“Yeah. I just finished my freshman year at Wayne State.”
“I thought you looked young.”
“I’m nineteen.” She became aware of her defensiveness when she saw his small smile. “You can’t be much older, if you just graduated.”
“I’ll be twenty-two this fall.”
“Oh,” she said, feeling self-conscious. She’d felt more on equal footing talking about the secret lake, a place they both considered special. At the moment, he seemed so much more mature than her. Not only was she younger than him, she was well aware she’d lived a somewhat isolated existence, compared to most American girls, given her family’s relative conservativeness and overprotective nature. She still had ten or eleven o’clock curfews, for goodness’ sake. She’d never lived away from home, even for a few days. Maybe he was thinking the same thing about how immature she seemed, because he seemed to hesitate as he looked down at her.
“What are you studying at Wayne State?” he asked, but she had the impression he’d been about to say something else and edited himself at the last second.
“I’m still technically undecided as far as a major. But I’m going to declare business this fall.”
“Business, huh?” he asked, grinning.
Her backbone straightened. “What’s so funny about that?”
“Not funny. Just unexpected.”
“How would you know what to expect of me one way or another?” she asked incredulously.
He put up his hands in a surrender gesture. “It was just an impression, that’s all.”
“Based on what?”
“Your singing. Your love of privacy in a picturesque spot.” He dipped his head and spoke more quietly. “Your tendency to do something romantic, like swim naked there alone. The notebooks. I thought maybe you were a writer or something.”
Her skin roughened. “Notebooks?” she asked in an unnatural, high-pitched voice. He’d noticed her music notebooks?
“Yeah. They were on the beach this afternoon, along with your clothes.” She blanched and stepped back, feeling even more naked than she had when he’d seen her without her clothes on. “Jesus. I’m sorry, why is that such a big deal?” Asher wondered, clearly at a loss as to how to respond to her reaction to him seeing a few bundles of paper and some pencils.
“Nothing. It’s nothing,” she said hollowly, mentally scurrying to hide her sudden discomfort. She was glad night had fallen. She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling overexposed. No one knew about those notebooks, not even her mother. They were the source of her greatest pride.
Her greatest shame.
“I used to go there to write sometimes,” he said.
She started and glanced up at him. “You did?”
“I just thought maybe you did too,” he added.
She swallowed thickly, overly aware of her pulse leaping at her throat. God, she was acting so jumpy around him. He probably thought she was an idiot.
“Wha . . . what kinds of things did you write there?”
“Just stories.” She met his stare, curious despite her discomfort. “Observations I’ve made. News stories, mostly. I’m a reporter.” He shrugged. “Or I will be, in a few weeks. Officially, anyway. I’ve had plenty of internships before now. But I start at the L.A. Times this August. International desk.”
“That’s great.”
“Thanks,” he said. He gave her a questioning glance. He expected her to say what she’d been writing in those notebooks, but it was a too deeply buried secret to rise easily to the surface.
“It’s not financial equations, is it?” he asked her with gentle amusement. “Or a detailed plan to start your own company.” Her pulse leapt higher at her throat when she saw how closely he studied her reaction to his questions. There was warmth in his eyes. Somehow, miraculously, he’d seen that her heart wasn’t in the idea of studying business. That was her parents’ dream, not hers. She wanted to shout out that of course it wasn’t financial equations or business plans. Who would escape to such a private, beautiful place to think about business? Instead, she pursed her lips uncertainly.
“That’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. I can see the truth.”
“You can?” she breathed out in uneasy amazement.
“I imagine you’re a poet or an author or something. Or maybe a songwriter? I’ve never heard that song you were singing before.”