grow a spinosaurus
chapter one
AUGUST
Like everyone else on the beach, I’m trying to get a glimpse of the sea creature someone caught on video. People have tents pitched, binoculars out, and one guy even has a telescope.
The difference between them and me is they want to capture proof of the creature to sell to the highest bidder. I just want proof that there’s something else out there. Something we don’t understand.
As I walk, I hear people talking, speculating on what it could be or if the footage is even real. My leisurely stroll takes me past a tent where some frat bros are grilling. One says, “I swear, bro! My cousin’s best friend’s roommate’s ex boyfriend’s best friend is the one that recorded the video. It’s legit.”
I snort, but don’t slow my pace or try to untangle all that. That line of people is way too hard to follow on the best of days and I’m working on no sleep for almost twenty-four hours. But when I heard about a new sighting of an unknown sea creature, I had to come.
It’s funny—I flew in from Scotland, where I visited thelocation of the Loch Ness monster sighting. It’s been debunked, but it was still an awesome experience.
I meander down the beach, catching snatches of conversation, then get bored with it. Whatever was or wasn’t in the water isn’t showing its face, so I decide to call it a night.
The walk back to my hotel room is short. When I get inside, I shower and lie on my bed but find I’m not sleepy. Bone tired but sleep eludes me. My mind keeps racing about what could possibly be out there.
When I saw the video, I immediately thought it was the real deal. It was clear and sharp, the fin of … something … poking out of the water, then a scaly head showing before it dipped back into the water. It looked to be swimming back inland, but whoever was recording turned their camera to face them so they could shout some ridiculousness into the camera about things from the Mariana Trench coming to the fore.
I scoff, rolling out of bed to get dressed. If I can’t sleep, might as well get a few drinks to help me along.
The hotel bar isn’t as packed as I figured it would be in a big coastal town, what with everyone camping out on the beach. Makes it better for me—the wait won’t be long and I can chat with the handsome bartender.
Currently, he’s making a mojito for an older woman that keeps fluffing her hair as she flirts. His smile is stiff but polite and I find myself wanting to flirt to see if I get this same generic smile.
Wrapping up with his current guest, the bartender meanders over to me and gives me a flirty grin. Okay, then. No stiff smile for me.
“ID please,” he says, wiping his towel over the bar that’s clean and dry. I hand it over, discreetly checking him out.
I look him over and am not disappointed in what I see. He’s tall and lean, his light brown skin looking almost glittery under the low lights. He resembles Jesse Williams, but without the piercing blue-green eyes. But his brown ones are gorgeous, glowing as he looks at me. Even through his clothes, I can tell he’s fit, even if he’s not overly muscled. Yep, I definitely like what I see.
“What can I get you, handsome?”
After I’ve made my brief perusal of him, he slides my ID back to me. “Sex on the beach.” My eyes widen when I see his smirk. “Oh God, that sounded like a come on, huh?”
Chuckling, he busies himself getting ingredients together for my drink. “No. Unlike most guests that order it, you kept the innuendo out of your voice. Thanks for that.”
“Yeah, I like the drink. It’s good. That and Bahama Mamas. The fruity drinks are delicious. I don’t know why more people don’t order them. And … sex on the actual beach is itchy.”
The bark of laugh leaving his throat has me mesmerized. “I like both. And beers. No IPA though.”
“God, right?” I say, leaning forward on the bar. “I always hear people brag and brag about IPAs but they taste like sawdust to me.”
“Sawdust,” he chuckles. “That’s a good one.” He slides the drink in front of me. “I’m Dante.”
“August. Nice to meet you.” I shake his outstretched hand. “What do you think about all these people camping out on the beach? Talking about seeing something in the water.” I sip my drink through the stirring straw, staring at him.
His eyes flash with something unreadable before hegives me that stiff smile. Dammit. I thought we were getting somewhere.
Shrugging, he moves down the bar, cleaning up lemon peels and grabbing a cutting board and knife to slice more. I’m delighted when he brings his supplies over to me and starts to do his prep. “It’s a shitshow.” He looks around to see if other patrons heard him curse. “Sorry, crap show. The only good thing is I get tons of tips when people come in. It’s been like this for days. Are you here for that too?”
From the way he looks at me, I feel like my answer is important. Like it will be the start of a conversation about something more or if he’ll go to being polite, but distant.
“Yes, but not because of money or trying to catch whatever it is on camera. I want to know that something bigger than me is out there. Literally and figuratively.” Leaning forward, I swirl my drink around, the ice cubes clinking. “I’m very fascinated by the unknown. But I don’t want to expose it. I just want to see.”
Dante grins, sliding the cut lemons into a container. “Just want to see huh? And if you do, what will you do? Take pictures and videos?”