What Brings Me to You Read Free Page B

would fess up, but they'd obviously seen me chasing it down the beach because they were suppressing their cowardly laughter. I shot the gigglers an icy stare and decided it wasn't worth my time.
                  "That's what I thought. Thanks a lot you creeps! Move your Frisbee circle jerk down the beach, will ya!" I hurled the corpse of my book in their general direction and stomped away in a huff. Back at my embankment I watched the offending fraternity, five shirtless backs, saunter down the beach away from me, and felt tears prick my eyes. Without a book, without my iPod (I had no charger so the thing was worthless), without a friend, it was utterly lonely sitting listening to the sound of the waves lap onto the shore.
                  The next day, when The Sisters Slut dropped me off on the beach to go do unspeakable things with their boyfriends or friends with benefits or whatever, I made my way to spot. Making sure to avoid focusing on the rumbling of my empty stomach by looking out for any Frisbee throwing douche bags. About thirty yards out, I saw someone on my rock. I was totally peeved and was about to turn around when he, yes a “he”, saw me coming. He stood and waved, holding up, what seemed to be, a book.
                  It was against my instinct but I had to know. Is this guy for real?
                  The trip to my spot felt like a reverse walk of shame. Not that I'd ever had a regular walk of shame, but I could use my imagination, and I felt like a spectacle. It wasn't the lovely walk toward someone you know; laden with air kisses and smiling pleasantries. I tried to keep eye contact so as not to appear weak, but it was too awkward and I ended up keeping my eyes cast down toward the sand. The mystery boy didn't ease the awkwardness by courteously meeting me half-way like a friend would, he waited, albeit patiently, for me to make the trek to him. Carefully eying me the entire time so I could feel my skin tingle under his gaze.
                  "Hi! I brought you a new one. Sorry about yesterday. Totally my bad." I nodded and took the three-hundred page peace offering. It was Jane Austen  Pride and Prejudice. Gag me with his presumptuousness.
                  "Thanks, but this isn't what I was reading." and I tried politely, but firmly, to hand it back to him.
                  "Oh?" and some kind of, what was it, passed over his face. Shock? Embarrassment? It didn't last long. With a flourish of his hand he casually said, “Well, all I saw was small print. Gold leaf and the name Jane." He looked up at me expectantly, smiling brightly.  What does he want? A medal for invading my space and bringing me not the book I was reading?        Though secretly, I thought it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me. "Anyway," he cleared his throat and continued, "All girls like Austen. The only thing I can figure is you already have this one, yellowed and spine creased, on your shelf chocked full of romantic classics at home." Oh please, I wanted to say,  you don't know me. Though, he was right. I did.      
                  "I despise Jane Austen,” which wasn’t entirely true. I just figured the faster I shot this guy down, the faster I could get back to reading Jane Eyre. Alone.
                  "Oh?" He seemed genuinely nonplussed as if it never occurred to him that a woman would not like Jane Austen. Or maybe no girl had ever given him the brush off. Either way, I almost felt bad for him.
                  "Perhaps despise is a bit strong. Indifferent? Ambivalent, maybe? I mean, don't get me wrong, I have respect for her as a woman ahead of her time, but it's the stories that bore me. It's unrealistic for characters, despite all odds, to get everything they've ever wanted every time." Again, all of this was a load of crap. I was probably going to read it as soon as he went