“I see the reasoning behind that,” he tells me. “It’s not stupid. Your mom was too young. And they say anger is one of the stages of grief.”
“But not anger at random old people,” I point out with a barky laugh.
Dare laughs with me and it feels really good, because he’s not laughing at me, he’s laughing with me, and there’s a difference.
“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?”