WELCOME TO JANE’S BEACH!
That’s what it says on the sign that hangs above the door in my room. It used to say WELCOME TO JANUS BEACH, but that was before Becca and Melanie drove to Janus Beach, stole the sign, and painted an “E apostrophe” over the “U.”
They gave it to me as a victory present after my big win at the state swim meet. Whenever I see the sign I think about how crazy it must have been at the scene of the crime. Master criminals, they are not.
The sign has a big picture of the Roman god Janus. According to the myth, Janus had two faces looking in opposite directions. Lately, I’ve been feeling a lot like him. It’s not that I’m two-faced in the Crystal Gentry kind of way. But I definitely feel like I’m developing a split personality.
Sometimes, I’m Bikini Jane—a confident girl who struts around in a two-piece and feels more and more at ease flirting with a twelfth-degree hottie. At other times, I’m Plain Jane—a shy girl who waddles around in a beaver costume and is getting used to little kids yanking her oversize tail.
The weird part is that I like both.
Right now I’m in Bikini Jane mode heading over to Alex’s. Despite the hair scrunching, makeup, and sense of confidence, I don’t feel like a phony when I’m with him.
I never say anything that I don’t mean, and I don’t play games like pretending to be an airhead. (I hate it when girls do that.) The only bad part is the lie I told him about being a mermaid. But that was more a panic thing than a phony thing. (At least I hope it was.) I’m confident around Alex, but it’s still me.
I think it helps that all of our time together has been in the pool, where I’m already sure of myself. When I’m at a swim meet, I feel like everyone else is swimming for second place. But when it comes to guys, I’ve always been the runner-up. I’m the one they come to with their problems, or (even worse) to talk to about the girls they do like. But Alex has changed that.
It’s not like anything is happening between us. So far, it’s just flirting. But it feels like something could happen. And that’s a big step.
“What are we doing today?” he asks as we get into the pool.
“I’m going to teach you the back float,” I tell him as I get behind him. “All you’ve got to do is lean back.”
The back float is probably the hardest thing for adults to learn because they can’t see the water until they’re in it.
He’s uneasy at first, but then he finally starts coming back. I catch him and help him ease into the water.
“You’re doing great,” I tell him. “Just try to relax and let the water hold you up.”
I move my hand from his shoulders down the center of his back until I’m holding him up with just the tips of my fingers. I try to keep my focus on the lesson, but I have to admit, it’s pretty sexy.
Everything is perfect.
Then it starts to rain.
By the time we make it inside the house, it’s pouring. I look over at Alex, and he looks happier than I’ve ever seen him.
“Guess the lesson’s over,” he says.
“Looks like it,” I say.
Then he catches me off guard. “Want to watch a movie?”
“It’s nine in the morning,” I say. “I don’t think there are any theaters open.”
“I know one,” he says with a smile. He leads me upstairs to where his dad has built the most unbelievable home theater.
“Although I officially hate the house,” he says, “I have to admit, Dad got this room right. It’s got THX surround sound and a sixty-inch flat-screen monitor. All you’ve got to do is pick the movie.”
(Just for the record, I am technically counting this as date number one.)
We dig through a stack of DVDs to look for anything that we might like. Apparently his father and stepmother are really into war movies, Westerns, and Pilates exercise routines. Finally, he comes across a possibility.
“Do you like horror movies?” he asks.
I scrunch my face. I hate horror movies. I never watch them. I usually don’t even like people who like them. But it’s our first date, so I’ll agree to anything.
I rearrange my face. “Sure, which one is it?”
He holds the DVD, and I start to laugh. It’s Blue Crush.
“That’s about girls who surf. That’s not a horror movie.”
He looks at the cover. “It is if you’re scared of the water.”
As he puts it in, I ask him a question. “I get that your dad likes war movies and Westerns. And I’m guessing your mother—”
“Stepmother,” he corrects instantly.
“Excuse me, stepmother, likes to work out. But which one bought Blue Crush?”
He thinks about it for a moment and has a perplexed look. “I don’t know. But either way, it kind of creeps me out.”
He grabs the remote and we sit together—not touching, but together on the couch. As the opening credits roll, I ask myself, What would Bikini Jane do?
I take a quick breath, reach over, and slide my hand in his. It’s electric and it’s thrilling. He doesn’t look over at me or even say a word. But he wraps his fingers between mine, and I melt. (Blue Crush is now my favorite movie.)
Since we’ve both seen the movie before, we spend a lot of time making fun of it. He even does a hilarious impression of Kate Bosworth at the end of the movie when she rides out of the last big wave and pumps her fist in the air.
By the time the movie’s over, the rain has stopped and both of us have to get going to work.
“Thanks for the movie,” I say. “It was fun.”
“Yeah,” he says. “Horrifying, but fun.”
He walks me to my car, and we hold hands the whole way. My heart is racing. All I can think about is whether we’re going to kiss.
A couple of times it looks like he’s going to make a move, but he doesn’t. I pretty much give up on it once I fasten my seat belt.
Then he leans in through the window and starts to give me a kiss. It catches me completely off guard. In fact, it catches me so off guard that my foot slips off the brake.