Love Potions and Other Desperate Measures

3: Cold Shower

In the Pride and Prejudice film, Mr. Darcy suddenly tossed himself into a river to cool down and clear his head of Lizzie Bennet. It's never a bad idea to follow his classic example. A good swim in the Arctic Ocean may also yield similar results.

Following the screams was easy. I ran for what seemed like hours, and I saw a large rock form that tapered to a cliff on one side. It was like a mini mountain. There was a middle-aged woman looking over the cliff, screaming at the sea.

"My daughter!" she cried when she saw me approaching below, "My daughter jumped into the sea! Please save her, please! I can't see her! I can't see her!"

Without thinking, I threw myself into the cold, unforgiving February sea.

"You moron!" I heard a guy's voice and a loud splash from a distance before I dove below to look for the woman's daughter. He was right, of course. I was a moron. There was a reason the beach was always empty at this time of the year. The water was freezing cold, and the currents were unbelievably strong. I felt someone hug my stomach and I almost panicked, but I saw that it was a boy. He tried to pull me to the surface, but the current was too strong. He couldn't move me. Eventually, he fainted underwater. The current was sucking us both below, so I grabbed the boy and powered my legs to propel us upward. And eventually, after much effort on my part, we broke the surface of the water.

The lady was gone. There was nobody onshore.

The boy was unconscious. Great. Like I needed more misery added to this terrible day. He was so heavy, I had to hobble to the shore. I accidentally dropped him and he fell on the sand like a heavy sack of potatoes. I immediately did CPR. As I did chest compressions, my eyes blurred with tears. The world was spinning out of control. Everything was blowing up in my face. The one I've loved for years was Mara's boyfriend. I can't properly talk to my best friend. My parents don't love each other anymore. My dad was a drunk. I was flunking my majors. I almost died, and though I didn't, this boy might. It was too much. Things that were small and minor, things that were big and important, everything swirled in my head. A face kept showing up in my mind.

Lucas. Lucas. Luc. 

I fed the boy air and pumped his chest.

I was beginning to wish I'd stayed underwater.

Suddenly, the boy was coughing up water and frantically gasping for air. 

Frustrated by my near-death experience and just about everything that happened to me, and relieved that the boy was alive, I stood up, laughed, and yelled to the wind: "I hate you, Lucas Freighting! Who cares if you're cute and sweet? Who cares if you have sexy brown eyes and hot abs? Who cares if I've known you for four years? None of it matters anymore, you bastard! Damn you for falling for my best friend!!"

"Well, it's good to see that you're alive and kicking," the boy said. I jumped out of surprise. He stood up and smiled impishly. "So, this Lucas person... is he really that hot?"

A shiver ran all over me. The cold February air was biting my skin. "We can't stay here," I looked at the boy and saw that he wasn't even perturbed by the freezing temperature. "Well, I can't stay here. I'll freeze to death."

The boy grinned. "Sure. You can order me around. I mean, since we've already made out and all."

I fought a smile. "You were dying, you idiot."

"The 'kiss of life', my fair maiden," he supplied. "Though I have to admit, this isn't quite how I imagined it would turned out. When I dove to save you, I thought I'd be doing the mouth-to-mouth."

"Ugh," I groaned. "Men."

He smiled at that. And I found myself smiling too.

"Chase Warren," he supplied, offering his hand. "Thanks for the save, miss..."

"R Oliver," I replied, shaking his hand. "And you're welcome." His fingers were ice-cold, though he showed no signs of hypothermia.

"Just R?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yup. Just R." I didn't feel the need to explain my real name to Chase Warren.

"So, tell me, Rhiannon, did you have a change of clothes with you? My car's at the left parking lot. Do you have a ride?"

"I'm good. But, Rhiannon?" I chuckled. I grabbed my bag, which I just threw on the sand before I did my suicide/rescue mission. I checked the contents: my phone, my keys, my wallet. All safe. I turned to look at the boy. "My name could have been Raven, you know."

He shrugged. "Nah. Too cool. A Raven wouldn't just go swimming in the middle of February to look for a crazy woman's imaginary daughter. She's the regular nutcase here, didn't you know?"

I noticed he was wearing a black Deftones shirt. The same one as Luc's. I looked away.

"Huh," I mumbled, "That explains the greasy hair and tattered clothes."

"Right," he said. He pointed to a white Subaru parked a hundred feet away. "Is that your car?" he asked. I nodded and reached for my electronic key. Thank God for waterproofing. I noticed that there was a red Subaru next to my car.

"And that's yours," I deadpanned. 

He nodded. "My brother's, actually," he said. "I'm just sixteen." He reached inside his pocket and pulled out his e-key. The red car was exactly the same model as mine.

We stared at each other for a long time. Then he broke the silence and asked, "I'm not the only one who thinks this is strange, right?" 

"Word." I shivered again, but not from the cold.

"What were you doing alone in the beach anyway?" he asked, concern oozing from his stare. "You could have been raped by some random guy, you know."

"You're a random guy." I piped.

"I have a car!" he pouted. "Rapists don't have cars. I think."

I laughed. He stared at me lazily with his aquamarine eyes, as if this was a routine for us, as if we'd known each other for years. It felt comfortable. He wasn't attractive, so I didn't feel weird with him. I liked the flirting jokes, because I knew he was never serious. Luc was always serious. He was too nice to joke about anything like love.

I couldn't even compare the two of them. It's like comparing a polar bear to a rattle snake.Do you think the rattlesnake has better legs? Does the polar bear have shinier scales? The thought made me smile.

"Phone number?" he asked. He grabbed a towel from the backseat of his car and ruffled his copper hair with it, before letting it hang over his shoulder.

"Ooh," I cooed. "He's direct." I recited my phone number out loud. 

"Aren't you going to ask me for mine?" he asked with a playful grin.

"No, sir," I mock-saluted.

He squinted. "The 'let him chase you' tactic," he surmised. Another grin cracked his face. "She's a sly fox! I like."

I laughed the whole drive home. 

Until I entered to house. I opened the door and was welcomed by the sight of broken glass, scattered clothes, and the overwhelming scent of beer. Since the divorce two months ago, my dad's been drinking uncontrollably. I hadn't told anyone else about it, because I understood what my dad was going through. My mom cheated on him with some younger guy. My dad had to drink. It was just a phase, a wallowing moment. It's not like he was gonna stay a drunk forever. He would eventually go back to being the dad I knew.

But I was so tired. So tired of picking up the pieces, so exhausted with dealing with his drunken rumblings and his curses. I was tired of having to lie for him.

I fell on my bed with a sigh and stared at my ceiling. I regretted not getting Chase's number.