Pull (Seaside 2)

That was not what I was expecting him to ask. Stunned, I could only stare at him as I told my mouth to work and form words.

He cursed. “Forget it.”

“No, wait.” I grabbed him before he could leave. My hand was on his thickly muscled forearm. I swallowed the dryness in my throat as I looked into his eyes. I expected to see some sort of smugness or at least the familiar cockiness, but all I saw was pain.

Deep-rooted pain.

I knew that look.

It was the same look I saw in the mirror every single day.

And I knew because of that look, now I felt bad that I promised him, because in that moment I did pity him. I pitied anyone who had that look in their eyes, because I knew what it meant. I knew what it held. I knew what its future was, and it was a very, very lonely future.

“Honestly?” I pulled back my hand. “I used to know what it was like. It was nice. But I don’t really have friends anymore.”

“Why?” His eyebrows drew together in confusion.

I wanted to tell him everything, tell him how they’d abandoned me after the accident. That I was considered broken, and after a while my friends couldn’t handle being around me. It was too hard for them, too hard for me, and eventually too hard for everyone in this sleepy town.

“They moved away,” I lied and gave him a weak smile.

“Besides, I have a career.” I nodded to all the taffy and offered him another smile.

He smiled with me. “Yes, I can see that.”

“Good.” I nudged him. “Anyway, thanks for helping me.”

“Well, it was my fault to begin with, but you’re welcome…”

I knew he was searching for my name.

I bit my lip and sighed. “Alyssa, my name is Alyssa.”

Did he just blush? Demetri looked down at the floor then bit his lip. I wondered if he had the same nervous habit. “I like it.”

“Me too.”

“Don’t you want to know my name?” he teased.

“I know your name.”

His face turned serious. “Can I tell you anyway?”

“Sure.”

“Demetri.” He held out his hand. I took it. His hand engulfed mine. It was like shaking hands with a giant. A very hot giant.

“Nice to meet you, Demetri.” His name felt good on my lips.

I wasn’t sure if I should kick him for it or just pretend like I didn’t care that he had such a crazy effect on me.

He released my hand and pushed the door open, then turned around. “So I’ll see you around then?”

“I’ll be here.”

“And I’ll be over there.” He nodded toward the corner.

“Singing.”

“Don’t forget your bucket,” I teased.

He roared with laughter. “Goodnight, Alyssa.”

“Goodnight.”

Holy crap. I was in some deep, deep trouble.

Chapter Six

Demetri

I smiled like an idiot the rest of the way home. I couldn’t help it. Alyssa. Laughing, I walked into the house and went to the fridge for another soda. I’d usually have a beer about now, and I was excited about actually talking to someone my age who wasn’t my brother, my brother’s girlfriend, or a crazy fan. In fact, she didn’t even stutter when I talked to her.

I wasn’t sure if I should be concerned or excited.

The TV was on in the background. I flipped open the can of soda and downed half of it before jumping onto the couch.

Bob was sitting there, his eyes trained on the TV like a man starved. Poor guy, because of his job he hardly got any TV time in, and I know he was just as bored as I was, considering he had to basically wait around while I worked at the taffy store.

“Tried blueberry pancakes yet?” I took another sip of soda.

“Yup.”

“Cherry Cola?”

“Yup.”

Damn. “Salted caramel corn?”

Bob fell silent then looked at me. “Nope.”

We played this every night. He was so far ahead in the taffy tasting that it was pathetic. It was my one goal to beat him and eat a piece of taffy he hadn’t yet eaten.

His eyes narrowed. “Seaside Taffy doesn’t have that flavor.”

“I know.” I smiled triumphantly. “I was flirting with the competition.”

“Whoring yourself out again?”

“Very funny, Bob.”

He shrugged. “I thought so.”

“Admit it, you want to try some now.”

“Maybe.” He rose from his seat and gave me the remote.

I shook my head. “It’s all yours tonight, man. I’m going to go write.”

“School’s out?” He leaned in as if to see if I was high.

I slapped his hand away. “I’m not high, I’m not drunk, and I know school’s out. Songs. I’m going to go write some songs.”

“You haven’t written since you and Nat…”

“Thank you for being so perceptive.” I slapped him on the back. “I’ll be upstairs writing and pouring out my feelings. Have fun watching the game.”

He nodded and sat back down.

**** My guitar was gathering dust in the corner. I hadn’t picked it up since that day last fall when I crashed Nat’s homecoming and played the song I wrote for her. I didn’t know it at the time, but she and my brother were already in love. Later that night, I tried to get her out of her clothes and into my bed before my brother beat me to it.