Authors: Katrina Penaflor
“Do you know
any of the constellations?”
Ren asks me.
“No,”
I say before yawning. “But right now I wish I did.”
“Yeah, me
too.”
I’m not even
sure what time it is at this point. I wonder if Ren is as close to sleep as I
am.
I shut
my eyes and pull the blanket that’s on top of us close to my neck.
Maybe
just a quick nap.
Chapter Eight
Ren
I must have fallen asleep. I’m exhausted and I wake up to the
smell of the beach. I turn to see the fire dying down next to me and Emmy is
curled up on my side, sleeping.
I look at my phone to see the time, 5:30.
I don
’t want to
wake her, she looks so peaceful, but it’s not safe for us to be asleep in the
middle of the beach.
“Emmy,”
I say while gently shaking her shoulder.
“Emmy wake up.”
She slowly opens her eyes. They look even darker brown under the
limited light. “We fell asleep,”
she says before looking
around to take in her surroundings. “What time is it?”
“5:30, we should get back to the house. We can continue sleeping
there.”
“Okay.”
She sits up and rubs her eyes a few times.
“We didn’t sleep very long.”
“A little over a half an hour I think.”
I brush some sand up to put out the remainder of the fire, and
shake the blanket we slept on. Emmy grabs the food and puts it all in one of
the bags I brought. She still has a blanket wrapped around herself.
It’s pretty cute how tired she looks.
She already starts the walk back to the house, not bothering to
wait around for me. I like that she does what she wants without a care.
“Fine. Go on without me!”
I yell.
She turns around. “Well, don’t be so slow!”
I jog a little to catch up. “Don’t forget you need me and my keys
to get back into the house.”
“Are you sure about that?”
The way she says it makes me a little unsure. I pat my pockets. No
keys. I look at her with question in my eyes. What did she do?
A smile lights up her face before she holds up my keys. “Oh, you
mean these keys? Looks like I didn’t need your help to get back into the house
at all.
You
actually need
my
help.”
How in the hell did she get those from me?
“You sneaky girl.”
I shake my head back and forth
while holding out my hand. She hands me back the keys and walks towards the
house while laughing.
“I should have left you asleep on the beach,”
I mutter.
“I heard that!”
Of course she did.
After getting into the house I walk Emmy upstairs and I show her
the guest room. The walls are painted a light blue, and there is minimal
furniture, just a queen sized bed and a dresser on the opposite wall. The view
though, through the window, is pretty spectacular. There’s also an attached
Jack and Jill bathroom that links the guest room and my room together.
“This is the guest bedroom,”
I say. “You can make
yourself comfortable.”
“Thanks, this is really nice. Where’s your room?”
“Through here.”
I lead Emmy through the
bathroom and into my room. It hasn’t changed much since before I moved for
college. I took down all the lame posters I didn’t like anymore. It mostly
consists of my bed with a navy comforter, a television that sits on my dresser,
and framed photos across all the walls.
“Did you take these?”
Emmy asks while pointing
to one of the pictures.
“Some of them. A lot are ones my mom did. She would always print
me copies of her favorite ones and I would frame them and hang them up. I sort
of started a collection of her best work.”
The one Emmy pointed at was one my mom did. “Luna” is what
she called it because of how bright the moon was glowing the night she took the
picture. It was of a man sitting on the beach. He looked so tiny in comparison
to the vast amount of water surrounding him. You could only see his back, but
it looked like he was staring far off into the distance.
He stood there for
hours
my mom had told me.
I was walking along the beach with your dad,
and when we finally made our way back around he was still there. I always
wondered what he was looking at, or maybe what he was looking for.
“You’re both really talented. I haven’t seen any of your pictures
before this. You should show me some more sometime.”
“Definitely. Tomorrow I’ll show you some of our books we keep
downstairs. They’re full of pictures.”
“I would really like that.”
She pauses for a moment.
“I should probably get to back to sleep.”
I feel like I want to say something else to Emmy, but I don’t know
what. She almost looks the same, but instead moves a piece of her hair behind
her ear and walks back into the other room.
It’s so hard to read her. When she was standing across the room
from me I could tell she had something running through her mind, but like the
man in the photo, I had no idea what it was.
I strip down to my boxers and get into my bed. For some reason I
can’t fall asleep just yet, even though just a short while ago I was asleep on
the beach. I think back to the moment I saw Emmy standing in the kitchen while
talking to my dad. After he left she looked stunned like something she was
thinking about was freaking her out.
Was it something my dad said? Did she
really not want to come to Newport?
I can never figure her out. One minute she’s laughing and joking
around with me, saying whatever is on her mind, and the next minute she’s cut
off and reserved—almost acting opposite of the Emmy I know.
It makes me think about what she said about her father, and how
she doesn’t miss him. What makes a daughter move across the country from the
only piece of family she has left?
I hear a faint click sound and then the water running in the
bathroom. The tub is one of those old school claw foot ones, and it sounds like
the water is running from the facet for the bath instead of the shower head.
Emmy isn’t able to sleep either.
I close my eyes and try to fall back asleep. It doesn’t make any
sense why I’m not tired. I slept a whole thirty minutes tonight. Emmy is the same
way, but by the sounds of the water filling up the tub I know she’s trying to
relax enough to go to bed as well.
But almost instantly the thoughts of Emmy taking a bath to relax
switch to something else. I picture her getting into the tub, naked.
Just because we agreed to be friends, and we are, doesn’t mean I
still haven’t continued to look at her the way I did when I asked her on a
date. I still think she’s gorgeous. Her hair is always curly and mussed up, and
she has a perfect plump set of lips on her little mouth.
And her eyes, fuck, they’re so dark, almost black. Sometimes I
look at them and all I see is trouble. And she’s staying in my house, getting
into the tub I shower in, completely naked.
Do not masturbate while she takes a bath in the other room. Don’t
do it, Ren.
I shouldn’t be having a million filthy thoughts running through my
mind about what her body looks like in the bath right now.
But I do.
It’s not like I haven’t been looking at her. I found her
attractive when I first met her, that’s no secret. But everything’s been
platonic between us, and I’m worried that my growing attraction to Emmy could
cause problems. Especially since each time I hang out with her, I find another
thing I like. And that’s not just looks.
I hear a knock at the bathroom door.
“Ren?”
I feel like I’m caught red-handed. Or cock-handed, except I know
that’s not actually a phrase.
“Ren?” Emmy asks again.
“Yeah?” I ask with a shake to my voice. I move to get out of my
bed when I hear the door that links to the bathroom open.
Emmy peaks her head through the door. Her hair is wet and combed
back. “Did I wake you?” She asks.
I sit on the edge of my bed, facing her. “No, I haven’t gotten to
sleep yet.”
Too busy picturing you naked and keeping myself from jacking
off.
“Do you have any towels? There aren’t any more in the bathroom.”
When I catch her bare shoulder I realize that she is in fact naked on the other
side of that door.
Wonderful. Just perfect.
“There’s some in the closet in your room.”
“Awesome, thanks.” Emmy closes the door and leaves me sitting on
my bed staring back at it. I fall back onto my bed, covering my eyes with my
arms. I try to force myself to think of anything other than how much trouble my
friendship
with Emmy is going to get me in.
* *
I walk into the kitchen and see Emmy fixing herself a cup of
coffee. She’s also talking to my dad, who sits on one of the barstools in the
kitchen, holding a newspaper in his hand.
“So you don’t normally do the prep?”
she asks. I
don’t think she can tell I’ve entered the kitchen because her back is turned to
me while she stands by the coffee maker.
“No. But Renee has been sick lately, and I offered to come in and
do it. I wasn’t working today and prepping the food for the dinner service
isn’t too difficult of a job, just tedious.”
My dad is the executive chef of an upscale seafood restaurant here
in Newport. He’s easily the greatest cook around, in my opinion, and the
restaurant he manages is really important to him. He also cares about everyone
he works with. Which is why it doesn’t surprise me that he volunteered to go in
today for someone, instead of just assigning it to someone else.
“Are you a good cook?”
she asks.
“I am, yes. The restaurant I work at is very successful, and I
receive a lot of compliments on the food I cook.”
I still keep my distance. I want to hear more of the conversation
before joining in. I like getting these candid moments of Emmy.
“Well, for such a good cook, you sure make shitty coffee.”
I can’t help myself, I bust up laughing, blowing my cover. It
reminds me of a conversation we had at the diner.
“Well look who decided to wake up,”
Emmy says,
while trying to give me an annoyed face.
I check the clock in the kitchen. “It’s only ten-thirty. I barely
slept at all. How long have you been up?”
“She just came down here ten minutes ago,”
my dad says.
Busted.
Emmy tosses her hand not holding the coffee cup into the air.
“Well thanks for blowing my cover!”
“That,”
my dad points his finger at her, “is for
the coffee comment.”
“I was only kidding.”
My dad just looks back down at his paper, smiling. I know he isn’t
really mad, just messing with her.
“Well, I need to head off to the restaurant. What time will you
guys be around today so I know when to cook dinner?”
I want to show Emmy around and take her to some of the local
shops. That shouldn’t take more than a few hours. “We’ll be back here by three,
maybe even earlier than that.”
“Alright, I’ll get things started around that time.”
He gets off the stool and walks over to give me a hug. “I like
that you came by, son.”
He says it quietly enough that only I can
hear. “And I like that you brought Emmy with you,”
he says even quieter.
“Me too.”
He heads back upstairs, leaving me and Emmy alone in the kitchen.
Looking at her now, I’m distracted by what went on with me last
night. Yes, I knew I was attracted to her, but up until yesterday I didn’t
realize how much so, and how thoughts of the things I want to do to her are
flooding my mind.
She probably thinks the complete opposite of what I do.
“Sleep well?”
she asks.
Oh, you have no idea.
I nod and take a seat on a barstool. “What do you want to do
today?”
“I’m not sure. Explore Newport? I didn’t bring a change of
clothes, so can we not go anywhere fancy? Just casual places today, and I want
to see some more of the photographs you were talking about last night.”
She moves to take a seat next to me, holding her mug between both
hands and slowly blowing off the steam on the top.
I had almost forgotten that I mentioned that to her. I want to
respond, but I’m distracted by the pucker of her lips.
Focus.
“We can do all of that. And don’t worry, nothing fancy. I’m not in
the mood for that anyway.”
“What are
you
in the mood for?”
Now she’s playing around.
“Let’s do something chill today. We’ll go around town and be back
in time to eat. You won’t want to miss dinner, and if you call my dad’s cooking
shitty like you did the coffee, I may be forced to expel you from my life.”
“You Warren men are all too sensitive.”
“Maybe you’re just a little too harsh.”
“Nope. That’s not it. Now show me the photos.”
“Right this way, madam.”
I lead her to the
opposite side of the house and into the studio.