Undressed

by Kimberly Derting

  Maybe that was why I couldn’t seem to say the right thing—because it mattered too damn much.

  I put the truck in reverse while she nibbled on the crackers, her head sagging against the window again. When we reached the winding curves of the Coast Highway on our way back to her place, I felt her fingers close around my arm. “Pull over,” she gulped.

  “You gonna be sick?” It was a stupid question.

  “Only if I have to keep smelling this dress.” Her face was screwed up in a mix of anguish and disgust. She unbuckled her seatbelt and was ripping at the thin fabric. It was the first time I realized she hadn’t just gotten sick on my shoes. Her friend had cleaned her up the best she could, but it hadn’t been good enough. “Do you have anything I can put on?” she practically begged, and I had to tear my eyes away from her because she already had the dress halfway over her head.

  I leaned over the back of the bench seat, searching for something, but there was just a bunch of crap piled up back there. “Here,” I finally said, tugging at the hem of my shirt and dragging it over my head. “Put this on.”

  She didn’t have to be asked twice, and even though I’d only pulled off to the side of the two-lane Coast Highway and anyone driving past could see her, she stripped out of the offending dress.

  I assumed she was still drunk, because she had absolutely zero inhibitions.

  And no bra.

  I told myself I shouldn’t look because all she had on now were a tiny pair of lace panties, but, Jesus Christ, how could I not? In the pale light coming from the faraway streetlamp, her breasts were exactly as perfect as I remembered them, and her nipples were hard and dark and I swear to God they were just begging me to touch them. I squirmed in my seat, unable, even if I’d wanted to, to stop staring. I had flashes of reaching around her slender waist with both hands and dragging her on top of me. Of grinding myself into her. Of running my mouth everywhere over her flawless skin. Tasting her silken flesh.

  She worked fast, so I did too, burning the image of her exquisite body into my mind’s eye, because I planned to use that memory for as long as I could.

  She shrugged into my black shirt, which hung well past her waist and covered up those delicate panties of hers. Breathing a sigh of relief, she slumped into the seat, letting her head drop back.

  “Better?” I tried to laugh, even though I was in my own version of agony now.

  “You have no idea.”

  I took the wadded-up dress and threw it on the floor so the smell wouldn’t bother her, and wondered when I’d turned into such a mother hen. First Tess and now Lauren. If I wasn’t careful I’d grow a set of tits and start trying to nurse puppies or something. These goddamned girls were making me soft. A year ago I wouldn’t have given two shits about whether some chick drank too much and called me a prick.

  Hell, it had happened more often than not, and I’d probably just laughed it off.

  But when Lauren said it, it meant something. Not because she was right, which she totally was—that part I didn’t care about. I cared because she did, even if she said she didn’t.

  I wanted her to think differently of me.

  I opened my mouth. I needed to tell her as much, so there’d be no more confusion.

  She stopped me, her voice haggard around the edges. “I wish you wouldn’t be so nice.”

  In the darkness of the cab I could see the outline of her features and I knew she wasn’t looking at me. “Why’s that?” I asked.

  She rolled her head away, so she was facing the window. “Because it makes it harder.” There was a tremor in her words, and she sighed. “I meant it, Will, what I said at the bar.” There was a long, stretched out silence, and then she said, “I need you to just stay away from me.”

  LAUREN

  I barely made it out of bed without throwing up again.

  But when I saw the envelope sitting on my nightstand, stuffed with ten crisp one hundred dollar bills that nearly did me in.

  Will had paid me back.

  Will had been here . . . in my bedroom. He’d left me crackers and soda.

  It took several seconds sitting upright for my head, and the floor for that matter, to stop spinning.

  Despite the raging headache, I remembered everything with appalling high-def clarity, starting with the part where Will strutted in and challenged me to a game of pool, and going downhill from there.

  I still had no idea what possessed him to swoop in and save me the way he had, but I’d been grateful when I’d inhaled that intoxicating scent of Irish Spring and sweat and realized I was buried in the circle of his arms. “You’re safe,” his voice had crooned from above me. Even though safe wasn’t the word I’d have chosen, I’d let him carry me anyway. At least in those few minutes I was in his arms the world had stopped spinning.

  I remembered, too, the way he’d practically babied me, stopping to buy me the Saltines and ginger ale, and giving me the shirt, literally, off his back, because I couldn’t stomach the smell of my own dress. The icing on the cake was that I hadn’t even blinked about stripping down in front of him, something I’d never have done if I’d been thinking clearly.

  At least not without the anonymity of a webcam to shield me.

  I had to remind myself that despite his Boy Scout–like behavior, Will was still a no-good cheating ass, which was why I couldn’t be around him anymore. Thinking that last night might have been the last time I’d ever see him only triggered my stomach acids all over again. I had to nibble on the now-stale crackers and wash them down with the nearly flat soda.

  After my shower and two cups of black coffee, I stuffed the paperwork Norm had given me the day before into my purse. Today was my first day at the West Beach Rec Center, and the last thing I needed was for my new supervisor to think I was a complete flake.

  Besides, better to face a bunch of kids with this pounding headache than to stay here and risk being grilled by Emerson about what she thought was going on between Will and me.

  It didn’t take long before I realized I was spinning my wheels. I could no more teach these kids the basics of computers on the relics we were provided than I could connect to the Internet using tin cans and string.

  I looked at the ancient machines and wondered where they’d unearthed these things, or rather from which archeological dig.

  Glancing out at the expectant faces staring back at me, my heart squeezed. I’d never done anything like this before, and I was surprised by how quickly I felt a sense of obligation toward these kids. They weren’t like me. I might not have been the richest kid in our Denver suburb, but I’d certainly never gone without, either. My dad was a dentist and my mom was a real estate agent. They both worked hard to provide the things we needed . . . and then some.

  It only took me about two seconds in my new “classroom” to understand that these kids lived a different kind of life. From a show of hands, I learned that not one of them had a computer at home. And that only two, out of the eight in this class alone, had spent any substantial time on computers at all, and that had been at relative’s houses, where they’d mostly played online games. I wouldn’t exactly call them tech savvy.

  I sort of expected more enthusiasm about having me here, but it also didn’t take long to figured out that most of these kids weren’t super thrilled about the idea of “learning computers.” Most were just hoping to score some free Internet time.

  But the way I saw it, we lived in a world ruled by technology. Mostly, these were middle schoolers, with maybe a few younger high schoolers, but by their age, most of their peers had regular access to PCs, laptops, and tablets. Heck, most had their own cell phones.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. I needed a new game plan, a way to get the kind of equipment these kids would need to get the leg up they deserved.

  A boy who was sitting at the front, wearing a shirt several sizes too large for him and threadbare jeans stared at me through narrow slits. His name was Walker. “Do I need to
call Norm or something? You don’t look so good,” Walker asked.

  He wasn’t wrong. I didn’t feel so good either, despite my third and fourth cups of coffee, and the almost gallon of water I’d managed to chug. My head hadn’t stopped pounding. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t still think clearly, and sitting here looking at their apathetic faces, I’d come up with an idea.

  I laughed off his question. “I’m fine, but I’m cutting class short today.” No one groaned or tried to convince me to stay. “But here’s the deal, I want you guys back here first thing tomorrow. We’re gonna try this again, all right?”

  There were a couple grumbles that sounded suspiciously like “whatever” and “if you say so,” and I wondered if I hadn’t just lost half my class. I got the feeling these kids were automatically wary of authority figures, especially when that “authority figure” couldn’t hold her shit together.

  After giving Norm a not-so-farfetched excuse that I felt sick but promising to come in early the next day, I made a quick escape.

  I was practically giddy by the time I got home. I snuck inside, careful to avoid drawing attention from either Zane, who might be outside since he lived right next door with Lucas, or Emerson, who might be inside, because she was, well, my roommate after all. I got in and out in a flash, leaving no evidence I’d ever been there in the first place.

  When I pulled into the parking lot of the closest electronics store my phone’s GPS had located, I considered my options.

  This was where things got sticky.

  Someone might notice if I walked into that big-box chain store and paid for ten laptops in cash. Even if the suspicion was only in my head, I wasn’t about to take the chance.

  But I couldn’t back out now. I was getting these kids their computers even if it meant going store to store for the rest of the day. Which was pretty much what I did, buying one laptop and printer at a time, paying with hundred dollar bills at ten different retailers ranging from Walmart to Staples to Fry’s. By the time I was finished, the trunk of my car was filled and I’d burned through upward of ten thousand dollars.

  Tomorrow would be a game changer for these kids.

  WILL

  I slammed the glass down on the bar, causing the poor girl in front of me to jump a mile. She stared at me for a slack-jawed second, as if trying to decide if it was even safe to reach for her drink. Then she practically threw her money down, snatched her extra-fruity-whatever-the-fuck-she’d-ordered, and skittered away without a second glance.

  I wouldn’t be scoring any points for charm tonight, not that I gave two fucks.

  Still, it wasn’t her fault—or the fault of any of the other half-dozen girls I’d chased away with my abrasive attitude. I just wasn’t in the mood to put up with their shallow conversations or their obvious attempts to tempt me.

  This was all Lauren’s fault.

  If it hadn’t been for Lauren, this would be just your average, ordinary Friday night. I’d be charming the pants off these ladies, and I’d walk away with the tips to show for it. Instead, if I kept it up, I’d probably owe the owner for all the broken barware.

  Stay away from me. Lauren’s words repeated through my head on an endless loop.

  That wasn’t how I’d planned the night to go when I’d run into her.

  I’d wanted to tell her, when I’d given her a ride home last night, that I wanted to start over again. Do things differently. See if we had a chance.

  Then she’d stripped out of her dress. With only those lacy panties covering her . . .

  It had been so hard to think then, when all I could concentrate on were the things I wanted to do to her. All the places I’d wanted to put my mouth . . .

  And then she’d said those words:

  Stay away from me.

  She didn’t explain why, but it didn’t matter.

  I had no intention of forcing myself on someone who clearly couldn’t stand me.

  LAUREN

  Even though he was our next-door neighbor, and Em’s new boyfriend, I was surprised to find Lucas standing right outside my door when I burst out of the house the next morning. I wanted everything to go perfectly, and I’d been running over my plan again and again in my head.

  “Hey . . . you,” I said, keeping my voice down. He was polishing—or waxing or whatever you called it—a surfboard that was perched against the side of our house. “You’re up early.”

  I must have looked nervous when I glanced around, because Lucas grinned at me knowingly “Don’t worry, Zane’s at work. I just wanted to get in a few waves while Emerson was still crashed.” I immediately relaxed, and he went back to buffing the long board. “Did you know she snores?”

  “How could I not? Our dorm was the size of a shoebox. I had to wear earplugs our entire freshman year.” I nodded toward the board. “Well, have fun with that.” I was about to go when he flipped it around, and something about the board made the hairs on the back of my neck rise. I gave it a second glance, tilting my head for a better look. “Isn’t that—” I started. “That sorta looks the same as Will’s surfboard.”

  Lucas stroked it possessively. “It is . . . well, was.” He tapped something scrawled along the bottom left edge. “That’s his autograph, right there. Billy Gabaldon.”

  I leaned closer, squinting so I could make out the name.

  “Why do you have it?”

  “Bought it.”

  Frowning, I did a double take. “Why?”

  “Because . . . it’s Billy Gabaldon’s board. Why wouldn’t I buy it?”

  I thought about what my real question was, and tried again. “Why was he selling it?”

  Lucas ran an appreciative hand over the green and yellow pattern. “I dunno. For Tess, probably.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck prickled even more. There was that name again—Tess. I needed to get out of there.

  But Lucas stopped me. “How much do you know about him? Billy, I mean?”

  I blew out a breath to make it clear I was put out by this conversation. “I know he doesn’t like to be called Billy,” I said irritably. “And that he was some kind of surfer and he gave it all up for this Tess girl.”

  Lucas frowned at me. “I mean, yeah, sorta. That’s about half right. He was a surfer—a really great one. There was no one like him. He got more tunnel love than anyone I ever saw.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Tunnel love? Is that some sort of euphemism I should know about?”

  Lucas snorted. “Surfing. Dude could ride the inside of a wave—the tunnel—like nobody’s business. Fuckin’ awesome, if you ask me!”

  I had to laugh at Lucas’s enthusiasm. No wonder he bought the board. “Got it.”

  “I still can’t believe he had to give it up. Everyone was hopin’ it was only temporary. That he’d heal and be back at it, ya know?”

  “Nope. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “From the accident,” he prompted. And when I just shook my head, he elaborated. “He took a header during a competition. He was riding a barrel when a huge swell came outta nowhere and slammed him into a reef. Fucked him up real bad. Massive concussion—bad enough that he had to go to ground after that. That wipeout pretty much killed his career.”

  The fact that Will had suffered an injury didn’t make me any less disgusted by his decision, but at least it made some sense. No one gave up world-class competitions over a girl. But at least if he couldn’t surf anymore, his ex would be an easy fallback.

  “And that’s when he got back with Tess?” I asked, wondering why I even cared. It had been the right call, not to get involved in their brand of fucked-up drama.

  “Got back with Tess?” Lucas was shaking his head. “I don’t know what you heard, but that’s messed up. Tess isn’t Billy’s girlfriend. She’s his sister.”

  Tess.

  Tess from the Sand and Slam. Tess from the beach.

  She wasn’t Will’s girlfriend?

  But that didn’t make sense.

  S
o, Will hadn’t been cheating on her when he’d kissed me. When he’d stroked me and put his hands and lips on me . . .

  I put my hand against the wall to steady myself. “That can’t be right.” Zane had told me . . . Lucas had come back for Tess.

  But had he actually said Tess was Will’s girlfriend, or had he only led me to believe that was the case?

  “No. It’s true.” Lucas said. “And Billy didn’t come home right after his accident. In fact, if their mom hadn’t died, he might never have come back at all. But he did the right thing and stepped up. Been workin’ his ass off to take care of Tess ever since.” He pointed to the board. “Must be in pretty bad shape if he had to sell the board though. Needed the cash, I guess.”

  Suddenly everything I’d believed about Will was wrong. It was a lot to process, and I wasn’t sure where to start.

  Will had come back here to take care of his sister because she needed him. He’d sold Lucas his surfboard so he could take care of her.

  Not that it mattered, really, but I still couldn’t stop myself from asking. “How long ago did it happen? His mom dying?”

  “’Bout a year, give or take. Maybe six months after his accident. She wasn’t sick very long—happened pretty fast. Some kind of cancer. She never told anyone about it until the very end. They weren’t real close or anything, but Billy probably woulda come back if he’d known. By the time she died, he’d already gone off the grid, career wise. No one could reach him in time and he missed the funeral.” Lucas ran his hand through his spiky hair. “Kinda makes you wanna call your mom, doesn’t it?”

  I knew Lucas was just saying it, but I actually did want to call my mom. Will and Tess’s story was tragic, and my vision blurred as I tried to imagine not being there while my mom was sick and dying.

  “I gotta go,” I said, waving absently and making a quick escape. I couldn’t hear any more about Will or Tess or sick moms. I’d been excited when I’d gotten up that morning for the big day I had ahead of me, and hearing Will’s story had put a serious damper on it.