Remember who she is. I repeat this in my head. If I forget it, I may cart this girl off and never return.
The noise decreases and we can talk again.
“So we’ve established that I am not involved with anyone.” Why were we going down this road?
“I guess we have established that.” This shouldn’t make me happy, but strangely, it does.
“So what about you?” she asks, trying to act like she doesn’t really care.
“How did we get from my dare to who we’re dating? Or not dating?” I’m out of control with this girl.
“Nice change of subject.”
I shrug. “It’s a gift.”
Her eyes study me, diving inside me and making strange things happen in my stomach and chest.
“When a guy doesn’t want to answer the question as to whether or not he’s dating someone, it usually means he’s seeing someone but wants to keep his options open.”
This makes me grin. “Is that right?”
“Or else he doesn’t like girls.”
“Do you judge all men so quickly?”
“Usually,” she says with an adorable shrug of her small, silky shoulders.
Why are we flirting? But I’m on a roll and can’t stop now.
“Perhaps guys would rather not admit when we aren’t involved with anyone because we might look like losers. And girls are more attracted to what is unavailable anyway.”
“Not true.” I see her glance toward her “best guy friend” and wonder about him. In my experience, few guys stick around as friends without some attraction or interest.
“I have examples,” I say.
“Give me your best.”
“You are in Paris, maybe. You see a dress in a fashion show and you really like it. No, you see two dresses. You find out that one is available, but the other is nearly sold out. Isn’t the sold-out one now more attractive to you than the one that’s available?”
She bites her lower lip in a disconcertingly adorable way. “Not always.” But she laughs and I know I have her.
My grandfather believes I should be a lawyer and at times like this, I think he’s right.
“I think yes, always. You have judged me as a possible cheater, but you have no idea, do you? I could be a lonely guy who just doesn’t want to admit it. I might have just broken up with someone, and it’s too painful to talk about yet.”
She’s doing that lip-biting thing that should be outlawed—if this were court I’d ask for a mistrial, claiming she was trying to influence the jury. Or the lawyer.
“I’m sorry I judged you,” Kate says, and I think she actually might feel bad about it. “But why didn’t you ask me to dance? It’s not because you thought I had a boyfriend. And whether you’re involved or not, you were planning to dance with someone.”
“Maybe I’m just not attracted to you.” I try to keep a straight face, and the fact that I’m terribly attracted to her isn’t lost on me—and possibly her—for one moment. This is exactly who I am not supposed to get involved with—not even as a friend. It’s like I’ve lost all control of myself.
She puts her hands on her hips. “Maybe it’s because I’m supposed to be your enemy for all mortal time. Maybe you can explain why that is.”
My mouth drops open, but I immediately twist into a smile. “Okay, let’s go dance, enemy.”
Chapter Five
Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like a thorn.
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
Romeo and Juliet (Act 1, Scene 4)
KATE
A guy who can dance well is nearly irresistible. The usual rules, barriers, and formalities between strangers crumble away until the music ends.
Something like a switch turns on as the band starts a new song with a quick beat. I follow Caleb into the crowd—he’s not going to remain on the fringe like I would have chosen. I’m not sure what got into me, boldly asking why he wouldn’t dance with me, but now I feel flutters of nervousness. For a moment, I lose him and stand awkwardly as people dance around me. Then Caleb takes my hand and firmly pulls me after him. The touch of his fingers sends a shiver through me. He releases my hand and turns abruptly with a surprised expression. Did he feel it too?
He points to his cousin, who gives a thumbs up, and for a moment I wonder if this wasn’t a ploy for them to meet women. The thought propels me as if it’s a challenge. I smile as Caleb’s cousin looks at me with disdain.
Caleb laughs, seeing this. It takes my breath away as we start dancing. I’ve never felt like this, and my heart pounds with each thud of music roaring through and around us.
I’m dancing with Caleb Kalani, I realize, as if it happened unexpectedly. At first we are careful not to look at each other as we move. Every time we do, it’s unyielding magnetism—at least for me. Something’s happening with him, too, and I wonder if he feels what I feel. I search the dance floor for Monica, but she’s nowhere in sight, thank goodness. Last I saw of Oliver, he was sitting at a table with Ursula, leaning in and brushing a strand of her hair from her cheek. Suddenly, I spot him and our eyes meet. A flash of surprise crosses his face. He recovers, raises an eyebrow and points his fingers like he’s shooting two guns, then he turns back to Ursula.
The thump of the band beats a rhythm through us, harder and stronger, we move through the waves of the song. My unease evaporates as Caleb and I dance closer with only inches between us. I’m drawn toward him, and I long for him to touch me.
We separate more and dance farther apart—although it’s only a few painful and wonderful inches. It’s all like a prelude to something, like the one dramatic second before a kiss.
The band moves into playing a Linkin Park song. People scream and race for the dance floor, pressing us against each other. Caleb wraps his hand around my waist to steady me. My body spins while my head says that this is crazy, that Caleb is a stranger I’m not supposed to even know, but the music pushes away all logic and I close my eyes a moment as I get lost with him in the song.
I feel Caleb’s breath brush my neck and shoulder. Opening my eyes, he’s staring at me with a mixed expression I don’t understand. I open my mouth to say something, but what? Now we dance staring at one another, and I think I could stay here with him forever.
One song moves straight into another and neither of us pauses, we continue to move, pulled and held by some invisible force.
I look at his mouth, then to his eyes, and they seem to drink in my face, resting on my mouth as if—
Someone grabs my arm, turning me away from Caleb with such abrupt force that I almost scream.
“Sorry, Kate,” Alicia shouts. “But look!”
She holds up her phone for me to read.
“Oh no.”
“What?” Caleb mouths, after reading my lips.
I show him the text. Katherine said she’s going swimming.
Remembering how Katherine looked when I saw her earlier, I know this is serious. “She’s drunk.”
Caleb nods, grabs my arm, and guides me out of the crowd. “Do you think she’d go to the cove?” Caleb asks.
“I guess. Probably.”
“We’d better get down there then.”
I have a hard time keeping up with him as we race down the stairs, even after I kick off my shoes and carry them. Above us, I hear others process the news as I chase after Caleb. Someone calls Katherine’s name.
We reach the beach, with its waves rolling over and across the sand, and for a split second I hesitate, thinking of my dress and shoes. I quickly set my shoes down, and hold my dress up to my knees, wrapping the bottom around my arm. Katherine is nowhere in sight.
“A prank maybe,” Caleb asks, coming across the beach toward me. He’s already run down and back. Then out in the darkened water, I hear someone.
“There she is!” I say and start running toward the water.
“I’ll get her,” Caleb yells, shoving his wallet and cell phone at me. Then he runs past me,
barefoot, pulling off his shirt.
CALEB
I dive into the waves, adrenaline pushing me. It’s obvious the girl is only in vague danger, but the sea is unpredictable and she’s been drinking. My arms beat the water, legs kick strong; and I cut through the waves, happy for the shock of cold—this is not Kapalua Bay, I’m reminded—and mainly relieved to be where I belong, in the ocean, able to clear my head before returning to the prom and the fact that Finn’s little dare has definitely caused a problem for me.
How could I start falling for Kate Monrovi in one conversation, one dance? She’s the one person I can never fall for. Never.
The water is clarity for me. I can’t lose myself.
“Well, hello,” the girl yells with a giggle as she bounces up and then down a wave. She was drifting toward the rocks and could have easily been injured or drowned. I’ve seen it a number of times back home; people forget to respect the sea. I’ll rescue her—but she rescued me.
This Katherine took a swim just in time. Thank you, silly rich girl.
KATE
He comes out carrying Katherine, watering streaming off them like it’s some kind of movie. Katherine is coughing at first, then she starts laugh-coughing. People are running and shouting, like Katherine’s been attacked by a shark. Caleb sets Katherine on the sand and takes a few steps back as our friends huddle around her.
My first thought isn’t about Katherine but about Caleb’s defined muscles and . . . he has tattoos.
“Are there really still heroes in the world?” a familiar voice asks beside me, and I see that it’s Monica. She’s not even being sarcastic.
Two girls run up from behind us crying, as if Katherine is dead. Ms. Liberty, Mr. Beemer, and Ms. Atkins arrive, wearing serious expressions that contradict their Shakespearean attire.
My eyes switch back to Caleb as he slides back into the crowd and disappears. There’s a tattoo between his shoulders that looks like an intricate compass. Then I realize I’m still holding his shirt, wallet, and an old, beat-up cell phone.
Mr. Hutchinson rises and announces loudly, “She’s fine, everyone back to the party. Let’s go people. The beach is off-limits to Gaitlin students.”
People start to disperse. I walk closer to Katherine and the teachers. John and Belle, two hotel employees, arrive and I’m drawn in to giving details about what happened.
“Kate, I’ll see you up at the table,” Monica says, stepping through the sand like it’s hot coals.
My father is going to love this. I can just hear him and Mr. Davis, the hotel manager, ranting and raving that this was exactly what they’d been worried about. The liability of teenagers holding an event here was high even if the student body purchased insurance for the night; I am sure this will be the first and last prom at the Monrovi Inn.
I don’t see Caleb anywhere. Finally, I spot him walking toward a less-used trail that takes a steeper route to the north end of the hotel grounds.
“I’ll be back,” I say to John, and try hurrying in the sand.
“Caleb!” I call. He stops, pausing a moment before turning around. “Wait.”
As I’m coming up, I see that other guy coming down.
“Hey, man, what happened here?” It’s Caleb’s cousin. He has that snide look on his face as he watches Katherine being helped toward the stairs on the other end of the small beach area.
“We had a swimmer,” Caleb tells him, before reaching out to help me take the few steps up to him.
“I have your things,” I say.
“Thanks.” Caleb takes his shirt and uses it to dry off his head and chest. Again, my eyes are drawn to the tattoos. “This is my cousin, Finn.”
“Hi,” I say, forcing my eyes to behave.
Finn glares at me. His animosity might be humorous if he didn’t look like a drug runner or mob guy.
“Finn, this is Kate.”
“I know who she is.” He says it like I’m the most disgusting person on earth.
“So I lost the dare.” Finn’s beady eyes search my face. “Did you tell her it was only a dare?” He thinks Caleb didn’t tell me and that I’m going to be offended.
“You what? This was only a dare? I thought you liked me.”
Caleb looks at me with surprise—and Finn with pleasure— at my grimace of horror, until I laugh. Finn swears under his breath, then points toward Caleb. “You better not go down that path, cousin. There’ll be hell to pay.”
He turns around abruptly and heads up the trail. “I’ll see you around. We’ll discuss the jeep later.” He disappears into the dark. Caleb doesn’t call out to stop him.
“What was that?”
“My cousin doesn’t like socialites.” He shrugs and then runs his fingers through his wet hair.
“Is that what I am?”
“You know it is.”
“But that’s not all of it.”
Caleb stares at me a moment, then looks out toward the now-deserted beach. The night has swallowed the sunset, and I become aware of the sound of waves against the rocks. The band plays again, and I realize that in the Katherine confusion, they had stopped for a time.
“We should find your shoes,” he says, moving around me on the trail.
“Shouldn’t you change?” His soaked jeans have dripped all over the ground around Caleb’s bare feet. “Do you want me to drive you home? I can’t imagine riding a motorcycle when you’re soaked.” I’ve just revealed that I know he rides a motorcycle. He catches it too.
“I can change at the maintenance building.”
“Where are your shoes?” I ask.
He looks down. “Still on the beach. I’ll run up and change, meet you back on the beach in ten minutes? You find our shoes.”
I nod, but I want to say, Don’t go. I wonder if he’ll really come back, and I want to see him longer.
“Have you ever been to the maintenance building?”
I shake my head.
“Then come on. We’ll come back for the shoes; they won’t help much on the walk anyway. Think of me as your hotel escort. But don’t tell my boss I brought a girl here in the middle of the night.”
I smile at that. “I promise I won’t.”
Caleb reaches out his hand and helps guide me up.
“Let me know if your feet start hurting.”
I wonder what he’d do if I did admit that every pebble makes me wince—carry me the rest of the way? It’s a tempting thought.
We are alone on the dark trail, making our way along a path I don’t know well but that Caleb walks without any hesitancy. A breeze billows my dress up, and I again bunch the skirt into one hand, while holding tightly to Caleb’s arm. The muscles are surprisingly defined for a guy in high school, though maybe I think that because I’m familiar with mostly rich, pampered boys.
We’d be quite the sight if anyone could see us—both barefoot, me with my silver dress hiked up to my thighs, him shirtless with jeans dripping water like a trail of bread crumbs for us to follow back to the beach.
Caleb veers off the trail and up to a wooden fence. “This could be tricky. I hope that dress isn’t expensive.” He says this in a voice that knows it certainly is expensive.
I’m on an adventure in a five thousand–dollar dress—which was a deal, Mom and I thought.
“What prom would be complete without some excitement?” I say, and realize I need to climb that fence. Halfway over, I get tangled up and Caleb stumbles backward. We fall together into the grass, with me landing on top of him, my dress covering half of him. I push away—off his bare chest—and we laugh hysterically side-by-side in the grass.
“Stupid dress,” I say.
“Stupid pants,” he says. “They’re so stiff I can hardly move in them.”
We’ve reached the edge of the golf course. I see the outline of the maintenance building ahead.
My feet are cold on the moist grass. Mom is going to die when she sees what I’ve done to this dress. It probably has grass stains and dirt all over it.
/>
“Caleb, why don’t our families like each other?” We walk beside each other and I notice the stars for the first time tonight. They shine brightly, lighting our way along the rounded slopes of the golf course. I can’t remember the last time I walked in the night with only the stars to give light. Without Caleb beside me, I’d be terrified.
“You don’t know?” His voice is low and even.
“I knew nothing about the entire thing until yesterday. I mean, my family has its share of enemies, I suppose. Doesn’t every family like ours?”
“I guess.”
“But a family feud? It sounds like something from some old mob movie.”
“Last year, forty-four people were massacred at a wedding in Turkey. The bride and groom were among those killed. Family feud.”
I narrow my eyes. He acts like he just told me the weather report. “And why did you need to tell me that?”
A slight smile plays over his lips visible in the moonlight— lips that do something to my stomach and are hard to look away from. I blink several times and take a few deep breaths.
“It was good for effect.” We reach the dark maintenance building. He pushes in a code and the door swings open. “Why don’t you ask your father, then maybe we can talk about it?”
I want to ask more, but he flips the light on and says, “This is the center of operations for all things that work on the property. Most of the building is a warehouse for storing equipment—that’s all on the other side of that wall. This section has my father’s office. Down that hall is a bathroom and shower so we can clean up, and this is generally used as a break room.”
There was an old TV and worn couch against the wall, a long table with benches on each side, a small kitchen area with a refrigerator, a few cupboards, and sink.
“This is nice. And it smells like pizza.” My stomach growls and I realize I’ve barely eaten today.
“Dad treated the crew today. But hey, I’ll just shower real fast.”
“Okay,” I say, and my incorrigible cheeks start blazing with a blush again. He turns away quickly and disappears down a short hallway.
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