Chapter 14

Herry tossed his truck into park when he pulled up to the curb in front of Opal's house so he could stretch out his leg. Reaching a hand under his thigh to kneed the aching muscles there.

"Umm, there's a beach right behind my house, a swim might make you feel better," Opal said from the passenger seat, her heart hammering so loud in her ears as she asked she was surprised Herry couldn't hear it too.

"Mmm," he hummed with genuine interest. Just the thought of the cool ocean water over his stiff muscles made him feel better. He sent over an inquiring look and asked, "For real?"

"Yeah," she nodded, "You're way taller than my dad, but I'm sure you could fit into a pair of his shorts."

"I have a pair of gym shorts in my bag, I can just where those," he turned the engine off and unfastened his seatbelt, "but thanks anyways." She nodded and opened the passenger door to hop out. He grabbed his duffle and followed her up the walkway to the front door. She let herself in and tossed her bag to the side of the shoe rack. She looked over her shoulder as she pointed to an open bathroom door and Herry nodded.

"There's towels in the cabinet, grab two?" she asked as he flicked on the light.

"Sure," he replied and swung the door shut behind him. Opal ran up the stairs to her room to toss on her own bathing suit. Coming downstairs she was not surprised to find Herry down on his knees fluffing Rye's fur as he waited for her, but she was mortified to find him talking with her father.

"Chickadee," John smiled as she took a folded towel from the ground beside Herry to wrap around herself, "Since when did you start bringing home boys?"

"Dad," she said, cheeks instantly flashing red, "He's just a friend from school."

"Well of course you're going to tell me that," he said with a smirk painted across his face.

"Dad," she glared at him and bolted for the back door, desperate to escape. Rye bounced at her heel, whining as she twitched her nose in the fresh air towards the ocean.

"I like your dad," Herry said with a smirk as he stepped out onto the porch, closing the glass door behind him. He reached out a hand towards the dog and called for her attention. She spared him a quick ram of her head into his palm and then turned back towards the ocean, giving Opal anxious glances between her whines.

"What did my father say to you?" she turned to ask him as if she were addressing a family death.

He gave a deep laugh and shook his head, "Nothing other than hey I'm John. I know what you're thinking about doing with my daughter. Want to see the shotgun in my shed?"

She studied him through narrow eyes for a moment and slowly concluded, "All he has in his shed is fishing equipment. You're lying."

"Yes I am," he laughed again and looked across the lawn, "Is there a climb? You never said there was a climb."

"Aw muffin," she taunted and started off for the rocks, Rye took that as her cue to bound down to the cove and straight into the water. Herry was caught off guard for a second, she never joked with him like that. In quiet shock he watched her begin her carful decent down the rocks, watching her feet as she placed her tiptoes down like a ballerina, one arm out to help her balance and the other clutching her towel. He smiled to himself when he started off after her. Right there, he knew he'd done it, broken through her front.

"We need to talk about what happened last night," Atlanta stated, slamming open Archie's door. He startled and quickly covered the notebook he was writing in, leaning his arm across it to prop his chin up in his palm.

"Uh, sure Atlanta," he said and subtly tried to flip his book closed.

She stormed over to him, balled his shirt in her fists and dragged him to his feet, "You can't just try to kiss me like that."

"What?" he scrunched up his face in confusion and she sneered up at him.

"You can't just do that and then act like we're nothing more than friends," she repeated.

"What? Everyone knows we're more than friends," he said.

She shoved him away and he staggered back, tangling his feet up in his computer chair. He made a desperate attempt to catch his balance, instead he went flailing to the ground like a fish with arms windmilling.

"Why did you have to do that?" she demanded.

"Do what? Kiss you," he untangled himself from the tipped chair and stood, straightening out his sweater.

"No, you didn't kiss me," she screamed, "Why did you have to go and make things complicated?"

"Maybe I want things to be complicated," he offered gently, "Atlanta maybe I want you to be my girl –"

"Don't say it," she ordered, waving a fist in his face.

"I thought you just said you wanted me to act like we were more than friends," he said.

"No, that's not what I meant," she stomped her foot into the ground, "You can't do that anymore, if we're going to be friends you can't do that at all."

"Atlanta why can't we be more than friends?" he asked, holding out his hands palm up.

"Because we just can't," she spun on her heel and stormed out the door, slamming it behind her. Archie let out a defeated sigh, dropping his shoulders. Numbly he reached down for his chair and sat back down at his desk. Atlanta, why couldn't she just realize she liked him just as much as he liked her. She was so confusing sometimes. He sighed as he read over his chicken scratch in his notebook, if she had caught a glance of that poem, or any poem in the book, she might have actually thrown one of those fists clenched down at her sides. Yeah, this little book of literary Atlanta admiration would stay his secret for quite some more time.

It was amazing what a little swim could do. Laying back on his towel spread over the soft sand the muscles in the back of Herry's right thigh were in ecstasy. Opal sat beside him on her own towel looking out over the ocean, her bare back to him. He watched her toss a stick into the gentle waves for Rye to chase, her curls weighed down by water jumping with her motion.

The black bear of a dog stormed into the Pacific, sending up a spray of water and a commotion of cheerful barks. She retrieved the stick and pranced over to Herry, dropping beside him to begin gnawing on the wood, her fur a fast mess of sticky sand. He motioned to grab the stick but she turned her head away, pulling it out of his reach, sparing no moment in her prying at the fibers of the wood.

"She's kind of lazy sometimes," Opal said shifting to face him now, wrapping her hands around her raised knees, "She never plays fetch for more than one or two throws."

"I guess that's a Newfie thing isn't it?" he said, reaching over a hand to brush the wet fur on her back between his fingers, "Big dogs are known for being lazy aren't they, like Saint Bernards and shit like that."

"If you were a dog I think you'd be a Saint Bernard."

"Are you calling me lazy?" he taunted with a grin, shifting his gaze over to her from Rye.

"No," she said with a small shake of her head, "you're big, but you couldn't be a Rottweiler because they aren't that cute."

"Oh, so, now you're calling me cute," his smile grew.

Her face flushed red, and her eyes widened. Quickly she covered her cheeks with her hands, aware she was blushing, "No, no, you're cute like a puppy."

"Not exactly the way I want girls to look at me, but I guess it's better than nothing," he continued to torment her.

"Ughh" she dropped her head to her knees and wrapped her arms around her legs.

Herry tried to keep in his laugh, he managed for a moment before it came snorting out, "It's okay Opal, I'm just teasing."

She poked her head up to look at him and his closed mouth smile was fast to flash teeth. She bit the corner of her lip, keeping her thoughts to herself, his teasing sounded a lot like flirting.

"Hey, why are you out here if your dad's from Nova Scotia?" he asked, changing the subject for her benefit she was sure.

She straightened her back and relaxed her arms as she sent him a smirk, "So that's what my dad was talking to you about."

"He was telling me about their catch today and said he always got better out east," he said, "I have never met someone who likes fishing so much."

"Yeah, I know," she shifted to look down at him and answered his question, "My mom's parents were out here, but I never met my grandma and my grandpa passed the year after we moved. My dad liked it too much to move back though, plus he had just become captain of his fishing boat. Hey, you're from Saskatchewan right, what's it like there? I've only ever passed through."

"Flat," he shrugged, "the bugs are horrible in the spring. At times they're so thick you breathe them in. That is one thing I definitely do not miss about the prairies, I can understand where your dad is coming from, I don't think I will ever leave BC. It still blows my mind that people just live on the beach. There are only dirty ponds to swim in back home."

"I've always lived right beside water," she said, "What do you do out there?"

"I worked on the farm mostly, other than that, there is nothing to do," he said.

"What about your farm, tell me about that."

"Well, my mom managed it, and I did most of the labor with my dad."

"Oh yeah, I figured something like that just from looking at you Hercules," she didn't notice him stiffen with the use of the name, "I mean, what's it liked being raised on a farm?"

"Umm, I don't know, I've never known anything different really, but I think it definitely made me more… slow? I mean, everyone in the city just always seems like they're in a hurry, all the time," he narrowed his eyes towards her, "Does that make any since at all?"

"Yeah," she nodded, "my dad always complained about that when we lived in Victoria, we were there for years for my mom and her recording company."

He smiled, glad she was able to understand what he was trying to say, and pushed himself to his feet. Offering down a hand he said, "I should go, but thanks for inviting me over, the water definitely helped."

"Sure," hesitantly she placed her hand in his, not surprised to find rough calluses there. She liked the feeling on her smooth skin, the only calluses she had were on the fingertips of her left hand, from her string instruments. This sensation of her hand nestled in his would stick in her mind long into the night. He dropped her hand once she was on her feet and bent down for the towel, shaking it out as he headed for the path in the rocks.

To ensure she could see him to the door Opal waited for Herry to change back into his regular clothes before she got into her own. As they were exchanging farewells Percival came rumbling into the driveway on his motorcycle. Herry gave it an impressed whistle and padded down from the doorway for a closer look.

"BMW," Herry said as he held out his hand to the man.

"Yeah, BMW cruiser, my steed, I call her Pegasus," he took off his helmet, gray hair a blown mess. He turned with an outstretched hand and a smile, but it fell the instant they made eye contact, those eyes were too familiar to be coincidence.

"I'm Herry, a friend of Opal's," he didn't catch onto the man's hesitation, scooping up his hand to shake.

"Percival," he muttered and weekly shook the teen's hand back. Percival retreated his hand and looked over to Opal, "Opal what are you doing out here in that, go put some clothes on."

"Sure," she nodded in surprise, in the time the man had been staying with them he had never tried to parent her before. Shock was mostly what drove her inside. Percival looked back to Herry with a harsh snap, they were about the same in height, but the elderly man was definitely slimmer. Herry imagined he would have matched Jay for his size back in his prime. With a casual pull on the collar of his white shirt a gold pendent around his neck became visible. It would mean nothing to anyone else, but Herry gasped and staggered back a step.

"I knew it," Percival shot after him, "You have his eyes, Hercules, that's who you're related to isn't it?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he stammered and backed away towards his truck.

"What is going on with the gods?" the man followed him.

"What? Nothing's going on," he scoffed and laughed nervously. Percival glared at him for a moment. In a sudden instant there was a flash of metal and Herry found a knife slicing through the air towards his chest. It was reflex to grab the man's wrist, bend his hand back, and twist his arm around to lock behind his back. The knife clattered to the pavement and Percival's shoulders shuddered in controlled laughter. Dammit, he had just been set up. Quickly he dropped the man's arm and stepped away.

"Did Ares teach you that?" he said turning to face him again as he rotated his shoulder in its socket, "I'm going to feel that in the morning."

"I still don't know what you're talking about and I have to go," he bolted for his truck and tore off down the road. What the hell just happened?