White Girl Problems Page 6

  “Oh my God.”

  He was smug. “I know, right?”

  I scoffed. “Don’t talk to me. I think I might hate you right now.” I walked toward the lighthouse. Below it were weird wide and flat rocks outlining the choppiest sea I’d ever seen. The rain was letting up, but the wind there at the top of the rocks was intense. I walked along the lighthouse, looking out at the swells, stunned by the sheer intensity of the ocean here. I sat on a wet rock and let it overwhelm me. He sat next to me. As far as I could see, we were surrounded by the strange rocks. It looked like an alien planet.

  “The story is that there was a terrible storm in the 1700s, probably a hurricane. It was October and the storm was apparently really bad. The settlers of the cove found a young girl washed up on the rocks as the storm ended. She didn’t remember her name so the family who took her in named her Margret, Peggy for short. She was the sole survivor of a shipwreck on the rocks. The waves had washed every other trace of the boat back to the ocean. She married a man from the cove and became Peggy of the Cove. Now they call it Peggy’s Cove. There are some who say they have seen Peggy as a ghost walking the shoreline here in storms, looking for her family.”

  I glanced at him, taking him all in. He was passionate and intense but so handsome. Even in the rain, looking like a drowned fisherman, he was beautiful. His dark hair was shaggy, like it needed a cut, but wasn’t long. His blue eyes seemed to match whatever the sky was doing. In the blue skies, they were bright blue, but there on the grey rocks with the grey seas, his too were grey. He had amazing lips and a perfect smile. The kind that made you smile too. The killers, though, were the long inky lashes. They were what every girl dreamed of having.

  He stared out at the waves but spoke softly. “Why did you try to kill yourself?”

  My face swung over hard. “What!”

  He sighed. “I saw the bandage and Hattie told me your friend said you cut yourself. She thought you were a cutter, but that scar is deep. Cutters don’t normally go that deep, and you only have one scar. Cutters have lots of little scars. They only need a little cut to feel again.”

  It was freaking me out how much he knew about cutters. I held up a hand. “Okay, firstly, not a cutter. I never cut myself. I don’t care what anyone says. I once passed out from getting a piece of glass out of my foot. Out cold. Secondly, Hattie has no right to go gossiping about me. She doesn’t have the story. She has Sheila’s version and she hates… hates me.”

  He looked at me, making me suck in my breath. “Tell me the story.”

  I scowled. “I don’t even know you.”

  “That's the whole point of this, getting to know each other. I want to get to know you. I need to know what it is about you that's consuming me.”

  I was consuming him? Oh my God. I looked at the water. I couldn’t face him or the stupid story. “I stole a lip-gloss. I’ve never stolen a thing in my life, but I did. I wanted to try. Apparently, I’m a sucky thief because I got caught. I lied to my dad about it, went to a party, got very drunk. I think I must have fallen into a rosebush and got this wound. I woke up at the hospital where they said I had drugs in my system and everyone sort of looked at me like I did this to myself. But I never do drugs and I never would hurt myself. It made no sense.”

  He was still looking at me. I could see it in my peripheral. “What else?”

  I shook my head. “That’s it.”

  “That got you sent to the other side of the country?”

  “And to a different country.”

  He sighed. “Tell me the truth about it.”

  Anger started creeping about inside me. “That is the truth.”

  He shook his head. “I wish you felt like you could trust me.”

  For whatever reason, the look in his grey eyes and the hurt on his face was killing me inside. I didn’t know him, but I did trust him. I didn’t even know why. Maybe it was the way he laughed when he was at the table with the ladies. Or the way he did crazy things, sporadically, like drag me to Jack’s room and show me that photo. I liked him, and for no reason at all, or maybe for every reason.

  I couldn't stop looking at him. “My stepmom hates me. And I mean hate. She told me she would put drugs in my room and call the cops.” A tear slipped down my cheek. “I think she might have drugged me to get rid of me. She knew I had pushed my last button with my dad, and I think she did this to me on purpose.” I held out my wrist. “I’m not brave enough to cut myself like this. I can’t even worm a hook. I tried once, big mistake. I can’t hurt things, not even me. I think she drugged me and I hurt myself in the roses and she lied to my dad.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You really think she would do that to you?”

  ”Yeah.”

  “You don't think maybe it’s all your drinking that’s making you suspicious and in denial about the harm you’re doing to yourself?”

  “No! Who the hell do you think you are?” I was floored. I stood up and stormed off in the hideous rain.

  I got to the gift shop before he grabbed my arm. “Fin, wait.”

  I shoved him off of me. “DON’T TOUCH ME!” I turned and stormed into the restrooms. They smelled funny, like an outhouse at a campground. I’d only seen one once, but it was enough to damage my nose permanently.

  I couldn't believe he would think that. I hated he thought that.

  The door opened and he walked in. “Fin, I just wanted to be sure you weren’t a danger to yourself. That's all. I swear. I believe you. But I had to know, before we… Well, I just had to know. I believe you.”

  I backed away. “No, you don't. I can tell.”

  He shook his head, looking down on me. His hair was dripping down his face. “I brought you here because I knew you needed to see it in the rain. Only in a storm can you imagine seeing a girl being washed up on the rocks, losing everything. I like you. I know I shouldn't. I don't even know you.” He stepped closer. “No matter how hard I tried to focus on my dying grandfather, I couldn't. I was stuck on you. Your face, your troubled eyes, your scar, every bit of you plagued me.”

  I shook my head. “We can’t do this. We don't even know each other and I have a horrid feeling you’re like bipolar or off your meds for something really intense.”

  He looked upset, but he stopped walking toward me and held out his hand. “Friends, then? At least until you realize you’re as crazy about me as I am about you.”

  I put my hand in his. “I think you’re just crazy, but friends works for me.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “Yes, we will be amazing friends. Now let’s go get you a dry shirt. Not that I don't love this one.”

  I looked down at my see-through shirt and pulled the wet jacket over my chest better.

  “And maybe something hot. It’s freezing out there. Did you like it though?”

  “Besides your obvious insanity, this place is pretty cool.” I looked up. “Thanks for showing me this.”

  He smiled. “Thanks for being a pain in the arse and making it more worthwhile.”

  “I’m not a pain in the arse.”

  He sighed. “You are. But you’re my pain in the arse. Let’s go get a hot beverage.”

  We walked out of the ladies’ washroom, getting frowns from the two old ladies walking in. I sighed. “I wish I had my phone. I wish we could take a picture of this.”

  He laughed. “So you can put it on Instagram?”

  I nudged him. “Shut up.” It totes was, but I wasn't going to tell him that.

  Why do people always think pretty white girls are cheerleaders?

  What the hell is there to be cheery about anyway?

  Chapter Six

  It’s Real to Him so It’s Real to Me

  I sat at the table with Jack and Millie and listened to his story. “Our children never understood our desire to leave London behind when we retired. But we had seen the great city flourish, starve, suffer bombs, and all the royal weddings one could manage. We had no more desire to be part of it. We needed inspiration and freedom. I’m n
inety-two years old. I believe we have made it thus far because of the escape we made from our stifling lives. Our children were old enough to manage the expectations of our families, so we did the only thing we could think of. We ran.”

  Millie sipped her tea, always making me nervous at the way her hands shook. “We have traveled through Africa, Australia, Europe, and Asia. But Canada has been our favorite. There is a peace and quiet here that you don’t see anywhere else. People here are so private; they don’t pry or have paparazzi chasing you and taking note of everything you do. You’re not watched and stalked constantly. London has become so overcrowded. You have to go into the country to be alone. Here, I have actually been alone in Halifax on the street. And when I did pass by people, they greeted me. It’s like London in the earlier years.”

  I loved how they talked. Everything was Shakespeare, even if it was nonsense or nothing at all. Their imaginations must have been rampant—worry about paparazzi. I shrugged. “I haven’t seen much besides this place and Vancouver. Where have you been here?”

  Jack smiled. “We have seen Victoria, Regina, Ottawa, Old Quebec, Charlottetown, and Halifax. We love both coasts.”

  “This side of Canada does seem nice, but I like the Wild West better. ‘Course I haven’t seen Halifax. I think there might be an embargo against my ever having fun here.”

  Millie’s eyes darted to the right and a coy smile crossed her lips. “I doubt that very much, my dear.” I followed her gaze to Aiden entering the dining room. He nodded his head to the right and walked out the patio door.

  Jack chuckled softly. “Well, I believe you have just been summoned. Mustn’t keep him waiting. He despises being kept waiting. It runs in the family.”

  I shrugged, acting as if it didn’t matter that he wanted to see me on the deck. But it did. Since the day at Peggy’s Cove, we had become fast friends, him constantly making attempts at kissing me and me playing hard to get like a boss.

  There was something about him, something frightening. He was real. He wanted to talk about real things, like my scar or my father and Sheila or my friends. He even talked like he was so much older than I was. His proper English was intimidating. He never just small-talked about celebs or gossip. He was intense, always. I had thought it might have been an English thing, but none of the Brits in the retirement home were like that. He was different. Scary different.

  I smiled. “Well, enjoy your tea.” I got up and walked to the deck, slipping through nonchalantly.

  Aiden was sitting on the railing. His hair was cut and styled, no more shag. He was dressed oddly as well, like a guy from a Hugo Boss ad. Tight black dress pants and a dress shirt with a sweater vest over top. He was extra preppy, but it suited his lean European body type. It was weird seeing him that way. Normally, he was casual in jeans and tee shirts.

  He looked funny too, distant. He gave me a look through those inky lashes and smiled, but his eyes stayed dark under his brow. “I have to leave again, but I was wondering if I could write you?”

  I smiled. “Yeah, my email is super easy to remember. It’s—”

  He held up a hand. “No, I mean real letters. Can I write you real letters by hand?” He laughed at the face I was making. “And you write back.”

  “By hand?” I wasn’t sure I could do that. I didn’t even know how to mail a letter.

  “Of course, by hand.”

  I glanced down at my feet. “Why do you have to go?”

  He stepped closer to me. “Family things. I don’t want to go.” He held out his hand and I took it. He pulled me down the running trail along the lakeside. We walked down the path, not talking. It was weird. Normally when we went walking, we talked, but I didn’t have anything to say. Nothing that could top his leaving anyway.

  He stopped at a large rock and looked down on me. He really was quite tall. I had to crane my neck when we were next to one another.

  He ran his hands down my cheeks, brushing the hair out of the way and cupping my jaw. It had been five weeks since we’d met, and I had imagined every second of what was about to happen. He dragged his thumb across my lower lip. “You are so beautiful.”

  My lips parted, but he didn’t do it. He stayed, hovering over me and staring at my lips. “There are so many things I want to do right now.”

  I swallowed hard. “When will you be back?” I wanted to do those things too, but not in the woods. A girl who held out as long as I had needed to lose her V-card somewhere special.

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. I want to stay, but I can’t.” His blue eyes had me trapped in a staring contest. I couldn’t look away. He leaned forward, brushing his soft lips on my cheek. I almost turned my head, forcing the kiss, but I didn’t. I just pressed my cheek into his face. We hovered there like we were telling each other secrets.

  When he released me, he turned and walked up the trail. He looked back. “Do you admit defeat, then?”

  “In what?”

  “Your feelings for me? Do you admit you like me as much as I like you?”

  I grinned. “Never.”

  “Liar.” He smiled back and then walked away, not saying another word to me. Not even saying good-bye.

  I stood, waiting for him to come back and kiss me for real.

  But he didn’t come, and when I walked back to the deck, he wasn’t there. The ladies at the table waved, all except Marbles, but I could see the smile in her eyes.

  When I got inside, I saw a look on Jack’s face.

  Aiden was gone completely. He had actually just left me in the friggin’ woods.

  “Shit!” I stormed the office and sat in the chair. My fingers hovered over the keys, but I didn’t do it. I didn't log on and see what depressing shit was being said about me. I didn't go on and see what bad shit my friends were up to.

  I sat and stared at my own reflection on the laptop screen.

  What exactly had happened?

  I met a boy. He annoyed me and at the same time, made me feel alive. He made me do things I wasn’t completely comfortable with, but it wasn't dirty. He didn’t really swear, he dressed like an adult, and his manners were amazing. Aside from hauling me to Peggy’s Cove.

  What was I supposed to do without him?

  I got lost staring at myself.

  My summer changed from that moment on.

  I didn’t mean to be the girl who based her summer on a guy, but he felt bigger than a summer fling. He had felt like a life changer. He had felt like Jack and Millie, like he would surprise me every day until I was a hundred.

  I mentally slapped my cheek and reminded myself that it had only been a few weeks of actual hanging out. That wasn't long enough to establish real feelings.

  But my heart prevailed, and I spent all my time wishing he were back.

  I certainly didn’t spend it worrying about what my clothes looked like or how fat my lips were. I didn’t bother with my hair. It was ponytails and yoga pants most of the time, if it wasn’t shorts, tees, and bathing suits. I didn’t care that I was always covered in Peaches’s fur and she hogged the bed at night. I didn’t mind that Hattie and I had come to an understanding. I told her no secrets and she gossiped about me freely anyway. At least her version of me was a crazed badass.

  Instead of having an amazing summer before senior year, I had an experience like no other. I never got drunk once, I never kissed boys I shouldn’t, I never woke up once wondering what had happened the night before, but best of all, I never looked around at the people surrounding me and wondered if any of them had it out for me.

  It was a strange comfort to be surrounded by old people who wanted to live in peace, leaving every other thing in the world alone. No one bothered me. I didn't feel pressured to do things I didn't actually want to do.

  The only bad part was the ache in my chest. I caught myself staring at the Atlantic Ocean like it was a challenge for me to overcome. Like it was the thing keeping us apart.

  The only thing that saved me was the first letter. A real handwritten le
tter. I opened it like he might have been in there, but it was just a single piece of paper.

  Finley,

  I hope this finds you exactly as I left you. Maybe not exactly. I don’t think I want you to be standing in the forest still, leaning against a large stone. I should have kissed you. I can say that now because it is a letter. It is true though. I should have. I hate that I have regrets. Do you see what you are doing to me? At any rate, I hope you haven’t changed in the three days it has been since I have left.

  The reason I am writing, beyond to tell you of my regrets, is there is a must-see in a place called Lunenburg. You have to go there. I have arranged a car. It will be at Hattie’s on Friday. You will stop at a place called Mahone Bay. It is my favorite place in Nova Scotia. Be there at noon, sharp. I can’t wait for you to see something I love.

  Enjoy! I miss you.

  Yours,

  A

  His penmanship was amazing. I looked at the letter, over and over, until the paper was wrinkled up. It smelled like him for a day and then it smelled like me, and Peaches.

  I couldn't believe he was planning a day trip for me.

  On Friday, when the car came, I had to laugh. It was a fancy black car, a Bentley if I wasn’t mistaken. The driver opened the door for me like a gentleman.

  “Thanks, I’m Finley.”

  He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  He didn't introduce himself or say anything else. So I got in and sat back. The drive to Mahone Bay seemed familiar. I leaned forward. “Is this the way to Peggy’s Cove?”

  He nodded. “It is. We passed the turn some time ago. We have to arrive in Mahone Bay at exactly noon. Otherwise, I would say we should stop. Peggy’s Cove is amazing in the sun.”

  I smiled. “I think I like my memory of it in the rain.”

  He looked confused but drove on.

  We turned off at a random spot, on a road that didn’t look like much until we rounded a corner and came into a large bay with a town nestled in it. My mouth dropped. The water was calm so you could almost see the reflection of the colorful old houses and the huge churches. Why so many for such a tiny fishing village? It was beautiful in a way that made me think of France along the southern coastline.