Love Me One More Time by Laura Burton
Chapter 8
My heart soars as Carter and I run through the forest to the farthest end of the beach. There is rustling and squawking above our heads, and waves crashing on the shore beside us. Cicadas laugh at us from tree branches, and somewhere in the distance, I swear I hear a dolphin bleat.
We stop when we reach rocks. The water is glittering, and there are streams of amber and orange sunshine across the horizon.
The only footprints in the sand are ours. “Do you want to go for a swim?” Carter asks with a raised brow.
I can’t hold back my smile. He knows he doesn’t have to ask me twice.
“It’s been a long time since I swam in the sea.” Which is crazy, now that I think about it, because my house is right on the beach.
I pull off my shirt, happy that I chose to wear a bathing suit under my clothes.
“Even longer since you’ve gone swimming here with me,” Carter says. He’s looking down at my body and his forehead is red.
Is he checking me out?
I shake my head, trying to get rid of the thought. No. Carter doesn’t see me that way anymore. Not after all these years. Not after how badly I broke his heart.
We run into the sea. The ebbing tide spatters our legs and I reach down to splash Carter. Drops of water cling to his torso. I can relate.
We circle each other in the water like a pair of sharks, occasionally splashing each other and laughing. I inhale the salty vapor the ocean exhales and it’s the most glorious, grounding experience. It’s like billions of particles of water are hugging my body, telling me that everything is going to be okay.
I shut my eyes and let my body be engulfed, and the water holds me up as I go limp. I lay on my back like a starfish, letting the sun’s rays beat down against me.
Carter says something but my ears are below the surface and all I hear is a rumble.
I go under and wiggle my body like I’m a mermaid, speeding through the ocean.
When I come up for air, I catch sight of Carter’s head and shoulders bobbing a few feet away. His eyes are gleaming. “What?” I ask.
Carter paddles over to me, and brushes my damp hair away from my face. “We’ve only been here a few hours,” he says. “And we’ve already broken one of your mom’s rules.”
I giggle. “Rules? Oh, right. No swimming.”
An impish grin spreads across his face. “You know what we should do?” The deep rumble of his voice sends a rush of butterflies to my stomach. I see him glance at my lips.
Is he thinking what I’m thinking?
I can already see it. We’ll look like mer-people with the setting sun behind us. It’ll look amazing on my Instagram page.
Do his lips still taste like peppermint? My lips tingle in anticipation; Carter was the best kisser. But there’s so much history between us. A kiss can’t just be a kiss. There are so many strings attached to something like that, it might as well come with a big ball of yarn. And Carter will have no idea what kind of drama and angst he’s signed up for.
If he kisses me, I want it to be a promise that he will never stop.
Or at the very least, that he won’t ever let me go again.
Next time I tell him it’s over, for example, I want him to fight for us.
And if I kiss him, my promise to him will be that I won’t ever put him in that position again.
I lick my lips. The salty taste brings me back to the moment and I search Carter’s eyes, wondering what that glint in his eye means.
He finds my hand under the water and interlocks his fingers with mine. “The routine.”
My eyes go wide. Then I laugh out loud. “You don’t mean…”
He nods. “For the family talent show.”
I whistle. I haven’t thought about the routine in years. In college, we came up with a dance routine and performed it––as a joke––in a charity talent show. Thanks to my mom, there’s not much I wouldn’t do for charity.
The routine really wasn’t half-bad. We won second prize. People even said we should have won, and that we were robbed. But the first prize went to Pooky, the singing and dancing parrot. To be fair, that performance was a real showstopper.
I shake my head. “I don’t know if I even remember it,” I confess.
The question is, do I really want to perform the routine for Carter’s family? I think I’ll pass.
Carter gives me a wry look. “Come on, I bet you’ll pick it up again after we practice for an hour or so.”
I want to say no. Actually, I want to scream no and swim away. But Carter’s eyes have me locked in place and I can’t move, or even bring myself to squeak.
“Come on. Everyone in the family is buying tickets to the show. All the proceeds are going to the children’s hospital. They need a show.”
“You didn’t hire entertainers?” I cock a brow at him.
“It’s a family talent show!” he says. “Emphasis on the word family.”
We swim back to shore and Carter helps me out of the water, like the perfect gentleman that he is. I really wish he’d be more like the jerk I painted for my mom. That would have made turning him down a piece of cake.
“Carter, I honestly don’t want to do the routine. It was years ago. We were kids. Now we’ll just look like a pair of idiots.”
“Isn’t that the fun of it?” Carter shoots back, taking my hand again.
Holding hands with him feels so natural. There was a time when the thought of my hand in his would trigger a flood of angry tears. I was so angry.
Angry at the universe.
Angry at all the people who stood in our way.
Angry that I couldn’t go back in time and change everything.
But we’re here now, walking barefoot in the sand and holding hands. It’s like not even a day has passed.
Do hearts have muscle memory?
Because I swear mine just picks up a familiar rhythm whenever I’m with him.
Every time he bites his bottom lip and grins, my heart skips a beat.
Every time he brushes my arm, or rests a hand on my lower back, it starts to thump double time. I guess if I’m honest with myself, I never got it back. My heart isn’t mine. It’s his. It’s always been his. And the way he holds me and looks at me makes me feel like a part of him knows it too.
“Fine. We can practice, but if I can’t remember the moves or I start to feel silly, I’m out, okay?”
Carter grins. “Deal.”