AN: I am so sorry for the late update. It's exam season where I live so finding time to write more is difficult. If it's exam season where you are too, you know how it is and I wish you the best of luck! To everyone, thank you so much for reading!
After that day on the beach, being with Don feels so easy. I have never felt so comfortable or so happy around somebody. I feel like I can tell him anything and talking about my past, my hopes for the future – none of that feels hard. But even though I have told him all there is to know about me, he still seems a little guarded.
"It's too complicated," he says reservedly whenever I ask about his life, "Another time."
Over the days that we spend together, after work or whenever we have a spare moment, he does tell me stories. He knows more myths and legends than any other person I have known, especially about the sea. He tells me stories of fantastic creatures, mermaids, hippocampi and more, and when he tells them, it's as if he's lived the myths. When I am with him, I can imagine the legends too clearly and sometimes, I can swear I saw a mermaid with my own eyes. At first, I don't tell him this though; I don't want him to think I'm crazy.
But one day, I'd sat with him while he was fishing. He had been telling me a story about nereids, water spirits that are terrible flirts. I was looking down at the water, imagining their pale blue skin and flowing hair as he described them to me and for a moment, a face flashed under the water. The face of a woman just like a nereid's. But she was gone in an instant, scared off by something. I turned my head just in time to see a spark of gold – a trident. When I'd blinked and looked again, I just saw the gleam of the sun on Don's fishing rod.
"That's funny," I'd said, "For a second your fishing rod looked just like a trident."
Don had laughed but, for some reason, his face had gotten paler. I had tried not to think about that dream I'd had about him, a dream that seemed to be from years ago now, but that image of Don wouldn't get out of my head.
And despite our time together, he still hasn't kissed me. Sometimes, I think he will, like back on the beach. We come so close, standing eye to eye, smiling. But the smiles die on our lips as he always pulls away. I try to ignore the twisting feeling of disappointment in my gut but I can't.
After almost three weeks, I get a rare day off from work. Liza has a wedding to go to in New Jersey and she suggested we all take the day off. It's the first that I've had since coming to Montauk and I intend to spend every minute of it with Don.
"Are you off with that boy again?" Moira asks after I clear away the breakfast things and hurriedly do the buckles on my sandals. She tries to sound concerned but I know she likes Don. Last week, he helped me pull out all the weeds in the garden which looks beautiful with its newly mown grass and summer blooms.
"Yeah," I reply, "There's some casserole in the fridge and fruit salad too. I don't know when I'll be back so don't wait up or anything."
"I know how to take care of myself," Moira chuckles, "And you will be coming back, right?"
It take me a beat to figure what she means, and when I do, I flush. "Yes, Moira, God. I'll be back. See you later."
It's a beautiful day and Don asked me to meet him at our beach. It's a much longer walk than going to work but I don't mind the trip. The warm sun and the sound of the surf are perfect. Plus, knowing that Don will be waiting is enough to make me walk faster. I hope today's the day when he opens up a little more. He knows more about me than anyone else and I'm just curious. We haven't known each other long and I don't expect to be the most important person in his life but it would be nice to listen to him tell me more than fantasy stories.
Halfway down the promenade I hear someone call my name and I slow down. I turn around and see Lucille waving from a stall selling sunglasses. She's holding hands with the guy behind the table. The boy who's running the stall must be her boyfriend, Brad. She motions for me come over so I backtrack and make my way to them.
"Sally!" she says, giving me a hug, "You look nice. Special occasion?" She sounds a little suspicious and I can't help but wonder if she asked me to come over to say hi or just pry.
I look down at the beaded sandals I'd bought from a beachfront store here and the dress I'm wearing. It was my grandmother's, white, with robin's egg blue embroidery. I see Lucille scrutinising my wardrobe and I self-consciously fiddling with the dangly silver earrings I'd chosen to wear on a whim. I am more dressed-up than I usually am but I feel awkward talking to Lucille about what I'm doing; I know she wouldn't like it.
"Uh, I'm meeting someone, actually," I reply, trying to sound casual.
"Don?"
"Yeah."
Lucille's smile falters. "You know, Sally," she says in a suddenly sharp tone, "That's not really very nice of you. You know Jean has, like, the biggest crush on the guy."
I can't help but bristle at that. I know who she's talking about and I know it's not about Jean at all. She's talking about herself and it's clear as day. She's the one with a crush on Dom and she's mad because he never asked her out. Behind her, her boyfriend clears his throat uncomfortably but she ignores him.
"I mean," Lucille continues, "Did you even consider that?"
"Look, Lucille," I say as calmly as I can manage, "People don't belong to people. You can't call dibs. And I'm sorry if you or Jean feel about it but Don asked me –"
"You didn't have to say yes!" Lucille snaps.
"But I wanted to," I shoot back, sounding angrier than I intended, "What I want matters too."
"You are possible the most selfish person I have ever met," Lucille says, rolling her eyes. "Just go. I don't even want to talk to you anymore."
Walking away feels like admitting defeat but it's not like I have any other choice. I refuse to let the anger I feel towards Lucille and her pathetic double standards ruin my day. With every step I take away from her burning glare, I can feel my anger dissolve, little by little, until it's almost completely gone. If I keep dwelling on it, she'll win. Working with her will be a nightmare tomorrow but for today, I want to forget about her.
When I get to the beach, Don is already there, waiting. He looks out across the sea, looking proud of its brilliant blue as if he had created the colour himself. He's dressed in a colourful Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts and his feet are bare. He looks so peaceful that I almost don't want to disturb him but he probably felt my gaze because he turns around and beams.
I swear, one day he'll kill me with that smile.
"Hey," he calls out, putting his hand out, "Come here."
I close the few feet between us and take his hand. He pulls me close into an embrace and I smell the sea on his skin. He must have gone swimming but he feels dry and warm. I don't want to pull away but he does and leads me to sit against the rocks.
"So I was out here the other day," he says quietly, like he's telling me a secret, "And I was just sitting here thinking that I have to do something that will sweep you off your feet."
"You already have," I say and then immediately wish I hadn't. It sounds so corny said out loud. But Don looks happy that I said it and his eyes shine like they invented the colour blue. It makes it worth it, despite the regret I feel.
"Good," he says softly, "Because you did too, the moment I saw you in that kitchen. And I know I – uh – I haven't known you very long but I feel closer to you than anyone else I've known in my life." He sounds a little nervous and this is the most personal thing he's said to me to date. I reach up and touch his face, leaning my forehead against his. "You're special, Sally. I mean it. I haven't ever met anyone like you."
I laugh a little. His words make my heart skip a beat and I want to believe them, I really do. "You say that like you've met thousands of women," I say. I hope that's not true. I hope he didn't tell them the same thing.
"You are different, Sally," he insists. He doesn't deny that he's had a lot girlfriends but does it really matter? Isn't the most important thing that he's with me now, that chose me and not any one of the beautiful girls here in Montauk? I let the thought that I am his, even for a moment, comfort me as I lean against him. "When we're together, I want the those moments to last forever. You make me feel so happy. Before I met you, I can't even remember the last time I genuinely felt happy. I have never met someone that makes me forget about my past and the person I used to be. You make forget all that and think of nothing but I person I want to be, the person I am when I'm with you. Sally, I love you."
I love you? I can't work out if he really said that or some crazy, romantic part of my mind made it up. I can barely hear over the sound of the blood roaring in my ears. Do I feel the same way? I have never been so comfortable around someone before. He makes me feel special and as if I matter. Not what grades I got or which family I come from but me. And I love every moment I spend with him. Is this love? If love is a breathless feeling and stories spun from sunlit days then I love him.
When I say it to myself, I can't deny the sureness of it: I love him. I love everything about him, from his smile to the way he makes me feel. Some love must be built on years of conversations and kisses in the dark but this love – my love – isn't any less real.
"I love you too," I say.
He puts his lips against mine, kissing me for the first time. It feels like nothing I have ever known, so beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time. I feel like there is nothing but the feel of our lips against each others, his fingers in my hair and against my skin. He kisses me again and again, as if making up for the lost days, and each kiss is hungrier than the last. I wrap my arms around his neck and intertwine my fingers with his hair, pulling him closer. The feeling of being so wrapped up with someone is stiflingly intoxicating.
Around us, the breeze is suddenly cool against my skin. Don shifts his head away and turns to the sky which is beginning to look as if a storm might be rolling in. "You need to get home," he says, his voice firm and serious. "Now, before this storm comes in."
"Moira's house is too far away, Don," I say, standing up and brushing the sand off my grandma's dress, "We can wait in a cafe or something..."
"No, I can't go with you," he insists, guiding me towards the steps.
"What do you mean?" I demand, I stand firm and look directly at him. His expression, which moments ago was so happy, is cloudy and panicked. "You can't stay here!"
Dry lightning cracks across the sky, splitting it in two. The sun is totally blocked by heavy, grey rain clouds though no rain falls yet. Lightning, blue and crackling with energy, forks across the clouds again. It's so bright that I have to shield my eyes.
What is this?
I swear I can see a figure emerging from the exact place the appeared to hit the water. But that can't be possible. Don and I are the only people down here and there is no way the man could have headed out so near the water without us seeing.
"No!" Don yells at the man in the distance. So I'm not the only one who sees him. "No, you can't do this! Not while she's here!"
I feel fear twist my gut and I clutch Don's hand. The way Don is shouting at the man makes me think he's dangerous and I my heart pounds against my ribcage. I mutter a silent prayer to anyone that's listening up there to not let this be the last day of my life.
"Perhaps you should have considered that before telling her all our secrets," says the man. "Before telling her about our world so carelessly."
He stands only a few feet away from us and it chills me to the bone when I see his face. It is the man from my nightmare. The man who I saw fighting with Don that night there was a storm. Though he is not towering like in my nightmare, the man is tall and wears the same pinstriped suit.
"Zeus," the name escapes my lips before I can hold them back. I am not supposed to know. I shouldn't have said it.
"She sees who I am," the man says, surprised, "Poseidon, this girl sees through the Mist!"
Don looks at me and I see his expression change from shock to fear. "Zeus, she's not dangerous! Let us go!"
Zeus's fist crackles with electricity and that's when I notice the lightning bolt he clutches in his hand. "I know what you want with her, Poseidon," he says angrily, "I cannot let you do this."
"You cannot kill an innocent woman!" Don shouts back. In his hand, a golden trident – just like the one I swore I saw a few days ago – materialises. He turns to me and says, "Sally, listen to me. You have to go, ok? You have to go." He's trying his best to stay calm but I can see the fear in his eyes.
"I love you," I say to him. I am surprised how strong my voice sounds because I feel like a mess. "I am not going anywhere."
"Courage is admirable, young lady," Zeus says, "But it will get you nowhere. Not today."
"Zeus, this is my turf," Don yells at him, "You can't hurt her here!"
Zeus looks down and his eyes widen at the rapidly approaching tide. Don – Poseidon – must be controlling it. His face is twisted with concentration as he aims his trident at the water which rushes towards us, pooling around our feet.
"Fine. If you do this, Poseidon," Zeus says in a warning tone, "You have to live with the consequences. Any harm that befalls this woman will be your own fault. I can't claim any responsibility for the danger you are going to bring into her life. You do this, it's on you."
"What is he talking about?" I ask, my voice shaking.
"You'll find out soon enough, my dear," Zeus sneers.
Brilliant blue lightning forks across the sky again, the air around us cracking with electricity. I feel the energy coming off from Zeus from where I stand.
"Look away!" Don shouts just in time, shielding me with his body, as Zeus disappears in a flash of gold light.
And then it starts to pour.
The cold rain soaks through my clothes, down to my skin, and mix with the tears that flow from my eyes. I'm not sure when I started crying but now I can't stop. Sobs threaten to break me in half with their force. I feel Don's arms goo around me and he whispers that it will be okay, but I know it won't. Nothing will be the same again.
"What just happened, Don?" I cry against his chest.
"We need to go home, Sally," he says, "Come with me and I'll tell you everything. I promise."
I step away from him and he starts to walk away, not towards the steps that lead to the dry land but towards the ocean.
"Come with me."