Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
“What’s your favorite extreme activity?” I asked.
“Fuck, that’s a big question,” he said, sitting back and thinking on it. “There’s a lot of experiences that were fucking insane, but I don’t think they’d be as much fun if I did them over and over.”
“Like?”
“Like… wing suit gliding. Or bungee jumping. Even sky diving. Shit I would never take back, but I don’t think I’d take on as a hobby. I feel like it would lose the thrill.
“Then there’s the shit that I enjoyed but it was too challenging for me to want to do it all the time. Rock climbing, for example. Interesting experience, but too hard to truly be enjoyable for me.”
“What ones do you like doing over and over then?” I asked.
“A lot of the water sports, I guess. Love to surf, in all the ways you can surf.”
“All the ways?” I asked. I was originally from a landlocked state, so I wasn’t all that familiar with water sports.
“Regular, of course. But also kite surfing, windsurfing. And then there’s wakeboarding and waterskiing. Jet skis… what?” he asked, making me realize my face was scrunched up.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” I said, shaking it off.
“No, what is it?” he asked. “I’m not gonna be mad,” he added, like he knew that was what I was worried about. How, I had no idea. But he was right.
“I was just thinking that… your family lives in Navesink Bank…”
“Yeah…”
“And that… you’re super close to the beach here.”
“Huh,” he said, nodding, looking lost in thought again.
“I wasn’t trying to be offensive, or anything. I just…”
“AJ, it’s alright,” he cut me off. “Giving me something to think about isn’t a bad thing. You’re right. The beach is right here. And I could be enjoying all those activities I like the most close to home. Even if there are definitely nicer beaches in the world, you’re right.”
“I love the beach,” I admitted. “I’d never been to one before,” I added. “It was kind of… overwhelming the first time I walked on one. It’s just so… big. And peaceful, if you go when it’s not busy. Or to one of the beaches without lifeguards. After living here, I don’t think I could live somewhere without the water again.”
“I get that. I’ve been just about everywhere, but I definitely migrate toward places with beaches the most. Even just to sit on ‘em, watch the sun come up or set.”
“Gotta get your leg all healed up,” I said. “Then we could go. Short of pulling you on a sled, I don’t think it would be possible now,” I teased. “Or, you know, you could go with your family or friends. Or even, ah, I could drop you off there to—“
“AJ,” he cut me off, head cocked to the side, watching me with those penetrative eyes. “I’d love to go to the beach with you as soon as I can bear some weight again.”
Luckily, our food arrived, saving me from being embarrassed that I’d basically asked the man on a date. Even if it was just a, you know, friend date. Because Atlas had never made a pass at me. Or even insinuated anything.
The conversation veered more to food then, and local sights we could see after we finished eating.
“No, come on,” I said, trying to pull the check folder out of his hand. “You’ve been paying for everything. Let me get this.” Even if the total was probably going to give me a bellyache.
“Absolutely fucking not,” he said, slipping his card into it, and holding it out to the server.
“The tip then.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because it would be a cold day in hell that I let a woman pay for the meal. And I don’t give a fuck how sexist that might be,” he added with that boyish smirk of his.
We left the restaurant, walking around the little town until, suddenly, Atlas stopped rolling.
“Oh, no. Did the battery die?” I asked, calculating how far the car was.
“No. But your feet are killing you,” he said, slipping up one of the arms of the chair. “Hop on.”
“What? No!” I said, belly flip-flopping.
Because there was no way. I was struggling enough just helping him transfer. Sitting on his lap would be torture.
“Yes,” he said, patting his legs.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“It’s only… meant for one person.”
“It holds four-fifty,” he said, giving me a What else you got? look. “You’re gonna have blisters,” he added.
He wasn’t wrong.
My feet were killing me.
There was a telltale burning pain at the pad under my toes that, from experience, I knew would blister.
“I can make it.”
“Sweetheart, sit down,” he said, holding an arm out.
And, God, I wanted to.
Even if it was a terrible idea.
Taking a deep breath, I did what I told myself I wouldn’t.
I turned.
And I sat on his lap.
Come what may.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Atlas
It felt wrong to speculate, but I was getting the impression that maybe in whatever life AJ was living before she came to Navesink Bank, that it involved some asshole with an anger problem.