Beauty and the Beach (Boys of Summer)

by Kayla Tirrell

But I don’t think I was very sensitive to what she’s gone through either. I watched my dad die, but I’ve never even had a broken bone. I don’t know what it feels like to hear you have cancer. Plus, I know girls feel a ridiculous amount of pressure to look pretty. I can’t count how many times I’ve listened to Gisele complain about the humidity making her hair frizzy or the heat making her makeup run.

  And she doesn't have to worry about a giant scar running down her face.

  I let out a frustrated groan. While I’m sure the sound of the waves covers it, I glance at Gisele anyway. She’s still sitting in the sand, and even from here I can see she’s on her phone. It’s a good thing I haven’t been carried away by a rip current since she probably wouldn’t notice.

  But honestly, it’s not her job to babysit me. And if she knew what I was up to earlier tonight—going on a date with her arch-nemesis—she wouldn’t have any desire to be out here. In fact, she’d be throwing raw meat into the ocean in hopes of luring a couple of great whites to finish me off.

  Thankfully, she doesn't know. And now that things are over between Rose and me, before they even got started, she never will.

  I’m still not sure what I’m going to do, but I’ve been out in the water long enough and it’s time to go home. When I start to paddle back to shore, I notice the unmistakable light of Gisele’s cellphone is missing. I guess even she has her limits for how long she’s willing to sit out on the beach and watch me surf.

  I carry my board as I scan the ground for my things. Even with the light coming from the moon, it’s hard to find them. In my haste to get out of the house as quickly as possible, I didn’t bring a towel—which would have served as a good marker. I spend a few minutes walking around looking for them. I’ve just about convinced myself that Gisele took them back to the duplex, when I spot my keys and phone.

  I grab them and walk back to the duplex alone. Unlike before, Gisele isn’t sitting outside. But, like before, my mom is still sitting in the living room when I walk inside. She stands up when she sees me. “Adam.”

  I lean my board against the wall. “Hey.”

  “Where were you? What happened?”

  I rub a hand over my face. I’m no longer dripping wet, thanks to my time spent searching the beach and walking home, so I sit down at the dining room table. My mom follows me and I start talking.

  I tell her how I’ve been hanging out with Rose (careful to leave out the part where Gisele offered to pay me for spying), and how her face is scarred. I’m quick to explain that those scars aren’t the reason we cut the evening short, and explain how she had melanoma and is now a recluse.

  Then, I tell her about the way I reacted.

  Mom tilts her head. “Oh, Adam.”

  I sigh. “I know.”

  “I miss your father too.” She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “I miss him every day. But it’s not fair to punish her because you’re grieving.”

  “That’s not what I’m doing.”

  She snorts. “Really? Because it sounds like you ended a date, that was going great otherwise, because you found out she had cancer.”

  Yeah, the date was great before she said that. But what am I supposed to do now? Should I sneak back over to the private beach and apologize for the way I acted tonight? Maybe if I really want to hammer the nail in the coffin, I can tell her about Gisele’s proposition.

  My head falls. Of course I should tell her. Even if I’m not going to pursue a relationship with Rose, it’s a good idea to come clean.

  “Your mom is pretty smart, you know.”

  I lift my head and look at the woman in question. There’s a knowing smile touching her lips. I raise my brows. “Oh yeah?”

  She straightens her shoulders and jerks her chin in an over the top gesture. “Psh. I can tell by your reaction that I’m right. Therefore, I’m pretty smart.”

  I laugh at her and, when her smile grows, I realize that was the whole point. “Maybe.”

  “Do you want me to help you figure out how to make it better too? I’m pretty romantic.”

  I put my hands up. “Ew. I promise no boy wants to hear how romantic their mom is.” I pause. “But thanks for your help. I have a lot to think about.”

  “I’m glad it was a help. You know you can come to me about anything, right?” When I nod, she stands up and walks over to kiss the top of my head. “Good. Then that means I can go to sleep. See you in the morning, sweetie.”

  “Goodnight, Mom.”

  She disappears into her bedroom, and I spend a few minutes foraging for something to eat before I get ready for bed. I told my mom I had a lot to think about, but that’s not entirely true. I already know what I need to do.

  I’m just not looking forward to it.

  Chapter Ten

  Rose

  My phone hasn’t stopped buzzing, and I don’t bother looking anymore. I already know what I’ll see if I unlock my screen, and it isn’t pretty.

  I’ll admit, the first text was a surprise. It was from one of the girls I used to call a friend. I was so excited to see her name, since we hadn’t spoken in weeks, and I wasn’t prepared for the shock of seeing a picture of my scarred face.

  Tell me this is photoshopped, it read underneath. But I didn’t respond.

  Just like I haven’t responded to any of the texts that have come through since.

  The whole squad has been reunited in their desire to know what happened, but it hasn’t stopped there. Oh no. Everyone who has my number has texted me. And if they don’t? Well, they know all my social media accounts.

  With trembling fingers, I scroll through my Instagram and Snapchat DMs overflowing with unread messages from people in Sterling. Friends. Enemies. Everyone wants to know what happened to Rose Beaumont.

  Everyone but Adam Price.

  I might not have even noticed his lack of interest if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s the only one who could have shared the picture. A sticky, sinking dread starts in my chest and radiates quickly through my whole body when I recognize it from the day we spent on the beach together. It was the day I fell asleep and he woke me up. While I was napping, he apparently snapped a quick picture of my disfigured face to share with everyone.

  Bile rises in my throat. I was such an idiot to trust him.

  I feel the familiar sting of tears for what feels like the millionth time this morning. My parents have already left, and even if they were here, I wouldn’t tell them what happened. It’s too embarrassing, especially since my mom was right.

  She didn't trust Adam’s motives, and I shouldn't have either.

  That kiss though...

  Ugh. I want to throw something, I’m so angry. But breaking my mom’s vase from Tiffany & Company isn’t going to make me feel any better. I eye the ugly thing from its perch on the foyer table.

  Or is it?

  I take a deep breath and shake my head. No, it isn’t.

  But letting the old Rose resurface for the day might. I decide to put on my string bikini—the one my dad has always hated—and go out to the beach without my umbrella. One day in the Virginia sun isn’t going to make the difference between having my melanoma come back or not.

  But feeling the warmth of its rays against my skin might lift my spirits.

  It’s still early in the morning, and I don’t expect I’ll run into anyone yet. The elderly neighbors to the left of us never use the private beach. My other neighbor has been pretty absent lately. No, unless some curious ex-classmates decide to hop the fence at nine, I should be good for an hour or so.

  I carry my beach chair in one hand and my phone in the other as I walk out the back door and onto the sand. The plan is to listen to some music by myself as I try to forget about stupid Adam and his stupid lies.

  I hate that he pretended to care about me, spouting off all his “this is a mistake” nonsense. A mistake is right. He knew exactly what he was doing the whole time we were together. It was probably just a pity kiss that meant nothing to him, other than a wa
y to clear his conscience before he shared the picture with everyone.

  I keep walking to the water’s edge, and set my chair down so that I can dip my toes in the salty ocean. The cool water is a sweet relief to my skin that already feels warm under the sun.

  I pop in my earbuds and turn on some angry girl rock before I lean back in my beach chair and close my eyes.

  This. Is. Perfection.

  I have the beach to myself. No one is walking up and down the shore, and I’m thankful for the solitude. At some point, I turn off the music to listen to the sound of the waves, and a few seagulls who are looking for a meal. I never want it to end.

  But like all good things, it must. When I eventually look down at my phone and see that an hour has passed, I sigh and start to pack my things back up. I could always change into my bathing suit that literally covers everything and set up my umbrella if I want to keep enjoying the water. But I’m afraid the longer I spend outside, the greater chance there is of running into someone.

  And then I would have to explain the stupid picture.

  No thanks.

  I’m almost back to my house when I hear him. “Rose?”

  Without turning to look, it’s hard to know how far away he is, but judging by the sound of his voice, he’s in the distance. There’s no denying who it is. My traitorous heart starts to beat faster. I keep walking, pretending that I don’t hear him.

  “Hey! Hold up.”

  I press my lips together and let out a long exhale, never slowing my pace. Maybe I’ll beat him to my house and he won’t get a chance to talk to me. Maybe he’ll get the freaking hint, and stop calling out.

  But neither of those things happen.

  I feel his hand on my shoulder. “Please stop.”

  I whip around and am newly startled by how hot he is. It’s not fair that I still find him attractive even knowing what he did. Don’t look at his eyes, Rose. Think about the picture. I cross my arms and lift my brows.

  Adam rubs the back of his neck. “I, uh, I came to apologize about last night. I think you deserve an explanation.”

  I snort. An apology isn’t going to change anything. I gave him my trust and he stomped all over it. “Are you sure you don’t want to humiliate me even more?”

  Adam lowers his brows. “Why would I want to humiliate you?”

  “I don’t know. So you can feel good about living on the south side of Sterling?”

  Ouch. I realize I’ve gone too far, even before he flinches.

  “There’s a lot I need to say.” He stops and looks at my bathing suit—my very itty-bitty bathing suit. “Do you think we could go to the shade so you’re not in the sun? I’d really like to talk.”

  “And I don’t have anything to say to you, Adam.” I give him a cruel, old Rose smile, hoping it hides the tears prickling in the corner of my eyes. “I think the picture says it all.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Adam

  My stomach plummets with Rose’s words.

  The picture.

  There’s no way she could know about that, is there? Obviously, I came here this morning to tell her about the proposition and beg forgiveness. But how does she already know about it? It doesn't make any sense.

  “The picture?” I ask, hoping I’m wrong. I’m hoping there’s another explanation.

  Rose shakes her head. “You know, if you’re going to play dumb, it might not be a good idea to post it all over social media. That kind of thing has a way of being easily traceable.”

  Oh, crap. So it is about the picture. I still haven’t deleted it yet. I wanted her to see it first. But it sounds like somehow she saw it already. How? I didn't share it with anyone, but Rose said she saw it online. I’m really wishing I had at least one social media account so I could know what she’s talking about right now.

  “See?” Rose waves a hand at me. “There’s guilt written all over your face. So don’t bother denying it.”

  My shoulders droop. “Fine. I won’t. I took a picture of you when you were sleeping.”

  An exaggerated gasp escapes Rose’s lips, her eyes wide in mock surprise.

  “But I swear I didn’t share it online. I’m not even on Instagram or anything.”

  “I find that hard to believe, but if you want to pretend someone else posted the picture to ease your conscience, then whatever. Just leave me alone.” Rose flips her hair before she starts walking toward her house again.

  This time, I don’t follow her because I know exactly what happened. Someone else did share the picture of Rose online. But I didn’t give it to them. They stole it when I was out on the water.

  I race back down the beach toward my house—and Gisele.

  She’s sitting in her usual spot when I get home. That stupid phone in hand, and a giant smile on her face. I walk up slowly, somewhat out of breath from how quickly I tried to get back. When she hears me approaching, she looks up. Her smile quickly falls before turning into something more plastic.

  “Hey, Adam,” Gisele says in a sickly sweet voice.

  “Did you go through my phone?” I pull it from my pocket and hold it up, like she doesn't know what one is.

  She lifts her shoulders.

  “You did it when I was surfing last night, didn’t you? You pretended to want to keep an eye out for me, but you went through my photos. What is wrong with you?”

  The metal chair from the bistro set scrapes loudly against the ground as she shoots to her feet. “What’s wrong with me? What about you?” She points her finger at me. “You pretended you were trying to find dirt on Rose Beaumont, but were going on dates with her the whole time.”

  My breath catches. I know that Gisele keeps tabs on me, but that seems extreme—even for her. “How do you know that?”

  She shakes her head. “Someone texted me and said they thought they saw you and Rose at the drive-in together. It seemed weird you wouldn’t tell me you were going out with her if you were doing it for my job. I was looking for proof that you were sneaking around with her when I came across the other gem.”

  I cuss under my breath. “You shouldn’t have shared it, Gisele.”

  “Why?” She cocks a brow at me. “Because you’re worried you’re not going to get your precious money now?”

  “I don’t care about the money anymore.”

  Her eyes go wide. “Wait...tell me you’re not actually a thing.”

  “Uh…” I hesitate. We’re for sure not dating, but I really wish we were. If I hadn’t screwed everything up, maybe we would be.

  Gisele shakes her head. “You’re even worse than she is, did you know that? At least when Rose doesn’t like someone, she’s honest about it. You pretend to be a great guy, but you only care about yourself and what people think about you.”

  She turns and walks inside, slamming the door so hard that I’d be surprised if my mom’s pictures have stayed on our shared wall.

  I’m left standing there wondering if what she said is true.

  I told myself the end justified the means. I told myself I wasn’t going to go through with it, and no one would get hurt. But now, I’m starting to think I was wrong about everything.

  And everyone is suffering because of me.

  Chapter Twelve

  Rose

  It’s ten in the morning, and I’m sitting at Aunt Mary’s Pie Shop—with Jeremy.

  His message was the only one I responded to, and only because I imagine he understands my situation more than anyone else. His face and body are badly scarred from an accident, and yet he wears them like badges.

  Well, that’s not quite right. I don’t think he’s showing them off. He just doesn't seem to care that they’re there.

  So, when he asked me if I would meet him for pie this morning, I came. After I used a buttload of concealer on my face, wore my hair down, put on my biggest celebrity style sunglasses, and topped it all off with a floppy hat, of course.

  Everyone might know that I look awful now, but that doesn't mean I want to broadcast i
t when I go out.

  Jeremy is stuffing his mouth with another bite of apple pie while I poke around at my chocolate one with my fork. “I’m really glad you agreed to meet me,” he says.

  “Uh-huh.” I pick at the crust some more, wondering why I came. Wondering what Jeremy can actually say to me right now that will help. When I walk out that door, I’ll still be scarred, Adam will still be a jerk, and I’ll still want to hide inside my house for the rest of my life.

  “My mom said you might want to talk after everything that happened,” he says.

  I set the fork down and look up at him. His smile is genuine, not like he’s here because he was forced. Maybe he really wants to help.

  Adam’s smile was “genuine” too, and look where that got you.

  “And what do you want me to say?” I ask, giving him a frosty stare. This boy might be the only person who doesn’t have a secret agenda right now, and I’m being mean to him.

  Thankfully, he looks totally unaffected. The smile on his face never wavers as he looks at my plate. “You going to eat that? Or just play with it?”

  Based on the way he just devoured his slice, I can only assume he wants it. I haven’t taken a single bite, so I slide it across the table toward him. “Be my guest.”

  He immediately digs in, and part of me wonders if he’s doing this so I’ll be forced to talk, or if it’s because he really loves pie. Maybe it’s a combination of both.

  “Okay.” I take a deep breath. “How did you get past the fear of going out in public?”

  He shrugs. “I didn’t.”

  I narrow my eyes in his direction. “Obviously you did, because you never have a problem being out and about.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” He shakes his head. “I never had that fear.”

  I sit up in my seat. “What are you talking about?”

  He gazes longingly at the remainder of my pie for a second before he sets both of his hands on the table and looks up. “I mean, I know my friends are there for me no matter what. Anyone who wants to judge me for something out of my control isn’t someone I want to impress anyway.”