The Journalist and Her Actor

Chapter 21

I bolted out of the restaurant towards the waves, needing the ocean roar to drown out my own anger. Needing something to match my need to yell and scream and demand. The ocean waves were greedy, and I was so tired of being giving. I wanted to be the ocean. To take and take and take instead of being expected to give.

I sunk into the sand, knees pulled to my chest, trying to hold myself together.

I take one job to keep me out of trouble and my parents are ready to quit adulting for life and leave me to do everything...

It was too much, and I found it hard to breathe, to think, to do much of anything, except for sit and stare at the water, angry tears in my eyes.

A shadow pulled me out of my thoughts and I found myself staring up at Luke as he crouched before me. "Bermuda?"

I glared, my anger finding a physical target. "What?!?" I snapped. He remained quiet, looking down at me with an unreadable expression. "Don't you have a trust exercise to get back to?"

"What's wrong?" he asked, voice solid in a world of swirling chaos. An anchor in a roaring storm.

I tilted my chin up higher, my stubbornness making everything inside of me prickle with paranoia. "Why do you care?"

Luke searched my face, unfazed by my anger, steady, calm. "Because you look like you want to walk into that ocean and never come back out. That's not something I can ignore."

"I'm not going to—"

"I know," he added gently. "But sometimes, when your world falls apart, you shouldn't be alone when the pieces hit the ground."

"I'm not in the mood for company," I warned. "I'm feeling mean."

"That's fine," he said, sitting down next to me on the sand, stretching out his legs. "Be mean. Your verbal barbs aren't meant to cut me. I just happen to be the closest target."

I continue to glare at him, knowing the anger was the only thing keeping me from crying.

Why is it that the person our sharp words are meant for are not the ones that tend to get cut by our hurts?

We both watched the waves for a long moment, the stars and moon the only light along the sand and water. The stars sprinkled across the water's surface, mirroring the night sky, creating sparks of moving magic. The moon's shadow cut across our bodies, leaving long shadows in our wake.

"You look like you could use something to yell at," Luke finally said.

I closed my eyes, hating how easy it was to read me. "I don't think it's a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Because..." I'm afraid that if I start screaming, I'll never stop. "Everyone will hear me."

"So?"

"And I'll look stupid."

Luke stood up, shaking his head. "That shouldn't stop you. We all have things to scream about. And something tells me you don't really care about looking stupid."

I sighed, giving my legs a comfort squeeze. He was right. If I cared, I would put a little more thought into the colors I picked for my hair, or the style of my clothes. I didn't care much about looking ridiculous. "I wouldn't even know where to start."

Luke stared off at the water, his face lit by the full moon. "I'll go first."

"Wait, what—"

Then cupping his hands to his mouth, Luke shouted into the waves at the top of his lungs. ""WHY CAN'T I GET A MOMENT OF PEACE WITHOUT BEING RECOGNIZED!"