Wildflowers and Wide Receivers

16. Jonah

Chapter 16

Jonah

D o I even need to discuss my shock and freaking delight at finding Sophie here? I want to be mad at Reid about this, as Vivi and I have been looking forward to this beach week for what feels like months, but how can I? Vivi seems excited that she’s here. She’s someone else that will play with her, and me, well, it’s going to be a rough few days of me trying to keep my tongue in my mouth and other parts calm as I stare at her in a bikini.

A tiny black bikini.

Damn.

I knew she looked good. I’d seen her before, but she’s changed and toned more over the past couple of years. Her ass and her legs seem to go on for days, and her stomach and her arms are muscular to the point where I could drool. And don’t get me started on the tiny triangle bikini top she’s wearing. One little tug on the strings and the whole thing would fall off, and I know what’s hiding underneath it.

My mouth waters.

It waters at the sight, and it waters thinking about all the places it’s explored on this girl and wants to again.

Calm. I remind myself. Stay calm. The last thing I need to do is find myself in a lust-induced mental moment that has a visible effect below my waist to those around me. Namely Sophie. And well, Vivi too. I’m nowhere near ready to have any sort of conversation with her about boys and girls.

“How long are you planning on staying?” I ask her, taking the seat next to her. I’ve done my duty to Vivi for a bit. We built two sandcastles, and I chased waves with her. Now, I just want to sit here in the shade and talk to Sophie.

“Trying to get rid of me already, are you?” She smirks. Her face is half covered with a large pair of sunglasses, and I can’t decide whether I like her wearing them or not. It’s hard enough to be around her; add in staring into her eyes too, and I become a useless fool. But I do like how I feel when she looks at me. From the moment I met her, she’s made me feel seen.

“No, not at all. Just trying to figure out your plans so we either join or work around each other.”

At the thought of being here with her for a whole week, I can’t decide if I’m in heaven or hell. How many times have I imagined being with her? And now that she’s here, I feel like I’m living in some kind of dream.

Dream.

If I could smack myself for how stupid I sound, I would.

It’s only been a couple of hours, and I’m already internally acting like an idiot.

She tilts her head, and I can tell she’s eyeing me suspiciously from behind those dark lenses.

“I was planning to stay until Monday afternoon. I have to be back at work on Tuesday.”

Monday afternoon. That means I basically get two more uninterrupted days with her.

“You good to hang with us, or were you looking for peace and quiet?”

She looks up and down the beach. Others are out here, but it’s not as crowded as I would expect for a holiday weekend. At least not yet. The northern schools aren’t out for a few more weeks, but this place will be packed once they are.

Her gaze comes back to Vivi, who’s sitting just on the edge of the water, making a drip castle. “I’m good to hang.” She smiles softly.

“I’m glad,” I tell her, reaching into the cooler bag for a bottle of water. “Want one?” I ask, holding it out in her direction. I watch as her head lowers just the tiniest bit and then rises. Behind those sunglasses, her gaze travels from my hand, which is holding the bottle, and then slowly slides up my arm to my face. My heart rate picks up.

Staying unaffected is going to be harder than I thought.

“Sure. Thanks,” she says.

I hand her a bottle and both of us sit in silence as we drink them and watch Vivi. Digging around in the sand, she finds something she likes, and her whole face lights up. Jumping to her feet, she runs up to us under the tent.

“Look, Ms. Sophie, a purple butterfly.”

In her hand, which she holds flat for us to see, there is a coquina clam shell. It’s a tiny bivalve shell, and it’s open, so it resembles the shape of a butterfly. They come in all different colors and patterns.

Sophie leans forward and acts like this is the best treasure Vivi could have ever found. “That’s so pretty. How did you know these are my favorite shells?”

“I didn’t. But now I do. I can find you some more.”

“I would love that. We’ll keep them, and then later, we can glue them to make a piece of art. What do you say?”

“Okay.” Vivi gives her a small smile, and my heart squeezes. She turns to look at me, and she’s so serious. “Uncle Jonah, can you go buy us some glue?”

I chuckle. “Of course. Who am I to stop artistic greatness?”

She gives me a small smile too and then runs back to her spot on the beach. She really does love the beach.

“You’re very good with her,” Sophie says, watching me. I don’t say anything because I can’t. Conversations about Vivi lead to me becoming emotional, and this is not the time or the place. Taking a sip of my water, the only response I can muster is, “Thanks.”

Next to Vivi, a seagull lands. The two of them are facing off, and I can’t help but grab my phone, zoom in, and take a picture. Sophie laughs next to me.

“Does she like to feed the seagulls?” she asks.

In turn, I give her a look of absolute horror. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

She shifts in her chair so she’s angled more toward me. “Why would I joke about seagulls?”

“Maybe because they’re disgusting,” I tell her, frowning.

She laughs again, and it sounds so good.

“They are not,” she teases.

“Yes, they are. Seagulls, pigeons, they’re all one and the same. Rats with wings.”

“Jonah, look at it.” She waves her hand toward Vivi, who’s gone back to shell hunting. Meanwhile, the seagull is just prancing around. “It’s so pretty.”

“Oh, I’m looking at it. It probably carries diseases and wants to eat Vivi’s eyes.”

This time, when she laughs, I can’t help but chuckle along with her. Vivi pushes her hair out of her face and looks over at us through squinty eyes. The sun is bright. I need to get her a pair of sunglasses too. Even though we’re only like fifteen feet away, Sophie waves, and Vivi waves back.

“As a kid, I used to love feeding the seagulls. They all come out of nowhere, and they sort of float in the air, just waiting to be given a treat. I also love the sounds they make. I associate the calls they make to vacation.”

“That sounds like a great memory . . . for you.”

She giggles again.

So her parents used to take her to the beach for vacations. I wonder how often they went? Were they visiting someone? Did they always go to the same place? If so, where? Come to think of it, I don’t even know where she’s from. And it’s this thought that makes me sad. I want to know this girl. I wish I’d had the past two and a half years to get to know her. Instead, we’re exactly the same as we were the night we met. Strangers.

Taking another sip of my water, I glance over at her. So beautiful. “You know, for as often as I think about you, I really don’t know anything about you.”

“You think about me?” she asks, surprised.

Behind our sunglasses, we stare at each other.

“Sophie.” I state her name in a way that makes her know that not only am I serious but it should be obvious.

Her cheeks turn pink, and I’m certain it’s not because of the heat.

“Yes, I think about you. But I’m not really sure what I’m even thinking. Obviously, I had no idea that you were a surgeon—which is incredible, by the way—but it’s all the rest of your life that I don’t know. I don’t know where you’re from, what your family is like, what religion you are, if you like sports or politics, what your favorite food is, or even what your hobbies are. We certainly weren’t talking about life goals the night we met.” I let out a deep, disappointed breath. “I don’t know. I just find myself thinking about this amazing girl I met . . . and regret what it could have been.”

Was that too much? I don’t know. But it’s the truth. There’s no sense in me denying that I want this girl. I’ve wanted her for a long time.

She stretches her legs out in front of her and digs her toes in the sand. I want to watch her, to see the expressions on her face as she thinks about what I’ve just said, but I can’t. Being vulnerable is not something that feels good. Instead, I watch the water past Vivi. It’s so blue green today, and the waves are just enough. There really isn’t a prettier beach in the world.

“Italian. That’s my favorite food.”

Italian. With just this one tiny detail, I suddenly feel lighter and like I won the lottery. I know this reaction is stupid, but it’s happening.

“Good to know,” I tell her, trying to remain calm and remember every Italian place in Tampa I’ve ever been to so I can offer to take her.

“Actually”—she cuts off my thoughts—“to be more specific, it’s pizza. Pizza is my favorite food. I love all kinds of pizza, but no anchovies.”

This definitely narrows things down. Together, if she wanted, the three of us could make it a challenge to find the best pizza in the Tampa Bay area.

“No anchovies, noted.”

She takes a sip of her water, too, and after a long moment, she says, “I think about you, too.”

Heat rushes to the surface of my skin, the hair on the back of my neck stands up, and with this confession, if I was alone, I would fist-pump the air.

She. Thinks. About. Me. Too.

I turn to look at her and memorize the details of the side of her face. There’s the line of her jaw, the shape of her nose, and the tiny diamond stud in her ear. She’s so beautiful that it hurts to look at her.

“You want to know something funny?” she asks, turning to face me too.

I don’t answer. I just keep looking at her. Tiny hairs are blowing around her face from the Gulf breeze, and even though we’re in the shade, her freckles are getting darker.

“I don’t really know much about me anymore, either.” Sadness blankets each word, and I hate it. I also don’t understand it.

“What do you mean?” I frown. This doesn’t sound funny to me.

She sighs and peels the label off her water bottle. “This last year, I’ve kind of just gone through the motions. I’ve spent fourteen years trying to accomplish my goal, and now that I have, I don’t know what to do with myself. I go to work and then go home. I’m not even where I thought I’d be.”

I understand what she’s saying about working for so long for one goal, but I don’t understand not having that feeling like it can end. Playing football, it’s a constant worry that I might somehow not make the active roster, but at the same time I thrive under the pressure of the push. I’m not sure what I’ll do when that push is gone, like what she’s talking about. I hate that she’s experiencing this.

“What about Pilates? I thought you did that with Camille several nights a week, and what happened with that guy you said you were seeing?”

“I do go to Pilates. I’ve been trying to find fun new things to do, but I’m not sure that it’s working. As for Isaac . . .” Her toes dig into the sand again, and she lets out a harsh laugh. “He’s a nice guy, but he wasn’t the one for me.”

My breath catches in my throat. Is she saying what I think she’s saying?

“What was wrong with him?”

She glances at me. “Nothing. But according to him, I was using him as a place filler.”

“A place filler for what?”

“Time,” she says, shrugging one shoulder like I’m supposed to know what that means.

“That sounds stupid.”

She lets out an incredulous laugh.

“But he was right. He became one of those things I just filled my time with, and nothing more.”

“Did you want more with him?” Please say no.

“No.” She looks away from me, I can’t tell if it’s because she feels ashamed to have led the guy on, or if it has something to do with me staring at her.

“So you’re not seeing him anymore?”

She turns back to look at me. “No, I’m not.”

Well then, this might be the best thing I’ve heard all day.

“Good.”