“Well, I was packing so I could come teach Mr. Meiers some fucking manners. But now I’m going to tick you off when I agree with him.”
“You what?”
“Baby. He’s right. You can’t do stupid stuff like that.”
Oh my God. “So, to make a point it’s OK if he shoves me to the ground then tries to kiss me?”
He growled like an animal. “No! Unequivocally…no. That’s not what I’m saying and when I see him…I’ll let him know that.”
“It’s not even been two weeks and we have four and a half to go,” I complained.
“And a visit in between.” I heard him smile.
I wanted him to hold me…to touch me…like he’d touched me before. I relaxed back on my bed and closed my eyes. We’d never had sex…well…he had…many times…but I never had. My body had experienced things in the last six months it had never experienced and my head swam just thinking about it. Zach was more of a veteran in that department, and I needed his touch at this moment. My body ached.
“I want you,” I said softly.
His chuckle was low and deep. “OK. Now, I’m packing again.”
He couldn’t feel what I was feeling. “I’m serious. Zach.” I ran my fingers through my hair.
“Emmmm,” he moaned. “I told you on spring break if you ever ask me again, I will oblige. You understand that, right?”
“How long till you could be here?”
“You tell me. I’ve never been. Six hours?”
“Something like that.” If he was willing, I was. He was quiet and I figured he was chewing on it.
“I’d get there around 8 in the morning. I’m guessing you will have slept it off.”
“Maybe. You shouldn’t be driving this late anyway. You might fall asleep.”
“No way…not with that kind of incentive,” he groaned on the last word and I smiled.
“I’m tired. Let me hang up and maybe I’ll dream about it.”
“OK. But promise me something. Stay away from Grant especially feeling this way,” he said softly.
No problem. “No worries. Done. I love you.”
“Love you too, baby.”
I hung up and cradled the phone to my chest trying to ignore the ache in my pelvis.
Chapter 3—Zach
Slow deep breaths in and out trying to calm the anxiety inside. Emma was so naïve. As much as it pained me to say it, Grant was right. She was physically tiny—a body of a Chihuahua, yet the attitude and personality of a pit bull. One of the feistiest girls I’d ever met. She could hold her own against Grant. My silent fear was Austin. He was the rich good guy. All walls and guards were down for him, and I had a gut feeling he was lying in wait for his opportunity.
I screwed up on spring break by exploring her sexuality…our sexuality as a couple. Knowing she had never been with a guy, I opened up her eyes to a foreign world—a world of feelings and emotions, and more importantly, hormones. When I went down on her, her little body went haywire. I knew exactly what I was doing. My ulterior motive was to cross a line so maybe she wouldn’t walk when she found out about my scoreboard of women who I’d sexually conquered. Now that she was back with me…my goal was to shut that shit down. Though I had been the one to ignite that flame inside of her two months ago, for the next five weeks, I needed that flame out! Squashed. I didn’t need Grant fanning the embers and Austin better stay the hell away. And to think about her doing to either of them what she did to me, well…I think I’d hurt someone.
So! I needed to keep any sexual fuel, tension or anything of the sort, off of her ignited fire and off her radar. And I needed to make sure that my visit was sooner rather than later.
Chapter 4—Just a kiss
Mom and I made a grocery store run to Seaside before the weekend trying to load up for at least a good five days. The annual sand castle competition in Cannon was being held on Saturday— a huge event drawing hundreds of visitors—which meant we’d eat in and avoid all the restaurants. Tents would line the beach with various vendors selling all sorts of souvenirs and our beach—in a twenty-four hour period—would be destroyed. The city always cleaned up, but it was a distraction that we used to stay clear of…then we figured if you can’t beat ‘em…join ‘em.
We started out years ago as spectators watching the artists form their creations from the sand. Some of the formations were so original and eccentric and the attention paid to detail was so meticulous that when tide came in and washed away the design, it was painstakingly brutal. It usually took a couple of good waves before it disappeared beneath the salt water, and when tide rolled out it was if it never existed.
This year would be our fourth entering the competition. We’d never won, not even honorable mention, but it was always fun. The competition starts when tide goes out Saturday morning and ends when tide comes in. We still weren’t sure what our theme was going to be this year, and with me avoiding Grant like the plague, I wasn’t even sure how we’d do it together. Last year was fun. We sculpted a skull with a guitar…obviously not my idea…something the guys dreamed up after pulling an all nighter playing Guitar Hero. The cross bones crumbled before the judges could judge.
I had managed to avoid Grant for four days and I think he was avoiding me as well. I hung out either on the deck or jogged the opposite way of their house. I’d even stopped going to the beach in the evenings. But there was nothing in the world I loved more than the roar of the waves in my ear, so tonight I hit the beach early in the evening taking my own chair and sitting alone about 100 yards from their circle. I had my blanket and pulled my hoodie over my head. The night was warm…well…warmer. Taylor Swift played on my Ipod and the half moon nearly touched the water in the distance.
Maybe an hour had passed before I saw them out of the corner of my eye starting their fire. They thankfully hadn’t noticed me. It was dark and the waves seemed closer. Tide was creeping in. I closed my eyes, removed one bud from my ear and listened.
When Kid Rock’s voice exploded into my right ear canal, I shot forward. Sleep had overtaken me and I’d dozed. The salt water splashed against my chair and my flip flops were long gone. Crap. I shifted around and glanced at the dwindling fire, shocked to see a fair haired girl straddling someone…I couldn’t tell who, but whoever it was reclined back in the chair. Jealousy shot through me and it pissed me off. It was dark enough I could leave without being seen. I strained my eyes trying to determine who it was and felt perverted for watching. Relief washed over me, only momentarily, when I saw Ryan’s face come out from under her golden hair. Poor Ali. I shook my head with disgust and the jealousy was replaced with anger. Even though they were both fully clothed, it was still cheating.
The water was icy when my feet went under and if it wasn’t for the building anger, I don’t think I would have had the strength to get the buried chair out of the heavy sand. Hustling up the beach, I wanted to shout at my stupid brother fondling the girl who I hoped was of age but, I wanted to get home. I’d tear into him tomorrow.
I shivered and my feet were coated in wet sand. I saw the diamond-shaped rock not far from the sandy walkway leading to our house. The rock had always served as my guide home. I looked back and Ryan was still molesting the girl. When I spun around, I spotted Grant and quickly ducked behind the large rock. A girl’s laughter overtook the crashing of the waves in my ear and resonated into my heart.
“I love your hair,” a girl cackled and I peered around the rock. She was short but heavier than me and she fingered Grant’s blond curls. I couldn’t see her face. His hands were suddenly in her dark hair pulling her in to him and she giggled again before they kissed. I closed my eyes and spun around in the sand. My heart thudded in the back of my throat. I heard his voice and peeked again thankful for the rock.
His arms wrapped around her waist and she moved to the ground…too willingly. ‘Ho’ bag. She wasn’t attractive, or maybe she was, but I didn’t like her. Her noises were repulsive. He kissed down her throat and his hands wor
ked frantically at her buttons until her shirt fell open. Her boobs were huge…probably mostly fat. I didn’t know the girl but had already figured out she giggled when nervous and she was really nervous. I buried my face in my hands and fought the urge to watch. What was wrong with me? I wanted to see. I wanted to see what he did to her. Why did I suddenly want that to be me?
“Do you have protection?” she asked.
“Yes.” He rose to his feet and shoved his hand in his pocket.
All the years that I knew he was with other girls, I’d never had to watch it…not like this. I closed my eyes again and all I could see was his lips pressed to hers and his exploring hands. My body responded to the thoughts and the tingling was nearly intolerable as my breathing became shallow. It felt funny like when I was with Zach. I rubbed my temples and shoved the Ipod buds in my ears and closed my eyes. Talk to me…Beyonce. I fell off balance and my chair bumped the rock and I cringed hoping…praying it wasn’t heard. I took a deep, salty-aired breath, slowly releasing it then leaned out again. Grant’s face was within a foot of mine. A not-so-funny smile touched the corner of his lips as he looked down at the sand and kicked it. He rotated away from me.
“Morgan. This isn’t going to happen.”
Son of a…Why the….God. I tried desperately to control my breathing.
“What’s wrong? What did I do?” She whined.
Dumb-ass girls. It was always…what did I do…find some freaking self esteem. Here comes the ‘it’s not about you’… ‘you didn’t do anything’ spiel.
“You did nothing. I have something I need to take care of.”
So predictable.
“Take care of?” She squealed.
Oh she was ticked. Would she kick sand or shove him?
“You are an asshole!” She seethed and I heard the slap of bare skin. The only skin showing was his face and it took every ounce of control I had to not bolt from behind the rock and hit her myself. Then I saw her out of the corner of my eye stomping away from us fastening her blouse.
“You can come out, now.”
It was difficult to maneuver the chair, blanket, Ipod and my emotions as I tried to move.
“Here.” He grabbed the chair. “Let me give you a hand.”
“Give yourself a hand for that performance.”
He laughed. “What performance?”
I was trying to hurry. “Please. The Oscar goes to…” Pain shot through my ankle as it got tangled in the wet quilt and twisted when I hit the sand. “Ow!”
“You are so stubborn.” He was next to me pulling my foot out from the blanket. His warm hands felt good to my cold foot as he examined it.
“Do you see something, doc?” I asked sarcastically.
He stopped and sat up. “When you said the performance…what did you see?”
“Enough.” I tried to get up and the throbbing radiated through my foot. I sat again frustrated.
“Emma.”
“What?” I barked.
“Were you jealous?” he teased.
My body automatically slid away from his as a snort came from my nose. “Please.”
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
“I have not.”
“Yes. You have.”
“Grant. I just don’t live and breathe you anymore and your ego can’t handle that.” I scooted back away from his face.
He snickered. “Fair enough. I own that. But at least be honest with me.”
“About what?”
His slight hesitation made me nervous. I felt like we were playing some chess match and with every inch I moved away, he followed. “When you were watching, from behind the rock…how did it make you feel?”
If he knew anything, about how I’d felt about him my whole life…he wouldn’t have needed to ask. Of course I was jealous seeing him with another girl. I always had been. What did he want from me?
“I was jealous. Is that what you want to hear?” I asked flatly.
He shook his head. “No.” He flipped his hand toward me like my admission was trivial. “I was sure of that already. I meant…did you…”He didn’t finish but I knew him too well. I knew what he was getting at.
“Let me help you. Did I want it to be me? Did I wish you were kissing me that way? Is that what you want to know?” I whispered.
I couldn’t read his expression. Even in the pale moonlight, I could see that his mouth hung slightly open, and his eyes scanned my face. He cleared his throat. “Yes. That’s what I want to know.”
I knew before the words came out that it was a mistake to say it, but they came none the less. “Yes. I always have.”
The last word was barely out of my mouth when his lips met mine with a gentleness he’d never shown. He didn’t use his tongue…but his warm mouth took mine easily and each peck was long and premeditated. My breaths were even and slow and I wanted him to touch me like he did her. As one arm slid around my neck and the other around my waist, he laid me back till my head rested in the cold, soft sand. This was so not OK. Nothing about what I was doing was OK. My body’s reaction was different than when I was with Zach…it was so out of control with Zach…my nerve endings felt like they were on fire with Zach. This was different. Maybe it was cause I’d known Grant forever…things were more natural.
He broke free and stared at me.
“Grant, please stop.”
“Is that what you want?”
At that moment, I wished I could erase the past four years of my life. The years that I lived and breathed this guy. The years where I knew his favorite foods, favorite songs, favorite clothes, favorite sayings. I knew what every one of his different smiles meant. I knew when he was really laughing or if it was fake. All I ever wanted was to be loved by him.
His index finger outlined my eyebrows and I closed my eyes.
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Ryan gritted.
My eyes opened and Grant closed his and shook his head.
“Get off my sister, bro.”
Grant didn’t move and neither did I.
“Ryan. Leave us alone, please,” Grant said respectfully.
I didn’t look at Ryan.
“Dude. She’s with Zach. Don’t be a jackass.”
Grant held his hands out to the side. “Nobody’s being forced here.”
They were both right…I hated that. “Yeah…and you’re with Ali and look what you were doing…scumbag.” I refused to let him judge me when he was doing the same thing.
“Whatever. Suit yourself. You’re letting you’re childhood crush blind you from what’s really going on, Runt…remember…he’s a player just like me. We scrog then walk away. You’re no different. Except you’re acting like a slut right now. Live with that.”
I heard the sand squish as he left us alone. Tears stung at my eyes and I closed them hoping they’d go away. I am not a slut, I told myself. The tears rolled onto my cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” Grant whispered.
I sat up leaning away from him. “I shouldn’t have done this. He’s right. I always wanted you to pick me and now that you do…I’m supposed to throw away…”
He grabbed my face and held it between his hands. “Emma. I wouldn’t walk away from you. You have to believe that.” His words came out fast.
My eyes searched his for answers. I searched within myself for the strength to walk away from him rather than him walk away from me.
“I’m freezing. I want to go in.” I tried to stand and grimaced with even a little weight on my ankle. Crap.
Before I knew it, I was in his arms and he was carrying me to the house. We walked in silence; my head rested against his shoulder. “I’m not a slut.”
He kissed my forehead. “He knows that. He’s angry and didn’t mean it.”
I glanced up at him. “Do you know it?”
He stopped walking and looked at me. “You…are the furthest thing from a slut. I assume you and Zach still haven’t or you wouldn’t be in my arms at this moment. Am I correct in that assum
ption?”
I nodded. “No. We haven’t,” I whispered as the crash of the waves faded.
“Em. You agree with Ryan. You think I’m a player don’t you?”
I pursed my lips fighting a smile. “You are a player, Grant. You always have been.”
“That’s not true…OK…maybe a little true. But not anymore. I want a relationship with you.”
I shook my head. “I can’t give you that right now. And an hour ago, you were ready to scrog Morgan, whoever she is, so don’t act like you’re not a player.” I rammed him with my elbow.
“Morgan was nothing.”
“Exactly my point.”
His face grimaced like something hurt him. “Stop with the trying to make me jealous thing at least. I don’t like that.”
“EMMA!” My dad yelled.
Grant squinted at the flashlight pointed in his face.
“Dad. It’s me and Grant,” I held up my hand trying to block the glare.
“Hi, Mr. Hendricks.”
My dad lowered the light. “I don’t care who you’re with young lady. It is almost two in the morning. Why are you carrying her?”
“Dad. Stop. I fell asleep in a chair. Woke up and was coming up to the house when I twisted my ankle and Grant was helping me,” I explained.
“Oh, well, thanks, Grant.” My dad loved him.
He sat me gently on the ground. “It was too dark so I couldn’t see if it’s swollen. She probably needs some ice.”
I tried to take a step and cried out grabbing Grant’s shoulder.
“Great. We may need to get it x-rayed in the morning. Grant would you mind getting her to her room and I’ll grab some ice,” My dad asked.
He nodded. “Sure thing, Mr. H. Let’s do a piggy back, my arms are killing me,” he winked and I did a one-legged hop onto his back.
He maneuvered the stairs and flipped on my light carrying me to the bed where he dropped me onto the mattress causing my pillows to fall. The little silver phone hidden behind the pillow lit up and vibrated. What are the chances?? My eyes flashed from the phone to Grant whose face hardened when he dove for it.
Finally...One Summer (Just One of the Guys) Page 3