Message in a Bottle - Nicholas Sparks [63]
“You mean I was in the right place at the right time?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t mean it to sound like that. I wanted to take you out with me—I don’t think I would have offered if it had been someone else. Besides, this whole thing has turned out much better than I thought it would. These last couple of days have been the best days I’ve had in a long time.”
She felt warm inside at what he’d said. As they walked, she felt him slowly moving his thumb, tracing small circles on her skin. He went on.
“Did you think your vacation would be anything like this?”
She hesitated, deciding it wasn’t the right time to tell him the truth.
“No.”
They walked together quietly. There were a few others on the beach, though they were far enough away that Theresa couldn’t make out anything but shadows.
“Do you think you’ll ever come back here again? I mean for another vacation?”
“I don’t know. Why?”
“Because I was kind of hoping you would.”
In the distance, she could see lights along a faraway pier. Again she felt his hand moving against hers.
“Would you make dinner for me again if I did?”
“I’d cook you anything you want. As long as it’s a steak.”
She laughed under her breath. “Then I’ll consider it. I promise.”
“How about if I threw in a few scuba lessons as well?”
“I think Kevin would enjoy that more than me.”
“Then bring him along.”
She glanced over at him. “You wouldn’t mind?”
“Not at all. I’d love to meet him.”
“I bet you’d like him.”
“I know I would.”
They walked along in silence, until Theresa blurted out, “Garrett—can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“I know this is going to sound strange, but…”
She paused for a moment, and he looked at her quizzically. “What?”
“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”
He laughed aloud. “Where did that come from?”
“I just want to know. I always ask people that question. It lets me know what people are really all about.”
“The worst thing?”
“The absolute worst.”
He thought for a moment. “I guess I would say that the worst thing I’ve ever done is when a bunch of my friends and I went out one night in December—we were drinking and raising hell when we ended up driving by a street that was totally decorated in Christmas lights. Well, we parked and right there and then proceeded to unscrew and steal every light bulb we could.”
“You didn’t!”
“We did. There were five of us, and we filled the back of the truck with stolen Christmas lights. And we left the strands—that was the worst part. It looked like the Grinch had come wandering down the street. We were out there for almost two hours, laughing uproariously about what we were doing. The street had been featured in the newspaper as one of the most decorated streets in the city, and when we were done… I can’t imagine what those people thought. They must have been furious.”
“That’s terrible!”
He laughed again. “I know. Thinking back, I know it was terrible. But at the time, it was hilarious.”
“And here I was, thinking you’re such a nice guy….”
“I am a nice guy.”
“You were the Grinch.” She pressed on, curious. “So what else did you and your friends do?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Yeah, I do.”
He began to regale her then with tales of other teenage misadventures—from soaping car windows to tepeeing the houses of former girlfriends. Once, he claimed, he saw one of his friends driving alongside him while he was on a date. After his friend motioned for him to roll down the window, he did—and his friend promptly launched a bottle rocket into his car that exploded at his feet.
Twenty minutes later he was still telling stories, much to her amusement. When he finally finished, he asked her the same question that had originally started the conversation.
“Oh, I’ve never done anything like you,” she said almost coyly. “I’ve always been a good girl.”
He laughed again then, feeling as if he’d been manipulated—not that he minded—and knowing full well that she wasn’t telling the truth.
They walked the full