“This feels good,” I admit finally, playing with the sand in front of me. Dare glances at me.
“I think you need to get off that mountain more,” he decides. “For real. Being secluded in a funeral home? That’s not healthy, Calla.”
I suddenly feel defensive. “I’m not secluded,” I point out. “I have Finn and my dad. And now you’re there, too.”
Dare blinks. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
“And we’re not in the funeral home right now,” I also point out. We take a pause and gaze out at the vast, endless ocean because the huge grayness of it is inspiring at the same time that it makes me feel small.
“You’re right,” Dare concedes. “We’re not.” He pulls his finger through the sand, drawing a line, then intersecting it with another. “We should do this more often.”
Those last words impale me and I freeze.
Is he saying what I think he’s saying?
“You want to come to the beach more often?” I ask hesitantly. Dare smiles.
“No, I’m saying we should get out more often. Together.”
That’s what I thought he was saying.
My heart pounds and I nod. “Sure. That’d be fine. Do you care if Finn comes sometimes, too?” Because I feel too guilty to leave him behind all the time.
Dare nods. “Of course not. I want to spend time with you, however you want to give it to me.”
Dare grins at me, that freaking Dare Me grin, and I know I’m a goner. I’m falling for him, more every day, and there’s nothing I can do about it. In fact, there’s nothing I want to do about it. Because it’s amazing.
The Iredale is only a shell of a ship, so the wind whips at us and Dare shoves his hair out of his face. As he does, his ring shimmers with the muted light of the sun. A sudden feeling of déjà vu overwhelms me, as though I’ve watched his ring glint in the sun before, and we’ve been here in this ship, together.
We’ve been here before in this exact place and time.
It’s not possible
It’s not possible
But it is.
It has to be.
Because I feel it.
That’s all I can think as I stare at him, as I watch his ring shimmering in the light, as I watch him shake his hair in the wind.
Dare drops his hand and the feeling fades, yet the remains of it linger like the wispy fingers of a memory or a dream.
I stare at him uncertainly, because the feeling was so overpowering, and because I know what he’s going to say next. I know it.
Are you ok?
I wait hesitantly to see.
Dare draws back and stares at me. “Are you ok?”
I nod, because Oh my God, I was right. I try to breathe, and try to remind myself that God, it’s just déjà vu, Calla. It happens. But it’s been happening a lot, to me and to Finn.
And it felt so real. I shake my head, to shake the oddness away. I can’t slip away from reality, I can’t be like Finn. God.
Dare’s hand covers my own, and we stare out at the ocean for several minutes more.
His hand is warm and strong, and I relish it, and I push away all disturbing thoughts because honestly nothing matters right now but this.
I relish the way Dare rests his hand against my back as we walk down the beach toward his bike. And I relish the way I fold against him as we ride back home. I relish it all because it’s amazing. No matter what else is going on, this is amazing.
I feel like I’m floating as I slide off the bike and stand in front of him.
We pause, like neither of us wants to call an end to this day.
Finally, Dare smiles, a slow grin, a real grin that crinkles the corners of his dark Dare Me eyes. He reaches up and tucks an errant strand of hair behind my ear, and I swear to God I have to force myself to not lean into that hand.
“I’ll see you soon, Calla-Lily,” he promises huskily. I nod, and watch him turn and walk away.
God, he looks good walking away.
He pauses, and turns, and I think he must’ve read my thoughts.
“Calla?”
“Yes?”
“Do you believe in fate?’
I smile, because what a silly question. “I don’t know.”
“Well, I do.”
I’m filled with warmth and I float up to my room.
Chapter Twenty