“Yeah, uh, it was fun,” Katie replies, obviously distracted. “Look at this little guy.” Katie points to a little boy with only one water wing. “He’s the one to watch. He just tossed off one of his floats and now he’s attempting to pull off the other.”
A Spider-Man arm swimmy floats over a wave.
“He wouldn’t have them if he didn’t need them.”
Sure enough, as soon as the words are out of Katie’s mouth, the boy’s mother joins him in the water, shoving the swimmy back on his arm.
“So I know someone else from Upper Crest,” I finally say. I watch the little girl with the butterfly bathing suit jump into an oncoming wave. She reminds me of myself a few years ago. Except, I would have been out here with my three older brothers tossing me around.
“Who?” Katie asks.
“Actually, he works here too. But I didn’t know that until the other day.”
“Oh, really? Then I’m sure I know him. What’s his name?”
“Brody Wilson?” I say, more like a question than a statement.
Katie’s face lights up. “Of course I know Brody. Everyone knows Brody. He’s—” Katie interrupts herself, catching sight of two boys chest-deep, throwing around a football by the cliffs. She stands up and blows her whistle, putting more oomph into it then I realized she had.
“There’s a definite pull toward those rocks today. Must be some sort of weak current.” Her voice takes on a more serious cast. “You always want to make sure no one gets anywhere near the rocks or the cliff. See that red flag out there?”
I nod.
“No one should get near that flag, but most bozos do.” Katie sits back down. “It’s especially important that no one go past it if there’s a rip current. That’s just dangerous.” She shakes her head, then resumes the small talk. “So, if you know Brody, you must also know Lexi Smalls?” She eyes me strangely.
I gasp, almost choking on the air caught in my throat. “Why do you say that?”
“Oh, you know …” Katie begins, her tone implying more than she’s letting on. She settles on an explanation. “They run in the same circles, Lexi and Brody. You’ve heard they used to be together, right?”
I cough. “Uh, no? I didn’t.” I cough some more.
“You okay?” Katie asks, handing me a Nalgene bottle from her bag. “Want some water to clear your throat?”
“No, no. It’s okay. Just swallowed weird.”
Katie hands me the bottle despite my resistance. “Anyway, I guess it makes sense that you wouldn’t have known about their relationship. They broke up freshman year.”
“Who ended it?” I practically whisper.
“Brody. Lexi tries to play it off, but I don’t think she ever got over it.”
“You don’t?” The sun reappears and I can feel beads of sweat begin to dot my back. I take a sip of water.
“Lexi is used to getting whatever she wants and Brody was the first thing in her life she couldn’t get.” Katie takes her hoodie off, placing it behind her. “Anyway, who can blame her? There aren’t many girls here who haven’t fallen for Brody.”
“Really?” I say, between coughs. “So, he’s a player?”
“No. I wouldn’t call him that.”
Then what would you call him?
I decide to just be direct. “So, why isn’t Brody at Michigan?” I ask, catching my breath. I wipe my sweaty palms on my shorts.
“Oh. Yeah. That,” Katie mutters, watching the water. “Word is whatever it is, his family does not want it getting out.”
Zach must be right. It has to be bad. Really bad. I wonder if it has something to do with Lexi. Maybe he even came back for her ….
I take another sip from the Nalgene bottle.
Katie glances at me. “Look. I don’t know what your deal is with Brody, but it’s obviously something since you’re asking so many questions about him.”
“Oh, no, I …”
Katie cuts me off. “He’s awesome and all, but I heard that you’re already on Lexi’s radar because you beat her at an invitational last month.”
“I … uh …”
Katie waves her hand, silencing me. “It doesn’t really matter to me, but if I were you, I’d just stay away from Brody. At least until the summer is over. Lexi will make your summer here a nightmare. Plus, if Denise catches you two together, you’ll lose your job.”
I gulp, forcing the water stuck in my throat down my esophagus.
Chapter Fourteen
Nine hours later, I’ve never been so exhausted in my life.
As if working a four-hour lifeguard shift with Katie wasn’t enough, I then spent four hours at the snack bar listening to Jason’s usual tales of beach-club bigotry and now I’m bussing tables at the Dolphin Restaurant. And not by choice. The regular day-shift bus boy was fired two hours ago after a customer complained. Yup. One complaint. Gone.
I’m about to dump the last two glasses into the plastic tub currently balanced on my hip when the restaurant manager walks up to me.
“I need you to clean up by the pool before closing time,” he says, pointing at the disheveled pool area.
Clean up by the pool? I thought I was done after the night-shift bus boy shows up.
“Sure,” I say, mustering up the best smile I can when all I really want to do is go home and sleep. Between this grueling day and Brody never showing up to explain himself, I’m wiped. And I haven’t even had time to think more about the scholarship.
I walk into the hectic kitchen and dump the glasses into the sink. Then, with the tub still stuck to my side, I trudge through the side door and back outside.
After the picturesque California summer day, the pool area is destroyed. I tuck my messy hair behind my ears and focus on tackling the clutter. I pick up dirty plates, cups, spoons, knives, forks, and glasses and drop them into the container. If I keep this pace up, I should be home in no time.
That is until I run right into Brody.
“Whoa. Easy superstar,” Brody says. He’s wearing a lifeguard hoodie that hugs his bronzed neck.
“Hey,” I say, reaching for a dish left next to the still churning Jacuzzi. My stomach swirls like water bursting from the jets. “Sorry. I didn’t see you there.”
He grins, showing off his perfect white teeth. “Ready for tonight?”
“I told you I’m not going.” I shove a wine glass into the tub, careful not to break it. I resist the urge to ask him where he was all day.
“Fine. So I’ll meet you at …”
“Obviously, you’re not used to being told no,” I say. “I’m not going.”
Brody grabs my arm to stop me from cleaning. “You owe me a chance to explain.”
“Uh. I don’t owe you anything.” I whisper just in case anyone is within earshot.
“Abs …”
“I’m insanely busy. The regular bus boy at the Dolphin was fired and I’m stuck cleaning the pool. Plus, I really haven’t had any time to shower or change,” I say, motioning to my chocolate-stained apron. “I don’t think—”
“You look amazing.” Brody places his hands on my shoulders. I practically jump from the electric shock.
Denise’s face seeps into my mind, followed by the faces of my three brothers, Jason’s, and finally Lexi’s. I step backward. Brody’s hands fall off my shoulders. “I can’t.”
He’s not discouraged. “Well, then I guess I’ll have to help you out so you can finish faster. Four hands are better than two,” he says, waving one of his hands as he picks up a plate with the other.
“Really, that’s nice of you and everything, but …” My voice trails off when I spot the restaurant manager talking with the hostess. I grab the plate and glass from Brody. “But it’s my job and I’ll get it done.”
“Okay, but then I don’t want to hear any excuses about not having enough time to meet me.” Brody crosses his arms and narrows his eyes, pretending to give me a really stern look. It only lasts for a second before his true eagerness shines throug
h. “How about when you’re done, you meet me at the tennis courts? That way, you don’t have to worry about changing for dinner.”
“It’s more than that, Brody.” I scurry away from him, grabbing a glass off a table.
Brody picks up a lounge chair, swings it around, and straddles it. “Then tell me what it is.”
I glance over my shoulder to where the hostess and manager were standing. The manager is gone. I place the tub on a table. “Even if I did go with you tonight, don’t you think the club is a little too public?” I whisper.
Brody’s eyes widen. “One night alone with me last month and now you want some more private time …. Abs, I thought you were a good girl.”
“Oh my God, I didn’t mean it that way.” Immediately, my cheeks heat up.
He stands and places the chair back. “The tennis courts it is. Meet me in an hour.” He points his index finger at me, playfully pushing my nose. “Now make sure you show up. Don’t go skipping out on me.”
“Wait …” I whisper. But Brody scampers toward the beach before I manage to come up with another excuse.
I pick up a dirty fork and toss it in the tub, getting some leftover ketchup on my finger. Gross.
I rub the ketchup on my apron, adding red smudges to the existing palette of chocolate, mustard, and grease. It takes a second for the ketchup to come off my hand completely and I nearly stamp my foot—I can’t believe that this is what my life has come to.
I look toward the shoreline and see a girl in a two-piece Speedo sprinting. A guy lounges on the sand with a stopwatch, timing her. They’re too far away to make out their faces but they look they’re having a ball.
Why should everyone else get to have all the fun?
Oh well, I guess I can give Brody a few minutes to explain why he’s here and not at Michigan. He may turn out to be a huge jerk, but anything’s better than cleaning up other people’s leftovers.
* * *
When I’m finally finished cleaning up the pool area, I dash into the locker room, ignoring the poster for the Last Blast Luau that someone has plastered on the door. Plush white and navy couches are scattered across the sitting area. Beyond the couches, a crystal chandelier hangs in the center of two rows of chrome sinks.
I drop my bag next to a sink and splash cool water on my face. Leftover sunscreen beads up on my cheeks as I wipe my face clean with a white towel that I grabbed from one of several wicker baskets. I gather my hair on top of my head and secure it with a black hair band. Then I step in front of a full-length mirror located at the edge of the room.
It looks like I’ve been sprayed with red sauce and splattered with grease. I use the towel to clean myself up. Then I let out a breath.
Here goes nothing.
As I’m walking toward the side door that opens up to the tennis courts, I convince myself that this is not a date. Brody just wants to fill me in on whatever deep dark secret lurks behind his emerald eyes.
The door shuts behind me and I’m surprised to discover that the entire outdoor tennis area—eight courts in total—is totally deserted. At first, I’m impressed with Brody for picking such a perfect hiding spot. High fences surround the illuminated courts and thick palm trees provide additional security. But my awe quickly turns to frustration. Brody is nowhere to be seen.
Nice. First, he picked college girls over me, then he claimed that he got me a job, then he acted all secretive for God-knows-what reason, and now I allowed him to stand me up. What was I thinking?
As I’m about to begin my walk of shame back to the locker room, I notice a manila envelope hanging from the intercepting chains of one of the fences. Abs is scrawled across the front.
I tear open the envelope and peek inside to find a navy blue bandana. I pull it out and discover that a note, Wear Me, is attached.
Huh, Brody didn’t ditch me …. But if he seriously thinks I’m covering my eyes with some bandana, he’s been out in the sun for way too long. Bandanas are on my father’s long list of unsuspected weapons. Apparently, they’ve been used to strangle and gag people. No way am I setting myself up to get raped, killed, or stabbed.
I ball up the bandana and stuff it back in the envelope when I hear a familiar husky voice call out, “I was worried you wouldn’t come.”
I scan the courts. Still no sign of Brody, but his voice sounds close by.
“Uh, I’m not gonna wear a blindfold. The only way I’m putting on this bandana is if I’m using it as a headband.” I search for Brody through the palm trees. The leaves sway in the gentle ocean breeze. “Why don’t you come out of your little hiding place? This is freaking me out.”
“I promise it’ll be worth it,” he says.
I look around again, trying to determine the direction his voice came from. The beach, maybe? I walk up to the gate and crack it open, surveying the surroundings. The wooden walkway to the beach is completely empty.
“You think?” I ask, waiting to follow the sound of his voice.
“You’ll see …” His voice fades away before I can make out where it came from. “Just think of it as a game. You’re an athlete, you must love games ….”
“I love games? I think it’s the other way around.” A shiver runs up my spine.
“Shh … You’re gonna be sad if you ruin the surprise. Just tie the blindfold around and let me do the rest.”
“How about I just cover one eye?” I mockingly cover my eye like I’m about to read an exam chart.
“Just trust me,” he whispers.
“That’s not exactly the best line to use on me right now, Brody.”
“If you see me, will you do it?”
“Maybe.” Tingles of anticipation shoot through my body. I spin around, making a last-ditch attempt at figuring out Brody’s hiding spot.
And then, suddenly, Brody is standing behind me on the walkway. Instinctively, I set up in the self-defense stance I learned at the police martial arts course my dad drags me to.
“Well, here I am.” He steps toward me. He’s wearing long khaki shorts and a black Dri-FIT Nike tee that hints ever so slightly at the muscular contours beneath.
I ease out of my stance and let out a sigh. “Okay. A deal’s a deal.” I shrug, never one to chicken out. “Here goes nothing.” I wrap the blindfold over my eyes, leaving the bottom open a bit so I can still peek out if necessary.
Brody steps behind me and takes the edges of the bandana from my hands. “I knew you could do it,” he says, tying the blindfold gently.
The feeling of his hot breath against my neck sends me into a nervous titter. “My basketball coach made us do a teambuilding activity that started out like this too,” I blather.
“Well, here’s hoping that this is a bit more fun.” He places his strong hands on my hips and begins to guide me forward.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see,” he says, whispering into my ear. Tingles erupt from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.
“What about your explanation?”
“We’ll get to all that,” he whispers again. “As soon as we get to our destination.”
I step off the wooden walkway and feel the soft and lumpy sand underneath the soles of my Nikes. With each step, the swooshing waves grow louder and louder.
Brody continues to move me at the hips. “Step up,” he instructs.
I step on what feel like worn wooden steps.
“That’s it. Two more,” Brody says, still guiding me.
“Where are we?” I smell salty air and can hear water slapping up against something.
Brody lets go of my hips. “Don’t move.” His cologne tickles my nose.
I feel his hands behind my head, untying my blindfold. The bandana falls, grazing the back of my shirt as it floats to the ground.
When I open my eyes, I’m standing on a wooden pier. The smacking sound I heard is the waves lapping against a dock. A small white motorboat with a pale blue canopy idles in front of me. I look up at the ebony sky peppered with white t
winkling stars.
“Ready for our night together?” Brody asks, holding out his hand.
“Wait.” I look down at my stained shorts. “I don’t know if I’m really dressed for all this and what about Lex—” My earlier attempts to convince myself that this isn’t a date seem more like self-delusion than ever.
“You look perfect,” Brody says.
“Liar,” I say, more like a joke than an accusation. I breathe in his scent—it’s musky, manly, delicious—and suddenly I’m back at the swim meet. In that second, all of my anxiety—about what everyone would say, what Lexi would do, how Denise would react—all of that just disappears. Somehow nothing—not my annoying brothers, not babysitting, not even Brody’s strange reappearance and his earlier refusal to commit—seems to matter anymore.
All that matters is this one moment.
I clasp my hand around Brody’s and he pulls me on the boat.
Chapter Fifteen
Brody cuts the engine about half a mile from the pier. The entire time we’ve been on the water, we haven’t said two words. And now I’m offshore in the dark with Brody, a boat, and his big secret.
He walks to the back of the boat and tosses the anchor.
“I didn’t know you had a boat license,” I say as he passes me.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” Brody sits on a white leather seat next to a large straw picnic basket that he brought along with us. He leans back, his long arms sprawling across the padded bench. The glow from the boat’s deck light shines on.
He’s got that right. I turn around from my seat at the front of the boat. I want to see everything—every grimace, every adjustment, every clue—before I ask the big question. “So … why are you here?”
“What do you mean? Hanging out with you?” He grins mischievously. “You shouldn’t have to ask.”
My cheeks redden. “No, not that. Why aren’t you at Michigan?”
“About that,” he says, suddenly serious.
I nod. “Yeah.” I lean forward waiting for his confession. Ten bucks he says, I came back because of Lexi.
He pauses. “It’s really not a big deal. I’m staying local. Taking some classes at the community college this fall. I’m in the process of applying to UCLA for the spring and so, uh …” He opens up the top of the picnic basket and rummages through it. “Just forget about what I said that night. At the meet, I mean.”
Making Waves Page 9