In response, he grips my hips tightly, holding me still. Ignoring him, I lean over and join Heather and Nick’s conversation about the scariest movies they’ve seen.
It’s a long, long ride.
Mark Wilten’s house is a huge steel and glass nightmare on a private stretch of beach. Cars are parked in roped off sections in the front of the house and in the empty lot besides it. There are several men in dark windbreakers who seem to be directing incoming cars where to go. Mack nearly runs one down when the guy gets in front of his SUV.
Heather holds my hand tightly in hers as we follow the guys down a path along the side of the house. Nerves and excitement turn her fingers ice cold. I know it’s not anxiety over the party—you could drop Heather off anywhere in the world, and she’d make friends. No, I think her nerves have to do with her possibly seeing Sloane again. I’ve never seen her like this before, and it’s kind of freaking me out. I squeeze her hand so hard she yelps.
We follow the walkway to the beach directly behind the ugly house. It’s cooler here, with a breeze coming in over the crashing waves of the ocean. I wish I had thought to bring a jacket. There are three big bonfires blazing away on the beach, and groups of people are camped around them. Music and laughter drift over to us in the sea-scented air.
I expected some kind of spring break orgy, but this party seems much more mellow than the one at Johnny and Dean’s house. Kids are just kind of hanging out, sitting on fold out chairs, or sprawled on blankets in the sand. There are coolers everywhere, and mostly everyone is holding a plastic red cup.
I quickly take note of what the other girls are wearing. Quite a few of them have on skimpy bikini tops and shorts skirts; some girls are dressed like me—none of them are wearing jeans, except for Heather. She doesn’t seem to notice.
Our group heads straight for the coolers. Along the way, kids stare as us and whisper, “Leclare’s here!” in awed tones. The boys take it all in stride. They’re used to a certain level of celebrity as the undefeated Roaring Tigers. Of course, the fact that they’re all hot probably contributes to the legend.
We are definitely given the royal treatment from the boys manning the coolers. They immediately recognize Johnny and Dean. They ignore the girls waiting for their order to fanboy all over them.
“Dean, I hear you’re headed to Ole Miss—is that true?” a husky boy with the most lush head of black hair I have ever seen says as he hands him a cup.
Dean gives a noncommittal shrug. “I’ve narrowed it down to a couple of places,” he mutters vaguely.
Johnny hands Heather and I cups of something dark and foul-smelling. I automatically take a sip, then my mouth falls open, and the medicinal-tasting liquid spills neatly back into the cup. Heather chugs her down, and reaches for mine. Before I can warn her, she knocks it back like a hardened pro. Gross! I’m not going to say anything now.
I want to ask if they have Sprite, or something, but we are suddenly swarmed by a herd of giggling girls. Heather and I are actually knocked to the side, stumbling back and holding on to each other to keep our balance.
I shake the sand out of my sandals, and watch with burning intensity as a very pretty dark haired girl strides boldly up to Johnny. She stands close enough that her bikini-clad chest brushes up against him.
“Hey, stranger!” she greets him intimately, standing on her bare tip toes to shout in his ear.
“Hi, Chas,” Johnny replies easily, after shooting me a quick look. He turns away from her, and starts a conversation with an enormous guy in a red kilt.
I can tell by the girl’s expression that she’s hurt by his abrupt dismissal. I can also tell that she likes Johnny—a lot, judging from the way her eyes crawl over his tanned muscled body, and handsome face.
More girls come up to him, and even though he’s nice, he doesn’t really pay them much attention. I can’t tell if it’s because I’m there, or what. When we were together, he never looked at anyone else. I start to wonder how well Johnny knew any of these girls when he was with me, until I hear one girl mutter to her friend that he must still have a girlfriend.
Heather nudges me in the side. “You okay, Jujubee?” she asks, using her old nickname for me.
“Peachy,” I growl, deliberately looking away from the pretty girls vying for Johnny’s interest.
I watch a squealing girl make a beeline for Dean, who notices her right before she launches herself at him. He catches her just in time, one hand on her back and the other under her bare thigh. The look on his face is priceless.
Ben, Arianna, and Sloane join our group, having just arrived. I try to introduce Ben and his witch to Heather, but she is absolutely fixated on Sloane, who looks like a goddess in a sexy white dress. Her gorgeous hair is loose and flowing over her shoulders.
“Looking good, Juliet,” Ben says reaching out to tug on a lock of my hair. Next to him, Arianna snarls, and shoots me a glare full of death.
I narrow my eyes at Ben. “You did that on purpose,” I accuse him. He flashes me a devilish wink before he lets Arianna drag him away.
I notice Sloane drop something from her bag while she’s looking through it, and since I’m standing the closest to her, I start forward to pick it up for her. Out of nowhere, Heather appears, shoving me out of the way so she can rush forward to help. I fall to my knees and watch my best friend fawn all over her latest crush.
Suddenly, Johnny is in front of me, easily lifting me to my feet. “What’s that all about?” He nods in a giggling Heather’s direction.
“You don’t want to know,” I mutter, dusting sand off my knees.
Johnny watches Heather and Sloane for a few seconds, then his eyes widen. He starts chuckling. “You mean…?”
“Yeah. Do you think—does Sloane even swing that way?”
He looks thoughtful, rubbing the golden stubble on his chin. “I don’t know,” he says finally. “I haven’t really seen her with anyone. I guess it’s possible.”
Well, she’s at least looking directly at Heather, which is more than I can say she ever did for me. Wow, she really is beautiful. I guess I don’t blame Heather for being so star struck.
“Have you ever slept with Sloane?” my mouth asks before my brain can process the thought.
Johnny gives me a sideways look. A corner of his mouth twitches up in amusement. “No.”
“What about Kara?” I blurt out before I can bite my lip. God, do I really want to know the answer to that one?
He hesitates for a second more than is comfortable, but shakes his head. “No, I…we thought about it, but we both decided it’d be a bad idea. This was before I met you, of course.”
I can’t even hide my sigh of relief. “Good. I mean—it’s none of my business. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No, I’m glad you did.” He turns to face me, looking down at me with serious cerulean blue eyes flickering with the reflection from the nearby bonfire. “It means you still care.”
I don’t know how to reply to that. I stare down at the shiny black polish on my toenails. Distance. I need to start creating some distance between us.
But Johnny moves a fraction of an inch closer. The warmth radiating from his solid body makes me want to throw my arms around him, and bury my face in his chest. Resisting that connection takes all my strength and pride.
“Teeny.”
Johnny’s voice is husky. He tilts my chin up with two fingers, and I’m forced to look into his beautiful eyes. Slowly, he lowers his head. If he tries to kiss me…
Fortunately, I don’t get to complete that thought. Mack and Nick appear next to us. Mack slaps Johnny playfully on the back, sending Johnny staggering to the side a couple of steps. I don’t know if I feel disappointed or relieved. To cover up my confusion, I turn my attention to Nick, who is holding a iced beer bottle to his bleeding lip. He won’t say how he was injured, but he’s wearing his usual good-natured smile, so I guess it must’ve been a silly accident.
Ryan and Jason have long ago disappeared
with some girls, and I’m not sure where Dean went off to. I don’t know where Heather is, either. Probably trailing after Sloane like a lost puppy. I hang out with Johnny, Mack, and Nick. The three of them are drinking steadily, and I start to wonder if I’m going to end up driving everyone home. That would be bad for everyone.
Well, so far so good. The guys are given deferential treatment, and because I’m with them, so do I. Several girls come up to talk to me, and most of them are really nice and friendly. I have to be more careful about the guys because Johnny watches me like a hawk, even though he’s involved in an intense football conversation with Nick, and a cute guy named Harrison.
Feeling restless, I touch Johnny’s arm to get his attention. “I’m going to check on Heather,” I tell him.
He sets his cup down on the sand, and starts to stand. “I’ll go with you,” he says immediately.
“No, stay.” I push his shoulder down gently. “I’ll be fine. I just need to stretch my legs.”
“Stay close,” he murmurs, his words slurring just a little.
He waves a hand in the air, and accidentally hits my shoulder. There’s a weird pinging sound, and my bra loosens. I suddenly feel a lot less supported. He just broke my bra!
Johnny doesn’t even notice, but Nick and Harrison sitting across from him sure do. They gape at my chest where a bra strap dangles out of the neckline of my dress. I am definitely lopsided.
“Holy shit,” Harrison breathes, staring unabashedly. “The legends are true.”
“Yes, they are,” Johnny declares, not having a clue.
I quickly cross my arms over my chest, and scowl at him. “Thanks a lot, Johnny,” I growl.
“You’re welcome?”
I stomp away. Great, now I’ll have to find somewhere secluded to inspect the damage. I quickly scan the area. There are groups of people scattered everywhere, most of them gathered around the bonfires, and some brave souls are splashing around in the waves breaking on the shore—squeals and startled laughter indicating the coolness of the water.
I start heading down the beach, noticing some large shrubbery ahead. Along the way, I pass Mack, strumming a guitar, and singing in a clear, surprisingly melodic voice. He directs the lyrics toward me with a raised eyebrow and a wide smile, and I laughingly applaud his efforts.
It probably should have occurred to me that others seeking privacy would have the same idea as me about the bushes. And when I say others, I mean couples looking for a spot to hook up. Why would you want to do it on a beach in public? You’re just asking to get caught. And the sand gets in uncomfortable places…so not sexy.
So I’m walking toward this one giant bush when I notice its leaves are moving rather violently. The movements are accompanied by the kind of noises I never want to hear other people make.
I start to scurry away when muffled sounds of protests suddenly replace the satisfied grunting and moaning.
“No, please!” a girl’s voice cries, triggering my internal alarm.
I have a collapsible baton in my purse—a gift from my paranoid father. I fish it out of my purse, and with a flick of my wrist, the steel baton extends to its full length. My adrenaline pumping, I run toward the girl’s sobbing pleas.
******
Chapter 18
“Stop!” I shout.
I use my phone’s flashlight app to illuminate the couple wrestling on the sand. I see a girl’s arms and legs flailing as a dark haired guy pins her down with the weight of his body. His face is planted in her open shirt.
“Get off of her!”
He ignores me, so I hit him in the ass with the baton. That gets his attention fast. He howls in pain, rolling off the girl.
“What the fuck?!” he shrieks, sitting up. “You stupid bitch!”
I keep the flashlight trained on him. He’s a preppy-looking guy, with slicked back hair and snotty aristocratic features. Some people just look like rapists. Maybe it’s that something seedy in those hooded eyes?
He lunges forward like he’s going to attack me, but I hold my awesome weapon in front of me like I know how to use it. “Before you try anything stupid, just know that I have four different football players on my speed dial,” I tell him, indicating the phone in my other hand. “After I take out your knees with my baton, they can be here in less than two minutes to finish the job.”
Preppy Rapist is smarter than he looks. Fury burns in his eyes, but he gets to his feet, keeping his distance. His gaze shifts over to his victim, and he sneers.
“You’re the worst fuck I’ve ever had. I’ll be sure to warn all my friends,” he taunts her, straightening his preppy clothes.
I want to throw my baton at him for that, but instead I satisfy myself by blinding him with the bright light from my phone. I also take a picture of him for good measure. He reacts like a vampire, hissing and stumbling off.
When he’s a safe distance away, I turn to the girl. “Oh, my god, are you okay? I can call the…Kara?!”
The glow from my phone picks up the disheveled red hair, and Kara’s tear-streaked face. Her makeup is a mess—lipstick smeared all around her mouth and muddy mascara tracks down her cheeks.
She glares up at me, pulling her shirt together. I recoil at the blazing hatred in her narrowed eyes. “If you tell anyone, I will ruin you,” she snarls, her voice low.
Say wha—?!
My mouth falls open. “What?!” I gasp, barely able to comprehend what I’m hearing. “You’re threatening me? After I just saved you from the preppy rapist?”
I stare in disbelief as she calmly starts to put herself together, buttoning her shirt, wiping her cheeks, and smoothing down her rumpled curls. She rearranges her long legs and carefully climbs to her feet.
She looms over me, her face full of menace. “This never happened. Breathe one word of it, and you won’t be able to hide behind Johnny. I’ll destroy your fucking pathetic life.”
I’m completely stupefied—too stunned to even reply. When Kara pushes past me, striding away, all I can do is stare after her.
“What just happened?” I say out loud, looking around wildly.
No one answers me. I did a good thing…right? Did I not just save her from being brutalized by a psycho? I can’t even…wow…what?
Maybe she’s traumatized. Maybe Kara meant to thank me instead of threaten my life. People react in different ways to extreme events, they get confused. She’s been through a terrible ordeal. I should just—should I call the police? I would, if I didn’t think the crazy sea harpy would deny everything, and somehow blame it all on me.
I debate with myself for a couple of minutes. In the end, even though it really bothers me, I decide to do nothing. Maybe what I think I saw wasn’t what I thought it was. I retract my baton and fit it back into my purse. Ooh, a chocolate bar.
Yes, I’ve got a chocolate bar, a collapsible baton, some breath mints, my favorite lip gloss, and a tiny pouch full of trouble dolls in my purse—but no safety pins. How am I supposed to fix my bra? Maybe if I…no, forget it, it’s a lost cause. With some fancy maneuvering, I get the stupid thing off, and stuff it in my bag. I take the chocolate bar out—to make room, you know. It’s got almonds.
I wander further away from the party, eating my chocolate, and listening to the calming sounds of the waves crashing onto the shore, and the throaty moans of someone who sounds like she’s really enjoying herself.
I find myself drifting toward the noise—I don’t know why, I’m not a peeper. I pop out around a particular large shrub, and discover a couple making out in the sand. The girl is straddling the guy, and he sure isn’t struggling to get away—so there’s no question it’s consensual.
The moon provides enough light for me to recognize the familiar shape of the guy—it’s Dean! I don’t know who the girl is, but she’s got an amazing body—I can’t help but notice.
I stand there, fascinated. Whoa, Dean’s got some moves! He half sits and aggressively pulls the girl to him, kissing her with the kind of burning
intensity you only see in movies with angst-filled couples reuniting in the rain. The girl reacts with a passionate whimper, plunging one hand in his short dark hair; the other hand gripping the front of his shirt. It must be some kiss—she’s practically melting into him.
I should go. But look at Dean. I’ve never seen this side of him, and it’s really hot. Based strictly on observation, I would rate him a—
“Can we help you?”
The annoyed voice is directed at me, I suddenly realize. Dean’s girl is glaring at me, clutching her shirt together as she scrambles off of his lap. I don’t blame her for that murderous scowl on her face. If I caught some creeper eating a candy bar and watching me hook up with someone, I’d be super pissed, too.
I freeze in mid-bite. Most of Dean’s remarkable face is hidden in the shadows, but from what I can see, he doesn’t look thrilled. God, no one’s ever happy to see me when I stumble in on their intimate moments. It’s like my thing.
“Who the hell are you?” the girl demands.
I’ve been caught. No sense trying to deny it. I give a casual chin nod in their direction. “’Sup?”
Dean’s kissing pal looks at him incredulously, as if asking, “can you believe the audacity?” She starts toward me, intent on kicking my ass. I have a baton, but she has rage, and about five inches and thirty pounds on her side. I may not win.
“I’m Dean’s sister,” I say quickly, before she’s within hair-pulling distance. Dean’s head comes up at this, but he doesn’t say anything, so I let the lies continue to roll off my tongue. “I’m twelve.”
That stops her in her tracks. She glances from me to Dean, her expression uncertain. “Is that true?” she asks him.
He stares out at the ocean. “Why the hell would she lie about that?” he mutters in a very un-rhetorical way.
The girl hesitates, clearly suspicious. “I didn’t know you had a little sister.”
“Oh, he doesn’t like to talk about me—I’m an embarrassment,” I say quickly. I smile in an obnoxious tween way. “Can I have a moment with my brother? I have some family issues I need to talk to him about. Mom’s drinking again.”
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