Wow. I lift my sunglasses and push them into my hair to really study his face. He lifts his too and I can see the seriousness in those stunning hazel eyes. “You seriously just said that and meant it? Like,allwomen.”
He kind of shrugs. “I mean, I guess I trust my mom.”
Red flag? This feels like a red flag. Huge, giant, waving red flag. Crew knows it too because he looks guilty as he runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “I know how that sounds, but my ex really fucked me over. I trusted her with everything. So I won’t be doing that again.”
“Harsh.”
“Truthful,” he replies, and we both turn to watch the sun as it dips toward the ocean and paints the sky in hues of orange and red. It’s a real stunner tonight.
The silence is comfortable but heavy because his little announcement was a lot and I still don’t know what to do with it. He must feel it too because he speaks again and I can feel his fingers graze mine in the sand behind us. “Also, that sad little fact is not something I’ve admitted to anyone else, so it counts as a secret.”
“Okay…”
“I said no thank you and I don’t have to say anything else!” a voice shouts suddenly and both Crew and I swivel our heads.
Behind us, on the edge of the paved boardwalk, a woman is yelling at a man. She’s dressed in a cropped tank and a long flowy skirt and sandals. He's in a tank, workout shorts, and sneakers.
“Wow. I take it back. You’re a cunt,” the guy snarls.
Everything in me turns to lead. I’m like a human paperweight, held down in the sand by fear and anxiety and, worst of all, memories. Something way back in the attic of my brain says logically, “But he never yelled at you. He never called you names.” But it doesn’t register with my nervous system and I remain frozen, eyes glued to the two as the woman turns from the angry, volatile man with a bitter, “Fuck you.”
She starts marching away but he repeats her words, almost in shock, and then takes menacing strides towards her. I feel a flutter beside me, sand rains onto my jeans and shirt from Crew's lightning-quick movements. I'm still frozen in my fear, helpless. I also can't seem to catch my breath. It's like I swallowed some of that ocean water in front of me even though I haven't even dipped a toe in.
I watch him step between the woman and the man and calmly intervene. "Hey, buddy. You wanna walk the other way.”
“Why? Who are you?” the guy asks angrily and points to the woman who is looking over her shoulder but hasn’t stopped walking away. “If you’re her boyfriend, all she had to do was say she had one. I mean, fuck, all I did was say she looked pretty. She didn’t have to be such a rude cunt. I wouldn’t have bothered her if she was walking with you.”
"I'm not her boyfriend," Crew replies. "I'm just a dude who understands women don't owe me anything just because they're pretty and walking alone. And I guess I'm here to teach you that lesson."
“What the fuck you gonna do about it?” He seethes and steps into Crew. The two would be nose-to-nose except the menacing dude is a few inches shorter than Crew. Crew isn’t being aggressive, not even in his stance. His shoulders aren’t back. His hands are in his pockets. He’s relaxed… and shockingly, when he doesn’t get a reaction, this guy backs down. Can you imagine, I think to myself both bitter and amazed, to be able to intimidate without even using body language? If I had that superpower, I wouldn’t have been jumped.
“Look, women aren’t out here looking for strangers to hit on them or even to compliment them,” Crew goes on and the guy mutters something under his breath. “Walk it off and do better. Don’t do it again because I promise you, I’m not the only man out here who will tell you to back off and some will be a lot less chill about it.”
The guy stomps toward the outdoor gym. Crew starts walking back to me. The woman is nowhere to be found, having used the opportunity to get the hell away from the situation, which is exactly what I would have done.
Crew walks to me casually, like he isn’t a fucking hero. I watch him. He isn’t looking around for accolades from strangers watching or from the girl he saved. He didn’t do it for himself. He did it because it was the right thing to do.
I realize Crew may have announced he doesn't trust women, but he's a guy who has been burned. Badly. And nothing else about Crew screams red flag. In fact, everything about him screams anchor. Safety. Warmth. He's the guy you go to when you're in trouble, which is why I think I picked him. Without realizing it. So by the time he reaches me again, I'm no longer paralyzed. I'm on my feet, dusting sand off my jeans.
“Sorry about that.”
“Let’s go.”
“Where?”
"Back to your place," I tell him and it feels like the boldest thing I've ever done. I keep walking toward the boardwalk, and the road, without looking back so I don't lose my nerve. Out of my peripheral, I see him fall in step beside me. I swear I feel the smile on his lips. "I've never had a quickie before and I've got a little less than forty-five minutes before I have to be at Tate's. Think you can get me off in that time?
“Phew!” Crew tips his head back as if what I said is ridiculous. “I can do it more than once in that amount of time.”
“Show me the ways, you sexual Jedi.”
I don’t even have time to worry if he’ll get that nerdy reference because he chuckles and replies, "Please can I be Obi-Wan and not Yoda? The young Ewan McGregor version not like that old guy.”
“Alec Guinness.”
“God your brain is hot, Fireball.”
I can’t help but smile.