Page 31 of Spencer and the Younger Girl
“This girl isn’t into Damien. They’re just friends, apparently.”
“Oh, please don’t tell me she has a crush on the cute older boy?” She laughed like it was the funniest thing she’d heard. “High school girls are too predictable.”
Spencer reached for his smoothie, not because he wanted to drink it, but only because he needed something to do with his hands. “Vic, we’re only three years removed from high school. There’s not much difference between us and them.”
“Oh boy, yes there is. The moment you walk across that graduation stage, it’s like there’s this separation that’s too far to cross.”
Was she right? He thought of Hadley and her bright smile, the trouble gleaming in her eyes. Four years wasn’t a large age gap, but high school and not high school was.
“Anyway.” Victoria flipped her long auburn hair over one shoulder and drained the rest of her smoothie. “Why are you back?”
“Damien.” He hadn’t said that to anyone other than Damien, but it was the truth.
Victoria hopped off the arm of the couch. “You’re a good guy, Spence. You always have been. You’ll figure out a way to make things right with Mama Lee.” She took their cups to the kitchen, her words trailing behind her. “I have to get to Tampa for class, but you can hang out here. I’ll leave you a key.” She appeared again, stopping at the front door to slip into her shoes and jacket.
Slinging a bag over her shoulder, she eyed him one final time and set a key on the hall table. “It really is good to see you. We need to spend some time together before you leave again.” With a wink, she left.
She was the first person to voice what everyone probably thought, and what Spencer knew. His return to Gulf City was a temporary one. It had an expiration date. He just hadn’t figured out how soon that was.
Walking to where his bag sat against the wall, he pulled out his swim trunks and changed into them. Only avid surfers went into the freezing ocean this time of year. Them and tourists.
But in his time away, the sea had become his place of calm. No matter where he was—France, Australia, Portugal—he could sit on the beach and let the world fade from his mind.
Victoria’s cottage sat in a small neighborhood with its own private beach access. When they were growing up, this was one of her mom’s rental properties they snuck into whenever it wasn’t in use.
It was early when he’d dropped by Vic’s parents’ place, hoping she still lived with them through college. Her mom, returning from a late shift at the hospital, gave him a hug and Vic’s address.
He walked down the road and across the street to the small bridge over a trickling creek. On the other side, wood turned to sand. The beach was deserted in the early afternoon, a far cry from the public beach where spring breakers no doubt covered every inch.
After sleeping half the day away, he needed to move, to use his muscles. Over the past three years, he never stopped moving, whether it was adrenaline-pumping activities or simple work that paid his way to the next destination.
He kicked off his shoes and ran into foaming water, the icy blast serving as a shock to his system, cleansing his weary bones. Diving into the waves, he kicked his legs and stroked through the water.
His mom—ever the worrier—used to warn her sons about swimming in the ocean alone. She feared currents and rolling waves.
But Spencer had gotten used to being alone, not letting it stop him from experiencing the world. He traveled on his own most of the time, occasionally making friends with other travelers.
It wasn’t until he slowed down that he missed his family and friends, the people who knew him best.
Yet, for three years, he never contacted them.
Why?
He swam faster, harder, trying to let himself fall into the rhythm of the act.
Why did he do it? He didn’t blame his parents for their distrust. Sure, they pressured him his entire life, making him feel trapped and like nothing more than a disappointment, but they didn’t deserve to be forgotten.
He didn’t blame Victoria and their tragic history.
His head broke the surface, and he relaxed onto his back, letting the water carry him farther out. He studied the shore, taking in Victoria’s neighborhood of beach cottages right next to WentWood, Gulf City’s most exclusive neighborhood.
His eyes followed the curve of the beach to the public beach about a mile down. He didn’t envy the tourists there.
A girl appeared at the path from WentWood, her blond hair blowing in the wind. Spencer couldn’t make out her face from this distance, but he watched her all the same.
She looked out at the sea as if searching for something, anything to make sense of this life. Her hands disappeared into the sleeves of her jacket as she pulled it tighter around herself.
Maybe she hadn’t yet realized there was no sense to it.
