Just so you guys know, I love getting your comments and appreciate the fact that you take a second to let me know what you thought after reading. If you have any criticism or suggestions I would love to hear them as well. Also, I don't quite have a direction I want to take this story so if you have any suggestions about that it would be very helpful because I am having fun writing this but don't want to have to stop for lack of a storyline lol. Enjoy J
Normally I would insist that we take the safer mode of transportation--my car--because even though I didn't lose my face riding on the back of that bike the first time, I'm not so willing to take chances. However, my controlling nature seems to have taken a back seat tonight, so I take the backseat on the motorcycle without argument.
It's a brief ride to the beach, which is only lit by the beaming full moon that hangs in the sky above us. The bike stops and I quickly remove my helmet and get off, amazed by how pretty the water looks with the moon suspended over it, making it appear to be glowing.
I turn to Patrick, who is wearing his signature smirk. He can obviously tell how awestruck I am by the sight and is quite satisfied with himself for being the first to show it to me.
"Ohio didn't have beaches like this," I explain, "the ones that they did have were always closed because the water was contaminated."
"Is that where the environmentalist in you originates?"
"It is, in fact," I say proudly and out of the corner of my eye I can see him smiling at me. It seems different though. It's not a mocking smile or a cocky one like I can usually expect from him. It's more admiring.
He slips his hand into mine so smoothly that I barely notice until he is pulling me toward the sand. We walk in silence toward the water.
"Why did you bring me here?"
"Why else? I needed a good place to dump your body once I'm through brutally murdering you…oh no, it looks as if I have just spoiled my plan. I guess we'll just have to walk the beach."
I stop walking, "I'm serious. Why me?"
"We've been over this. You're interesting. You have a mind of--"
"Patrick, I'm not an idiot. The only guys who like girls with brains are zombies," I say looking him dead in the eye, hoping to find some telltale sign of a guys whose mission is less than gentlemanly, "There are always other, less endearing reasons for a guy to be interested in a girl."
He stares at me for what seems like hours, "Hmm…"
"I think that the real reason you find me interesting is because I'm not handing myself over to you to have your way with me. I don't think that's the reason you're staying around though."
"What does that mean?"
"I think you're around for the challenge of changing that."
The unfamiliarity with his current expression doesn't make it any harder for me to identify it as anger, "I don't think you really believe any of that crap that you just said to me."
"Oh and why is that?" I challenge, my hands placed firmly on my hips. I expect him to come back with only a blank stare and a stumbling response. But I should know by now that Patrick never hesitates to match my feistiness.
"Because if you really believed that you wouldn't have gone to that dance with me or agreed to go to the beach with me afterward….and you certainly wouldn't be here right now. If I know anything about you, I know that you have a lot more self-respect than to follow through this far with something you know to be degrading," he pauses, staring into my eyes so intensely that I fear he might actually be able to see what I am thinking, "I think you're scared and you're desperately trying to find an excuse to push me out."
I let my eyes drift down to our feet, which are buried in the soft California sand. I sigh, feeling my composure slip away as I unbury my feet. I don't want to cry in front of him. I don't want to lose the unfailing poise that I've managed to keep since meeting Patrick. So I take a deep breath and look up at him, "I just don't want to get hurt," I admit in a voice no louder than a whisper.
"The stun gun was my first clue to that," he whispers in response.