Fall (Seaside 4)

“So…” Her eyes narrowed. “I should go on a date. With Smith?”

“Sure.” My hands gripped the steering wheel. “Whatever you want. It’s your life, right?”

Too far.

“Fine.” She looked back at her phone. “I’ll just text him back and say I’d love to go on a date with him.”

“Good.”

“Yeah. Great.” She sighed.

I felt like an ass the entire way to the restaurant. Praying for the tense air to crackle with something. Or for her to make a noise other than her slight breathing. It was killing me. But what could I do? Say no? Don’t date him? Date me? I was leaving. I was leaving her. And for the first time in my life, I was denying myself something because I knew in the end, I would go back to LA and she would go on with her life.

Girls like Pris, they were the ones you took home. They were the ones you married and had kids with. They were the ones who expected more than I could ever hope to offer.

I could offer her a good time.

And as much as I hated to admit it — it was entirely possible Smith or some other guy could offer her what she deserved, not just needed — love.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Priscilla

Smith ordered some candy and pop, then wrapped his arm around my shoulder like he owned me. I thought I’d like it — the possessive attitude. Besides girls were staring at him like he was famous, and I would know what that felt like — it had happened the entire lunchtime with Jaymeson.

Our meal was interrupted probably twenty times by girls wanting autographs, but Jaymeson took it in stride. Each girl that approached got a full dose of his British charm, and the weird thing? He didn’t seem to be bothered, if anything he was being himself. He talked to them like they were special, he asked for their names, he smiled and he didn’t get cranky.

Our food even got cold and he didn’t complain.

I hated how much it endeared him to me. He was so sweet — underneath that whorish habit of sleeping around — he had a heart. Clearly he just chose not to use it, especially when it came to relationships.

I about died when a girl around seven years old walked up to him and told him she was going to marry him someday.

Instead of laughing, he swooped her up into his arms and put her on his knee and said. “Honey, it would be an honor to wait for you.”

And insert swooning out of my chair.

The little girl giggled and kissed him on the cheek. He gave her an autograph and then pulled something out of his pocket that looked like a hotel key card.

Confused, I watched him slip the card to the mom without saying anything.

Later, when I asked what it was, he blushed and answered, “They drove up in a car older than me. It didn’t look safe. The little girl had rags for clothes and the mom looked like she hadn’t slept in weeks. They weren’t customers of the restaurant, and the little girl’s shoes had holes in them.” He popped a cold fry into his mouth. “I keep those cards for gifts.”

“Gifts?”

“Each card has fifteen grand on it. They’re Visa gift cards. She doesn’t know that, at least not yet, by the time she figures it out, I’ll be gone. And the little girl will have shoes, and I’ll sleep better at night knowing she’s not going to go hungry tonight because her mom can’t get a job.”

I’d dropped my fork onto the plate. “You can’t just give people money like that!”

“Why not?” He shrugged. “I have more money than I can spend in a lifetime. Why not pay it forward? Why not make their life? Hell, why not make their year? I’ve always had this theory…”

“What?” I felt tears well in my eyes.

He shrugged again, his eyes shining with excitement. “That if I was put on this earth to act — I should at least change lives doing it. I’m doing what I love — and I’ve been blessed enormously — I think that our success is tied into how much of ourselves we give. That’s all.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“I may like nice things and talk about myself way too much. Oh yeah, and sleep around, but…” He winked. “I’m not heartless.”

“No.” My smile was weak, he was amazing. He was… perfect.

The rest of the afternoon had been spent in such warm bliss that I almost forgot that I was pissed at Jaymeson for pushing me into Smith’s arms.

“Pris?” Smith nudged me, jolting me back to the present. I gave my head a slight shake. “The movie’s starting but you look a million miles away. Is everything okay?” He put his arm around me and pulled me close.

“Yeah.” I faked a yawn. “Just really tired.”

“Aw, babe,” he sighed. “I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have asked you out if I’d known that. I just wanted to see you, even if it meant waving from a distance. We could have just gone out for coffee.” His eyes drew together in concern.

I felt a silly grin come on as I took in his compliment. “Thanks, Smith, that’s nice of you to say.”

“I’m a nice guy.” He rubbed my shoulder with his hand. “And I have a confession.”

“What?”

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” He leaned in, his lips so close to mine I could almost taste the peppermint gum he was chewing.

The movie started. He jerked back and caressed my face with his freehand. “I’m going to kiss you tonight.”