Ross

Drift. Noun. [drift]. A driving movement or force.

Riley's hand is soft and cool in mine, our fingers tangled together as I tug her behind me. A date. I keep wondering what I've gotten myself into with this spunky mainlander and her sea glass eyes. But I realize I don't care. With all the crap going on at home and the internship that I know I won't be able to take, it feels right to have something in my life that's just for me.

I glance back at her and her eyes are wide, round, expressive. She looks up at me with hope beaming from those emerald depths and I wonder if this is karma, but I know I don't deserve this. Maybe I deserve a chance at a life outside of Long Beach Island, but I've never done anything to deserve someone this good. All I've ever done is wait. Wait for someone to save me. Wait for Dad to get his act together. Wait for a chance out of here. Even now, I have the chance to leave, but I can't--won't--take it. Am I really stuck or is that my fear speaking?

"C'mon," I say, forcing the insidious questions from my mind. "I'll race you."

I grin at Riley and start to run down the beach, the sand giving way under my feet as I go. She cries out in protest and kicks off her flip flops, holding them in one hand as she flails to catch up with me.

"This isn't fair! I don't even know where we're going!"

"You'll just have to follow me," I tease.

The sun beats down on my shoulders through the cotton of my t-shirt and forces me to squint as I laugh at Riley's valiant effort to catch up with me. We round the corner of the beach towards where I left our surprise for the morning and Riley catches up with me, sand flying around her as she races towards me. Before she passes me, I reach for her waist and catch her, swinging her in the air. Her legs fly in a wide arc and I laugh at her expression, angry and wild at the same time.

"What the--put me down!" she cries, landing back on the sand and shoving at my chest.
Instead, my hands knot in the soft material of her t-shirt at the small of her back and I pull her closer to me. I don't care about our date or what I'm supposed to show her--I just want to be close to her and taste the same wild intoxication I did the other night on the beach.

I pull her body against mine, a grin playing at my mouth, and I see a shadow fall over her eyes as she realizes how close we are. She stops pushing against my chest and instead her fingers grab onto the material of my shirt. Heat sparks everywhere we touch, a heat that demands an all-consuming closeness. Riley leans her head back, her hair falling behind her shoulders, and cocks an eyebrow at me in challenge.

"So? What's the surprise?" she taunts.

"Oh, shut up."

I lean down and kiss her, our bodies in a tug of war as we both pull and fight at each other to get closer. Her mouth is hot against mine, and even though I falter in fear most of the time, there's no hesitancy in this kiss. For once in our lives, we both know what we want.

I pull away from her, my hands tight against her waist as our bodies brush. Riley cocks her head and grins at me--I can't keep my gaze from her lips and I fight the urge to kiss her again.

"So this is how you expected to convince me of how great the island is?"
"Is it working?"

She laughs, her voice the tinkling of wind chimes sharp against the beating waves. "Maybe."

"Well, in that case, maybe you shouldn't turn around."

Her eyebrows shoot up and she spins around to see the surprise for the day--two horses wait for us, tied to an old piece of driftwood.

"We're riding horses?"
"Have you ever done that before?"

She rolls her eyes. "I'm the girl who's lived eighteen different places. We were in Texas for a while and I took riding lessons."

"You're basically a pro."

"Basically."

"C'mon, let's take them for a ride."

I approach the two geldings that wait for us, one a handsome paint and the other a chestnut. Ivy's friend's parents own a stable down the island where they rent out horses to tourists, and yesterday I called them to see if I could borrow the horses in the morning before anyone was awake. They said yes, probably out of pity, but I don't even care.

I pull the paint horse's bridle from beneath the piece of driftwood and hold it as Riley prepares to mount. She slips one foot in the stirrup and grabs onto the horn, hefting herself into the saddle. I climb onto the chestnut beside her and kick the horse in the side, urging it forward into a lilting walk.

"So why is riding a horse supposed to make me love your island?" Riley asks as we ride, the soft thumping of the horses' hooves on the sand the only sound. "I can ride a horse anywhere."

"On the beach? At dawn? With a hot lifeguard?"
Riley does her best to suppress a smile, her cheeks tinged pink. "Good point."

I spur my horse forward again, hands resting on the horse's bristly neck. "So, what about your end of the bargain?"
"So this is a bargain? Not a date?"

"Can it be both?" I ask, grinning at her.

The sun glints off of her green eyes and her pale skin glows as white as the sand as the breeze lifts her auburn hair behind her.

"It can be whatever you want it to be," she says, the joking tone out of her voice.

"I want it to be a date."

She grins at me, teeth flashing white. "Good."

Riley shifts her hips on the horse's back and slips her hand into the waistband of her blue shorts. She pulls out a rock and I frown. This is it? This is the memento through which she'll share all of her travels and grand adventures?

She tosses it to me and I palm it, flipping my hand over to examine it. The surface is rough and porous under my skin and I would never notice the rock elsewhere.

"Am I supposed to be impressed?"

Riley grins at me like she knows something I don't. "Not yet. Want to know where I found that?"

"One of the eighteen places you lived?"

"Actually, no. England."

Hot jealousy ruptures in my chest. While she's been to multiple continents, I've never made it out of the country. Not even to Niagara Falls or Mexico. But if I took the global internship...I could go to a bunch of countries in South America, Oceania, Asia. I could travel.

"Ross? Hello?"

My gaze jerks from the stupid gray rock in my hand to Riley's face. "Uh, yeah. Sorry. You said it's from England?"

"Yeah," she say with a smug smile. "From a little place called Stonehenge."

My jaw actually drops and I stare at the rock. "This--this is from Stonehenge? You're kidding."

Even a B-student like me knows the ancient history of Stonehenge. I mentally add that to my list of places I'd like to see one day.

"Not kidding. Mom and Dad had to take me on their tenth wedding anniversary because they couldn't convince anyone to watch me. I didn't mind, though. England is incredible."

I hear the pain laced through the memory--it's funny how pain does that. It tends to destroy our best memories by reminding us of what could have been or what was but is no longer. I try not to dwell too much on the past; it just makes me nostalgic for something I'll never have again.

"That's amazing," I whisper, turning the rock over in my hand.

I squeeze the rock in my palm for the rest of the ride on the beach, but I can't find anything else to say to express the lump in my throat. Riley stirs up this wild wanderlust in me that I can barely suppress. She makes me want more out of life, revealing a desire that I've always managed to keep hidden, but I can't around her. She is so much more than my life right now.

"You're surprising, Riley Olson."

"Is that a compliment?"
I give her a half smile as I slip from the back of the chestnut mare. "Definitely." It's the biggest compliment I know how to give.

In a world of redundancy and uniformity, she's unpredictable and enthralling. Compared to her, the colors of the world fade against her unerring vibrancy.

"Well, in that case, thanks."

Riley slides out of the saddle, landing in the sand with her knees bent. I take the reins and hold the two horses behind me, one of them whinnying.

"This was fu--"
"Is something wrong?" she interrupts, crossing her arms over her chest. "You were really quiet all morning."

Dang it. So much for subtlety. Between watching Riley like she's the best thing on planet earth and pitying myself for being stuck on this island, I've been terrible company.

"I'm sorry. I have a lot on my mind, and being around you makes me discontent." When her eyes fly open and she flinches, I try to correct my hasty words. "You make me want more out of life. With your traveling and experiences, and just--you. I just feel stuck sometimes, you know?"

"My parents sent me to live with strangers for the summer. I get it."

Her hand reaches towards me and then falters, falling back to her side.

"I'm sorry, though. I wanted you to have fun."

"I did. I don't mind the quiet, I was just worried that, I don't know, I scared you off or something."

I chuckle under my breath. She has no idea how wrong she is.

"The opposite, actually."

Riley grins at me and takes a step closer, catching my free hand. "So our deal's still on?"

"You'll go on another date--a real date, this time--with me?"

"Are you asking?" she asks, her thumb tracing the veins that ascend my arm.

My eyes drop to where she touches me and leave a trail of goosebumps in her wake. "I'm asking."

She pulls away from me, her fingertips floating over my palm. "In that case, yes."

"Wait," I call as she turns away from me. "I still need your phone number."

"609-204-5838," she calls back to me in a singsong voice.

I repeat the number aloud, watching her lithe free form as she walks away. How can one person so effortlessly encapsulate enigma and vitality? How can one person give me the impetus I need to finally change my life?