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Dreamland(7)

Author:Nicholas Sparks

I did, however, notice a group of youngish women yesterday, a few hours before my show. It was early afternoon, and I was walking near the water’s edge after lunch. It was hot and sunny, with enough humidity to make the air feel sticky, so I’d removed my shirt, using it to wipe the sweat from my face. As I neared the Don CeSar, a gray object surfaced and disappeared in the water just beyond the small breakers, followed quickly by another. It took me a few seconds to recognize that it was a pod of dolphins languidly moving parallel to the shoreline. I stopped to watch, as I’d never seen one in the wild before. I was following their progress when I heard the girls approach and stop a few yards away.

The four of them were chattering loudly, and I did a double take when I noticed how startlingly attractive they all were. They looked ready for a photo shoot, with colorful swimwear and perfect teeth that flashed when they laughed, making me think all of them had spent plenty of time at the orthodontist as teenagers. I suspected they were younger than me by a few years, probably college students on break.

As I turned my attention back to the dolphins, one of the women gasped and pointed; from the corner of my eye, I saw the rest of them stare in the same direction. Though I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, they weren’t exactly quiet.

“Is that a shark?” one of them asked.

“It’s probably a dolphin,” another answered.

“But I see a fin.”

“Dolphins have dorsal fins, too…”

I smiled inwardly, thinking that maybe I hadn’t missed much by not going to college. Predictably, they started posing for selfies, trying to capture the dolphins in the background. After a while they began making the kinds of silly faces common on social media: the kissy face, the ecstatic we’re-having-such-a-great-time group shot, and the serious pretend-I’m-a-supermodel look, which Michelle used to refer to as the dead-fish expression. Recalling it made me snort under my breath.

One of the girls must have heard me, because she suddenly glanced in my direction. I pointedly avoided eye contact, focusing on the dolphins as they drifted by. When they eventually turned toward deeper water, I figured it was time for me to head back. I veered around the women—three of whom were still taking and examining their selfies—but the same one who’d glanced toward me caught and held my gaze.

“Nice tats,” she offered when I was close, and I’ll admit her comment caught me off guard. She wasn’t exactly flirting, but she seemed slightly amused. For a moment I debated whether to stop and introduce myself, but that feeling lasted only a second. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize she was out of my league, so I flashed a quick smile and moved past.

When she arched an eyebrow at my lack of response, I had the feeling that she’d known exactly what I was thinking. She returned her attention to her friends, and I kept walking, fighting the urge to turn around. The more I tried not to look, the harder it became; finally, I allowed myself another quick peek.

Apparently, the girl had been waiting for me to do just that. She still wore the same expression of amusement, and when she offered a knowing smile, I turned and kept going, feeling a flush creep up my neck that had nothing to do with the sun.

Sitting here in my beach chair, I’ll admit that my thoughts have drifted back to my encounter with the girl. I wasn’t exactly looking for her or her friends, but I wasn’t opposed to the idea, either, which is why I’d hauled my chair and cooler all the way down the beach in the first place. So far no luck, but I reminded myself that I’d had a pretty good day no matter what happened. In the morning, I’d gone for a run on the beach, then inhaled some fish tacos at a lunch spot called the Toasted Monkey. After that, with nothing pressing on my agenda, I eventually ended up here. I suppose I could have done something more productive than practically beg for skin cancer. Ray had mentioned there was some good kayaking at Fort De Soto Park, and before I left home, Paige had reminded me to check out the Dalí, a local museum dedicated to the works of Salvador Dalí. I guess she’d visited Tripadvisor or whatever, and I told her I’d add it to my itinerary, although sipping a cold beer and doing my best impression of a certified man of leisure felt far more compelling, at least to my way of thinking.

With the sun finally beginning to drift lower in the sky, I lifted the lid to the cooler and pulled out my second—and likely last—beer of the day. I figured I’d sip on it for a while, maybe even stay long enough to enjoy the sunset, then make my way to Sandbar Bill’s, a cool place up the beach that happened to serve the best cheeseburgers around. As to what I would do after that, I wasn’t quite sure. I supposed I could do some barhopping in downtown St. Petersburg, but because it was Saturday night, it would probably be crowded, and I wasn’t sure I was in the mood for that. Which left what? Work on a song? Watch some Netflix, like Paige and I sometimes did? Read one of the books I’d brought with me but hadn’t yet started? I figured I’d play it by ear.

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