Not one of them tried to pursue me after that first week of radio silence, and I think it might actually be a good thing. Between the cancer and lack of yes-girls around every corner, I’ve been left to discover who I really am beneath the façade I’ve clung to so tightly to for the last several years. And I didn’t like the girl I saw when everything started to crumble down around me. But maybe I could.
I think Adam might be able to help me.
I shake my head and try to wipe the grin that touches my lips. Just thinking about that boy makes me happy. It’s different than when Nolan and I were kind of dating. Even though we’re both rich and popular, it never made sense. Things always felt forced between us—and not just because he’s a year younger than me.
But despite some awkwardness between Adam and me, there’s something about it that just feels right.
I laugh out loud to myself. Yep, I am a total dork. And I don’t really care.
My face stings, and I look at the bottle on my dresser. There’s only one pill left, and normally, I’d be scrambling to take it at the first sign of pain. But all this thinking about how I can reinvent myself gives me pause. Maybe I’m the type of girl who can push through the pain. Maybe I don’t need to dull every unpleasant part of my life.
Instead, I can choose to look at the sunny side of life, as long as it doesn’t actually involve the sun. My doctor told me I should limit my exposure to its rays, always cover up, and not to forget my sunscreen.
But that’s okay, I can still have the bright disposition.
I spend the next couple of hours lying on my bed thinking about what the new Rose might want out of life. She still doesn’t want to go to Brown in the fall, but not because I’m afraid of how people will react to the scar. Okay, that’s not entirely true. One outing hasn’t taken away all of my insecurities about it after all.
But as I think about my motivations for going, I realize I don’t actually have a desire to go to the Ivy League school. I only applied because so many of the people from North Sterling do, and because my parents told me it would be a great way to kickstart my career. But I can do that at any college, can’t I?
I’m trying to decide where I might want to go when I hear my parents come in. They always arrive home within a few minutes of each other, and I can already hear the sound of dishes clanging in the kitchen.
My mom loves to cook—says it relaxes her after a long day at work—and she almost always starts making dinner as soon as she gets home. I walk down the stairs into the kitchen. When she notices me standing there, she stops and smiles at me. “Hey, Rose. How are you feeling today?”
I smile back at her. “Good.”
“And what did you do today? A reality TV marathon?” She’s teasing, but there’s also something sad in her voice. Like, deep down she knows I don’t want to leave the house, and wishes she could force me to go out like when I was little.
“Actually, I spent some time out on the beach.”
Hearing that sadness in her voice, I think she’ll be happy for me, but her face goes white. “You what?”
“It was early in the day, I had an umbrella, and I even wore the burkini you bought me online.”
She visibly relaxes. “Okay,” she says with a series of shorts nods. “Good. And how was it?”
What’s the best way to answer that? I’m not sure. I’m afraid it’ll only freak her out more if I say it was life changing, in a weird way. I also don’t want to tell her that I fell asleep or mention that I took a pain pill before I went out. It would only make her worry, so I settle on “relaxing.”
My mom leans her hip against the counter and crosses her arms. She looks at me like she’s really seeing me for the first time in weeks. “Oh, Rose. I’m really happy to hear you went outside. And I’m sorry about my gut reaction. It was just so hard…when you…”
Her voice cracks as she trails off. She doesn’t need to finish her train of thought because we both know what she’s thinking. And yes, it was absolutely terrifying when I was first diagnosed. We both made the mistake of Googling melanoma after leaving the doctor’s office that first day. And let’s just say, the search results weren’t pretty.
I was sure I was going to die—or lose my nose. The image results were enough to make me puke. I didn’t sleep more than a couple of hours a night leading up to my surgery.
Turns out, I only lost my looks. Though with the way Adam looks at me, there’s a tiny flutter of hope that maybe I’m not a total beast. I smile when I think of him coming back to my private stretch of sand in the morning. I feel giddy and anxious like it’s the night before homecoming or prom or something equally exciting.
“Looks like it was more than just relaxing,” my mom says. I look up at her in question. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you smile like that.”
I bit my lip in an effort to get my mouth to relax. “It was really great.”
“And your cheek”—she points to my face—“is it hurting you?”
My skin stings, and it still feels funny; I suspect it will for a long time. But it’s not painful in this moment. I shake my head. “No, I actually feel okay.”
Her face lights up, and she closes the distance between us to pull me in for a hug. I lean into her. It’s not like this is the first time she’s shown love or concern, but I realize that I’ve not only been putting distance between my friends and me, but also between my parents and me.
I don’t want to be that girl either.
I’m mentally checking off all kinds of boxes today. Life is looking good, and I can’t wait to see what happens next.
My mom and I chat for a little longer as she resumes cooking dinner. She asks a few more questions about my trip to the beach. She doesn’t ask if I went down to the sand alone, because who else would go with me? I don’t tell her about Adam or Murdoch’s, though I know she’d be happy to hear I went into town. For some reason, I want to keep that private.
We talk a little about what my plans are for the rest of the week. I tell her I plan to go down to the beach again, and I swear she smiles wide at the revelation. She thinks the old Rose is finally coming back. And in a way, she is.
But so is the new Rose. And I’m excited about the possibilities.
And that’s the girl I dream about when I finally go to sleep later that night. The girl I can be. All thanks to a lost frisbee.
Chapter Seven
Adam
Just like the day before, Rose is waiting underneath her umbrella for me when I hop the fence that separates the private and public beaches. And just like the day before, she’s wearing her ridiculous outfit. She’s covered from head to toe even though it’s the middle of summer, and she’s literally on the beach.
I don’t get it.
But as I get closer, a thought pops into my mind. It’s one of those things that comes to you in this great big revelation, even though the connection should have been clear from the first moment I saw her wearing this. There’s only one reason she’d cover her entire body.
She’s got to be scarred all over.
What happened to this girl? And will I really be able to follow through with Gisele’s proposition?
I know she’s getting anxious. This is my third trip to North Beach, and I still don’t have any hard evidence for her. I worry that Gisele somehow knows I’m going to chicken out. And the more time I spend with Rose, the more I wonder if I’ll be able to go through with the original plan.
Or maybe it’s worse. A few more trips and Gisele may start to wonder if I like Rose. She wouldn’t be wrong. In these last couple of days, I’ve developed a bit of a crush on the girl, and that is the absolute worst thing that could happen in Gisele’s mind. The girl she hates “stealing” the boy she likes.
If Gisele was willing to pay someone to get dirt on her enemy, I don’t even want to think about what would happen if she suspected I like Rose.
“Hey,” Rose says, as I finally finish my trek across the beach to where she sits.
>
“Hey.” I take a seat in the sand under the shade of her umbrella—which means we’re pretty close—and set my surfboard next to me. I’m not sure if I’ll use it today, but brought it just in case.
“I’m glad you came.” She smiles shyly at me when she says this, and it feels like a knife twisting in my chest.
She shouldn’t be happy to see me. Even though I don’t think I can share that picture with Gisele anymore, it doesn’t take away from the fact that I originally planned to—or that it’s the only reason we’re actually hanging out in the first place.
I smile back at her, but it’s weak because I realize I’m going to have to tell her at some point. If we’re going to keep hanging out, I have to come clean. But the way she’s looking at me right now, makes me think that maybe I can do it later. “Me too,” I eventually say.
“So, what do you want to do today?”
I shrug. “Whatever you want. I could surf while you fall asleep again.”
Rose shakes her head. “Nope. Not going to happen today.”
“Oh yeah?” I lift my brows at her. “And how can you be so sure?”
She straightens her shoulders. “Because I’m going out there with you.”
I laugh. “I thought you didn't like surfing.”
“Maybe I didn’t give it enough of a chance. I was thinking you could teach me.” She pauses. “Maybe I’ll like it more with you.”
Oh, damn.
Don’t get me wrong. I would absolutely love to take Rose out into the ocean and give her surf lessons. My heart pounds in my chest as I think about being alone in the water with her, my arms reaching around her to hold her close to the board. Then kissing her in the gentle waves of the Atlantic...
I want that.
But if I cross that line before telling her about the picture, she’ll never forgive me. And I might not forgive myself. I clear my throat. “Well, every good surfer knows that real lessons need to start on dry land.”
She raises her brows at me.
While there is some truth to that, it’s not the only way to teach Rose how to surf. I’m sure we could go straight out into the water and have a good morning together. But by making her practice popping up on my board in the sand, I make sure I don’t give into my increasingly hard-to-ignore desire to kiss her.
“Seriously,” I say, and proceed to explain to her why it’s important to know how to do certain things before trying them in the ocean.
I’m not sure if she actually believes me or not, but she agrees to go along with it. And soon, I’m tracing my board in the sand to give her a space to practice. She’s resistant at first, but eventually follows my instructions and practices all the basics on the shoreline.
When I’m sure she’s got it down, I suggest we sit down and hang out in the shade of her umbrella for a little while. She’s got a couple of bottles of water, and we drink them together.
Rose takes a sip and looks at me. “So, how lame would I sound if I said I thought that was fun?”
I shake my head. “Pretty lame. I don’t know if I could be seen with you.”
She bites her bottom lip. “Does that mean you wouldn’t mind being seen with me otherwise?”
I turn to face her and give her a look. “Are you kidding me?”
“I’ve been pretty afraid to go out in public because of...you know.”
She means the scar, but I can’t think about that, so I lean in. “Because you enjoy surfing on dry land?” I nod with a serious expression on my face. “I get it.”
Rose nudges me with her shoulder. “I’m serious.”
“And so am I,” I say. “I wouldn't mind being seen with you.”
Except by Gisele. Or by someone else who’d tell her. But if I can tell Rose about the picture before that happens, then I can go out with her.
Woah.
I can go out with Rose Beaumont.
I laugh to myself. Never in a million years would I imagine that was a possibility—or that I’d be excited about it.
She takes a deep breath. “Does that mean you’d go to the drive-in with me tonight?”
I stiffen. Looks like Rose isn’t the type of girl to waste any time. She knows what she wants, and apparently, that’s me. “I have work in a couple of hours.”
“Well, what time do you get off?”
I sigh. There’s no brushing this off. “Eight thirty.”
“The movie doesn’t start until nine. That’s plenty of time...unless you don’t want to go.”
I shake my head. “No, I want to go.”
“Perfect. Then I'll see you a little before nine?”
“Yep,” I say, gathering my board and sunglasses. “See you tonight.”
And I’m pretty sure I’m going straight to hell for it.
It’s already eight forty, and I just got home. If I want to make it to Rose’s house by nine, I’m going to have to book it—and that means no shower. Thankfully, I didn't sweat a lot on the walk back to the house, and I won’t smell too bad while sitting in the car with Rose for two hours. I quickly throw on a polo shirt and a pair of nice khaki shorts before I walk out to the living room.
My mom is sitting on the sofa watching a movie. I plop down on the couch next to her and she wraps her arms over my shoulders. “Hey, sweetie.”
“Hey.”
“How was work?”
I nod my head. “It was good.”
“I’m glad. And what are you up to now, since you’re all dressed up?”
I didn’t think it was that obvious. It’s not like I’m wearing a suit and tie. Maybe it was the way I rushed inside to get dressed. If it was me and the guys, we’d probably just steal a spot off one of the sand dunes. That way you don’t have to pay or worry about being late. Of course, you don’t get to hear the movie either, but that’s not why we go.
“I was actually thinking about going and seeing a movie at the drive-in. Can I borrow the car?”
“Of course. Who’s going?”
I clear my throat. “Just me and a friend.”
She pauses the movie, and when she turns to face me, there’s a huge grin on her face. “Really? And do I know this friend?”
“I don’t think so. We’ve never really hung out before this week.”
“I see,” she says, still smiling. “Just make sure you’re home by curfew, and that you treat your friend with respect.”
I roll my eyes. “I will.”
She hands me the keys and I’m just about to open the front door when she calls out. “And, Adam?”
I stop and face her. “Yeah?”
“I’m really glad you’re going out. You’re allowed to have fun every once in a while, you know.”
I nod. “Yeah, I know.”
“Then, I’ll see you tonight.”
“See ya.”
With ten minutes to get to Rose’s house, I quickly walk into the warm evening air. I think there’s just enough time to get to her house and back to the drive-in before the movie starts, but that’s before I spot Gisele sitting at the rusted bistro set that is in front of the duplex.
She’s watching something on her phone but sets it down when she notices me and smiles. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Where you going?”
I know the question is probably friendly, but knowing that I’m going on a date with Rose makes it feel accusatory. My hands are sweaty as I try to jiggle the keys in what I hope is a casual manner. “Nowhere.”
Gisele’s brows lower.
I shrug and try to play it cool. “Just out for a little bit.”
“By yourself?”
“Uh-huh.” I nod my head.
“Do you want company?”
“I’m good,” I answer quickly.
Her eyes narrow into slits. “Is everything okay, Adam?”
For a minute, I worry she knows I’m going out with Rose. But then I realize the idea of her knowing my secrets is laughable. Just because Gisele keeps tabs on me here, doesn't mean she knows w
hat I’m doing the rest of the day. Not only that, I’m hoping that after tonight, it won’t have to be a secret anymore. I plan to tell Rose everything before this thing between us goes any further.
And then, once I do that, I can tell Gisele that I can’t spy on Rose anymore. I’ll just have to find another way to earn the extra money we need to pay the bills.
I shrug at Gisele. “Why wouldn’t it be okay?”
Her brows lower. “You’ve just been acting really weird lately.”
“No, I haven’t,” I say quickly. “I just want to go out for a little bit, okay?”
Gisele lifts her hands. “You don’t have to get all defensive.”
“I’m not.”
“Whatever you say,” she mumbles with a shake of her head, and I know I should stay and try to smooth this over with her. But a quick look at my phone says I now have seven minutes to get to the Beaumont house. “Look. I’ll see you later, okay.”
“Okay,” she says, but I don’t like the way the word sounds when she says it, and I can’t help but feel uneasy the entire drive to Rose’s house.
Chapter Eight
Rose
He’s late.
In all fairness, he’s only five minutes late. But since I still don't have his number, there’s no way for me to text him and make sure he’s coming. That’s something I really should have remedied this morning when we agreed to go out to the movies tonight, but I couldn’t think straight. I was too giddy.
Now all I can think is he’s changed his mind and doesn’t want to come because my face is so disgusting to look at—or because he thinks I’m still that mean girl from high school. A few days is not really enough time to change four years of that reputation, but I feel so different, I hope he can see that.
My yellow sundress swishes around my thighs as I pace the length of my room for the tenth time. It’s completely possible that he’s just running late. I know that. Maybe he’s always running late. Maybe he’s the kind of guy that people jokingly say will be late to his own funeral.
Beauty and the Beach (Boys of Summer) Page 4