Page 102 of Tourist Trap

"My wallet," he replies much too quickly.

I stare at him, and if I didn't know better, I'd let it go. Fortunately for me, I do know better.

The blush on his cheeks, the panic on his face…he's hiding something.

And I want to know what it is.

"Miles Miller, what are you hiding?" I say with a smile, stepping closer to him.

"Nothing, let's keep walking?—"

I shift my body, my hand going into his pocket before he can stop me to find what he dropped.

"Claire, I?—"

I still when my fingers brush it. Three, actually. Gently, I wrap my fingers around the familiar forms and pull them out. He sighs like some grand secret is about to be revealed, and when I open my hand, I see why.

In my hand are three small shells.

Perfect, gorgeous shells.

"Miles…" He doesn't respond as I stare at them and then up at him. "Why do you have these in your pocket?"

A hand goes behind his neck, holding himself there, and the blush creeps down his neck now. "Because I drop them sometimes."

"You…" Slowly, it comes to me.

The beach walks.

My shell collection.

You're my lucky shell finder, I told him.I always find the best ones when we're together.

"Do you drop these for me?"

He lets out a sigh, then runs a hand over his hair.

"That first time you found one when Grant and I took a walk with you two, you were so excited." I remember the shell, a dark blue-grey scallop shell the size of my palm that was perfectly intact. I look up at him, asking without saying it, and he shakes his head. "That one wasn't me. But you were so excited by it, how perfect it was. You said you wanted to find a sand dollar one day, and I knew the chances of finding a perfect one on the beach were slim. So I…” He pauses then sighs. "So I bought a small one at a gift shop."

"No way," I whisper, my jaw dropping and my eyes widening as the pieces fall together.

"You came down a few weeks later to see June, and we all went to the beach together. I slipped it in my pocket. It was dumb, but…"

I jump in with the rest of the story and what I know of it.

"I was looking for shells that night. You said I shouldn't walk on the beach alone."

"I stand by that," he says, and I roll my eyes but otherwise move right past his protective streak to the point of the story.

"You dropped it?"

He nods.

"And you were so happy. You being happy made me happy, even then, so I made it a habit of mine. Popped a couple of them in my pocket every time I thought I might see you on the beach."

"How long were you going to let this go on?" I ask in awe.

"As long as I could," he says with a laugh. "Think it kind of loses the magic if you know about it."

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