I thought the water would be warmer, like in Florida, but Tinsley just laughs and reminds me it’s cold most of the year.
Cold or not, it doesn’t stop me from kicking off my shoes, rolling up my jeans, and joining Tinsley at the place where the surf meets the sand.
“This is my happy place!” she says, nudging a shell with her toe, her face radiant in the fading rays of the sun.
“Mine too,” I agree. Even though, other than a family trip to Miami, where Holly and I took a single surf lesson, this is only my second time at the beach. But that doesn’t make it any less true. With Tinsley beside me, I could be behind bars in a maximum-security prison and I would say the same thing.
The water splashes over our ankles and onto our shins as Tinsley lifts her skirt just past her knees and runs deeper into the waves, laughing and splashing and singing our song at the top of her lungs. It’s pretty much the most beautiful sight I could ever imagine.
“Come on!” she calls. “What’re you waiting for? Scared to get a little wet?”
And that’s all it takes for me to hurl myself straight into an oncoming wave just to be near her.
“Much better.” Her tone is teasing, eyes gleaming. “Except for your hair.” She arcs her arm through the water, thoroughly drenching me in one single move.
So of course I splash back, and before you know it, we’re in a full-scale water fight, both of us laughing so hard we nearly miss the oncoming wave.
But at the very last moment, I reach for her hand and pull her down with me. The two of us resurface simultaneously, wiping salt water and sand from our eyes, as my arm finds its way around her waist and she brushes my hair off my face. Her gaze soft and tender. Her lips parted. Looking so beautiful it’s like she walked straight out of a movie.
Only if this were a movie, this is exactly the part where I would usually fast-forward until it was over.
But that was before I ever had a chance at the starring role.
I rub my lips together, hoping she won’t find them too salty, then I take a deep breath and move in, fully aware of the miracle unfolding before me as Tinsley leans toward me with a look as eager as mine.
“Nick,” Tinsley whispers, “promise me that no matter what happens, you’ll remember this moment.”
I have no idea what she means, but I don’t waste much time thinking about it. How could I ever forget the day Tinsley Barnes decided it was a good idea to kiss me?
She snakes her hand around the back of my neck, her breath soft and sweet, the scent of sun and salt water and happiness wafting from her skin. Her lips are just millimeters from mine, so ready and willing, just about to touch down, when Sparks shouts at us from a few feet away.
I tune him out.
Whatever he wants can wait.
The moment I’ve been waiting for is finally here, and I’m committed to seeing it all the way through.
Unfortunately Tinsley doesn’t share my commitment.
Which is how I end up with my lips lodged in her hair, somewhere north of her ear, as Sparks yells, “Ezer called. He wants you in hair and makeup now! They moved the taping up three hours.”
YOU’RE A MEAN ONE, MR. GRINCH
It’s impossible to hide my annoyance with Ezer.
Especially after rushing all the way home only to find that the crew hadn’t even arrived.
“What’s the deal?” I barge into the den—my den—where Ezer sits on the couch, feet propped on the table.
He slips a hand over his phone and says, “In a minute, Nick.” Then he takes his sweet time to finish the call as I pace around the room, dripping water everywhere. Tinsley starts checking the messages on her cell like she’s used to standing in living rooms soaking wet while waiting on Ezer.
“You need something?” He finally decides to acknowledge us.
My mouth opens wide, but despite the speech I rehearsed in my head—beginning with a reminder of how he works for me—my tongue feels like lead and no words come out. With Tinsley standing beside me, glancing nervously between us, all I can manage is “Um, yeah. So we rushed to get here, but nothing’s happening. What gives?”
He removes a pile of papers from his lap and sets them aside. Then, easing his reading glasses onto the tip of his nose, he studies me for a long, uncomfortable moment. “I told you to take it easy, to rest up for tonight, and you take that as permission to go frolicking about in a freezing-cold ocean.”
I’m about to object to the use of the phrase frolicking about, but when I take a moment to think it over, it really does fit.
“And now here you are, soaking wet and shivering, at risk of losing your voices, all because you chose to do the exact opposite of what I instructed.”
I mumble under my breath and roll my eyes like I’ve seen Holly (Greentree Holly) do a million times.
“Care to repeat that?” Ezer says as Tinsley shoots me a look full of worry.
“You’re not my dad.” I’m forced to clear my throat to get the words out, which only serves to prove his point.