Promise Me Nothing (Hermosa Beach Book 1)

by Jillian Liota

  “Sorry,” I wheeze, coughing one more time and tapping my chest. “I guess I got a little overzealous.”

  “No kidding.” Wyatt walks over to where I’m standing and takes the bottle out of my hand. “If you wanna get into a chugging contest with us, be prepared to lose, Pier Girl.”

  He winks at me, then chucks my bottle into recycling. “We doing this?” he asks, clapping his hands and then rubbing them together. “Because I’ve invited a few people and have someone dropping off supplies as we speak.”

  “Yes! Does that mean s’mores?”

  Wyatt gives Paige a nod.

  “Let’s go!” she cries, her excitement pouring from her like a tidal wave, and then she rolls away on her bike.

  Lucas and Wyatt laugh. “Wrong way, Paige!” Lucas calls after her, and she loops her bike around to come back to us.

  “Oopsie!” She giggles and heads off towards The Strand.

  “You’re watching that one tonight,” Wyatt says.

  Lucas rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

  I unlock my bike, which now has an incredibly sturdy bike lock after what happened two nights ago. I shake my head. I hate when stuff like that happens, especially since the bike didn’t even belong to me.

  Bouncing from home to home, I became very protective of my stuff. But that didn’t stop things from going missing. Eventually, I just whittled things down to only a handful of items that really mattered. And then I protected those things with my teeth bared.

  Once I aged out and finally got my own place with Melanie, it was easier to keep my belongings to myself. But I never started ‘acquiring’ things, sticking mostly with a small amount of clothes, some sundries, and my camera.

  And a picture book of photos with my mom and dad and Joshua.

  Maybe that’s why it’s so mind-blowing that Lucas and his friends have just so… much. So much. Just tons of stuff. Huge houses and endless sets of shows and movies and books, multiple cars, closets packed full of clothes and shoes. Drawers full of shit like tools and super glue and batteries.

  And bikes.

  Lucas has five of them, all looking like they’re in pristine condition, barely ridden. Well, I guess he has four of them now that I got one of them stolen.

  I apologized to him like, eleven times yesterday and today. He keeps reassuring me that it isn’t a big deal, that it happens all the time.

  “What’s with the face?”

  I look at Paige, who is riding next to me down The Strand, beer bottle in a little drink holder on her handlebars.

  “Huh?”

  “You look upset about something.”

  “Oh, just…” I shake my head. “Sorry, I zoned out.”

  “Fifty bucks says she was thinking about the bike that got stolen.”

  I turn my head back and glare at Lucas, who is riding behind me with Wyatt at his side.

  He just laughs. “Come on, H. Let it go. Like the song.”

  And then he and Paige start singing the song from Frozen, badly, and at the top of their lungs.

  To say I’m mortified at being next to them, completely overcome with embarrassment and prepared to veer off to the side to disassociate is an understatement.

  “Just ignore them,” Wyatt says, as he and I fall back and let Paige and Lucas gain a significant lead on us. “They get a kick out of getting everyone’s attention.”

  “Do you ever get used to it?”

  He chuckles. “Not really. You just learn to ignore it and remember that people are laughing at them, not you.”

  I hum in agreement.

  We ride for a few minutes in silence. Well, relative silence, since I can still hear Paige and Lucas singing like assholes up ahead.

  “So how are you adjusting?” Wyatt asks. “You’re from Phoenix right? It’s gotta be a lot different here.”

  I bark out a laugh. “You’re not kidding. Night and day, practically. Phoenix is all orange and concrete and sun so hot you think your skin will fry right off. And Hermosa Beach is more… I don’t know… breezy?”

  Wyatt smiles. “That’s a great way to describe this town. In a number of ways. The wind. The attitudes of the residents. The tourists. Things are just ever-changing. Everything blows away and new things come in. Water. Tourists. Businesses.”

  “I think I was going a little more literal than that, but sure. We’ll go with your answer.”

  He laughs.

  “How’s Ivy doing?”

  He swerves to avoid a young girl on rollerblades. “Why?”

  “Oh just, I don’t know… because I like her? Haven’t seen her since that night at the yacht club. You mentioned she has a hard time fitting in.”

  “She’s fine.” But that’s all he says and there’s something in the way he says it that makes me feel like I shouldn’t believe him.

  I don’t know Wyatt, though, so I drop it, choosing to just ride along in silence. I can still see Paige and Lucas about a football field in front of us, swerving around like idiots, their voices carrying on the beach breeze.

  We get to what I assume is the end of The Strand, but everyone turns right, climbing up a small set of stairs, and then continuing on the same path.

  Wyatt comes to a stop at the foot of the steps and dismounts, then lifts his bike with one arm. “I’ve got that,” he says, stepping closer and taking my own bike out of my hands.

  Then I watch as he climbs up towards the top, carrying both of our bikes like they weigh nothing, his muscles pronounced.

  I’ve never been one to gawk at attractive men. I never liked the attention myself, not to mention the fact that the male body hasn’t ever been something I felt like swooning over.

  Wyatt makes all of that go out the window.

  I watch him for a moment, the trim line of his hips, the strength in his chest and arms, the muscles that ripple and hint at a man who spends time taking care of his body. He is… mmmmm. I don’t even have a word. I just know I like it.

  Realizing that I’ve been standing at the bottom of the steps staring for far too long, I scramble to catch up.

  “This is Manhattan Beach,” Wyatt offers once I’ve finally gotten to the top. “It’s a pretty cool place. Their high school football team sucks, though.”

  I take my bike from where he’s holding it balanced for me, then give him a slightly playful smile. “It doesn’t surprise me that you know that.”

  “Oh? And why’s that?”

  I swallow something slightly sour, realizing I’m kind of stuck in a hard place if I answer this question.

  Ultimately, I realize I have to tell him I admire his body.

  Awesome.

  Just what a friend would do.

  It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes when I remember that conversation from a few nights ago. How embarrassing was that?

  Oh, would you like my number? How about a nice little trip between my legs? Oh. No? You just wanna be friends? Cool, cool, cool. That’s what I wanted too.

  Ugh. I was never very popular with the boys when I was younger, mainly because of the whole Hannah The Cactus and Homeless Hannah thing. And honestly, I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted to be ‘popular with the boys.’

  I’ve always associated that moniker with the blonde girl on all those teenage pregnancy posters at my high school.

  But there’s something about my interactions with Wyatt that makes me feel…

  I don’t know. There’s a warmth in my soul that doesn’t just come from the sun. So to have him ask me out, then get so cool so quickly left me slightly chilled to the bone.

  “You just look like a guy who likes sports,” is what I finally settle on.

  There.

  That’s safe.

  I don’t need to tell him that he’s got nice muscles that pop out at the edge of his shirt sleeves, or that I could see when he stretched earlier before we took off and I caught sight of the tan skin between his jeans and his shirt.

  Nah. He just looks sporty. Perfect.

&
nbsp; But he’s giving me a smile that makes me think he knows where my mind is, so I just choose to focus forward as we climb back onto our bikes and try to catch up with Paige and Lucas.

  “How much farther are we going?” I ask.

  “We’re about halfway there. You tired?”

  I scoff. “Not even. I’m a runner. Biking this is a breeze.”

  He makes a noise of acknowledgement, and when I glance back at him I see his eyes on my ass. His eyes connect with mine and then he winks at me.

  I turn back to face front, my cheeks flushing and not just from the bike ride.

  “You guys are taking forever,” Paige calls back to us. She’s pulled off to the side, standing with her bike between her legs. “Hurry up! I wanna get shitfaced tonight.”

  I start to laugh but when I look over at Wyatt, I see his brow furrowed. “Is something wrong?”

  He shakes his head. “No, I just… Paige isn’t a big drinker. It’s just a weird thing for her to say.”

  “Yeah, I’m not a big drinker either.”

  “How come?”

  I’m silent, trying to decide if I want to use my normal answer or my honest one.

  “Did you have a bad experience? Get a little too drunk and do something you regret?” he asks, a hint of teasing in his voice.

  I breathe out a half laugh. “I guess you could say that.” And there’s something inside of me that wants to knock this rich boy on his ass.

  I can’t say why, exactly. Maybe it’s because his opinion shouldn’t matter. Or because so many guys think the way he does. But I can’t help it when I just blurt it out.

  “I got drunk once when I was fifteen and my foster dad physically and sexually assaulted me. So yeah, I got a little too drunk, and I regret it. Because I wasn’t able to defend myself.”

  When I look back, I see he’s not even pedaling. Just coasting next to me, his face having dropped the teasing and instead looks like he’s been socked in the chest.

  “Hannah, I…” He pauses. “Hey, would you stop a second?”

  I squeeze the brakes, slowing down and pulling off to the side. Wyatt does the same, sidling up next to me.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice and face completely sincere. So sincere I can’t look at him, instead opting to look off at the water. “I didn’t mean to imply anything by what I said. You didn’t deserve what happened to you. And I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

  “You didn’t hurt my feelings,” I say, though I’d be lying if I tried to tell him it didn’t bother me at all. “I just think you should be more mindful of what you say.”

  He nods. “You’re right.”

  I sit back on my bike seat, ready to take off down The Strand when Wyatt’s hand comes out to my wrist.

  I quickly shake it off.

  Embarrassment overwhelms me. He doesn’t say anything, but I’m sure he’s remembering the last time I yanked my hand away from him.

  Part of me regrets even mentioning it. There’s a look people give you when they know you’ve been assaulted. Usually full of pity. And I hate it. But I also can’t stand the idea that he might think I don’t want him to touch me.

  Because that’s definitely not the case.

  “It’s not you,” I finally say, managing to look back at him. For some reason I want him to know that I’m not shaking of his touch. I’m just wary in general. “It’s where I’m at, so… sorry.”

  “You don’t have to apologize,” he says. “I was just going to say… I was going to ask. Are we okay?”

  I nod. “Yeah.” I let out a sigh and turn my head away. “We’re fine.”

  And then I push forward on my pedals, propelling me towards where Paige and Lucas are probably singing some hit song from Trolls or something.

  But I can feel Wyatt riding behind me for the rest of the way.

  The night turns out to be really fun, the weird interaction with Wyatt aside. We kind of kept our distance from each other for a little bit, which isn’t surprising to me.

  I basically flipped out on him because he wanted to apologize for making a joke. I roll my eyes at myself and shake my head.

  Sienna told me once that I’m allowed to have real reactions when it comes to men, even if it makes them uncomfortable.

  “You don’t owe them anything,” she told me.

  And for a while, I heeded that advice. Yanking back and glaring and making myself untouchable worked for me.

  But I’m not so sure it does anymore, though I wouldn’t even know where to begin to stop it. To change what feels like a very base instinct

  “Come on, Hannah! You have to do it, at least once!”

  I glance over from where I’m seated in a camping chair next to a bonfire. Paige and Lucas and most of the group are at the bottom of the monstrous hill, waving me over.

  Reluctantly, I get out of my chair and head in their direction, laughing when they start to cheer. I’m going to safely assume they’ve had a smidge too much to drink.

  Paige, Lucas, Lennon, Wyatt, and Otto, as well as a handful of people I was briefly introduced to but definitely don’t remember their names, have been going up and sledding down for the past hour. They’re all sweaty, sticky, sandy and a little bit sloshed.

  So far, I’m the only one who hasn’t gone. But as the daylight disappears and the chance to board down starts to fade with it, I know that if I’m going to do it, I need to go now.

  Once I’m standing before them, the same beer I’ve been nursing for the past hour clutched in my hand, Lucas gives me instructions.

  “Alright, so you carry this up the right side and then you board down the left,” he says, grinning from behind his board, Burton tagged in bold down the center of it.

  My eyes widen. Burton is expensive stuff. I’m surprised Lucas is willing to ride it down the dunes and get it all scuffed. But I guess that’s just what it’s like having everything you want. And really, cost and value aren’t the same thing.

  “It’s not like I haven’t been watching for the past hour,” I say, adding a laugh so he knows I’m teasing. “Why can I only board down the left, though?”

  He turns slightly to the side so I can see the sign denoting that the left is the children’s recreational area and the right is the adult exercise area.

  “Will I get in trouble tonight if I board down the other side?”

  I might not have an extensive history behind me of vacations to fancy ski resorts, but what I do have is six years of summer vacations to Yuma with Sienna’s family. And boarding down the dunes? That was my favorite.

  The sand on the sledding side is packed in tight. To board down confidently on this baby, I need the loose stuff, like on the adult side.

  Lucas lifts a shoulder. “I guess not. Why? You planning on doing some tricks for us?”

  I shrug right back at him. “Maybe.”

  And then I pull the snowboard out of his hands and head off towards the hill, with everyone ‘oooooooh’-ing behind me.

  It takes me about ten minutes to get to the top, the first half passing quickly and the second half proving to be a real pain in the ass. I’m heaving in breaths by the time I finally get all the way up.

  Cardio like this is so different than long distance running, although I’m sure it doesn’t help that I haven’t really been running since I first got to town, the one or two morning jogs in the one mile loop near Lucas’ house barely enough to make me feel anything.

  When I finally stand at the top, I get a little bit of vertigo, though it passes quickly. It’s amazing how high this little mountain feels at the top as opposed to when you’re at the bottom. And now that I’m up here, I’m getting a tiny bit of stage fright.

  What if I totally fall on my ass and embarrass myself?

  I’m standing there for a few minutes, staring down the dune, when I hear someone walking up behind me.

  “Where did you come from?” I ask Wyatt as he steps up next to me and bends over with his hands on his knees, catching his bre
ath.

  “There’s a bunch of stairs on a path around the backside,” he says between pants. “We used to have a designated driver who would drive us around to the top end. It was a lot easier than climbing up every time. God, I always forget what a bitch cardio is.”

  “I knew you were a gym rat,” I say.

  Wyatt barks out a laugh, still panting. “Well, at least I know now what you were getting at earlier about my being ‘athletic,’” he says with a smirk.

  I blush, looking back down the hill.

  We’re both silent for a second as we get our breathing under control and I try to build up the nerve to drop down.

  “It feels bigger up here.”

  He nods. “Yeah. That’s normal.”

  “How many times have you done this?”

  “Today? Three times. In general? A few dozen, but that was before I moved away.”

  “Does it get easier?”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t think doing something hard ever gets easier. You just get more brave once you believe you can accomplish what you want.”

  “What if I fall and everyone laughs.” I ask.

  It’s a rare moment for me, this kind of vulnerability not normally something I put on display. But there’s something about Wyatt that I can’t put my finger on. Something inside me wants to trust him. That he’s the type of man who would catch me if I fell. Believes that he won’t make me feel stupid if I say the wrong thing.

  Sure, our interactions have been a bit strange so far. But maybe strange is what I need right now.

  “Then they laugh,” he says, and my head whips over to look at him. He shrugs at my reaction. “If you fall and they laugh, then you’ve fallen and they’ve laughed. It doesn’t mean you can’t laugh too. That you can’t join in and be a part of the group.”

  But I’ve never been invited to be a part of the group. That little nugget I don’t say out loud. The last thing I want to tell the equivalent of the hot popular jock is that I’m the stinky kid no one likes to talk to.

  How do you find the courage to be yourself when the you you’ve always been was never accepted before?

  I sigh, look at Wyatt. “Do you think I can do it?”

  He tilts his head back and looks up at the sky. “Knowing nothing about your skills and capabilities? Yes. If there was ever going to be a person that could totally blow my mind right now riding down the dune? I don’t doubt it would be you.”