18 Thoughts (My So-Called Afterlife Book 3) (7 page)

“What does regressive behavior mean?”

He let go of my hand and wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. “You saw how neat I kept my side of the room at the hospital. I’m just fixated with controlling every little thing. I guess because I can only control the
little
things at this point. I’m trying not to be a jerk to my parents, but I can’t stop myself from snapping at them constantly. Doesn’t help that I can’t sleep unless I take some pills. And even then I wake up screaming.”

Before I knew what I was doing, I wrapped my hand in his again. I could see in his eyes all that he’d been carrying around. For the first time since Conner’s accident, I felt more sorry for someone else than I did for myself.

“Do you ever feel like you’re losing your mind?” he asked, our gazes meeting.

“You know I do.”

“Oh yeah, you’ve lost your mind to me.” He smiled at that, his entire face settling with affection and understanding.

I let out a shaky laugh because, once again, the notion didn’t seem too terrible. Relaxing a little, I changed the subject to other things. One, because I didn’t want to focus on my feelings too much around him. Two, because I was very eager to learn more about this mystery guy.

“At the hospital, the other day, I heard you mention to the nurse something about being in an indie rock band in your hometown.”

Music and the smell of hot dogs and roasted peanuts wafted through the air, signaling we were close to Waterfront Stadium now.

He glanced at a rusty shop sign swinging in the wind. “Yeah, I was lead vocalist and guitarist. We called ourselves the Sidewalk Poets.”

This similarity between him and Conner jarred me. “Conner does the singing for an indie band here with his friends Sean and Kyle. Plays guitar, too.”

“Yeah?” He tripped on an uneven part of the sidewalk, and I quickly caught him. He slid an arm around my shoulders, smiling. “For support,” he told me. “Well, this sucks. I was kind of hoping to play my musician card to make you fall in love with me instead.”

I shuddered from the wind whooshing off a passing car. At least I told myself the tremble was from the car, and nothing to do with Nate’s comment at all.

“What’s the name of their band?”

“Cantankerous Monkey Squad.”

He barked out a laugh. “How’d they come up with that?”

My gaze traveled to the brick buildings lining the street. “He saw one of those cymbal-clanging monkeys in a shop here one day. He thought of Angry Chimps first, but after some brainstorming, the guys decided on the name they have now. I gave them the cantankerous part. What’s the origin of your band’s name?”

“Well, from about the time I turned ten, I wrote poetry. Even though most of my poems were complete junk, as I got older, I figured I could make them sound better by turning them into songs, so I did. The first time we played, the band consisted of me and one other guy, and we set up on Main Street and left my guitar case open. We made sixty dollars. We thought we were cool walking home with thirty dollars in our pockets for playing pretty terrible stuff. So we came up with a name for ourselves and started playing on the street most Friday nights.”

“You must be very well read. I mean, you quoted Helen Keller and a poet the other day, and you write poetry. No offense, but you don’t seem like the type who’d sit long enough to read much.”

“Well, what’s much? I don’t read typical stuff, though. I study philosophy books written about the great thinkers like Confucius, Plato, and Aristotle. They’re my own personal heroes.” He paused, sucking in a few deep breaths. “What about you? You have a hero?”

Inhaling a deep breath of my own, I noticed how the air smelled cleaner, and I wondered if the difference had anything to do with Nate embracing my world. He seemed to have such a pure spirit, so full of life, even if he had gotten the wind knocked out of him recently. “Jesus. Mother Theresa. People who live simple lives but do extraordinary things. Most people would probably find that ridiculous.”

“I don’t think it’s ridiculous.”

Someone honked in the distance, making me jump. “So what do you like to do when you’re not playing music?”

He shrugged. “Play video games or watch movies.”

“But you’re an adrenaline junkie, too.”

Sweat trickled down his temple. “The drag racing gave me away, eh? Yeah, my idea of exercise isn’t pumping iron at the gym. I’m always skateboarding, kneeboarding, snowboarding. Depends on the season. I guess, once my legs are better, I’ll have lots of opportunity to hone my boarding skills, since I can’t drive anywhere.”

I smiled. “You’ve found your silver lining. Are you going out for any sports when we start school in the fall?”

“Nah, I never got into team sports. Tried baseball and soccer for a season, but I don’t like being told what to do by the man.” He said the last two words using air quotes.

Finally, we reached the boardwalk. Our small town had made its annual metamorphosis into a tourist trap. The boardwalk was crowded, the surrounding green and Waterfront Stadium even more so. Big bands occupied the summer months in Grand Haven with dances scheduled every Wednesday evening at the stadium. Tonight, a national jazz artist drew lots of dancing. Suddenly, I become an epileptic at a light show concert, my vision reduced to stuttering bursts that sent me grabbing onto Nate.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Just feeling light-headed.” I closed my eyes, thinking of how I’d been here with Nate before. I was sure I knew him from somewhere but felt equally sure that knowing him was impossible. Forgetting things, especially people like him, wasn’t in my character.

I felt Nate’s hand move from my shoulder to my head, smoothing down my hair. His black sweater was soft on my face and smelled like fresh laundry.

“In a strange way, it makes sense we’d know each other,” Nate whispered. “I can read your mind, which should be impossible. That kind of opens up all kinds of possibilities, doesn’t it?”

When I felt his lips gently brush the top of my head, I got dizzy again but for a whole ‘nother reason. “You’re right. The quickest way to figuring this all out may just be to hang out with each other.”

“Good. So is this all free?” Nate asked me.

I’d barely opened my mouth to tell him that was one of the best things about Grand Haven when a girl wearing a sundress shoved a piece of paper in my face.

“Don’t forget the sand sculpting contest at Grand Haven City Beach this Friday night!” she sang, moving onto the next person.

I was about to chuck the paper into the trash when Nate grabbed it from me. “Now this looks like a great event for our real first date.”

Raising my eyebrows, I said, “I’m not ready to date yet.”

“Then will you at least dance with me?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not the dancing ty—”

The word died on my lips when he suddenly pulled me into the throng of dancers. I was surprised to see his moves were decent for someone dealing with a bum leg and broken arm. As we crossed right, stepped side left, stepped side right, then stepped together to complete a jazz square, he lifted his good arm to the side to end with jazz hands.

I threw my head back in laughter. “Wow, you’re rocking some old-school skills, huh?”

He tried to cover his wincing, but I heard a small whimper escape his lips. “Oh, please, girl, you ain’t seen nothing yet!”

I laughed again. “I think you should take it easy for now.”

Nate brushed a hand through my hair again. Both gestures, my laugh and his physical affection, felt odd, different, but in a good way.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey.” Suddenly, I felt the urge to brush a hand through his hair, too, but it was damp with sweat, so I resisted.

“I’m glad you aren’t avoiding me tonight.” He took my hand in his and held it to his cheek, brushing the side of his hair.

Sighing, I said, “I should be.”

“Why?”

“Because you just heard my thought about wanting to touch your hair, didn’t you?”

“So, we’re back to the issue of me reading your thoughts again?”

“I guess so.”

He shook his head, then pulled me over to the side of the bleachers. “Relax. It’s summer, and I intend to enjoy the beautiful sunset with a beautiful girl tonight.”

Feeling myself blush, I decided I needed something cold, and fast. “Do you want to get an ice cream cone? Dairy Treat is just across the way. I’ll buy.”

He took a step forward and held out his hand. “Only if you let me pay. This is our first date. I don’t want to set a precedent for our entire relationship.”

Shaking my head, I let my hand fall into his, and we started walking. “Not a date, so how about we each just pay for our own?”

“Nope. I pay for both of us, or I’m not going.”

I looked away, fighting a smile. “Fine, be a gentleman.”
He is kinda perfect.

Nate dropped my hand and wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me toward him. I realized he probably had the boldness to do so because he could hear my thoughts. There was no guessing game involved. He knew how attracted I was to him.

“Olga?”

“Yeah?”

“I wish you could hear my thoughts right now, wish I could put into words how strongly I feel about you.”

“Um, okay, how though? We barely know each other. And didn’t you think I was completely insane just a few weeks ago?”

He gave me a long look, and then we crossed the street with the crowd. “I’m sucked into your thoughts a good deal of my time, so I know you a lot better than you know me. But I’m hoping to change that.”

“Can’t you stop? I don’t want you listening in! It’s infuriating.”

“Not really. I’m too curious. It’s like trying to shut off my own thoughts.”

“But you’re sure this is a recent thing? I mean, could you have heard other people’s thoughts all along and just thought they were yours?”

“Yes, no, and no.”

I rubbed my temples, a headache coming on.

He massaged my shoulders. “Relax. Ice cream makes everything better.” Stepping up to the window, he placed the order. “A Rockpile shake for me, and a chocolate-dipped cone with a double scoop of banana ice cream for the little lady here.”

“Are you poking fun at my five-foot-two status?”

Slipping a ten out of his wallet and handing the crisp bill through the window, he said, “I swear I’m not. I just say awkward things when I’m nervous.”

My heart gave a little jump. “And why would you be nervous?”

He accepted his change, then handed me my ice cream cone. “Because I think I could fall in love with you really fast.”

I licked the ice cream off my cone, grateful for something to do, even though the act felt too sensual in the moment. “How’d you know what I wanted anyway?”

Catching me by surprise, he traced the outline of my forehead, then my cheekbone, all the way down to my chin. “How do you
think
I knew?”

I closed my eyes and cringed, suddenly feeling shy again. “Oh, right, duh. We should start a magic show or something. I could use the extra money for college.”

He nodded, taking a sip of his shake. “I’m game. You want to attend the University of Michigan, right?”

“Ever since I was five when we visited my cousin there. I have the grades, if I can hold myself together for senior year. I just hope Conner is awake by then. It’s his eighteenth birthday next week, too.”

He seemed to twinge at my words, pressing his lips flat and shoving some hair out of his eyes.

We crossed the street again and remained silent for a few minutes while we ate our ice cream, both of us seemingly lost in thought. Or maybe he was lost in my thoughts.

When we reached the bleachers, we hiked all the way to the top and squeezed ourselves into a spot meant for one to get maximum viewing for the sunset behind the dunes, then the musical fountain show.

Nate sat back, slinking an arm around my shoulder and shaking his head. “So is this show as hokey as it sounds?”

I took a bite of my cone. “Pretty much. I mean, they’ve done a lot of cool updates over the course of the last few years, so it’s more modernized and stuff, but it’s no Las Vegas.”

He looked up at me with a sly smile. “No dancing girls in bikinis coming by on water skis then?”

Taking another bite, I said, “Only the drunken tourists.”

“I’d rather see you in a bikini. What do you say to a beach date on Friday, and then we can go to that sand castle contest? We can enter if you want.”

“Mmm.” Another bite. “I suppose I could go after work at three. I can’t stay out too late, though, because I have to visit Conner.”

“You know.” He paused, giving me a sidelong glance. From the softness of his voice, I could tell I wasn’t going to like the next thing that came out of his mouth. “I understand why you feel the need to visit Conner every day, but how can you blame yourself for his accident? You can’t fight nature. It was a random lightning strike.”

It was the decisive way he said the words that shook me to my core, like I’d been beating a dead horse and now I needed to put the stick down. And then Nate was there, wrapping his arms around me, knowing I needed to cry even before I did. These weren’t sad or happy tears, just ones that needed to be shed. I’d never been more scared these past two months, every day getting out of bed not knowing if Conner would still be alive. I didn’t know why, but Nate’s arms around me told me everything would turn out okay. The Grand River slapped against the harbor, making watery noises and drowning out the sound of my sobs. It felt so good to cry, so good to be held.

I glanced at my watch and noted the time was ten o’clock on the dot. Just like magic, the musical fountain show started, the lights and Beatles music a welcome distraction.

Nate leaned against the side of the railing and kept his arm around me. His embrace wasn’t too little or too much; it was just what I needed.

After the twenty-minute show, he shuffled down the bleachers with the rest of the crowd before turning toward me and helping me off the last step.

I smiled. “Thanks. And hey, maybe I can visit Conner Friday morning so we can stay out later.”

Nate blinked rapidly, like a Morse code for
really?