Back on shore, we walk around blankets and other set-ups with our heads down, anything we can do to keep from being recognized. Honestly, I’m surprised we don’t have permanent spine and muscle damage from keeping our heads down all the time. There are times when I don’t care if someone doesn’t notice me, and there are times when I want them to and they don’t. That’s a real shot to my ego, but in the end, it always seems to work out for the best. Go out with Harrison, Liam or JD, on the other hand, and we’re sure to have fans coming up to us. JD, specifically, loves the attention and will tweet his location to people and act surprised when they show up. On days like today, I don’t want to be recognized and even if I am, I’d like to be left alone.
Whiskey and Nola are lounging in the sun when we reach them. I’m jealous that Quinn can lean down and kiss his girl when all I can do is smile at mine. Believe me, I’m grateful that she’s here, but damn it if I don’t want more. I know how lucky I am right now and shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, but I can’t help it. The way Whiskey is sitting there, staring at me, has my hormones working in overdrive and I have a feeling that she knows it.
“Hey,” I say to her as I set my board in the sand.
“I have to say, Ballard, I’m a little upset that I didn’t get to see you surf.”
“Excuse me?” I’m slightly caught off guard by her tone together with the fact that Nola is snickering.
“Yeah, I mean after the way Nola described Quinn while he’s in the water, I could only picture you being the same and was excited to see it.”
“How exactly did Eleanora describe me?” Quinn asks. The only time he uses her real name is when he’s being serious.
“Oh, you know,” Nola says with a coy shrug.
“No, actually I don’t,” he says to her.
“I’d like to know as well,” I say. “Maybe it’s something I can do that might win me some brownie points with my girl.”
Nola and Whiskey start laughing. Both of them double over in laughter while Quinn and I stand there, watching them act like silly fools.
“I guess we’re missing the joke,” I tell him.
He nods. “I guess. I’m thinking you and I should head south and leave these two here.”
“We could. We have the Wrangler. That would save us some time,” I add.
Nola stops laughing and looks dead straight at Quinn. She slowly stands and puts her hands on her hips. “You wouldn’t leave me.”
He shrugs.
“Ajay would leave me,” Whiskey says. Her words hurt my feelings even though they’re true because that’s the guy she remembers. I was young and stupid.
I choose not to play her game or continue the banter that’s going on around us. I walk past her and over to the cooler where I pull out a bottle of water and the necessary stuff to make a sandwich. I figure if my mouth is full, I can’t say anything stupid. I feel her beside me before she even says a word, and when she touches my arm, I do everything I can to not pull away from her.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “That was really insensitive.”
“But true,” I remind her. “What you said was true. I left you, but I’m back now, Whiskey.”
She sighs and tries to smile, but her lips barely move. “I don’t know if you being back is a good or bad thing.”
“I suppose for you, it’s a bad thing. I’m interrupting your life. If I had my way, we would fo
rget the missing years and start over. I know it’s not that easy though. Even though Harvey has essentially given us a second chance at making things right, you have a boyfriend which is sort of a roadblock.”
“Logan… our relationship is different. We’re a weekend thing, maybe a couple times a month, and we mostly just hang out. Yesterday, he came down and took me to the fair.”
“Does he know about me?”
“He does now. I hadn’t told him before because I never thought I could bring myself to talk about the hurt I went through. He knew someone had hurt me but not the story behind it.”
“I will never stop telling you how sorry I am for what I did, Whiskey. I do hope that someday you understand why though.”
She looks away and I go through the motions of making myself something to eat even though I’m not hungry and my appetite is gone. I hate knowing she has a boyfriend — or a “friend” — and I have to keep reminding myself that I shouldn’t care even though I really do.
“Do you think we could go for a walk?” she asks. “There’s something I want to show you.”
“Yes,” I blurt out, probably too eagerly. I scramble to put everything away and offer her a bottle of water, which she declines. I guzzle mine and put the empty bottle in the box that Nola designated for recycling.