Blood Waters 1 : The Boy From The Sea Read Online Free PDF Page B
Author: Eve Hathaway
had to describe snow to him-he didn't even know the word. It was both touching and a little frightening, how naive he could be.
What Tomas lacked in worldliness, though, he made up for in his ability to read and understand people. He was the one who pointed out that Gloria wasn't actually a mean person, just stressed out and under an incredible amount of pressure to make sure everything went off well. "The next time she starts to get to you, ask her what she wants you to do," Tomas advised. Mila was skeptical, but she tried it, and he was right-it worked. Gloria told her to mop the floors, and the tension evaporated faster than the water did.
"You're like a mind-reading genius," she said that night.
"I don't read minds," he said. "I understand the heart."
"So tell me about mine," she said.
It was now a month after their kiss. They were in Tomas's room, lying side by side on his bed, his left arm intertwined with her right one, surrounded by the dark and his scent-clean. They had shared a few more kisses since then, but nothing more. It wasn't just the fear of what Gloria would do, though that contributed some. It was mostly that neither Mila nor Tomas felt the need to go further. They could wait. It wasn't like high school, where every other girl wanted every other boy and sealing the deal was the only way to guarantee (and sometimes, not even that would do it) a certain degree of monogamy. They had oceans of time-and an ocean they could sit next to; the infinite waters recalling the infinite nature of love.
"Are you sure you want to know?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, simply.
He rolled off the bed and took her smooth hand in his calloused one. She could feel his fingertips tracing her palm, kissing her knuckles. "You want something more from this life," he said. "You want me to give it to you."
"And will you?" she asked.
"You want me to say, 'Yes'," he said. "But I don't know if I can."
She sat up. "Well, that was romantic."
He sighed. "You said you wanted to know."
True , she thought unhappily. But then, what was the point of pursuing this relationship if Tomas didn't think he could make her happy?
"You are more than I could ever hope to be," Tomas said, as she stood up. She shook her head, furious with herself for asking, furious with him for being so honest. What was so terrible about a white lie every now and then , she wondered. Why couldn't he be sweet, for once? It wasn't like she expected him to bring her flowers or anything.
His grip on her hand tightened. "Please don't go," he said.
"Give me a reason to stay," she retorted. "Give me that 'something more' that I'm supposed to be looking for then."
Tomas dropped her hand and backed away from her, fading into the darkness. "No, Mila, not like this."
It wasn't until she felt the pang of disappointment that she realized what he was saying. "That wasn't what I meant," she began, but even as the words faltered she understood that it was, indeed, what she meant, what she wanted. Blood rushed to her face, and even though it was dark she had the feeling that Tomas could see her blush.
She left him without saying another word and slipped back into her bedroom, furious-at him, or at herself, she couldn't tell. But either way, she wasn't sleeping that night, and she wasn't going to the beach, either.
MILA WAS AWAKENED the next morning by her father. He knocked on her door and brought her a tray with sweet buns and a cup of coffee. "What's going on?" Mila asked, suspiciously. Her father didn't normally bring her breakfast.
"It's your birthday," he said.
"Shit, really?" She glanced at the calendar hanging above her desk. "It is. Holy crap. I can't believe I forgot," she said.
"I thought maybe you might want to go with Tomas to Cancun today," he said, setting the tray down. He sat down at the foot of her bed, smiling at her as she dug into the food. "You know. Do a
What Tomas lacked in worldliness, though, he made up for in his ability to read and understand people. He was the one who pointed out that Gloria wasn't actually a mean person, just stressed out and under an incredible amount of pressure to make sure everything went off well. "The next time she starts to get to you, ask her what she wants you to do," Tomas advised. Mila was skeptical, but she tried it, and he was right-it worked. Gloria told her to mop the floors, and the tension evaporated faster than the water did.
"You're like a mind-reading genius," she said that night.
"I don't read minds," he said. "I understand the heart."
"So tell me about mine," she said.
It was now a month after their kiss. They were in Tomas's room, lying side by side on his bed, his left arm intertwined with her right one, surrounded by the dark and his scent-clean. They had shared a few more kisses since then, but nothing more. It wasn't just the fear of what Gloria would do, though that contributed some. It was mostly that neither Mila nor Tomas felt the need to go further. They could wait. It wasn't like high school, where every other girl wanted every other boy and sealing the deal was the only way to guarantee (and sometimes, not even that would do it) a certain degree of monogamy. They had oceans of time-and an ocean they could sit next to; the infinite waters recalling the infinite nature of love.
"Are you sure you want to know?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, simply.
He rolled off the bed and took her smooth hand in his calloused one. She could feel his fingertips tracing her palm, kissing her knuckles. "You want something more from this life," he said. "You want me to give it to you."
"And will you?" she asked.
"You want me to say, 'Yes'," he said. "But I don't know if I can."
She sat up. "Well, that was romantic."
He sighed. "You said you wanted to know."
True , she thought unhappily. But then, what was the point of pursuing this relationship if Tomas didn't think he could make her happy?
"You are more than I could ever hope to be," Tomas said, as she stood up. She shook her head, furious with herself for asking, furious with him for being so honest. What was so terrible about a white lie every now and then , she wondered. Why couldn't he be sweet, for once? It wasn't like she expected him to bring her flowers or anything.
His grip on her hand tightened. "Please don't go," he said.
"Give me a reason to stay," she retorted. "Give me that 'something more' that I'm supposed to be looking for then."
Tomas dropped her hand and backed away from her, fading into the darkness. "No, Mila, not like this."
It wasn't until she felt the pang of disappointment that she realized what he was saying. "That wasn't what I meant," she began, but even as the words faltered she understood that it was, indeed, what she meant, what she wanted. Blood rushed to her face, and even though it was dark she had the feeling that Tomas could see her blush.
She left him without saying another word and slipped back into her bedroom, furious-at him, or at herself, she couldn't tell. But either way, she wasn't sleeping that night, and she wasn't going to the beach, either.
MILA WAS AWAKENED the next morning by her father. He knocked on her door and brought her a tray with sweet buns and a cup of coffee. "What's going on?" Mila asked, suspiciously. Her father didn't normally bring her breakfast.
"It's your birthday," he said.
"Shit, really?" She glanced at the calendar hanging above her desk. "It is. Holy crap. I can't believe I forgot," she said.
"I thought maybe you might want to go with Tomas to Cancun today," he said, setting the tray down. He sat down at the foot of her bed, smiling at her as she dug into the food. "You know. Do a
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