Everything in me wants to obey him.
Less then twenty minutes later, I’ve thrown on my favorite black bikini, gray shorts and a gauzy black halter, and a pair of laceless sneakers. I’ve scribbled an illegible apology to Gwen about her missing fries and, at Luke’s insistence, told the girls I won’t be back for breakfast or lunch. And I’m sitting in the front seat of Luke’s charmingly beat-up Volkswagen bug, my feet propped on the dash. I have no idea what we’re doing. I have no idea what I’m doing. Whatever it is, it feels good.
“This car makes my busted wheels feel like a pretty sweet ride,” I yell over an insane Jack White guitar solo screeching through the speakers. The inside of the car is papered in bumper stickers: WE’RE ALL IN THIS TOGETHER; KEEP AUSTIN WEIRD; MEAN PEOPLE SUCK; EARTH WITHOUT ART IS JUST… EH.
“First of all, don’t insult Betty when she’s within earshot.”
“I’m sorry… Betty?”
“And second of all, I bet your car’s not a convertible!” Luke reaches for the I CAME TO GET DOWN sticker on the ceiling. With a single tug, he exposes a gaping hole.
“You’re a strange dude, you know that?” I laugh.
“Yes, but a strange dude with a convertible.” He leaves the sticker flapping in the wind. “So, I meant to ask you. What’d you want to talk about the other day?” “Huh?”
“At the assembly. You said we needed to talk.”
“Oh! Right.” I rack my brain for excuses, but my mind is completely blank. “I… don’t remember. So, um, now it’s my turn to ask questions. Tell me where we’re going.” Above us, the sun flashes bright gold on the bay.
“East.”
“No, I mean, like where are we going? Do you have a map in this thing?” I jiggle the handle on the glove compartment, accomplishing nothing.
“It’s a surprise, Elle. What did I tell you about thinking? In fact…” Keeping one hand on the wheel, he reaches into the back seat and whips a black t-shirt into my lap. “Put this on.”
“What are you talking—”
“Blindfold-style,” he commands. “I’d blindfold you myself, but I’m busy.” He doesn’t mean to turn me on, but my body doesn’t know that.
“Fine.” I twirl the t-shirt and wrap it around my head, securing a knot at the back. It smells like him. “Have it your way.”
Three White Stripes songs later, Betty comes to a stop, and Luke reaches over to untie my blindfold. His hands on my neck make me jump.
“Now will you tell me what we’re doing?” My voice is high. “Or at least where we are?”
“Follow me.” Luke drags a heavy mesh bag and a cooler from the backseat. I take the cooler and follow him in silence for a few sandy blocks. Almost without warning, the beach opens up and we’re looking over a vast stretch of blue-green water.
“Go!” Luke yells suddenly, and it takes me a few seconds to realize what he’s doing. By the time I do, he has a head start.
“No fair! Cheater!” I screech, racing after him. The cooler bangs against my thigh. Small, white sand tornados rise around my legs as I sprint toward the water. My lungs, my legs, my body—everything feels like it’s about to burst.
“I want a rematch,” I gasp, collapsing next to Luke on the sand.
“Later.” Somehow, his breathing isn’t even heavy. “But it’s high tide, so we’ve got to get out there.” He tugs open the bag and produces two sets of flippers, two masks, and two snorkels.
“Out WHERE?”
“Okay. You’re right. I’ve kept you waiting long enough.” Luke pulls me close and points at the water. “See the marker out there?”
“Yeah.”
“Close to that marker is Half Moon Preserve. It’s one of my favorite snorkeling spots. It’s an old shipwrecked sailboat that sank just off Bear Cut sometime in the ‘30s. You ever snorkeled before?”
I nod. “On vacations and stuff, with family.” Before everything fell apart.
“Cool. You’ll love this place, then.”
“Do you come out here a lot?” I step back and fiddle with the hem of my halter, suddenly panic-ridden at the thought of stripping down to my bikini in front of him.
“I usually come by myself, actually. I know you’re supposed to have a buddy or whatever, and I do when I go diving, but I like coming out here to think. I can clear my head. Get away from stuff.” Without giving me time to prepare, Luke tugs his t-shirt over his head and tosses it in the sand.
“It’s… good to have a place to… do that.” Not my best work, but at least I’m breathing and responding at the same time. Which is admirable, under the circumstances. Luke’s body is so perfect, it almost looks carved. And from the way he’s rummaging around the bag and chatting, I can tell he has absolutely no idea. Which makes him even more perfect.