Chapter Four

"Are you still out?" Esme asks as I get into my car.

"Heading home right now."

"I'm stuck at the department store. Rose needed new bras. Again."

"Mom!" I hear Rose balk in the background.

"Sweetie, she knows you have boobs. We all know." They have been getting a lot bigger as of late. "Anyway, looks like I'll be a while. Jasper's at the beach. He's been there since lunch. Can you pick him up? I didn't give him a time. I just said I'd come when I was done, but this is taking forever."

"Sure thing. I'll head straight there."

"Yay. I think we'll get some dessert or something. I deserve a treat for finding out how big my daughter's boobs are."

"I'm right here, Mom!" Rose again.

. . . . .

I pull into a parking space and see Jasper running around the beach with a few guy friends and Alice. Yay, Jasper. They're playing Frisbee and throwing each other around. Edward's not playing, but I hear his guitar. I follow its sound to find him sitting near a small fire, guitar in his lap, playing something smooth.

I hold my ballet flats in my hand as I walk through the sand to sit next to him. He looks over and smiles at me. I close my eyes and take in the sound of ocean waves crashing against the shore, the strumming of his strings, his soothing breaths, in and out. I could stay here forever and be at peace.

"How was—"

"Shh. Don't ruin it," I say.

We sit in silence, continuing to enjoy each other and our connectedness for a bit, unencumbered.

The song comes to an end, and I sigh. "That was so pretty."

"James Taylor," he says.

"Do you only play songs by people with the name Taylor?"

"Nah. I do some Jack Johnson and Jason Mraz. I know loads of folk."

"You like folk music?"

"Yeah. I didn't know it until I started playing for my mom when she was sick. She kept making requests. I couldn't say no, so." He shrugs. I want to wrap him in my arms so bad.

"That must've been really hard. Knowing there was nothing you could do."

"It—yeah. I just made it a point to do whatever she wanted. If she wanted me to read to her or tell her about my day or play guitar or whatever, I just did it."

"Did you ever feel lonely?"

"Not at first. I had a girlfriend, but she got—she didn't understand. I wanted to be with my mom, and she wanted to go to Homecoming. I liked her, but I liked my mom more."

"That sucks."

"That's one of the many reasons I like you."

"What's that?" I ask. I know I shouldn't, but I'm curious.

"You just get it. You know what to say. You don't feel sorry for me or pity me or treat me like I'm fragile. You just say, 'dude, that blows.' That's all I wanted to hear. That and I kind of wanted to get laid."

I knock his shoulder with mine.

"Nah, I would've been happy to just lay my head in a pretty girl's lap and napped or something." He gazes longingly at my thighs. Oh, geez.

"Poor baby," I say and scratch the base of his neck, moving my hand through the back of his hair.

"That's nice," he says, lolling his head forward as I rove my hand fully through his hair now. It's short, rough against my fingers, but thick and soft at the same time.

"You guys look like monkeys," a boy shouts. "After she's done eating your lice, why don't you take her into a tree and do her from behind?"

Edward takes off running after the dude. He tackles him and pins his arms to his sides, growling something in his ear.

"Okay! Dude! I get it. Off limits. I won't say anything else," the guy says, laughing.

Edward jumps off him and stomps on his butt for good measure. He sits heavily beside me, breathing hard.

I can't stop shaking my head. "I cannot believe that just happened."

"He's a jerk. He doesn't know who you are to me. Just ignore him."

And who exactly am I to you? I want to ask, but I already know the answer, and I cannot hear him say it. Not in this setting. Not with the way I feel about him right now. I mean, he went from sweet and endearing to defending my honor in zero seconds, and I'm kind of bothered by how much I like that.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Yeah," I say quickly then yell, "Jasper! Ten minutes!"

He finds me with his eyes and nods.

"So what about you? What about your family? What are they like? Besides Esme and Carl."

"Uh," I start, not so smoothly. It's hard to concentrate after what just happened. "My mom is a teacher, and she is one of those people who is happy all the time. And she loves everything. Every cute little nothing. She could spend three hours in a Hallmark store."

"Ah. Yes. I have a grandma like that. She has this Christmas tree that sings when you walk by it. I want to throw it across her lawn every year. It scares the crap out of me."

I laugh easily with him.

"My mom buys these puppets 'for the grandkids' she says." I use air quotes to provide emphasis. "And I'm like Rose and Jasper are teenagers. They don't want puppets. They live in her study. It's creepy. They have these large eyes like this." I use my index fingers and thumbs to demonstrate for him.

"That is so sexy."

I burst out laughing.

"I'm not kidding. Look." He copies me and does something wonky with his mouth as well.

"So hot," I say.

"Told you." He lets up and asks about my dad.

"My dad . . . is white trash."

His shoulders start to shake with his laughter.

"He is. He likes his beer and his guns and his heavy flannel, and he hunts and fishes, and he'd live in a trailer if my mom let him. But he is the nicest guy you'll ever meet. Let me get away with way too much when I was a kid." I think back to all the times I should've been grounded, but Dad let me out of the house anyway and covered for me.

"And he's your dad, right? Esme has a different dad?"

"Yeah. My mom had her way young, and he left, which is why she freaked out when Esme started so young, but I don't know. Carl and Esme have always felt right to me. They were always mature. And my parents never had to support them or anything. They were just young, you know."

"Yeah, I know." He looks at me like I'm young, too. I get it. I'm ready now.

I take a deep breath and try to sway the conversation elsewhere. "It's kind of like how I knew by the time I was thirteen what I wanted to do for a living."

"And what's that?"

"I'm working toward becoming a PA—physician's assistant. It'll take a while, but the schooling's not as awful as becoming a doctor, and you still get to work with patients and talk to them like they're people, not just a list of symptoms."

"We need more people like you in the medical field."

"Well, thank you. I broke my leg in the eighth grade and fell in love with my PA—Eric Yorkie. He was gorgeous and so nice and he touched my leg."

"Ooh. Kinky."

"When you're thirteen, everything is kinky."

"You were a young eighth grader."

"Not really."

"Did you start school young?"

"I was four, so I guess so, yeah."

"So . . . you're only twenty?"

"Yeah."

"We're not as far apart as I thought we were."

Jasper jogs up, spraying sand our way. I curl into Edward to protect my face.

"Sorry. You ready to go? Alice needs a ride, too. Is that okay?"

"Yeah. Just pile in."

"Shotgun," Edward yells, and for the first time tonight I feel just how far apart we truly are in age.