WHAT’S NOT TO LIKE?
A. A. HAD ROUNDED UP A team for beach volleyball, and a few of the Gregory Hall boys were helping her set up the posts and net, but it wasn’t easy—the wind kept blowing everything over. Suddenly it felt a whole lot colder and windier, and then . . . was that a rumble of thunder?
The sky turned an angry shade of charcoal, and all of a sudden rain began to fall, pouring down and sweeping the exposed beach in dark sheets. Congé was a bust!
Everyone on the beach and in the picnic area scattered, racing for cover. A. A. decided to make for a rocky overhang under the cliffs, running as fast as she could across the wet sand, still clutching the volleyball net.
She hadn’t had time to bundle it up, so it was trailing her like a mermaid’s tail, entangling her feet. The rocks up ahead were almost invisible in the heavy rain, and she was completely soaked by the time she reached them. Only one or two more steps—aaargh! That stupid net! It was wrapping around her ankles, tripping her up!
“I got you!” A strong hand grabbed her, pulling her upright and dragging her beneath the overhang. “You okay?” Tri asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine—just wet.” A. A.’s hair was plastered on her face, and it tasted as salty as the sea. Her sweatshirt and yoga pants were like a second, icy skin. On a day like this, they should have been in ski suits, not beachwear. A. A. shivered, pushing her hair out of her face, relishing the warm, scratchy feeling of a blazer being draped around her shoulders.
“It’s kind of damp as well, sorry.”
“That’s . . . that’s okay,” she told him. Now that she could see clearly, A. A. tried to unwrap the volleyball net from around her legs. Tri crouched down to help. A few other kids were huddled nearby, close to the tide line, waiting for the rain to stop, but A. A. couldn’t see the other Ashleys. All she could see were wet rocks, a pounding sea, and sheet after sheet of rain.
When Tri finished pulling the net away from her legs, he stood up and shot A. A. a long, serious look. Was he still mad at her? Was he going to disappear into the rain and leave her standing there?
“Come back here,” he said, gesturing with his head. “There’s this kind of cave thing back there. We can sit in it until the rain stops.”
He took her hand and pulled her along the narrow lane of dry sand. His hand felt dry and warm. It was the first time Tri had touched her since they’d kissed at that party so long ago, and A. A. could barely stand it.
The cave Tri was talking about wasn’t so much a cave as a ledge about four feet off the ground, a tiny ridged nook worn into the cliff face. He jumped up into it and turned to pull A. A. in.
There was just enough room for the two of them to sit side by side, their legs dangling. The sounds of the falling rain and the relentless pulsing of the sea merged until it seemed to A. A. that they were surrounded by a rustling curtain of water. She shivered again, leaning into Tri.
He was still holding her hand.
“I’m glad that . . . you know,” he said. A. A. didn’t know. Was he glad it was raining? Glad she got wet? Glad that stupid net made her practically fall on her face? “That you’re here today, and I’m here today. You know, at the same time.”
“So am I,” whispered A. A., though she couldn’t look at him. He was sitting too close by. He was too handsome. He was still holding her hand!
“Because, you know. There’s something I’ve been wanting to say to you.”
A. A. held her breath. Finally Tri was going to tell her what she’d done wrong, why he was so annoyed with her.
“The thing is, ever since Ashley’s birthday party, I’ve tried really, really hard not to like you,” he said. Huh? A. A. felt totally crushed. Her whole body went limp, and her eyes filled with tears. Tri didn’t like her. That’s why he’d been acting so weird and cold—he didn’t want anything to do with her anymore.
“And I’ve succeeded,” he said grimly.
“You don’t . . . like me?” She turned to look at him, her face red. This was worse than anything she’d imagined.
Tri shook his head. “Not one bit.”
“Oh.” A. A. felt hot tears form in her eyes and willed them not to fall.
But Tri took her hand gently in his. “You see . . . you see, the thing is . . .” He swallowed, then looked into her eyes. “I don’t like you at all. I love you.”
A. A. shook her head. Was she hearing things?
“And that’s why . . . that’s why I haven’t been able to talk to you much lately,” Tri was explaining. “I mean, it’s pretty obvious you don’t feel the same way. I told you what went down with me and Ashley. Either you don’t believe me or . . . or I guess you hate the idea of going out with me. I thought we could just be friends like you said, but now I don’t think that’s possible. I’d always be wanting something more.” He sighed.
Now the tears that fell down her cheeks were tears of joy.
“Why are you crying?” Tri asked.
A. A. shook her head. She was too happy to speak. Finally she said, “You’re right. We can’t be friends. We tried it and it doesn’t work anymore.” But she was smiling as she said it, smiling and grasping his hand so tightly.
“You mean . . .” Tri looked confused and hopeful at the same time. “You mean, um, that you don’t like me, either?”
“I don’t like you, and you don’t like me!” A. A. shouted.
Tri grinned back, his smile practically splitting his face in two. He looked incredibly handsome, even with his hair wet and disheveled. Even in his Gregory Hall uniform.
“I love you, too,” she whispered.
He pulled her closer to him. And once again, even better than the first time, they kissed.