Fish out of Water

by Natalie Whipple

  “Do I look like I’m messing with you?” His face is completely serious, and I keep waiting for him to give away the joke. He doesn’t. Olivia can’t be right. He can’t actually like me. With a frustrated sigh, he finally looks away. “Don’t bring your bag or phone. I wish I could’ve bought you something nice, because London really will tear that sack to pieces.”

  “Oh, okay.” I look at my striped messenger bag. It’s been my favorite for years, but suddenly it seems beaten down. I try to stuff it under the seat.

  He shakes his head. “Mika, no one will steal that. Promise.”

  “So either you’re hitting on me or being mean?”

  “I find it very hard to be just your friend.” He opens the door and gets out, leaving me in a confused daze. I signed up for fake girlfriend duty—now it seems like he did this in hopes that I would become his girlfriend. Maybe we don’t fight as much as we did at first, but I never would have seen this coming.

  I force myself out of the car. Dylan has the trunk open, and when he shuts it I see the bag of golf clubs at his side. He throws them on his shoulder and motions for me to follow.

  “Those look a lot nicer than my dad’s,” I say, deciding I should at least be nice to him today. I’ll have to figure everything else out later.

  Dylan slows his pace so I can keep up. “My dad only let me take two bags when he kicked me out. This was the second one. Funny how fast you figure out your priorities when your whole life gets reduced to so little.”

  “I didn’t know you liked golf that much.”

  “You never asked.” He grabs my hand then, and I don’t fight it. I might even enjoy it a little. “Once dreamed of going pro, but I never got to practice like I wanted.”

  “Okay, you’re never allowed to mock my fish again—your interests are lamer.”

  “Golf is not lame.” He pulls the clubhouse door open, waits for me to go in first. “You’ll see after today.”

  The lobby alone is pristine. Everything looks like it’s made from the best possible material. People mill about in groups, mostly old guys, a few women, and even fewer teens. Pretty much just London and Brock, who are already heading for us.

  When London sees us holding hands, her face turns sour. Dylan leans in, his breath tickling my ear. “I’m whispering to you because it’ll piss her off. It’d be even better if you laughed.”

  I do, surprising myself as much as Dylan. But it’s funny, and I can’t help it.

  London can’t muster a smile as she stands in front of us. “So you guys are actually together.”

  “I already told you that.” Dylan smiles at me, and all my nerves are gone. This won’t be so bad—messing with her is shockingly entertaining. “I’m sure your mom mentioned it, too. We ran into her the other night.”

  She clenches her jaw. “I’ll check in. Should I get a caddie, or will Mika do it for us?”

  Dylan tips his chin up. “Get a caddie. He can help you with your swing.”

  London whips around so fast her long brown hair almost hits us.

  “Burn!” Brock’s laugh is loud enough to make everyone look at us. He pats Dylan on the back, having no problem checking me out in front of him. “She’s even hotter in normal clothes. Feel free to come to me when you get tired of this loser. I’ll be your sugar daddy.”

  Dylan shoves him. “Back off.”

  “No thanks,” I say. “I prefer guys who at least have the decency to check me out when I’m not looking.”

  Brock lets out another deep laugh. “Now you two make a lot more sense.”

  “Yeah, we do, don’t we?” Dylan squeezes my hand, and it feels like he’s not saying that to Brock but to me. I have no idea what I should do with that, so I study the floor. It’s a really nice floor.

  London returns with keys and an older man wearing a visor. I assume he’s the caddie. “We’re ready to go.”

  “Great.” Dylan snatches one of the keys. “Mika and I will ride together. You guys can take the other cart.”

  Chapter 20

  Cypress Point lives up to every rumor I’ve heard. The early morning fog still lingers on the grass, making the place look like it’s filled with magic. Cypress trees dot the landscape, and I can hear the ocean beat against the rocky cliffs. The sun will soon burn off the mist, but I suspect that will only improve the view.

  Dylan and I drive behind London’s cart, so she can’t watch our every move. It’s odd, seeing him so at ease. He totally belongs on a golf course, and it’s nice to know something makes him happy. I’m used to him being miserable.

  “So what do you think?” he asks.

  “It’s gorgeous. My dad wanted me to take pictures, but I told him no. I didn’t want to look lame.”

  He smiles. “Just wait ’til the sixteenth. It’s legendary for a reason.”

  “You really like this, don’t you?”

  He glances at me. “Why do you ask?”

  I shrug. “You seem like a different person out here—not a complete and total jerk.”

  “I’m not a jerk. But maybe I have been acting like one lately.” He reaches to put his arm around me, and I notice London has turned around to observe us. “So sue me if I haven’t handled this recent string of life changes perfectly. I’m not you.”

  I gulp, thinking about Betty and my own graceless moments. “If you’re implying I’m perfect, you’re wrong.”

  “We can debate that later.” He pulls me closer, and I catch the clean scent of his soap. There’s no denying the physical chemistry—his proximity definitely gets my heart racing. The other stuff is still way up in the air. “Right now we have to talk strategy. London is gonna pull out the dirt fast. You can’t be fazed by it.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “What kind of dirt?”

  “Her first tactic will probably be the ‘Dylan is a player’ route, but you already know my history there. I’m not about to apologize for it; we all go through phases. I got it out of my system.”

  “You’re seriously chalking that up to a phase?”

  “Moving on—she’ll hit the money sector next, imply that you aren’t good enough for me. But that’s crap because my father really did disown me, though everyone thinks he’s bluffing. I might still have his last name, but I’m poorer than you.”

  “Really?” I didn’t know it was that serious, and it sends up a warning flag. “What did you do to make him so mad?”

  He cringes. “Let’s not go there just yet.”

  I don’t have time to push the topic because we’re at the first tee. Dylan goes for his clubs, and Brock comes up to me with a too-wide smile. “You’re not playing, right?”

  I nod. “I’m pretty horrible at golf.”

  “Maybe I can teach you.” He puts his arm on my shoulder, and I look back to Dylan, who seems to have overlooked Brock’s role. “I’ll take you to the driving range to practice.”

  And there it is. London hasn’t given up on Dylan at all. She fully intends to use this day to her advantage. Brock will distract me—she’ll have Dylan to herself.

  “Dylan!” London calls from where she stands with the caddie. “Come over here for a second.”

  He pulls me away from Brock, leaning in to whisper. “I’ll be right back. Do not go anywhere with him. You think I’m a player? Brock is worse.”

  I nod. “I can handle him.”

  He smiles. “And you were afraid you couldn’t do this.”

  I roll my eyes and head back to Brock, who does seem genuinely interested in me. Either he’s a good actor or that’s why he agreed to London’s plan in the first place. “Actually, I’d rather watch Dylan than learn. I haven’t seen him play golf yet. Is he good?”

  “Oh, he’s amaz … ” He stops. “Not very good. Barely better than London.”

  I look over to them chatting with the caddie. “Did London want to be a pro, too, then?”

  Brock nods. “Dylan and London have always golfed with each other—they’ve known each other since they were kids. Way before w
e all went to school together.”

  “You went to school with Dylan?” If he has more information on Dylan, maybe I won’t mind making friends with Brock after all. “Where?”

  “Stevenson. They came for the golf. Their parents both live in Silicon Valley.”

  “I see.” Stevenson is a boarding school in Pebble Beach, way up there when it comes to California private schools.

  Dylan jogs back to us, clearly nervous about our conversation. He takes my hand. “London’s going first. Come watch.”

  “Your parents live in Silicon Valley, huh?” I say as he drags me closer to the tee.

  He leans in. “You are not leaving my side. Got it?”

  “If you insist.”

  “I do.” He looks at London, who’s trying to focus on her shot but keeps glancing at us. She swings her club over her head, and at that exact moment Dylan grabs me by the waist and pulls me close.

  “You missed!” Brock says. “I can’t believe you missed!”

  London fumes at the sight of Dylan and me. He gives her his most crooked grin, and that’s when I realize he did that on purpose. She smooths her hair and takes a deep breath. “I didn’t miss. That was a warm up.”

  “You were at the tee.” Brock folds his arms. “Are we playing for real or not?”

  “Fine, whatever.” She puts her head down, and this time she hits the ball. It soars into the air—I have to admit I’m impressed by how far it flies. Thanks to my dad watching every major golf tournament, I know at least that she hit the fairway, the clean-cut grass not the rough outer bounds of the hole, right in the middle.

  Brock hangs his head. “Damn.”

  London looks right at Dylan, cocky as ever. “Your turn.”

  He lets go of me, pulls out his driver, and places a golf ball on his tee. Then he stands there, waiting. “Feel free to say your snarky comment now, London, before I swing.”

  She glares at him. “Just so you know, Mika, Dylan doesn’t have girlfriends. He gets what he wants and moves on.”

  “Maybe he’d stick around if you weren’t so eager to give him what he wanted,” I blurt out before I can think.

  She gives me a look that could melt my face off, but says nothing.

  “See, London?” Dylan approaches the tee, looks out at the fairway, and barely takes another moment to prepare. His swing is full of power, and the golf ball flies way past London’s, landing dead center of the fairway. He smiles at me. “Mika is in a whole different league.”

  At his words, everything snicks into place. I can barely stand I’m so shocked. I fought it so hard, but Dylan was right. There’s no way we can be just friends—and I don’t think I want him to be my enemy.

  London groans. “Whatever. I still don’t buy this.”

  She can’t have him. It makes me sick just thinking about it. Not because he doesn’t like her, but because he’s mine.

  “You know what, London? I don’t think it’s up to you.” I walk past her, heading right for Dylan. I put one hand on his neck and push up to my tiptoes, kissing him on the cheek. “That was an amazing shot.”

  His whole face lights up, and his arm slides around my waist. “Thanks, babe.”

  Chapter 21

  “So does that mean we really get to make out all day?” Dylan says as we get in the golf cart to head for the fairway.

  “No.” I shove him. But when he puts his arm around me, I let myself settle into his side, try to feel what it could be like if we got together for real. “You said this could be our first date instead. I don’t make out on first dates.”

  “I can live with that.” He seems to be driving slower than necessary. “Do you mind telling me what changed?”

  “I’m not sure. There are still things I don’t like about you … ” I bite my lip, trying to find the right words. “But at the same time, I think I could like the person you’re becoming. We’ll see.”

  “Your honesty is painfully endearing.”

  “Thanks?” I lean my head on his shoulder, liking the feel of it way too much.

  We stop near Brock’s ball, which is way behind London’s. But Dylan doesn’t get out. In the silence I can feel his nerves. “Is it weird that I like how you see all my faults?”

  “A little.” The words come out flirtier than planned.

  “I’m gonna play horribly today—you’re too distracting.” When Brock’s done with his shot, Dylan puts the cart back in drive, and we follow the group to the next golf ball.

  My affectionate display seems to have staved off London’s barrage for now. They play in relative silence, save the caddie giving several tips to Brock about the course. I keep waiting to get bored, but the view is too stunning to allow it. The sun glistens on the water, waves crash onto the rocks, and the breeze is just enough to keep me cool.

  And then there’s Dylan. I would never tell him, but he makes golf sexy. Every time it’s his turn, I wait for the way he flexes his forearms just before he swings. He watches the ball fly, his eyes narrowed and breath held. When it lands where he wants, he flashes me this hopeful smile. When it goes slightly off course, he purses his lips and shoves his club in the bag.

  I’ve never seen him so passionate, and I find it ridiculously attractive.

  After nine holes, or what they call “the turn,” there’s a pavilion with refreshments and bathrooms. I’m happy for the break, and it seems like we’ll have to wait anyway because the group in front of us is also resting.

  “What do you want?” Dylan asks as we follow London to a table. “We still have maybe a couple hours, so you should eat something. Don’t you dare look at the prices.”

  I sigh. “What do they have then?”

  He puts his arm around my waist—he’s had no problem taking advantage of that. “Sandwiches, fruit, chips, yogurt, cheese platters … ”

  “Ridiculously expensive French wine?”

  That gets me a chuckle. “Of course. But they won’t let you have it.”

  “I guess water will have to do, and I need to see this cheese platter.”

  “I’ll be right back.” He heads for the vendor, leaving me with Brock. London has gone to the bathroom, and I’m happy I don’t have to face her on my own.

  Brock smiles as I sit next to him, but it’s not that skeevy look he first gave me. He doesn’t seem so bad, really. I think I’d like him if I knew him better. “You know, London told me to try and woo you.”

  “I figured as much.” I try to look serious. “Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t think she likes me.”

  He lets out a big laugh. “She doesn’t like any chick Dylan looks at, so him having a girlfriend for the first time must piss her off like nothing else. But I’ve decided you’re good for him.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “He’s never had a girlfriend?”

  “Nope. Total player, but no one cared cuz he’s freaking loaded. Or was.” I glare at Dylan, and Brock laughs again. “You got him whipped—I can tell.”

  “I don’t know about that. So are you his best friend?” I ask.

  Brock shrugs. “I guess you could say that, though he’s always kept to himself. We were roommates for four years, though, so I’ve learned how to put up with him.”

  “You poor thing.”

  He gives me an approving smile. “Right?”

  Dylan shows up with a huge platter of cheese, crackers, and fruit. “Don’t eat it all, Brock.”

  “You know I freeload with discretion.” He grabs a handful of grapes.

  “Wow.” I look over the various cheeses. “I don’t recognize half of these.”

  “Here, this is my favorite.” Dylan grabs a slice of a white, flaky-looking cheese and puts it on a cracker for me. “It’s a sharp Cheddar made in Sonoma.”

  I take it and pop the whole thing in my mouth. It’s really sharp, but in a good way. I grab a strawberry to balance it out with sweetness. “Mmm. What next?”

  Dylan stares at me. Or rather my lips. “Yeah, no more strawberries for you. I’m already three
strokes off my game.”

  “Here, Mika.” Brock slides all the strawberries over to me with a wide smile. “I need to win for once.”

  We’re about half way through the cheese platter when London finally shows. She glares at me the entire time she’s in line for food, and I have a feeling most of her bathroom break was devoted to her next plot. I wish she wouldn’t bother, because I’m having fun otherwise.

  “So, Mika … ” London sits next to Dylan with her yogurt. “We don’t know very much about you. What do your parents do?”

  I almost choke on the cracker in my mouth, and Dylan hands me my water bottle, whispering, “Told you.”

  When I can breathe again, I say, “They’re marine biologists—they’re the head researchers at the Monterey Bay Aquarium. I hope to follow in their footsteps one day.”

  “Dude, cool,” Brock says.

  London doesn’t seem as impressed, but it’s her smug smile that scares me more. “Interesting. So they deal with slimy creatures all day? Do they smell when they get home?”

  My stomach twists, and I can’t help thinking of Clark saying his own brother won’t visit his “flea hole.” Try as I might, I feel as small and insignificant as she wants me to.

  Dylan’s hand finds my knee, and I know he’s saying not to let it get to me. “My uncle said Mika’s parents got a big grant from Stanford they’re working on. They must have a lot of respect for her parents’ research.” He looks at me, and I can feel his respect down to my bones. “Your parents make an impact on the world. I think they’re awesome. Ours just hoard money.”

  “Thanks.” I put my hand over his, in awe that he could make me forget all of London’s insults. “Seriously.”

  London looks like a little girl about to have a tantrum. “Are you ready to go yet?”

  “Ready when you are.” Dylan pulls me towards our cart. “She’s really starting to piss me off.”

  “Why is she like that?” I ask as we head for the tenth hole.

  “I told you I was her trophy.” He sighs, and I think I see regret in his expression. “It wasn’t always like this. We used to be friends—we grew up together. Like, next-door neighbors and everything. I was never good at making friends, but I liked playing with her because she wasn’t my friend for the money.