Chapter 16
I smell the ocean before I see it. The cloudless sky is a stunning cerulean blue, but the gorgeous day doesn’t quell my nerves about how close I am to the water.
I miraculously manage to find parking and walk the rest of the way to the address Bennett provided in his vague text message. His instructions were to bring a sweater and sunglasses and to meet him in Fisherman’s Village in Marina del Rey.
I look up from the directions on my phone to gauge my surroundings. Dozens of gleaming white sailboats and powerboats of all sizes are docked, bobbing up and down in the teal water.
You’re still on land, Olivia. Breathe.
My heart pounds faster in anticipation of seeing Bennett again, a welcome distraction from my wobbly knees. With my cream-colored sweater slung over my arm, I find Bennett standing next to a kiosk holding a bag. Today he’s wearing a cornflower blue tee that looks soft from years of wear and khaki shorts. He adjusts his light blue baseball cap a few times in a way that almost looks like he’s fighting off nerves. Is he doubting his ZodiaCupid match for me?
“Hi,” I call out, adding a small wave.
Bennett smiles deeply when he sees me. “Hey!”
As soon as our eyes meet, I feel instantly at ease. I force myself to avoid looking at the area of his face beneath his nose. If he so much as licks his lips, I’m a goner. After Friday night, my unsteady knees wouldn’t be able to handle it. It’s just my luck when Bennett crosses into my space to give me a kiss on the cheek. He lingers, the sides of our faces pressed together. When I blink, my eyelashes graze his upper cheek, sending a jolt of heat through me.
“So, who am I meeting today?” I ask dizzily, looking around for someone who looks like they might be going on a first date. “And shouldn’t you be hiding behind a buoy or something? Is this weird?” An awkward stream of laughter comes out.
Bennett laughs. “Probably. But we’re here, so I’ll go get him. Are you good? I think you’re really going to like him.”
“Yeah. Let’s see who you found this time,” I mumble.
Bennett rounds the corner of the pay station. A few seconds later, he jumps out from behind it.
“Ta-da!” he shouts.
I snap my head back toward him. “Ta-da what?”
“Your date’s with me! I matched you with someone compatible last time, yet that wasn’t good enough. Now it’s time to try it my way,” Bennett says confidently.
“This is a total violation of the rules,” I say, holding back a grin.
“We agreed to go on dates with people we match with, and we both found each other compatible people. We did match on ZodiaCupid, after all, did we not?”
“That was a different profile!” I protest playfully. “And that was with someone named B.O.B.! You and I have been on a date, Mr. Mooncake-Filling-On-Your-T-Shirt. We both know how that turned out.”
“Because you were grilling me the entire time.” Bennett smiles. “We still matched. I’m your date. No more stalling.” He lifts a bag of unbleached flour from his bag. “This is for you. I couldn’t find peonies and figured this was the next best thing.”
I’m amused by his sweet gesture. “Fine. You’re my date.” My heart swells traitorously.
Before I can grab his offering, he pulls the bag back. “Actually, no. I’ll hang onto this for now so you don’t have to lug it around. Follow me.” He leads me around the kiosk and down a dock.
“Should we be over here?” I ask, looking at the signs condemning trespassing.
Bennett slows his steps and gestures toward a small powerboat rocking back and forth in the waves. “I know Horses are adventurous so I wanted to plan something fun for you,” he says, beaming. “We’re having a picnic on the boat! Oh, good, you brought a sweater. I may have underestimated the temperature today, but it should be cooler on the water.”
I grip my sweater tighter. “We’re eating on a boat. Like, docked, right?”
Bennett jumps into the boat first, placing the flour on the seat. “More like on the water. I opted for the seventeen-footer so that we’ll be more comfortable for our lunch. The water shouldn’t be too choppy right now.”
I feel the blood rush out of my face. I place my hand in his, grasping it a little too tightly as I step one foot onto what’s pretty much just a floating tub. When our fingers touch, the same thrill runs through me that I felt at the Getty. The boat wobbles, and I let out a loud shriek.
“Are you okay?” Bennett asks, alarmed. I back up from the boat, keeping my feet firmly planted on the dock. His smile drops. “Did I mess up?”
I straighten my shoulders. “I’m…fine.”
“I don’t want to be presumptuous, but…are you scared of the ocean?” Bennett looks nervous that I actually might be.
“Were those the actions of a scared person?” I ask overconfidently. “Okay, I might be a little bit scared of it.”
I see Bennett’s eyes pop behind his sunglasses. “Say no more, we’ll do something else,” he says, starting to climb out of the boat.
“No, no! I’ll be okay. You planned a picnic and rented a boat. I’ll feel bad if I ruin your plans,” I say, holding my hands up to stop him. “Honestly.”
Bennett looks unsure. “Okay. You’ll let me know if you feel like it’s too much? Say the word and I’ll turn this ship right back around.”
I laugh. “Sure.”
Bennett whips out his phone and starts tapping on the screen. “Horses tend to be adventurous, but I may have interpreted the term adventurous too loosely. Let me see here,” he says, staring at his device.
“What are you doing?” I ask, looking around at the other tourists on the dock. “Are you reading an article right now?”
“I’m trying to see what other traits I may have missed,” he says, moving his finger up the screen. “I totally missed the mark.”
“What? No,” I say, somewhat pleased to be continuously proved right. “Not every animal sign embodies every single one of their traits. Or if they do identify with a trait, it takes getting to know someone to truly understand what that means to each specific person. Sorry to say, but you’re going to have to get to know me.”
“I would love that,” he says before scrunching his forehead. “I’ll need to think through how to handle that on the app better. See? I’m learning every day.”
“Don’t worry about it. But if I don’t walk onto solid ground or get in the boat, my legs won’t be able to support me for much longer.”
Bennett springs into action. “Right. Sorry. Let’s try this again.”
He steadies himself in the boat and holds both arms out toward me. I place my hands on his shoulders, stepping slowly into the boat. Our bodies are as close as they were at the Getty, sending my mind down a dangerous path.
“There we go,” he says, watching me closely.
Bennett pulls out what looks like a life vest for a baby out from under one of the seats.
“Thanks,” I mumble, distractedly reaching for the vest.
“This isn’t for you,” he says. He straps the baby life vest around the sack of flour.
I laugh out loud at the absurdity and feel slightly more relaxed.
“This one’s for you,” Bennett says, handing me a neon yellow life vest.
I speedily tighten the life vest around my body and carefully wobble over to the seats. I plant myself onto the bench in the front of the boat so I have clear visibility.
“Ready?” he asks. Bennett starts up the boat, the engine roaring to life and settling into a rumbling purr. “Let me know at any point if you want to turn back.”
“So far so good,” I say, focusing my eyes on the waves in front of us. I look to see how far I’d have to jump from the boat to the dock. In my dreams, I could probably successfully stick a five-foot landing, but before I can make this a reality, we’re ten feet away from the dock.
I don’t say anything while Bennett navigates us out of the marina for fear of him losing focus and the boat capsizing.
My body remains tight and curled as I focus on my breathing. Once there’s enough fresh air in my lungs, I attempt to make small talk.
“Why didn’t you start ZodiaCupid over here?” I ask, gesturing toward the beach. “I’d have pegged you as a Silicon Beach guy.”
“Way too expensive,” he says, casually holding the steering wheel in one hand. “I won’t deny that being able to walk to the beach for lunch breaks would be a huge perk, but then I never would have met you.”
I smile to myself. “Are you a big boater?”
“Not as much as I’d like. My dad loves fishing, so I spent a lot of time on the water with him as a kid.”
A wave rolls toward us, rocking the boat from side to side. I quickly grab for the railing. The flour baby bounces in the seat and then goes overboard. We watch as it bobs up and down in the choppy waves. Bennett looks over the side of the boat and laughs.
“Don’t look at me! I’m not going in there,” I say.
Bennett maneuvers the boat closer to the flour. He reaches out for it, lifting the bag out of the ocean by the life vest straps.
“Last I checked, fish don’t eat paper or flour,” he says. “You want to steer? It’s like driving a car, but instead of asphalt the roads are made of water.”
“You can’t drown in the roads,” I murmur. I shakily waddle over to the middle of the boat and position myself between him and the helm. I tightly grip the sun-warmed silver wheel. “Look, I’m steering!”
Bennett shifts behind me. “You’re doing great!”
Ahead of us, a large boat angles in our direction.
“What do I do?” I scream, rotating the wheel frantically.
“Just stay the course, captain,” he says, wrapping his hands over mine on the wheel. “They’ll move.”
The other boat navigates away from us.
“See? Trust me,” he whispers into my ear. I shiver when his breath meets the side of my neck.
A long, deep breath helps calm me after my slight overreaction. His hands are still covering mine as we steer the boat to our own patch of open sea to free float. When Bennett removes his hands from mine, my fingers immediately feel cold.
“Hungry?” Bennett reaches into the tote bag.
“Very,” I admit, slowly walking to the front of the boat.
Bennett follows closely behind, keeping one hand under my arm to help stabilize me. “I wanted to make you my famous cacio e pepe but thought Italian sub sandwiches were a more practical choice.”
“I love cacio e pepe. Few but quality ingredients. Creamy, spicy, cheesy. It’s—”
“—true love, I remember,” Bennett says.
Bennett reveals a container with two large sandwiches. He holds it out to let me choose from the two options.
“Oh, right. Of course. My original profile.” I pick up one of the sandwiches and study its contents. Between the vinegar- and-oil-drizzled sliced loaves are tomatoes, lettuce, thinly sliced onions, herbs, salami, ham, and a variety of cheeses. My mouth begins to salivate at how fresh the ingredients smell. “These look promising. Should I expect any odd flavor pairings in here?”
Bennett laughs and hands me a plaid paper napkin. “Not this time. I went more traditional for this lunch.”
“Interesting,” I say, curious what his version of traditional tastes like. I sink my teeth into the sandwich. “Yum. My compliments to the chef.”
Bennett lifts his sandwich in the air. “Great, I’ll let Elvis know!” His laugh is lost in the waves, but seeing his lit-up face is all it takes to make my heart flutter. He prepares the rest of our meal of chips, precut watermelon slices, and bubbly water.
A gust of wind sends my hair flying into my face. Bennett lifts his hand up next to my cheek and pauses. “Do you mind?”
I shake my head. He gently pushes a strand of hair back behind my ear before pulling off his baseball cap and offering it to me.
I reluctantly accept, wiggling his hat over my head, the inside of the cap still warm. “Thanks,” I say softly.
Bennett takes a sip of bubbly water, smiling at me with his eyes. “What is it about the ocean that scares you?”
I pop a chip into my mouth and adjust my grip on the railing. “When you’re in the ocean, you have no idea what’s swimming beneath you.” A certain parasite comes to mind. “Right now there could be a twelve-foot eel beneath us, and we would never know. And I used to think sharks somehow had access to pools—you know, through the drains—so you can imagine how wild my imagination goes when it comes to the ocean. Also, drowning and riptides.”
“All completely valid reasons.” Bennett’s face remains unchanged, unjudgmental. “I used to be scared of the water, too,” he continues when I don’t respond. “I was at a birthday pool party where we had to take a swim test to participate. Guess who didn’t pass?” He points a finger at himself. “I was terrified of not being able to breathe underwater, so I had a tough time learning how to swim. I pretty much flailed around for five minutes in front of all my friends. It was so embarrassing that it took a couple of years before my mom could persuade me to swim again.”
“How did she convince you?” I ask.
“She surprised me with water wing arm floaties that had shark fins attached to the sides,” he says, motioning toward his arms. “She said that when I wore them, it meant she’d be right there beside me. And that when I did the breaststroke, it would look like I was swimming with sharks. She made it sound really badass. Mind you, I was five. It took some time but I eventually learned how to swim on my own.”
“Your mom sounded like a smart woman.”
Bennett’s smile vanishes as he looks out at the ocean. “The smartest,” he says quietly.
I reach for his hand and give it a light squeeze. “Maybe we overcome our fear of our businesses failing by learning how to swim. Metaphorically, of course.”
His smile reappears, dimples and all. “We’ll just have to find adult-sized shark fin floaties. You know, swimming with the sharks isn’t terribly far off from how it feels to run a business. Because of their olfactory organs, sharks have acute senses of smell and can detect low concentrations of odors that help them identify prey or potential mates. They’re incredibly aware of their environment and are impressively in tune with what’s around them and what they need to do to survive.”
“Sharks could also be below us right now. Trust nothing,” I say jokingly. The rush of an old memory swells in me. “I was also broken up with on a dock once.”
“The thought that anyone could leave you blows my mind,” he says quietly. “Was he someone you were serious about?”
I play with a thread on the sleeve of my sweater. “I thought I was. He was actually incompatible with me.”
“Really?” Bennett asks slowly and in a surprised tone.
“He was a Snake.”
Bennett exhales and leans back against the railing. His eyes flicker out toward the horizon and then back to me. “What happened?”
“He was jealous and possessive, never trusting me when I had male clients to match. He belittled my work and always said how he never understood why I do what I do,” I say, trying to piece together fragmented memories. “He’d always remind me that we were incompatible and questioned why I was obsessed with matching compatible people. Of course at the time, I thought I loved him and our relationship. So enamored, in fact, that I dragged my friend into an incompatible relationship, too.”
“Dragged doesn’t seem like the right word,” Bennett says, lightly squeezing the aluminum can of bubbly water.
“No,” I admit, “we were both excited about the match at first. I really thought I was happy, and that she would be, too. I never wanted to hurt her.”
“Of course not,” Bennett says, bending his knee and draping his forearm over it, leaning in closer as though he doesn’t want to miss a single word I say.
“I’m the one who taught my ex about the different traits, which of course he laughed about at first,” I continue. “Then he got a big job opportunity in New York and expected me to go with him. But I stayed here. We tried long distance because he didn’t want to give us up. He said he’d be back.”
“Did he come back?” Bennett asks.
I shake my head. “Turns out his ex from college was living in New York, too.”
“So he broke up with you to be with his ex-girlfriend?”
“Well, not exactly,” I say, trailing off. “Apparently he was dating her long distance while he was living here in California. He moved to New York to be with her, turning me into the long-distance girl. When I found out and we broke up, he had the nerve to say that it was because they were more compatible.” That was the last time I’ll ever be a pawn in someone’s game.
“That’s shitty,” Bennett says. “He sounds like a piece of work who didn’t realize he had something great right in front of him.”
“I knew better.” I adjust the baseball cap. “I’ve worked with a lot of people who have been scorned by love. And it’s not like I’ve never been through a breakup before. But I let him manipulate me. The signs were there. His traits were obvious the entire time. I let myself get so swept away that I only saw his positive traits.”
“And now you only see the incompatible traits in people,” he says, pausing a moment before adding, “Not everyone is him. Have you ever considered that maybe your ex wasn’t possessive because he’s a Snake but because he was just an asshole?”
A laugh sails out of me. “Probably. Definitely.” I think for a moment on this, soaking in the silence. “Losing my friend was worse than losing my ex,” I say. “After all of that happened, I actually took six months off from matchmaking. I questioned everything about myself, the Chinese zodiac, and the concept of relationships. I took some me-time, and when I came back to LA, my friend was gone. Nowhere to be found.”
“She left without saying anything?” he asks.
“Yeah. She never wanted to talk to me again.”
“Oh, so she told you that.”
“Well, no. But her actions told me everything I needed to know.”
“I see,” Bennett says, looking like he’s gathering his thoughts. “When my mother died, I thought my father hated her because he never wanted to talk about her.” He bends the silver tab back and forth on the can until it comes loose. “What I realized is that he never wanted to talk about her because he loved her so much it hurt to bring her up. Our actions don’t always reveal our true intentions.”
“You’re probably right.” I fiddle with the buckle on my life vest.
“You know it’s never too late,” he says kindly.
“We’ll see,” I say with a shrug.
He reaches for his bag and pulls out a plastic container of cut strawberries. “What brought you back to Lunar Love?” he asks, offering me the tub of fruit and a fork.
I pierce my fork into a sliced-up strawberry. “I missed it too much. The zodiac is in my veins. But I vowed to never let something like that happen again. For myself or my clients.” Even as I say the words, I feel my resolve slipping.
With his free hand, Bennett grabs mine and lets our intertwined fingers rest on his thigh. “You think you’ll know exactly how things will turn out because of people’s personalities?” he asks.
“No?” I answer in the form of a question. “But I try.”
“That sounds…exhausting,” he says.
My eyes widen at his bluntness. “I love what I do, but yes, it’s pretty damn exhausting,” I say before cracking up into laughter.
“Thank you for sharing all that with me,” he says. “I like knowing more about you.”
“Those are the only insights into my soul that you’re getting,” I inform him.
“I’ll take it,” Bennett says. There is a hint of a smile at the corners of his lips.
I run my thumb along the back of his hand. “Hey. My sister’s wedding is happening in a couple of days. Would you…do you…” I start. “Do you want to come with me?”
I didn’t intend to say it, but there it was. Out in the open sea. Maybe there really is something to the smell of saltwater, the sound of the waves splashing against the boat, and looking out into the endless distance.
Or maybe it’s because I’m out of my comfort zone that I suddenly feel a sense of calm. But I’ve been out of my comfort zone for weeks now. Because of this man in front of me.
Bennett squeezes my hand as he gives thought to my question. I lose my train of thought, hyperaware of our skin-on-skin contact. “As your plus one?” he asks.
“You could also come as my bodyguard. It’ll make me look important.”
“Bodyguard it is,” Bennett says with a laugh. “I would love to. Thank you.” He removes his sunglasses and looks out over his shoulder at the ocean. With the glittering blue water reflecting in his eyes, the hazel looks jade green. He looks at my face with his mossy eyes, my skin burning beneath the life vest.
No more words come. Instead we just smile at each other and continue to hold hands, our knees gently knocking back and forth with the rhythm of the waves. His gaze sends shivers down my spine, and I forget that we’re miles from shore, miles from where I ever thought we would be.
Admittedly, being on this boat with this man who’s still largely unknown to me also feels oddly exhilarating. For a second, I think I might actually be enjoying myself. Maybe this whole water thing isn’t so bad.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a speedboat roars by, breaking our gaze and sending a series of huge rolling waves in our direction. The way the boat rocks feels like riding a roller coaster, and all the cozy feelings I had about the water evaporate.
I grab the nearest solid thing next to me for stability, which happens to be Bennett. I loop my arms around his neck while Bennett wraps his arms around my waist to help steady me. In a matter of seconds, the distance between us has vanished. My stomach does a flip, but I don’t think it’s because of the rocking. I send down thanks to Poseidon for helping us close the distance.
The boat steadies, but we stay where we are. I run my hand along the back of Bennett’s neck, gripping it tighter. He pulls me closer by the straps of my life vest.
“About that bet…” Bennett whispers.
“Should we just…” I whisper back.
“Call it off?” he asks with pleading eyes.
I thought I could tread water and stay afloat, but it turns out I’m not such a strong swimmer after all. I’m swept up, swept away. Too far gone.
“Deal,” I say.
We linger for just a moment, our faces inches apart. Then, like the water crashing on rocks, an explosion of tension is released as we bring our lips together. I gently bite his bottom lip, craving his taste again.
He reaches under my life vest and runs his hand along my lower back. I hang onto his biceps, a wave of want washing over me. Bennett’s breath on my neck creates a cooling sensation, the condensation evaporating as quickly as it was formed. I run my fingers along the spots where his dimples indent and brush my thumb along his lips.
“Just tell me if it’s enough,” he breathes, cupping his hand under my chin, “or not enough.”
At that, he kisses me deeply, tenderly. A tide of emotion rises in me. In the pressure of his mouth, I feel his want, too.
I push him back against the salt-sprayed vinyl seats, leaning down onto him. We angle our heads to find a way to reach each other under the rim of the baseball hat until he finally lifts it off my head and throws it onto a nearby seat. He softly pushes my dark brown hair behind my shoulders, letting his fingers drag down through the loose strands. We press our foreheads together, the tips of our noses touching. Electricity crackles through me like a bolt of lightning.
His fingers wrap around my thighs, silencing any thoughts of I can see it now. The glimmer in his eyes makes me forget everything I know about incompatibility.
He pulls back to look at me, his eyes a shade darker. I memorize the lines and curves of his face. If Bennett’s the ocean, I’m already in too deep. No life raft can save me now. This riptide pulls me farther and farther out to sea until I can hardly see the shore.