((Immediately follows Serendipity.))

Hands in the back pockets of her shorts, Lena drew in a deep breath as the van trundled out of view, looking up at Tommy in what she hoped was an encouraging manner. "Okay, so you're here for a coupla days, and then you go back to tomorrow morning," she told him, as though it was a sentence that made complete sense. "Uh, feel free to use the bathroom to clean up, your duffel's in the hall, I should probably take a look in the kitchen for, you know, food." And call Dru so her security doesn't go apesh*t on our house guest. It couldn't have been more obvious that she was filling the quiet and time to try and keep him distracted from going back to their former conversation, turning to head back into the house with a half-shrug.

How could she understand that "Cary" had just driven away with half his life in tow" Still, he had no reason to distrust the man, and he had a good feeling about her. He didn't have much choice anyway. He didn't know the way back home, and he wasn't going anywhere until his van was fixed. It wasn't like him to feel sullen or to stay that way for long, but he was suddenly feeling very out of place, especially here. Despite the obvious differences between them, he got the feeling they were more alike than different, at least deep down. He gave tilted his head at her curiously as she turned suddenly cordial on him, but he didn't want to push his luck. If he was going to be stuck here for a few days, he might as well make the best of it. He slung the board over his shoulder as he turned to follow her back toward the house, wondering if two days was too long or not long enough.

Preferring to be barefoot, Lena left her slippers in the great room as she padded through, aware that she was feeling nervous and beginning to radiate it. She wasn't entirely sure what had changed - in bed together, she'd been more relaxed than she'd felt with anyone for a long time, and yet now they were dressed and the real world had intruded once more, she was on edge again, worrying about what Cary was going to tell his colleagues that would eventually reach Humphrey's ears. "Are you a vegetarian, or a vegan, or allergic to anything?" she asked Tommy, fingers fidgeting with one another in front of her belly button.

"A what?" he asked, knowing what a vegetarian was, but the word vegan was unfamiliar to him, even though he'd called California home for the last seven years or so. He followed her into the house, pausing a moment to perch the surfboard safely against a wall, reluctant to leave it there, but as far as he knew they were alone in the house, and he thought it should be safe there. "I'm not allergic," he replied as he followed her through the great room toward the kitchen, where he'd absent-mindedly left the carton of orange juice on the counter.

"You know, no meat, no fish, no dairy," she offered, pulling open the fridge to put the orange juice back. There was a pause as she bent down to inspect the packet of ham at the bottom of the shelves. "Oh, hey ....the coffee cups are in the cupboard above the pot. It should be more than ready to pour by now."

"When's your sister due back?" he asked, wondering how much time they still had alone. He glanced her way as she bent down in front of the fridge, silently admiring the view, before turning to follow her direction toward the cupboard and the coffee cups. "Oh, no, I'm not a vegetarian," he replied. He liked food as much as anyone, though he was lucky enough and active enough that he never gained weight.

"Well, her last lecture finishes at three, but she said something about going exploring afterward," Lena mused, straightening up with an array of bits and pieces that could only be intended for sandwiches in her hands. "She probably won't call to tell me, but her security guy will. He's a bit OCD when it comes to keeping tabs on her." She put her assortment of meats, salads and condiments on the counter, easing past him to open the breadbin. "I doubt she'll be back until past four, so you don't need to panic about meeting her highness for another three hours or so."

"OCD?" he repeated, tilting a puzzled look her way. What was with the acronyms" GPS" OCD' It was all Russian to him. He turned back around, partially to hide his confusion, as he pulled two coffee cups at random from the cupboard and reached for the pot, which looked a little different from what he was used to, but similar enough that he didn't have any trouble figuring it out. "A lot can happen in three hours," he remarked, his back turned to her. A lot had already happened, but why it seemed they were trying to pretend it hadn't happened was beyond him.

"Obsessive Compulsive Disorder," she said without thinking. "You know, it's a disorder of the mind that usually manifests in obsessive behaviors like washing your hands fifty times a day, or always having to have things in a certain order or in a certain place. I mean the name is probably after your time, but the disorder's still there." She paused, looking over her shoulder at his back. "Yeah, a lot can happen in three hours," she agreed softly, and was instantly mortified when her mouth followed it up with, "It's a real shame you had to get dressed," without any input from her brain at all.

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, he echoed in his head. It sounded like a real mouthful, but before he could comment further on that, she had let it slip that she regretted his having to get dressed. That, at least, brought a smile back to his face. "I wouldn't have bothered, but I thought your mechanic might take me more seriously if I was wearing pants." He brought the cups of coffee over to the table and set them down, both black, one for each of them.

"Cary doesn't take anyone seriously if he can help it," she drawled quietly, wondering why she was smiling. It wasn't just because his comment had been amusing; it was more to do with the fact that he was there at all, which was confusing her anyway. "You don't have to stay here, if you don't want to," she offered, realising that she hadn't really offered him many options, if any. "I could get you a room at an inn, or you could take one of the littler houses on the estate. I just don't want you to think that you have to stay here just because ..." We slept together. "Well, you know." Turning to the table, she set down a plate piled with sandwiches, turning away once again to tidy up after herself.

She wasn't saying she didn't want him to stay there, only that he didn't have to, if he didn't want to. It was different. "Do you want me to stay?" he asked, claiming a seat at the table and watching while she made them both sandwiches, one hand reaching for his coffee. Given a choice, he would have chosen to stay, to make the most out of the short time he had left here, but once again, he turned the question back around on her, leaving the ball in her court.

He watched her reaction to his very pointed question, sensing her nervousness, though she really had no reason to be nervous with him. He wasn't about to judge her, no matter what her answer might be. He'd heard it all at one time or another, or so he thought. He arched his brows quizzically as she moved to her feet and offered him her hand. "Now?" he asked, somewhat ironically. No time like the present. He gulped down one half of his sandwich as he curled his fingers around hers and pushed to his feet, leaving his sandals on the floor beneath his chair.

"Yes, now. Because if we wait, I'll chicken out again." Bare foot, she led him back toward the front door, but this time she turned, mounting the stairs to the upper level of the house, radiating nervous anxiety with every step. Her fingers flexed in his hand as they passed across the landing to a closed door at the far end, where she paused for a moment. "Look, I've never shown anyone what you're gonna see, okay' It's kind of a secret."

"You about to show my your collection of shrunken heads or something?" he asked with a teasing smirk as they came to a ominous halt outside that door. There was no fear in him, no worry of danger. She could be a serial killer for all he knew, but that thought didn't even enter his mind. He thought it a bit odd that she'd kept something so important so secret, especially from those she loved and trusted most, but he gave her the benefit of the doubt, waiting to hear her explanation before he voiced his own opinion on such things. "Who am I gonna tell"

"Good point." Biting the bullet, she pushed open the door and drew him inside. The room had obviously once been a bedroom - the bed was still there, covered with a paint-spattered dust sheet - but had been converted into something that was definitely not a bedroom any longer. Canvasses were set on easels around the walls, a desk was set up with paints, pencils, inks, brushes, a pile of sketch books that looked in danger of toppling at the slightest touch. All around Tommy was color, blended and mixed, an unexpected expression of the woman standing awkwardly beside him. "My secret."

"Oh, my God..." he breathed, clearly in awe as he took in the kaleidoscope of color all around him. It didn't take a genius to come to the conclusion that she had created the works of art that filled the small space, paintings as amazing and full of depth as the artist behind them, but it wasn't so much the content or the subject matter of the paintings that intrigued him as it was the use of color and shape. He found himself drawn to one painting in particular - a moonlit beach with a wave crashing in. He looked at each one in turn, dumbstruck with awe and wonder at the beauty that was going to waste, unshared behind that locked door, but these weren't the kind of paintings that should line a wall in a museum or an art gallery. No, he had a better idea, and he turned to her abruptly, his entire face lighting up with excitement.

"Do you think you could paint something like that again, but with a surfboard for your canvas?" he asked, having a hard time hiding his enthusiasm. "Because you've got something here, Midge. Something....I have no words for it, but these are....They're beautiful!"

Tense and just a little mortified with herself for giving in and showing a stranger something she hadn't even shown her own brother, Lena was silent as he looked around at ten years' worth of accumulated equipment and artwork. She didn't know quite what she'd been expecting him to say, but it certainly wasn't a query about surfboards. "Uh ..." Flummoxed for a moment, she groped for something coherent, hugging her arms around herself in shy reassurance. "Well, obviously it wouldn't be exactly like any of these, and I don't know what a surfboard's made of, so I'd probably need different materials, but, um ....I don't see why I couldn't paint something on a surfboard." She shrugged, rubbing a hand through her still damp hair. "You really like them?"

"Are you kidding?" he exclaimed. "They're amazing!" He moved from painting to painting, leaning in to examine each in detail, appreciating them not only from an artistic point of view, but purely as something of beauty. "Why are you hiding these" They should be shared, appreciated." He'd been looking for someone to paint designs on his custom boards, but he hadn't found anyone whose artwork quite fit the bill, until now.

Amazing. He thought her art was amazing. Lena's smile could quite easily have been likened to the sun coming up when she was presented with that compliment, reassured to the point where explaining why she was so secretive about it was easier than it would have been before. "One of my cousins is an artist," she shrugged lightly. "He went through hell to get the independence to paint, and it took him years to get recognized as a serious artist. I didn't want to steal his thunder, or have anyone accuse me of copying him, and it just became a habit. My art's an expression of me, of how I was feeling when I painted something, or of what I find beautiful. It's really personal, and ....I'm scared to find out if people are interested in it or not."

He could have offered her reassurance or additional praise, but instead, he asked what he really wanted to know. "What were you feeling when you painted this?" he asked, indicating the painting of the moonlit beach. It was clearly not Rhy'Din, as there was only one moon, but he was not yet aware of that aspect of Rhy'Din as he had arrived early that day. There was a point to his question, but until she answered it, that point would not be made.

Her eyes turned to the painting he indicated, and a completely involuntary smile spread over her face, soft and without a trace of self-conscious discomfort. "It was kinda complicated," she mused quietly, moving toward the seascape as she spoke. "It was all mixed up with being homesick and being glad to be away from home. The beach was so beautiful, so peaceful. It felt like it was just me, you know" No pressures, no expectations. Just me and the surf, and the moon, just ....being."

If the surfboard was any indication, she had to know by now that he was a surfer, or at the very least, interested in the sport, but so far, she had asked no questions concerning his life, and he had offered none. "What beach?" he asked, admiring the painting for more than just its artistic expression, but for the way she'd caught the surf as it rolled in the moonlight. The sportsman in him couldn't help but ask where it had been taken, part of him longing to find that beach and catch that wave. But, of course, that particular wave was no longer there. Each wave was different, no matter what anyone thought.

She was waiting by the front door when he came back into sight, car keys in her hand and his duffel hanging from her wrist. He said she should bring a swimsuit - that presupposed that he was going to need a change himself, and she hoped like hell he had one in the duffel. A quick text to Dru warned her they had a house guest and that she, Lena, was unlikely to be home until later, and the cell phone was left behind. "My car's a bit ....well, not what you'll be expecting from a car," she attempted to explain. A Honda Fit was probably quite a long way from what Tommy expected from a car, but it was just going to have to do.

He had no expectations really. Things were different here, but so far, they weren't so different from home that he was feeling any real culture shock. The Jetsons, it wasn't, but so far he'd only seen a very tiny piece of what Rhy'Din had to offer. "Have you seen my....Oh," he broke off, seeing she'd already thought to bring his duffel along, though he wasn't sure if he'd need it. He didn't even stop to consider what her cousin might think when she got home and they weren't there, assuming she'd leave her a note or something. "Ready?" he asked, as he wrapped one arm around the surfboard to bring it along.

She nodded, drawing the door closed behind them as they stepped outside. "You're going to surf?" she asked, although the answer was glaringly obvious. Why else would he be bringing the surfboard" "That should fit in the back, but I've got a roof rack if it doesn't." Seeing the surfboard had made something click in her mind - she knew exactly which beach she was going to take him to now.

"Depends on the surf," he replied, matter-of-factly, tucking the board under one arm as they stepped outside. He tilted a glance at the sun, though he really had no point of reference as to how much daylight there was here. It still seemed early enough in the day that they had plenty of daylight, and she'd said it would only take half an hour or so to get to the beach. Surfing at night was a tricky business and not something he'd recommend for a beginner.

This early in the autumn, they still had a few hours of sunlight left before it started to grow dark, but unless he asked, she wouldn't know to tell him that. Unlocking the car from a distance with the button on her key, she glanced at him with a half smile. "She's all yours, open up and see if your board fits."

It wasn't his board - not really - but he didn't bother to tell her that. It wouldn't hurt to test it out before it arrived at its destination. It wasn't like he'd never tested it out before. Hell, he'd made the damned thing. He hardly noticed the button she'd pushed to unlock the car, too busy checking it out. He wasn't sure what he thought of it exactly. "It's kinda....small." Small was the only word he could think of to describe it really. It reminded him a little of a punch-bug, but it wasn't quite shaped the same way. And the color was definitely boring.

It was a safe car, approved of and bought by her father years ago. She'd never changed it. "Trust me," she smiled to Tommy, opening the back door. "The board will fit. I know this car, I once fit seven people in this backseat." As the designated driver on a night out during college, but he didn't need to know that part.

The car didn't seem to fit her personality and he wouldn't have doubted it had been bought by an overprotective parent, but he kept his thoughts to himself for once. If you can't say something nice, then say nothing at all. "I think I'll put it on top," he replied upon spying the roof rack. He couldn't afford anything happening to that board and was taking a risk with it, as it was, but it was the only board he had with him. The trip to Laguna Beach was only supposed to be a little over six hours. A hop, skip, and a jump really. He should have been there by now, though she'd assured him he could still get there in plenty of time.

"Okay." Throwing their bags into the back seat, Lena closed the door and moved to the trunk to get out the bungee cord she used to tie just about everything to the roof rack. There was plenty of it, so whatever that thing was made out of, she doubted it would leave any dents. "Give me a hand to get it up there."

Between the two of them, they managed to get the balsam board strapped on top her car in no time at all. He checked to make sure it was good and secure before hopping inside to claim shotgun, allowing her to do the driving. It was her car, after all, and he had no idea where they were going. "So, what do you do for a living?" he asked, making idle conversation as he tried to figure out how to roll the window down.

"I'm a junior textile designer," she told him, somehow managing to make that sound both resigned and sarcastic as she took charge of her car, Maple Grove rolling by as they drove onto the wide main track toward the gates. "Although that basically means I get to watch while other people create new weaves, and spend a lot of time making tea and coffee. Family business." She paused, checking the road ahead as they passed through the gates before turning off, away from the grey loom of the city on their left and into the tall greenery of the forest that lined the road. "What do you do?"

"Sounds important, but that's not what you wanna do," he pointed out helpfully. He played with a few buttons on the inside of the door before sorting out how to make the window go up and down. Once he got it where he wanted it, he turned to face her, just in time to wince briefly at her explanation, almost too brief to notice. He'd once been expected to go into the "family business". His whole life had been planned out for him before he'd taken matters into his own hands and left home. He sensed there was a little bit of the rebel in her, too - a free and gentle flower growing wild. The thought of that brought another smile to his lips. "Me?" he asked as he turned to watch the scenery as it passed by. "Depends on what you're asking. If you wanna know what I do for a living, I own a little shop near the beach, but that just pays the bills."

"I did it to keep my dad happy," she admitted with a gentle sigh. "He was easier to live with when he approved of you." Why she hadn't taken charge of her own life once her father had died was another question, and one she'd never looked full in the face herself. There was a lot about Helena that even Helena didn't know or recognize. But thankfully the conversation had finally turned toward her companion, and she was happy to keep it there. "What does your shop produce?" she asked curiously. "As well as ....I only asked what you do, not what you do for a living."

"Just as well. It's not really the same thing, but helps you learn balance." He flashed a grin at her over the roof as together they got the board down. "You're not twelve anymore, but don't worry. We'll start you out easy. If you can swim, you've already won half the battle." He'd given more than a few lessons in the past, and the first thing he always asked is whether or not someone could swim because if they couldn't, there was really no point in teaching them how to drown. He hoisted the board off the rack and tucked it under one arm before starting down toward the beach on foot.

She followed him after locking up the car, not bothering to mention that she could swim, given that he already knew that. A pool wasn't the same as the sea, but she'd spent enough time at various beaches over the years to be fairly confident that she could stay afloat there, too. Despite the on-shore breeze blowing in off the rolling waves, the sun was warm enough to make it a pleasant spot, pleasanter still to have it all to themselves. "Do you compete, or do you just surf for fun?" she asked as she caught up to him, sliding on the sand beneath her sandals as the beach angled downward.

He already knew that, but was just stating that fact to give her a little boost of encouragement. "I don't compete," he replied, simply and matter-of-factly, not bothering to mention whether he had in the past and didn't anymore or never had. He reached around to catch her around the waist as she slid, juggling the board in one arm and her in the other. "Careful, it's slippery," he warned, stating the obvious. Once he was sure she had regained her balance, he let go of her and continued downward until the beach leveled out into flat sand, water crashing and rolling toward them.

Caught before her slip could turn into the world's most embarrassing slow motion freefall, she laughed once again, flashing him a grateful smile. "Thanks." Her hand brushed his at her waist before he released her, surprising herself with how natural it had felt to have his arm wrapped about her. "So what?s the appeal of surfing?" she asked, once again suppressing the urge to distract him with a kiss she didn't quite have the courage to give. "It can't just be because wet girls are easier to get naked."

He laughed again, an easy going, happy sound. Trying to explain why one surfed was like trying to explain why one breathed. It was just something that was in your blood, but how to tell her that' "It isn't about girls," he said, quickly adding, "At least, not anymore. It's just..." He shrugged, lifting one shoulder, but not the other. "It's just who I am. It's part of me. It's hard to explain. What's the appeal of painting?" he asked, turning the question back around on her, as he seemed wont to do.

She came to a halt on the sand, looking out over the rolling waves with a half smile painting her face, her sun-bleached brown hair whipped back from her profile by the breeze. "It's hard to explain," she shrugged, biting at her lower lip for a moment. "I keep so much trapped inside of me, and ....when I'm painting, none of that seems to matter. It's just me and the canvas, and I can be myself, without feeling as though anyone is standing over me telling me that myself is a bad person to be. There's no dad to remember, no mom to miss, no lifetime of expectations. Whatever makes it onto the canvas is from me, from the part of me that no one sees. The part that I don't really know myself. That doesn't really answer the question, does it?" she asked, blue eyes turning to meet his gaze with a wry quirk of expression.

He let the surfboard come to rest in the sand, turning to face her as they arrived on the beach proper, the waves not quite reaching them to ticklet at their toes. He ignored the call of the waves to give her the full attention she deserved, wondering if anyone in her life ever had bothered before. "It kinda does," he replied, understanding better than she might think. "It's like that with surfing, too. When I'm in the water, it's the one place I feel really free. There's nothing but me and the waves. It takes total concentration. Everything else just....fades away." Okay, so it was a little different, like comparing apples to oranges really, but he was trying to understand and make her understand. "When you're on the beach, waiting for the perfect wave, it gives you time to think."

As he spoke, she found herself nodding, understanding where he was coming from, even if she didn't quite fully understand how he got there. Something in the surf called to him, the way something in a blank canvas called to her. And it was that need to hear and answer that call that resonated between them. This time, she didn't let anything get in the way. She turned, reaching up to cradle his jaw in her hands, drawing him down into the first kiss she had initiated without prompting all afternoon. "So go find your perfect wave," she murmured as she drew back, her smile soft. "I've got nowhere else to be."

He was caught off guard by that kiss, unexpected as it was, though there was no hesitation in returning it. Something twisted inside him as he kissed her, a sort of longing that wasn't unlike the call of the ocean, but different all the same. A warm, gentle, wistful yearning. An almost sweet sadness in knowing it would not last, unless....He didn't dare let his mind go down that road. Live for today. Think of today. Don't worry about tomorrow until tomorrow comes. Despite those thoughts, he found her name on his lips - her real name, not some meaningless nickname he'd chosen seemingly at random. "Helena," he whispered against her lips, and he realized that name fit her, too. Like Helen of Troy, the face that launched a thousand ships. For a single moment in time, everything was perfect.

The softness in her expression seemed to soften even further, offering him a glimpse of the raw, vulnerable girl behind the mask she showed to everyone she came across in the world. And all because he'd said her name like that, caught in a perfect moment that was just one of millions, swept away like a single grain of sand on a beach. "Go on, Moonbeam," she murmured back to him through her smile. "The waves won't wait forever."

"Wait for me," he whispered back, as if he was asking her not only to wait for him while he caught and tamed the perfect wave, but maybe if she'd wait for him to somehow find his way back, though he didn't know how. It was said before he had much time to think about the implications of his words, followed by another soft but brief kiss, before he was pulling away to strip down and rush toward the waves.

She watched him pull away, watched him strip to his shorts and run into the waves, her arms wrapping about herself as she smiled to herself. His whisper should have frightened her, should have made her stop to think, but she didn't want to stop, and around him, she didn't feel as though she had to. "I've been waiting all my life," she murmured as man and board crashed into the rolling water. "A little longer won't hurt."

"Just don't hit your head on the board," he warned, deeming that the worst that could happen, though it probably wasn't. He'd seen his fair share of surfing accidents and probably would again, but not today. "We're gonna wait for a small wave. No more than two feet. I know it sounds silly, but you gotta crawl before you walk. I'll paddle out for you. You can learn that later," he instructed as he followed her into the water, seemingly immune to the cold. "Follow me, all right?"

"Two feet is still more than a third of my height, I can handle starting small," she chuckled, feeling herself getting more and more nervous as he added yet another something that could go wrong. "What do you mean, paddle out for me" You on the board, me holding on at the back?"

"No, me paddling out and you swimming. You can swim, right?" he teased, eyes gleaming. "Unless you wanna get tugged along behind me. We're not going out too far." It was just as easy to carry the board out, as he wasn't planning on taking her too far, but it would be faster to paddle and swim, not to mention more fun. "I can teach you how to paddle later in your pool."

"I can swim, thank you," she laughed back at him, shivering as the water washed up to her waist. "I don't know how far, though, do I" If I set off now, you could be paddling after me until my arms give out." He really had to stop looking at her like that. That particular look in his eyes, that particular cast to his smile ....it made her want to forget the lesson and defile the beach while they still had sunlight to keep it warm for them.

"Stop worrying so much, Midge, and just follow my lead." And without further warning, he was off, diving toward the water, with the board beneath him, arms scooping water on each side of the board to propel him through the water.

She gave it all of four seconds before diving into the water after him, glad that her great-uncle had insisted on swimming lessons long past the time when they had been cool at school. Arm over arm, she cut through the rising and falling water after Tommy, her lines straight and pleasing to look at.

He would have admired those lines, if he wasn't so busy choosing a spot where the water was calm where they could wait in safety for the rush of the waves. As promised, he didn't go too far out, coming to a stop a short distance from shore, and holding the board steady in the water so she could climb on. It would have been easier had she paddled out herself, but he hadn't deemed her experienced enough for that yet, and this was really just about giving her a little taste of what it felt like to ride a wave, albeit a small one.

When he came to a halt, so did she, treading water for a moment before realizing that something else was expected of her. "Oh, so ....I get on there now?" she asked, one hand against the board as she looked up at him a little skeptically. She couldn't quite see how she was going to get up there without flipping it and knocking him into the water with her.

"Yeah..." He laughed at himself. "I guess it wasn't the best plan, huh?" Holding the board as steady as he could in the constantly moving water, he offered her a hand. "Come on. I'll give you a boost."

"Lucky me." Flashing him a grin, she took his hand, deliberately dropping beneath the level of the water for a moment to propel herself upward with as much force as she could manage. Well ....she got herself onto the board, that much was obvious. It was doubtful that lying across it with her head in the water on one side and her legs still in the water on the other was the goal, though.

He chuckled as she climbed on top, or at least tried to, helping her as much as he could to settle herself on the middle of the board, instead of hanging over the side. Once that was accomplished - and not without great effort on both their parts - he wrapped an arm around the board to bob alongside. "Now, see where the shore is?" he asked, pointing toward where she had parked the car. "That's your mark. You always want to know what direction you're going in." Though it seemed obvious enough from where they were, he knew if you got tossed and turned by a wave, it was easy to get confused quickly.

Sitting on the board was a lot more daunting than she'd been expecting, completely unaccustomed to being above the level of the surface. Her fingers were just a little white-knuckled on the edges of the board as she held on, her gaze wandering toward the beach. "So I'm supposed to aim for there?" she asked uncertainly. "I thought the wave just, sort of, pushed you right along until you beached yourself."

"It does, but it helps to know what direction you're going in, in case you fall off." He wasn't really expecting her to stay on the board the first time around, but stranger things were known to have happened. He remembered his first time out. He'd tried to tackle a wave he wasn't ready for and was lucky he hadn't drowned. He glanced behind him - a small wave coming in that looked just about her speed. "You're up, Midge. Just stand up on the board, knees bent, your body loose and ride it as long as you can."

As he called the wave coming, Helena bit the bullet, pushing down on the board to get onto her knees as she felt the wave catch the tail end of the board and propel her forward. Even this small wave felt wilder than she had been expecting, completely un-rideable underneath her, and her inexperience got the better of both of them. She'd only just managed to get onto her feet when the front tip of the board dipped straight down into the water, the wave caught the tail end, the board flipped upward and she went face first into a wave that crashed down on top of her with a shriek.

He was there to rescue her and the board before she knew it, though he knew her crash into the water probably gave her a fright. She was riding it for a moment, but it hadn't lasted long. Maybe he should try this a different way. Thankfully, he hadn't taken her into too deep of water, and there didn't seem to be any undercurrents. He didn't really know this beach very well, but it seemed tame enough, at least for now. He wondered what the waves would be like in the morning. "You all right?" he asked as he retrieved both girl and board. He wondered again if this was such a good idea. If anything happened to that board, heads would roll, starting with his.

She looked up, surprised that he seemed to be suggesting that they sleep out here tonight, without a tent or food or any of the equipment she would have expected was necessary. But she couldn't deny, it did have a certain appeal. A smirk touched her lips as she considered what else he'd see if they did stay past sunset. "If it rains, we could always relocate to the car," she suggested softly, turning back to look out at the water. "There are blankets in the trunk."

"We could build a fire on the beach and catch a few fish for dinner." Granted, it wasn't a gourmet meal, but he wanted to keep her all to himself for a little while longer before they had to go back. "Can your cousin fend for herself for one night?" he asked, as he tossed the towel back over his shoulders. There were other options, of course, but the thought of spending the night with her on the beach was hard to resist.

"Sister," she corrected him quietly, guilt flaring in her expression as she thought of Dru, torn between her duty to go home and be there for her little sister, even if she wasn't really needed, and her desire to stay here, with his intriguing, enchanting man, and give into the freer side of her nature that had been chained for too long. "She's not really alone," she mused thoughtfully, unconscious of the way her arms had moved to wrap around herself once more, reassuring and yet closing herself off somehow. "If she really needs someone, she could call the big house. I doubt I'd be missed."

"Sister, right," he repeated, correcting himself with a smirk, clearly distracted by something, most likely her. He stepped closer, closing the distance between them, and tossed his towel over her shoulders, using it to pull her closer, wondering why she seemed suddenly almost shy of him for some reason. "I can't see you ever not being missed." It wasn't a line. He wasn't very good at being charming or knowing how to get his way with women. He could only be himself, and he was just being honest. He sensed the flare of guilt in her expression and wanted to kiss her, until it disappeared. He'd never had a sister or brother to feel responsible for, but he had felt a sense of guilt for abandoning someone once, what seemed like long ago. "I want to be alone with you tonight."

Drawn toward him by the wrap of the towel about her shoulders, her eyes focused on his as her hands reached out to lie palm-flat against his abdomen, fingers curled to his sides. She couldn't resist the smile that rose, soft and vulnerable once again, in the face of his quietly expression desire to have the night to themselves. "Why?" she asked in a low whisper, letting the gentle force of the towel at her back bring her stepping closer, until her face was barely inches from his. "Why me?"

"Do you ask the sun why it rises in the morning or why it sets at night' It just does. Why question it?" he countered, tilting her chin toward him and rubbing a thumb against her cheek. He couldn't say he loved her, not yet. It was far too soon for that, but he was feeling something, and it wasn't just physical desire. "I like you. Why does it have to be any more complicated than that?"

It was enough for her. I like you might have been rather innocent for them, given how they'd spent the time waiting for a mechanic to come and take a look at his van, but it fitted. And more importantly, it soothed the guilt she'd been feeling away. She had the guarantee of a lifetime to spend with her little sister; the time she had with Tommy could be counted in hours, just a couple of days. I like you was enough. Rising onto her toes, she kissed him softly. "I like you, too," she confessed in a gentle whisper, her lips brushing his once again. "Let's stay."

He smiled into her kiss, his lips warm against hers, even if he was feeling a slight chill. "Only one problem. There's nothing to drink." Here they were on a beach with plenty of water, and none of it was drinkable. "Unless you have something stashed away in your car." It wasn't that much of a problem really. They could always make a quick stop at a store, assuming there were stores here. He hadn't seen much of anything so far, except for the landscape on their way here.

"Hmm." Her arms eased about his waist, warming them both with a little extra contact as she considered the pitfall he'd pointed out. "We could always skip back to the house, get a few things, and come back for the night," she suggested eventually, stirring her mind away from how delicious it felt to hold and be held and onto the subject at hand. "You know ....sleeping bags, water, food. A tent, because I don't trust the weather." Her lips curved in a sweet smile as she held his gaze, waiting to hear what he thought of that suggestion.

"We could and that way, you'd be able to let your sister know so she doesn't worry." He emphasized the word sister to let her know he hadn't forgotten this time and had been paying attention when she corrected him. His temple came to rest against hers, not looking like he was in any big hurry to return to Maple Grove, though what she suggested made a lot more sense than to try camping out without any supplies whatsoever.

"Sooner we go, the sooner we get back," she murmured, though she, too, didn't seem in any great rush. There was something immensely soothing about just standing there in the circle of his arms, her eyes looking into his and seeing herself reflected there. Two days, Cary had said. Two days, and Tommy would be gone. Was two days enough, or was it too much' Was she taking an awful chance showing the most hidden part of herself to a man who only a few hours ago had been a complete stranger" I don't want to let go.

"Yeah," he replied, looking about as anxious to leave as she was, arms wrapped around her as he gazed into her eyes, wondering why he had to come all the way here - wherever here really was - in order to meet the girl of his dreams. "Midge....Helena..." He broke off, frowning. There really was no point in trying to explain what he was feeling when he'd just told her not to question it. "We should probably get back if we want to find this place again before dark." It wasn't what he wanted to say, but it's what came out.

She seemed to know that he hadn't said what was rumbling behind his eyes, but she didn't want to push him. She didn't want to push anything, feeling her way through the strange freedom of not really knowing what was happening in any given moment. "We should," she agreed quietly. "Just one thing before I put my jeans on again ..." Her fingers trailed up his side, dragging her touch along the underside of his jaw. "Kiss me first?"

He smiled softly at her request. How could he possibly deny her that' Not only did he want to kiss her, but he wanted to go on kissing her, but he refused to think past the next few hours or even minutes. He didn't want to think about leaving just yet, determined to enjoy the present and not worry about the future. "Since you asked so nicely," he replied with a gentle touch of lips to hers, lingering momentarily, the kiss chaste but soft and tender and full of feeling.

Strange, how they had approached the same feeling from different directions over the course of a single afternoon. He, from his philosophy of living in the moment; she, from her habit of worrying about tomorrow and the rest of the world. And yet here they were, both of them in the moment, both of them trying not to wish for more than the moment they were in. One kiss. A night beneath the stars. Two days before they had to part; two days to fill with whatever came with the moment. It would just have to be enough.

((Many thanks to Tommy's player!))