Page 80 of Arranged To Be Mine

“Probably.” She took one anyway.

I twisted off the cap and took a long pull, letting the cold liquid slide down my throat. The waves rolled in and out, their rhythm steady and hypnotic. Seagulls called overhead.

This was my happy place. There was something about the ocean that put everything in perspective. Made all the bullshit seem smaller. I leaned back, closing my eyes and just letting the peace wash over me. I’d love to be a beach bum.

I glanced over at Darcy. She was still sitting ramrod straight, her beer untouched in her hand. Her dark sunglasses in place.

“Darcy.”

“What?”

“You’re supposed to be relaxing. You look like you’re waiting for an ambush.”

“I’m just not used to doing nothing. Sitting around feels unproductive.”

“That’s literally the point. The absence of productivity is the goal.”

She looked at me like I’d suggested she set fire to her quarterly reports. “That sounds like torture.”

“Give it a chance. Worst case, you hate it and we go back inside my house. Best case, you discover a whole new way to relax that doesn’t involve pulling weeds.”

She sighed and took a sip of her beer. Five minutes passed. Then ten. I watched her from the corner of my eye, noting the way she shifted in her chair. Adjusted her cover-up. Fidgeted with the bottle in her hands. Kicked at the sand near her feet.

“Is this it?” she finally asked. “We just sit here?”

“That’s the general idea, yes.”

“Doing nothing.”

“Doing nothing,” I confirmed. “How long has it been since you’ve been to the beach?”

She was quiet for a moment. “Since I was a kid, I guess. My dad took me a few times when I was little. Before he got too busy with work.”

“So decades.”

“I’m not that old.”

“You’re beach inexperienced. That’s what I’m hearing.” I turned to face her fully. “Here’s the thing. You can’t force relaxation. You have to let it happen. Stop thinking about what you should be doing and just… be.”

“Just be,” she repeated flatly.

“Watch the waves. See how they break on the shore? There’s a rhythm to it. In and out. Over and over.”

She stared at the water.

“Don’t analyze it,” I said. “Just watch. Listen to the sound. Feel the breeze on your skin. Let your brain turn off for five minutes.”

She tried. I could see her trying. Her shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch. Her grip on the beer loosened slightly.

Then she shifted in her chair again. Adjusted her sunglasses. Picked at a thread on her cover-up.

“This is impossible,” she muttered.

“You lasted about ninety seconds.”

“I don’t know how you do this.” She gestured at the ocean and the beach in general. “My brain won’t stop. It’s like there’s a hamster on a wheel up there and it refuses to take a break.”

“We need something to give that furry little beast a break.”