a few battery-operated votive candles, two canned cappuccinos, and a bag of almonds—sugar-coated, not salted. Presumptuous to some, but the realization that Nate was thinking about me enough to plan all this has me approaching giddiness. I don’t approach giddiness lightly. I may have never before been in sniffing distance of giddiness. I may have never before used the word “giddiness.”
My miniskirt hikes even farther up my thigh as I sit next to him. Any more and Yasmin’s carefully crafted thong will threaten to make an appearance. I tug the hem of my skirt with one hand and accept the cappuccino Nate offers me with the other.
Our cans don’t make much of a clinking sound as we tap them, but that’s okay. Nothing could detract from this moment. It feels like a real date.
“It’s just that the dude in the book…” Nate shakes his head. “He up and left his entire family. Didn’t keep in touch. I couldn’t do that. The way he acted … I just couldn’t relate to it, to him. He’s out there alone doing his thing while his parents and sister are worried sick.”
“I never thought of it that way before.” I hadn’t, but I do now.
Nate stretches out, resting his head in one hand. “Guess it was over my head, maybe. The whole soul-searching thing. It’s just, personally, I don’t need to go anywhere to know what I want.”
As Nate takes my hand, it’s clear that, unlike me, he has mastered the art of flirtation.
I lie on my side, facing him. I have to, right? I mean, Nate’s about to tell me what he wants—code word for what he desires, what he wishes. It’s my job to encourage him. If only my heart would slow down and stop echoing in my ears, I might be able to concentrate on what he’s saying. If only my mind wasn’t so jumbled with my own thoughts, I might be able to focus on reading his.
But I don’t need to do either. What Nate wants is written all over his suntanned face. It boils down to three little words: “me,” “kiss,” “you.”
The sand shifts underneath us as he presses the length of his body against mine. His hand rests on the rivets of my denim skirt, gently cupping my hip as I fall flat against the blanket. Careful not to rest down his full weight, he uses his swimmer’s arms to suspend himself above me. He positions his head in line with mine and lowers himself toward me. I hesitate before dismissing my fleeting thought to start the wish-granting ritual right now. Granting his wish to kiss me seems like cheating. Not to mention what would happen if he wished for more. If he wished to do more, to be with me, to really be with me, would I grant it? Would I have to grant it? Would I want to grant it? Would it make me a Jinn prostitute if I granted it?
Our lips touch, and all thoughts of his wishes leave my mind. For once, I’m granting my own wish. And that wish is to be right here, kissing Nate.
Turns out I really am one talented Jinn. My wish comes true for so long that when I open my eyes, I’m surprised the sun isn’t rising.
Though my thong has remained unseen, the same cannot be said of the matching lace bra. I’m lying on Nate’s bare chest as he runs his finger along my collarbone.
“Goose bumps,” he says. “You’re freezing.”
For the first time in my life, the cold isn’t bothering me.
Nate removes his shirt from behind our heads and lays it across my torso. We stay that way, just talking. He asks about my aunts and cousins, and I start to tell him about everyone who’s been in my life since the day I was born. But thinking about Yasmin ignites a stabbing in my chest and I have to stop before tears escape my eyes.
I didn’t want anything to ruin my date with Nate, but the Afrit and what they are capable of will loom over everything I do for the rest of my life, worming their way into even the most unexpected of circumstances.
I make Nate tell me about his family instead. I’m envious when he mentions his dad has been teaching him to sail.
“I’d love to go out on the ocean like that,” I say.
“I’ll take you,” Nate says. “I’m getting pretty good. Though my sister, Megan, she’s awesome. She’s only twelve, but she’s a natural.”
“You two get along?”
Nate nods. “Oh yeah. I think it helps that we’re further apart in age. Always felt like I wanted to watch out for her. Like Henry does for his little sister.”
“Lisa,” I say softly. I pat the blanket until I find my shirt and pull it over my head. Being half naked with Nate and picturing Henry makes me uncomfortable in ways I don’t want to think about right now. Fortunately, a faint wop-wop-wop quickly builds to the point where it drowns out everything.