Sam--short for Samantha, if you please--has been living in Crawley, Maine for about a year in her grandfather's lighthouse. A promising advertiser, she works from home and the local coffee shop, where she gets her daily hot chocolate fix. For her, l...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Fifteen minutes of walking behind Mr. Soft Coat—which I would much more accurately call getting-pulled-along-by—had me breathing in short, heavy gasps. His long, limber body hid an intimidating athleticism that I had never acquired in my short, twenty-five years of life. We quickly passed the road that would lead to my house and made the trip to the shore in record time—at least for me. I preferred to meander and take my time enjoying the scenery. Mr. Soft Coat, on the other hand, was all business.
His face was set into a grim line, his jaw ticking with nerves or anger, I couldn't tell. The hand holding mine was firm, I would not be able to extract my hand without effort, but wasn't bruising. We did not speak for those fifteen minutes; the set of his jaw warning me away.
I knew we were close. The salt in the air and the never silent call of seagulls were getting stronger. His hand tightened on mine almost imperceptibly, then it relaxed. We broke through the last line of trees, the last barrier, and the roar of the ocean waves greeted us in warning.
Mr. Soft Coat lifted our hands and guided me over the large, precarious stones. Our slow progress brought us steadily closer to the shoreline. I could feel the salt spray on my face and as I reached to wipe it from my cheeks, I stumbled.
"Whoa—"
A wiry arm wrapped around my waist and I was pulled by my still-held hand and the new point of contact in to Mr. Soft Coat's chest. Surprised from the sudden change from falling to pulling, I shot my free hand out and it met his chest with a thud. Heart thudding in my chest, my eyes dragged slowly from my palm pressed against flannel, to a bobbing Adam's apple, to dark whirlpool eyes. The thud of my own heart echoed in the heavy beat against my own palm.
"Thank—thank you."
He blinked slowly and nodded, swallowing heavily. The hand at the small of my back twitched, fingers tightening slightly, and I flinched away, closer to him.
"I'm good, you—you can let go now."
He blinked quickly this time, multiple times in secession, then his hand slid away from my back and back into the pocket of his coat. Steel-toed boots took a few steps back, and the overwhelming closeness was reduced to a simple handhold. I thought I heard a mumbled, "sorry," but the waves and his turned head garbled the sound. I decided to let it go and pretend like it never happened,
"So when are you going to show me... whatever you were going to show me?"
"Now."
We had reached the shore and were encroaching upon a clump of ebony-dark rocks that stood taller than me. Mr. Soft Coat dropped my hand, shoving the remaining one back into the coat. I watched silently as he took a deep breath, then proceeded to take of his coat. Then his shirt.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, what are you doing?!" I quickly flipped around before I saw anything else. He'd only gotten as far as the fourth button down, but the plain view of unblemished skin was enough for me.
