Cascadia

2. The Secret

The sun's radiance beat down on a large crowd of half-naked bodies stockpiling as much Vitamin D as possible before the predictable gloom of autumn befell the region. Children splashed wildly in the water; young couples in the early throes of love were unable to keep their hands off each other; day-drunk college kids floating on giant rubber rafts raised fists of IPAs and hard seltzers high into the air; liberated folks reclaimed the shameless beauty of the natural form by letting it all hang out. They were all gathered on the Sauvie Island shore to celebrate the final days of summer.

His parents had named him Avid, and really... fuck them for doing so. They'd cursed him with a lifetime of having to constantly instruct people on how to pronounce it correctly. Signing up for the countless charities he volunteered with had been some of the worst conversations of his life. Every phone call. Every organized event. How many people made the same dumb jokes as if they'd been the first to think of it. "So, you're an avid reader, right?" or "I bet you're an avid sportsman, aren't you?" No! He wasn't an avid anything. He was just Avid – like David without the D.

Lying on his beach towel, the dark-haired young man listened to a cacophony of shouting and laughter boom all around. If today was going to be an inevitable blind date, then he preferred the comfort of the crowd. He didn't want to put himself into any awkward situations where they might find themselves alone. Having to explain himself to a complete stranger was not on the list of things he cared to do.

They'd been waiting over an hour now and he was beginning to feel as if he'd been conned. His friends had arranged this group trip to Collins Beach for a day of drinking and merriment. They'd told him they wanted to introduce him to one of their other friends in the hope there would be – as they called it – a 'twin spark.' Only it seemed that his friends hadn't even bothered to show up. Only her.

Her name was Mia Ortiz, and, in his humble opinion, she was quite likable. She enjoyed the same types of movies ("John Cassavetes is a genius!"), and they shared similar tastes in music ("I was at that same show!"), literature ("Infinite Jest is just so overrated!"), and art ("I prefer the more abstract, surrealist pieces"). To top it off, she was an absolute bombshell by anyone's standards. She had jet black hair, soft tan skin, and a bright smile contrasting the shiny piercing in her septum whenever she laughed. Her arms and legs were covered in tattoos of her favorite cartoon characters, shamanic symbols, and hip new renditions of classic tarot art. She wore dark patches of hair under arms proudly with zero fucks given about society or its opinion of her. Avid admired that about her. He'd wasted way too much time giving way too many fucks about way too many things.

Using his elbows for support, he pushed himself up just enough to reach for the phone lying across his flat, bare stomach. Surely one of their mutual friends would have texted by now to say they were running late but were assuredly still coming. Sadly, no. There were no texts. No missed calls. No DMs. It was official: the entire day had been a set-up; a ruse to force him back into the dating world without his consent.

"I don't think the others are coming," he told Mia as he dropped the phone onto the flat of his belly and leaned back to his former position.

"Well, that's okay," she replied, kicking back in her beach chair, sipping a mango seltzer. "You seem pretty cool. And you haven't tried to put me in your trunk yet, so that bodes well. I think we could probably keep hanging out."

"I just..." He let out a long sigh. "I don't feel comfortable with the whole not-knowing-this-was-going-to-be-a-date before I signed up. I would have come better prepared."

"You think this is a date?" She took a casual sip of her seltzer.

"No. Yes. Maybe. I don't know. It feels like one."