Page 2 of Beautiful Crazy
“Me too.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around here before.” The stranger turns her head, cocked to the side a little as she watches me imploringly. A faint smattering of freckles decorates the apples of her cheeks and the top of her nose, giving her a sun-kissed look.
Smiling, I say, “I moved here three days ago, so that’s probably why.”
“Oh, where from?”
“Seattle.”
“Long way from home,” she muses as she returns her gaze out onto the water. “What brings you here?”
The response is right there on the tip of my tongue—the bombshell that was dropped in my lap not even ninety days ago, the state of my family, my grandma’s death—it all feels too heavy and personal, and she’s beautiful and seems friendly, and giving her the real answer feels like it would ruin whatever moment this is. So, instead, I offer a half-truth and say, “A fresh start.”
“I can respect that.” She turns her head toward me again, offering me her hand. “I’m Gemma.”
Slipping my hand into hers, I note how warm and soft her skin is. “Everett. It’s nice to meet you, Gemma.”
“Nice to meet you, too, Everett.” I love the way my name sounds falling off her lips. “Tell me a secret about yourself.”
There’s a playfulness that dances in her eyes as she watches me, waiting to see what I give her. If I give her anything at all. Naturally, I’m a private person, almost to a fault. It’s hard for me to open up about myself with people. But something about Gemma, this stranger I’ve known for no more than ten minutes, and the gentle way she looks at me, has mewantingto indulge this question of hers, for whatever reason. Maybe it’s as simple as just that… She’s a stranger.
Blowing out a breath, I look straight ahead at the seagulls soaring over the water. “I know all the words to every single song on theOops! I Did It Againalbum by Britney Spears.”
Gemma laughs, the sound rich and melodic as it reaches my ears. “You do not,” she throws back, nudging my armwith her elbow. The brief contact sends an electric jolt through my entire arm that spreads across my body.
“Oh, I sure do.” I laugh with her, feeling lighter than I have in a while. “If you want me to prove it, you’ll have to buy me a couple drinks first.”
She hums and glances over at me with a genuine smile. One that lights up her whole face. “That’s tempting, Everett. I won’t lie.”
Sitting here with her, after admitting an absurd truth, it’s easy to forget about my to-do list and the pressure on my shoulders. It’s easy to forget about the life I left behind. “Your turn,” I mutter, nudging her this time, just to feel that jolt one more time.
“Hmm…” She taps her pointer finger against her chin like she’s thinking hard about this. “When I was twelve, I stole a cherry-red tube of lipstick from the drugstore in town.”
“You thief,” I hiss teasingly.
“I know, I know,” she guffaws. “I’m your regular old criminal.”
“So, what happened? Did you get caught?”
Shaking her head, she smiles. “No, I didn’t, but I felt so guilty about it, I almost returned it to the store. Instead, I wrote a letter to the owner—her name was Barbara Freemont—apologizing profusely for stealing from her. Then I sealed it in an envelope, went out into my dad’s tool shed, grabbed a shovel, and I buried the letter in the backyard under our weeping willow.”
“Wow, bet it feels great getting that secret off your chest, huh?”
Gemma blows out an exasperated sigh. “Youhave no idea. Thousand pounds lifted right off my shoulders.” She breathes out a laugh that makes my heart stop beating for a second. It makes my throat tighten. It creates a flutter in my stomach that I’ve never felt before.
“Some poor, unsuspecting fool is going to dig up that confession years from now and not know what to do with it.”
“And then they’ll be forced to live with my unspoken truths for the rest of their life.”
“Little selfish, don’t you think, Gemma?” I meet her gaze, a grin tugging on my lips. “Putting all of that on them.”
“I know.” She rolls her eyes as a smirk splits her face. “What was I thinking?”
Just then, her phone dings, and when she pulls it out of her pocket, I watch a seriousness take over her features as she reads whatever notification came through. She thumbs out a response before pocketing the device again and glancing up at me.
“I’m sorry, but I have to go.” Standing, she brushes off her backside with her hands. “It was nice to meet you, and it was fun chatting with you.”
“Yeah, you too.”