Meanwhile, the guy continued to watch me. Even though he was seated, I could tell he was lean, muscular, and definitely cute, but my whole boy-crazy phase had pretty much died the moment Dr. Bobbi spread that goop on my tummy and I heard the heartbeat. I let my gaze fall, wishing that I’d just gone back to the car and regretting I’d said anything at all. I’d never been good at eye contact except at slumber parties when I was having a staring contest with my friends, and the last thing I needed was another boy in my life. Especially on a day like today; not only had I been crying, but I hadn’t worn any makeup, and I was dressed in baggy jeans, Converse high-tops, and a down jacket that probably made me look like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.
“Hi,” he finally ventured, breaking into my thoughts. “I’m just enjoying the fresh air.”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I continued to focus on the water, pretending that I hadn’t heard him and hoping he wouldn’t ask if I’d been crying.
“Are you okay? You look like you’ve been crying.”
Great, I thought. Even though I didn’t want to talk to him, I didn’t want him to think I was an emotional wreck, either.
“I’m fine,” I asserted. “I was at the front of the boat and the wind made my eyes water.”
I wasn’t sure he believed me, but he was nice enough to act like he did. “It’s pretty up there.”
“There’s not much to see once the sun goes down.”
“You’re right,” he agreed. “The whole ride has been pretty quiet so far. No reason to even reach for the camera. I’m Bryce Trickett, by the way.”
His voice was soft and melodic, not that I cared one way or the other. Meanwhile, the dog had begun to stare at me, its tail thumping. Which reminded me of the reason I’d spoken up in the first place.
“Did you train your dog to throw out garbage?”
“I’m trying to,” he said before breaking into a smile, dimples flashing. “But she’s young and still working on it. She ran off a few minutes ago, so we had to practice again.”
My attention was fixed on those dimples and it took me a second to retrieve my train of thought. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why train your dog to throw out the garbage?”
“I don’t like litter, and I didn’t want any of it blowing into the ocean. It’s not good for the environment.”
“I meant why don’t you just throw it out?”
“Because I was sitting down.”
“That’s mean.”
“Sometimes the mean justifies the end, right?”
Ha ha, I thought. But actually, I’d walked right into the stupid pun, grudgingly acknowledging that it was kind of original as far as puns went.
“Besides, Daisy doesn’t mind,” he went on. “She thinks it’s a game. Do you want to meet her?”
Even before I could respond, he said, “Break,” and Daisy quickly rose to her feet. Walking over, she curled around my legs, whining, her tongue lapping at my fingers. Not only did she look like Sandy, she felt like her, and while I stroked her fur, I was transported back to a simpler, happier life in Seattle, before everything went sour.
But just as quickly, reality came rushing back and I realized that I had no desire to linger. I offered Daisy a couple of final pats and put my hands in my pockets while trying to think of an excuse to leave. Bryce was not deterred.
“I don’t think I caught your name.”
“I didn’t tell you my name.”
“That’s true,” he said. “But I can probably figure it out.”
“You think you can guess my name?”
“I’m usually pretty good,” he said. “I can read palms, too.”
“Are you serious?”
“Would you like a demonstration?”
Before I could answer, he gracefully rose from his chair and started toward me. He was a little taller than I’d expected, and lanky, like a basketball player. Not a center or forward like Zeke Watkins, but maybe a shooting guard.
When he was close, I could see flecks of hazel in his brown eyes, and again I noticed the trace of amusement in his expression that I’d seen earlier. He seemed to scan my face, and when he was satisfied, he motioned to my hands, which were still buried in my pockets. “Can I see your hands now? Just hold them faceup.”
“It’s cold.”
“It won’t take long.”
This was weird and getting weirder, but whatever. After I showed him my palms, he leaned closer to them, concentrating. He held a finger up.
“Do you mind?” he asked.
“Go ahead.”
He traced his finger lightly over the lines in my palms, one after the other. It struck me as strangely intimate, and I felt a little unsettled.
“You’re definitely not from Ocracoke,” he intoned.
“Wow,” I said, trying to keep him from knowing how I felt. “Amazing. And your guess probably has nothing to do with the fact that you’ve never seen me around here before.”
“I meant that you’re not from North Carolina. You’re not even from the South.”
“You might have also noticed I don’t have a Southern accent.”
Nor did he, I suddenly realized, which was strange, since I thought everyone in the South was supposed to sound like Andy Griffith. He continued to trace for another few seconds before pulling his finger back. “Okay, I think I’ve got it now. You can put your hands back in your pockets.”
I did. I waited but he said nothing. “And?”
“And what?”
“Do you have all your answers?”
“Not all of them. But enough. And I’m pretty sure I know your name.”
“No, you don’t.”
“If you say so.”
Whether he was cute or not, I was done with the game and it was time for me to go. “I think I’m going to go sit in the car for a while,” I said. “It’s getting cold. Nice meeting you.” Turning around, I took a couple of steps before I heard him clear his throat.
“You’re from the West Coast,” he called out. “But not California. I’m thinking…Washington? Maybe Seattle?”
His words stopped me in my tracks and when I turned, I knew I couldn’t hide my shock.
“I’m right, aren’t I?”
“How did you know?”
“The same way I know you’re sixteen and a sophomore. You’ve also got an older sibling and I’m guessing it’s…a sister? And your name starts with an M…not Molly or Mary or Marie, but something even more formal. Like…Margaret? Only you probably call yourself Maggie or something like that.”
I felt my jaw drop slightly, too stunned to say anything at all.
“And you didn’t move to Ocracoke permanently. You’re only staying a few months or so, right?” He shook his head, breaking into that smile again. “But enough. Like I said earlier, I’m Bryce and it’s nice to meet you, Maggie.”
It took a few seconds before I was finally able to croak out, “You could tell all that from looking at my face and my palms?”
“No. I learned most of it from Linda.”