by Jenna Scott
“‘Kay, first of all, thanks for the compliment. But. Although I do a lot of interesting things, nothing interesting happens to me.” She sighs. “With anyone.”
I raise my eyebrows. “What about your infamous moment in the Kink Closet with Steve?”
“Ugh. It’s Steve. Plus that was like, two years ago.”
“Did you ever like Steve? I mean, he obviously still likes you.”
“Hells no. That’s just who I ended up in there with. He shoved his tongue halfway down my throat and I almost choked on it. You could say it was so bad it soured me to the whole experience and I’ve been hesitant to kiss anyone ever since.”
That doesn’t tell me much. Still, I want to respect her boundaries. I have no right to sit here and press her, and I have my own secrets, too. Such as what happened at La Jolla High, and why I dropped out and enrolled at OA.
“You don’t have to tell me anything,” I say. “But whoever you do like, you know you’ll have my support, right? Anyone would be lucky to have you.”
I don’t say “any guy” because honestly? No idea what Isabel’s deal is.
“I know.”
“But so the crush itself is an actual thing, though?” I ask, remembering a similar conversation we had not too long ago.
Shaking her head, Isabel sighs. “Okay. So. I do have what could be construed as a tiny crush on someone. Emphasis on tiny,” she says, looking away. “But I don’t know if it’s, you know…real, or if I’m making myself believe it is. Out of sheer boredom.”
“Thanks for telling me. I won’t push. And if you ever want to talk it out or whatever, I’m here.”
We go back to homework after that. Isabel helps me get out of the math maze, and then we do some Spanish conjugations together. At some point, she starts doodling on her notebook again, adding a body to the face she’d already started. My eyes drift to the shelf above her desk, where a ton of photographs and mementos are on display, and a new addition catches my attention: a photo of her, Emmett, and me, together at spring formal. He’s in the middle, his arms around our shoulders, the three of us grinning.
My attention lingers on the photo. I see Isabel’s hand on Emmett’s chest, her fingers spread over his heart. And even though she’s smiling at the camera, her head is tilted toward him. The body language seems pretty incriminating now that I think of it. Isabel’s told me she sees Emmett as family, but…now I’m not so sure.
“This is a great photo,” I tell her, trying to sound like I’m not fishing for clues.
“Yeah, it came out really cute. I’m going to miss you guys next year.”
“Me too,” I say wistfully.
“I know exactly who you’re going to miss,” Isabel teases. “Deny it all you want, but there is nothing casual about you guys.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, slumping. “Hunter will be here and I’ll be…somewhere, I hope. Time and distance will do the rest. You know how Hunter is.”
“That’s the thing. I do know how Hunter is.” Isabel absently begins to sketch out a face on her paper. “And he never took anyone else to Loma Lighthouse. Or Disneyland. And he definitely never made a scene in public until you came along.”
I snort. “That’s just because he’s the jealous type.”
“He wouldn’t be jealous if he didn’t really like you, Milla.” Isabel’s brow creases as she starts on the eyes, taking care with the curve of the lids, then looks up at me with a concerned expression. “I may not like him, but I’m not ignorant about him either. He’s as much into you as you are into him. That much is obvious.”
“I’m not—” I start, but at Isabel’s “don’t bullshit me” look, I groan. “Fine. I’m into him. Like, a lot. But I’m not delusional. I know it’s not meant to last.”
She frowns, then says, “You don’t believe that. You don’t want that.”
My lips flatten into a line, and I look away. “But it’s what’s going to happen.”
“See? That’s why I’m totally not doing the high school dating situation and why I refuse to contemplate the possibility that I may have a crush on someone.” Isabel leans back in her chair, somewhat deflated. “We’re all just going to go our separate ways once summer is over. What’s the point?”
“Because it’s better to get what you can now than to spend all those months wishing for what could have been,” I answer, the same thing I’ve been telling myself.
“Won’t that just make it harder when it’s time to leave?”
“Sure,” I say. “But if I spend my life saying no to the things I want just because they’ll make leaving harder, then I’ll be miserable.”
Isabel lets out a groan. “Well, let’s change the subject before this convo turns into even more of a bummer. Like how cute all your Instagram photos of Disneyland are. I’d give anything to have seen Hillary’s face when they popped up in her feed.”
The petty part of me takes great pleasure at imagining it. “I wonder if she’ll finally give up chasing Hunter and leave me alone.”
“Doubtful. She’s a total bulldog.” Isabel rolls her eyes. “And I would know. I’ve been on the receiving end of her massive bitch scale since we were, like, six.”
“She’s been a raging dick for that long?” I ask.
“Do you know those girls who always have to be the center of attention and can’t stand people who don’t give it to them?” Isabel points the pencil at me. “That’s always been her. Either you worship the ground she walks on, or she’ll use every chance she has to make your life miserable. And now…” She clicks on the mouse and the computer screen flares to life. “I’m going to stalk her IG for a bit. Come be mean-spirited and immature with me, Milla. We’ve earned a study break.”
“Actually, you wanna come back to mine? We could Netflix and ice cream in my room. My work’s all done, anyway.” It’s almost 4 p.m., and although part of me is itching to get back to Hunter, I don’t want to leave Isabel all by herself again.
She smiles. “Sure. I’d love that.”
With that settled, we pack up our stuff and head out to the Mini, totally oblivious to the shitshow that awaits us at Casa Beck.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Camilla
When we pull up outside Hunter’s house, I see three cars I don’t recognize in the driveway.
“Are the Becks having a dinner party or something?” Isabel asks.
I shrug. “Not that I know of, though it’s not really any of my business.”
Finding the front door unlocked, we make our way into the house, where we hear voices drifting in from the pool area out back. What I don’t hear—or see—is any sign of Mr. or Mrs. Beck. Before we reach the French doors, a deafening blast of some Top 40 hip-hop song comes booming from the backyard, along with a few whoops.
“It’s definitely some kind of party,” I say dryly.
I tell myself not to make a big deal out of this—it is Hunter’s house, after all. Except now I’m wondering how he’s going to act in front of the dudebros he must have invited over. Will he ignore me? Should I ignore him, or just try to act casual?
As soon as Isabel and I walk out the back of the house, it’s like we stumbled across a Sports Illustrated photoshoot. It’s not just Hunter flashing his six pack, as he plays what seems to be water volleyball with his friends. Steve’s there, too, and Matt Mason and Tom. All of them are tan and ripped to the point where they look ready to star in a superhero movie, and I have to do a double take to make sure I’m not imagining this.
“Jesus. It’s beefcake central.” Isabel lets out a breath, blinking. “And now I remember why I let Steve shove his tongue down my throat.”
On the loungers, Hillary, Emma, and Lisa are stretched out in bikinis, clinking glasses of some kind of pink drink with pineapple slices and paper umbrellas popping out of them. My mood sours as soon as I see them. More than throwing an impromptu party without telling me…Hunter invited them? When he knows those three make my life a living hell? They’re glari
ng at me, too, like I’m the one who doesn’t belong here.
My eyes drift to Hunter in the pool. His gaze meets mine at that exact same moment, and his entire demeanor changes. He lights up, a grin on his lips, and gets out of the water. Then he’s walking over, wet hair slicked back, water cascading down his body, accentuating every muscle he has. His blue eyes are fixed on me, and I’m struck dumb by their intensity as he comes over, all six-feet-plus of drool-worthy perfection.
“Milla. You’re back,” he says, with obvious pleasure. “Hey, Isabel.”
“Hi, Hunter,” she says, a little breathlessly. I don’t blame her.
I was prepared to be annoyed about him throwing a party the second I’m not around, but all of that evaporates with him standing before me like some sexy sea god.
He looks back and forth between me and Isabel. “Did you two have fun? Get all your homework done?”
“We did.” I look around the pool, where people are either watching us or pretending not to. “Where’s Harry?”
“Karleigh and my dad took him to go to the beach and Duke’s Hawaiian. They’ll be back after dinner, but it’ll be a few hours.” A brief scowl crosses his face, but it disappears as he steps closer and takes my hand. “Why don’t you join us?”
He wouldn’t be asking if he was throwing this party to spite me for hanging out with Isabel. And it’s his house. I can’t be angry he invited some friends over. Do I wish he’d told me sooner? Yes. But I’m not angry. Just less than pleased at the guest list.
I turn to Isabel. “I know we were gonna Netflix, but do you wanna…?”
“Sure,” she says, stealing a glance at the girls on the recliners. “It looks like you might need some backup, anyway.”
Hillary must be looking in our direction. From Isabel’s tiny smirk, I’m guessing Miss Thing and her minions are less than pleased at the guest list as well.
“Why’d you even invite them?” I ask Hunter, tilting my head in the direction of the three demons in the recliners.
“I didn’t. Tom’s going out with Leese, and she brought them along with her.” He shrugs. “I can ask them to leave, if you want—”
“No,” I cut him off. It’s nice that he’s offering, but doing that would only make things worse. “It’s fine. We’ll deal.”
“Okay. Cool.” Hunter grins, takes my face in his hands, and comes closer still, careful not to touch his sodden self to my dry clothes as he leans in to kiss me.
Now that our mouths are together, I don’t want to move from this spot. It’s pathetic, really, but I’m so addicted. The tips of our tongues touch—there’s the slight taste of the chlorine from the pool water, and something that’s uniquely him.
“Oh my God, you two,” Isabel scoffs. “At least put some distance between yourselves and the guest before you start sucking face.”
We pull ourselves apart, my face on fire. “Sorry,” I mumble in her direction.
Hunter shrugs. “I’m not.”
“Of course you aren’t.” Isabel rolls her eyes. “Come on, Milla. Let’s go get changed. You have a suit or at least some shorts I can borrow?”
In the pool house, I hand Isabel a dark blue retro-style one-piece that’s a little big but has a halter top she can tie tightly to compensate for her smaller chest. Hunter got a bunch of new suits for me after seeing me in my ill-fitting rag of a suit that one night, showing up at my door one afternoon with a bag in his hand, saying, “We should spend more time in the pool. Maybe I can teach you how to swim properly?”
Much to my surprise, the bag included a few different one-pieces, including the sporty, plain black kind that women wear for swimming competitions. But there were also a few skimpy bikinis that I’d never wear without a coverup, although I suppose I should be glad only one of them was a thong.
“So you two are keepin’ it casual, huh?” Isabel raises an eyebrow at me as she walks out of the bathroom, looking cute as a button in the suit.
“You look great in that,” I tell her. “And yeah, I’m as surprised by all the PDA as you are,” I say. “But you have a point. That didn’t feel casual at all.”
“It’s not just him,” Isabel notes. “You looked ready to climb him yourself.”
“In my defense…” I say as I tie a sarong around my burgundy bikini, “did you get a good look at him? He’s just asking to be climbed.”
“Yeah, like a sequoia, because he’s tall and lean and native to California,” Isabel jokes, quoting Crazy Ex-Girlfriend.
“See? You get it.” I stick my tongue out at her.
We finish getting changed, and with sunscreen on and beach towels over our shoulders, Isabel and I head out to join the party. I’m definitely feeling self-conscious dressed like this, when Hillary and co. are practically naked in their suits and not one of them is over a size four. But the thing is, Hunter chose me. And he’s the only one I care about impressing. Let those girls talk shit all they want.
The skunky scent of weed wafts our way and Isabel sniffs the air, her gaze landing on Matt. He’s traded the pool for a lounger, a suspicious-looking cigarette burning between his fingers.
“Well, that’s my cue,” she says. “Mary Jane is calling.”
I follow her to where Matt’s sitting, ignoring the looks Hillary and the others give us as we pass by. He’s halfway through a puff when he looks up, and holds the smoke in his throat to say, “Isabel. I knew you’d materialize as soon as I lit up.”
“It’s my bat-signal.” Isabel gestures for Matt to move his legs, and he shifts to give her space. “Give it here.”
“I don’t know if I should.” He blows the smoke upward. “Don’t you remember how I had to chase you around the dance floor during spring formal? I can’t have you getting all loopy like that again and falling in the pool.”
“Wait, you chased Isabel around the dance floor?” I ask, sitting down on the free chair next to his.
“I did. It was a spectacle.” He takes another drag. “And then she just—”
“Shush, don’t tell her! Milla missed it and doesn’t get to have it re-told for her pleasure.” Isabel snatches the blunt from Matt’s fingers and points it at me. “It’s your punishment for fucking off with Hunter.”
Fucking off is the right term, and thank God for the sun, because it masks how hard I’m blushing. And Hunter, of course, chooses that exact moment to sneak up behind me and slip his very wet arms around my shoulders. “And now, Milla’s going to fuck off with me again,” he says.
“I am?” I ask.
“Why else would you put on that suit unless you meant to go in the pool?”
Touché.
I get up and turn to Isabel and Matt. “Enjoy your medicinals. Matt, don’t let Isabel run around the pool when she gets high.”
“Easier said than done,” Matt grumbles. “You know how she gets.”
“Hey! I’m right here!” Isabel slaps him in the leg.
After I drop the towel and my sarong on my chair, I go to the pool’s edge to test the water with my toes, and a shiver runs through me. Meanwhile, Hunter’s already jumped back in. “Come on, Milla. It’ll be great once you’re in,” he says below me, a finger trailing my shin, making me shiver from something entirely different.
“Working up the courage.” I inhale, looking at the shining water.
Next thing I know, he’s tugging at my hand, pulling me into the pool. The temperature shock is instant, and I emerge with a gasp.
“Cold!” I blurt out once my head’s back above the surface.
“The best way to get used to cold water is to just jump in. I was trying to help.”
Legs kicking below me, I splash at him. “You jerk.”
“Yeah.” He grabs my waist and brings me close. “But I’m your jerk.”
I forget that there are other people around us. Hunter’s body is usually warm by default, but here in the pool, he’s a fireplace in the dead of winter. I cling to him, one arm around his neck, my legs wrapped around his hips. “Are
you, now?”
“I thought it was obvious that I’m all yours.” He kisses me softly on the lips while his fingers skim the sides of my waist. “And you’re all mine.”
Hearing his words sets off a tightening in my chest.
Fighting the force between us is like fighting gravity. Impossible.
I cradle his jaw in my hands. He’s somehow even more beautiful in the water, his hair messy and plastered to his face, droplets rolling down, moisture clinging to his skin. His lashes are stuck together, and his eyes look bluer than I’ve ever seen them.
I didn’t think it was possible to be so hot when surrounded by cold water. But it is, and, “I am.”
My lips cover his. Hunter’s hands slide down to grip my thighs. When my tongue reaches his, I don’t even care that he tastes like chlorine. It’s somehow perfect.
“Dude, your room is upstairs,” Steve complains, tossing the ball to Tom.
I jerk away from Hunter, but his hold on my thighs keeps me in place.
“I miss the good old days, when we were spared the sight of Beck with his tongue down a girl’s throat,” Steve sighs. “Never knew you were such an exhibitionist, Beck!”
Oh. They’re teasing him. Because he used to take girls out of sight to have his way with them, and with me, he does it in front of everyone.
Heat pierces me deeper, and I make myself pull away. “I’m going to dry off.”
Hunter frowns. “But you just got in the water.”
“Yeah. I invited Isabel over to hang out, though, so I don’t want to ignore her.”
“She seems to be getting along just fine with Mason,” Hunter says, nodding his head at the two of them. “Are you sure you want to play third wheel to that?”
My brow furrows. Could it be Matt that Isabel’s crushing on? Nah. She wouldn’t be so hesitant to tell me if it were him.
“Maybe I’ll just grab some snacks from inside, then,” I tell him. “I’m sure the munchies are imminent.”
“I’ll come with you,” he offers, a little too enthusiastically.