His pace slows and for a moment I think he may come back. He jogs backward again, bringing his hands to his mouth. “I’m around even when I’m not, Sade! You know that!” he shouts with his hands cupped around his mouth, amplifying his deep voice. He turns away from me again and continues his jog into the horizon.
The distance between us grows, his form getting smaller on the horizon. Panic springs up in me and I devote all of me to catching up to him. I fill my lungs with breath after big breath and hurl myself forward, determined to catch him. “Jake!” I cry out, all playfulness in my voice replaced with alarm. His figure grows smaller yet and he doesn’t turn around again to see that the sand seems to be swallowing me up. I can’t move fast enough. He’s too quick. I will my legs to work through the cramps that strike my achy muscles.
My lungs are burning. My legs are on fire. I stop where I am, giving up on catching him. I bend at the waist, bracing my palms on my knees, and work at catching my breath. I plop down on the sand and look out at the water converging with the sand one sluggish wave at a time.
I look in the direction that he took off running again, but he’s out of sight, the sand where his feet dug down, stride after stride, the only proof that I wasn’t chasing a ghost.
I hear the subtle slip of sand beneath someone’s feet and turn in place, expecting to see Jake. He’s come back!
Zander’s lips tilt up in a grin. His eyes crinkle a little at their edges and I sigh heavily, taking his outstretched hand to help me up.
My eyes drift open easily, like waking up after a full night of peaceful sleep. Except I haven’t slept peacefully and it hasn’t been a full night. The clock on the nightstand reads 3:17 and I groan, burying my face into the pillow. What the fuck kind of dream was that? I’d never give up on catching up with Jake. I would have kept running. I shake my head, adjust my pillow, fluffing it here and there, then flop back down into the bed ready to sleep another couple of hours, hopefully dreamlessly.
***
I open my door at a reasonable morning hour (7:45 as opposed to 3:17), ready to go visit with Dawn. I need to talk to her. I want to talk to her. She’s so easy to talk to and the only person that I feel I can relate to. I don’t feel so alone when I talk to her and I need advice. I look down, checking my pocket for my cell phone and room key before the door shuts when I see a package at my feet. My heart stops in my chest and I glance around for him. I know I’m looking for Zander. As much as I hate it, I know that’s what I’m doing.
I stoop down and pick up a small white box with the Apple logo on the front. “What the hell?” I mutter as I pull the top lid off and peer inside. I’m surprised and elated when I see a lone sand dollar inside along with a small sticky note with scribbled man handwriting on it.
I didn’t have another box.
I’m sorry if I did something wrong.
Please stay.
-Zander
I smile and roll my eyes at Mr. Short and Sweet. He got me a sand dollar. He was listening to me last night. He listened. He must have gone and found this one at dawn. It would have been too dark to comb the beach last night. Unless he just happens to have sand dollars around the house. I inhale deeply and turn around to go back into my room. His email included his phone number. I think I’ll skip a chat with Dawn this morning and take my own advice—he’s nice. Be nice back.
Flopping down on my bed, I pull my cell phone out and open the emails in search of his phone number. It takes me all of thirty seconds to copy his number and open a new text message.
You should get little sand dollar boxes. Doesn’t everyone have those? Thank you.
-Sadie
You’re welcome. I can find more.
-A.M.
You didn’t do anything wrong, Zander. It’s just me.
-Sadie
Have you left?
-A.M.
No. Still here.
-Sadie
Me too…
-A.M
I know that his response means so much more than what it really says. He told me that he’d be “here” when I was ready. I just…I can’t. I want so badly to spend time with him, to just talk to him, but my ability to resist his touch and the lure from his dark blue eyes practically vanishes when I’m with him.
There’s a tangible companionship between the two of us. He’s lonely like I am. It’s so painfully obvious that Zander isolates himself from the world. I do too and I know my reasons. I just wish I knew Zander’s. If we spend more time together, I plan on finding out who Alexander McBride really is. Something tells me that Alexander McBride and Zander McBride are two entirely different people. I want to know them both.
Chapter Thirteen
Black Sheep
Zander