Elvira touched my arm. “I’m sorry.”
I shrugged. “I never knew him.” My mom hardly had, either. Sometimes I thought that his death was the reason my mom didn’t want to settle down with any man. She was afraid she would lose him like she had my dad, even though her relationship with him had hardly been what anyone would have called serious.
“So, beach?” Elvira angled her face up to the sun. “The heat is oppressive, and the ocean sounds great. Plus, there are hot guys who’ll be in nothing but board shorts while surfing.”
I considered her a moment as I thought of Train in swim trunks. The heat was getting to me, and the beach did sound amazing, although I wasn’t a good swimmer. The farthest I’d gone into the ocean was knee-deep to cool off. I had a phobia. If I couldn’t see what was under the water, then swimming wasn’t my gig. “I don’t own a bathing suit.”
She sized me up. “Mmm. I’m shorter than you, but we look about the same size.” She glanced at the cleavage poking out of her V-neck blouse. “I think I’m a little bigger in the breast area. But I do have a dresser full of bathing suits. Give me your address.” She whipped out her phone. “And your number. I’ll be over in thirty minutes.”
I gave her my info, then she left. As I walked the rest of the way home, I wanted to cringe. I wasn’t ashamed of myself in a swimsuit. Far from it. What I was afraid of was Train. It’s not like you’re going to fall for the guy today. Besides, you’re here in this town to complete your senior year, maybe get into an art school, or maybe work at an art gallery, or both. For now, enjoy the sun, the new friend you have, and make it a blowout year. Fun doesn’t equal trouble. That was my problem. Fun for me was tagging buildings, putting my mark on something, or hanging with a guy who didn’t want anything in return. Maybe Train didn’t want anything in return. And I had promised my mom I wouldn’t tag.
I ambled up the path that led to our wraparound porch, wiping the sweat from my upper lip. As soon as I trudged through the front door, a rank odor hit me.
“Mom,” I called out. “What’s that smell?”
“I’m back here in the guest bathroom,” she said.
I dropped my backpack at the base of the stairs. Pinching my nose, I padded down the hall that jutted off from the open living area. I found Mom mopping the floors.
“What happened?”
She lifted her blond head. “Toilet broke. Wait. What are you doing home from school? What happened to your head?”
Automatically, my hand went to my bump. “First, I had a small run-in with a door. I’m fine. And school’s out for the day because of an accident in the chemistry lab. And you thought this town was going to be quiet.”
She dropped the mop and pulled me in for hug. “Are you okay?”
I flinched slightly at the sound of the mop hitting the floor. Gently, I pushed her away. It was definitely too hot to be touching anyone. “I’m good. Plus, I think I’m going to vomit with that smell.”
She laughed—a sound I hadn’t heard in a while. She’d been stressed because of me, her book deadlines, and life in general. Sometimes I hated that I was a stress marker for her, but she’d kept blowing me off in New York. Anytime we’d had plans to spend time together, something came up with one of her new books, or she had a publicity tour, or a new guy garnered her attention away from me. I got that her books brought in the loot for us to survive and even live in a beautiful house with some luxuries, but she had to take time for her daughter.
“Hot isn’t the word. The air conditioner doesn’t work, either.” She smoothed a hand over her wavy hair, showing her sweat-soaked underarms. “It’s a beautiful house, although I see why we got the rent so cheap.”
No air. Rancid smell. The ocean was calling my name. “Do you mind if I head to the beach?”
She picked up the mop and resumed dragging it across the floor. “Homework?”
“Mom, I didn’t make it to my second class. And my first class didn’t give us any.”
“You don’t have a swimsuit.”
“Elvira is letting me borrow one of hers. She’ll be here soon.”
Her blue eyes lit up. “You’ve made a friend? That’s not like you, at least not on the first day. I thought you’d sworn off friends.”
I liked Elvira. She seemed as though she could be not only a friend, but also a sister I never had. “I have to cool off. What better way than to throw myself in the ocean.” Or at Train.
Mom gave me one of her award-winning New York Times best-selling author smiles. “I’m glad you’re at least trying to fit in.”
“You mean not tagging.”
“Montana, this is your senior year. You shouldn’t be spending it painting buildings or yelling at teachers or, dare I say, getting expelled. I know that I haven’t been there for you. I also know that we didn’t have to move again. But this quiet place with the ocean only ten minutes from us might inspire new ideas for future books, give us some quality time together, and keep you out of trouble.”
“So we didn’t move solely because of me?”
“In part, no. I’ve been researching coastal towns for my next novel, and I thought someplace hot, sunny, and relaxing would help both of us.”
I scrunched up my nose. “Then why did you want me to take all the heat for us moving? That’s not nice, Mom.” As soon as I’d gotten expelled, she started mumbling about moving.
“Honey, I never blamed this move on you. I said a quieter town would be best so you wouldn’t be tempted to get into trouble. You were running with a bad crowd in New York. I’m sorry I yelled at you this morning too. But need I remind you that graffiti is illegal here just as it is in New York.”
I refrained from rolling my eyes. Otherwise, she would start yelling, and I wasn’t in the mood to fight. I was hot, frustrated, and I kind of dug the plantation-style living. When I’d done some research on Charleston and the surrounding area, I found that plantations were developments that not only had houses, but schools, grocery stores, parks, a community pool, and other amenities. The best part was the quiet nights when I could hear the crickets that lulled me to sleep rather than sirens and the loud noises of a big city, which surprised me. I’d gotten used to the horns, people screaming for a taxi, and the energy.
“We’ve had this discussion, Mom.”
“I’ve been thinking. Why don’t you find a local art class that will tame that wild side of yours? Better yet, with all the local shops in the city, I would bet you could get a job at an art studio. I’m sure they would have classes too.”
All I ever wanted was to show off my artwork, although I loved the large empty murals that buildings provided. Graffiti was freedom for me. Drawing in a sketchbook was confining and claustrophobic. Still, Mom was right. With all the local art galleries and shops within a ten-minute drive over the bridge, I could find a legal venue for my talent. “I would need a car.”
Again, she gave me one of her brilliant smiles as sweat dripped down her neck. “You can use mine. I’m home, writing, anyway.”
Now it was my turn to hug her. “Thank you.”
She tightened her arms around me. “I want to turn over a new leaf together. I want to settle down for more than six months or a year.”
I did too. I wanted to call someplace home. I wanted to call someone my best friend for once and maybe have a boyfriend. Nah. I scratched that idea. I wasn’t ready to go that far. Baby steps. A friend first.
The doorbell rang.
“I look like hell,” Mom said.
“It’s okay. Elvira is cool.”
When I answered the door, I found Elvira decked out in short shorts and a red bikini top peeking through a sheer pullover. She was holding up a white bikini in one hand and a baby-blue one in the other.
“The blue one,” Mom said behind me. “It brings out your eyes.”
I moved out of the way. Elvira came in and handed me the swimsuits then waved at Mom. “Mrs. Smith, I’m Elvira.”
“Please, call me Georgia. And I apolog
ize for the smell. We’re having plumbing issues.”
The smell didn’t seem to bother Elvira. Instead, she broke out in a fit of giggles. “Are you for real? Did your daddy name you after a state too?”
“Nah, my daddy was a farmer, and Georgia means to till the soil,” my mom said. “And my mom loved the name.”
“I’ll go change.” I darted up to my room.
“It does kind of stink in here,” Elvira said to Mom. “Anyway, you look very familiar.”
I froze on the landing. My mom was a New York Times best-selling author, but she wrote under a pen name. Although she attended book events and did the occasional interview under her pen name, readers and authors in the publishing world knew my mom by her real name as well. She hardly liked flaunting her status to people, especially my friends, since she wrote erotica books. She wrote the kind that would make any shy girl blush and any parent either sneer or cheer. Mom didn’t like the bad attention when it came to me. I really didn’t care. I could handle myself, but I understood where she was coming from.
We’d encountered a parent or two in the last three years who had thought my mom was horrible for writing romance books with sex. I mean, come on. I hated when people judged without getting all the facts. All they had to do was read her books, which were the bomb. She’d given me permission to read them when we started talking about sex two years ago. My mom always said that an informed person was a better person to make the right decisions. Not that her books had instructions in them when it came to sex. But she knew how to take a story and characters and shape them in a way that by the end of her books, a reader would be cheering, crying, or yelling for the next book. And the sex scenes were done very graphically, but tastefully.
Elvira’s voice hitched. “You’re not from Hollywood, are you?”
“I get that a lot,” Mom said. “Let’s get something cold to drink while Montana gets ready.”
If Elvira were going to be my friend, then I would eventually have to tell her about my mom. But it was too soon. We needed to build trust. But my mom’s career wasn’t important at the moment. I couldn’t remember the last time I had worn a bathing suit, and that scared me to hell. Train would be at the beach. Train would see me in a bikini. I hit the side of my temple. Get a grip, girl. You’re Montana Smith. You don’t care what people think.
But I might care what Train thinks.
Chapter Four
TRAIN
The water was just the right temperature to cool my heated body, although the waves sucked. “Not much in the form of waves today.”
Austin straddled his board. “No, but this beats school.”
He had a point. Now that I was dangling my legs in the water, I wasn’t as tense, although a certain girl had my head in the wrong place. I couldn’t stop thinking about how her soft tit had felt in my hand or how she’d leaned over her desk in computer class and all but showed me what she had under her tight-fitting band T-shirt. I was so dumbfounded at her boldness that I couldn’t even remember what her T-shirt had said.
Austin splashed me, bringing me out of my haze. “So are you considering asking Montana out?”
“I told you. No girls this year.”
“Man, you’re going to have blue balls by graduation.”
I chuckled. “You’ve heard of jacking off.”
“Dude, there’s nothing better than being tangled with a sexy naked girl.”
“No shit. But we talked about this. The girls in this town don’t want me. They want to be seen on the arm of a big-time quarterback. Look at Nina. The first chance she had, she ran to the Clemson quarterback and cheated on me with him.”
“I know one girl whose name rhymes with Hannah who probably couldn’t give a shit about you becoming a big-time football player for USC.”
“She’s trouble, and I don’t need more trouble.” I had no idea if she was or not, but I’d gotten an intense vibe that she could give me a run for my money. “My old man is still trying to smooth things over with the USC sports director.”
“Fuck, dude. Your dad has power with USC. He’s an alumnus and pays a lot of dues. Surely, he can do something.”
My fingers were crossed that he could. “Whether he can or can’t, I have to be the model player this year.”
“Doesn’t mean you can’t date. Jeez, dude. Have you seen Montana?”
I’d more than seen her. I couldn’t stop thinking about her, and the sad part was I’d just met her not three hours ago. “So when are you going to ask Reagan out?”
“Not sure. Maybe I’m like you. Maybe I don’t want to get hurt.”
“Dude, you’ve been salivating over her for a year now. She’s sweet, has a rack that you like, and is feisty—just how you like your women. Hell, she told Montana to all but shut up in computer class.” Reagan was the perfect match for my best friend.
“Enough about girls,” he said.
We checked behind us for a wave. No luck. Not even a faint breeze to stir up the water. Ahead of us on the beach, rows of houses sat up on stilts, and kids from school started to filter in, spreading out their blankets. This area of the beach was normally quiet since it was private property, but my dad owned one of the houses, so we had access at any time.
“Wouldn’t it be funny if I applied to Clemson? My old man would have a coronary.” I chuckled, imagining my dad turning a thousand shades of red if I spilled that news to him.
Austin splashed me. “Where the fuck did that come from?”
I’d been thinking about a backup plan in the event USC didn’t offer me a scholarship. “You said you didn’t want to talk about girls.”
“First, Clemson would never consider you since you broke their quarterback’s collarbone. Second, your old man would never let you wear orange. And third”—he splashed me again—“we agreed that we would go to USC together. They’re the Gamecocks, for fuck’s sake. Girls love Gamecocks.”
I rolled my eyes. “Chill. I’m only thinking.”
He clucked his tongue. “Think about girls and not about Clemson, because if you so much as decide not to go to USC, then I’ll be the one to cut off your head.”
“Ah, you love me.”
“Damn straight. Dude or not, we’ve been best friends since the second grade. We will do college together. It’ll be our last hoorah of freedom before real life hits us.”
I couldn’t argue with him. College wouldn’t be the same without Austin.
“We’re not getting married,” I said as seriously as I could.
He slapped a hand over his heart. “You know how to hurt a guy.”
We both broke out laughing.
“Let’s get a beer.” He lay down on his board and paddled.
“I’ll race you.”
He had a head start, but it didn’t matter. I always beat him. As we were reaching shore, I was about to pass him, when I glanced up and spotted Montana setting up a blanket not far from mine in front of my house. Holy mother of the ocean. Kill me now. Her breasts were practically spilling out of her baby-blue bikini top. I didn’t get to linger on her amazing body because a wave pushed me, causing me to fall off my board. Not a wave in sight for the last hour, and suddenly nature decided to make me look as though I couldn’t surf.
Austin was laughing at the shoreline when I got up. “Sucker.”
I threw him the finger as I waded through the surf to get my board, which was caught in yet another wave. As I did, I checked to see if Montana had been watching me make an idiot out of myself. But she was absorbed in something Elvira was saying as she shimmied her hips out of her shorts, exposing more of her curves and those long-ass legs that I was picturing wrapped around me.
“You better get your board before that wave comes in,” Austin shouted.
Before I could react, another fucking wave knocked me over. Once I resurfaced, I snarled at the sky or the sun gods for making me look as if I couldn’t swim. I was a lifeguard, for fuck’s sake. Good thing I wasn’t trying to save someone. Then I dove i
n and swam a ways before I got my hands on my board. With another wave on my tail, I hopped on my board and surfed in.
I tucked my board under my arm as I met Austin on shore. “I need a beer.” I had to get rid of the salt water invading my mouth, and I also needed to soothe my ego.
With our surfboards in hand, Austin and I trampled through the hot sand to our blanket, which was oh so close to Elvira and Montana.
“You want Montana so bad,” Austin said.
I glanced down at my crotch to make sure the semi-boner I’d had in the water was gone. “How do you know that?”
He belted out a laugh. “Did you just check your dick? See. You want her.”
“So what. I can look. Eye candy.” I wasn’t looking at Montana right now, though. If I did, I would have a permanent boner the rest of the day with my luck.
“Eye candy, my ass,” Austin retorted. “You need to lick that candy.”
Images of me licking Montana burned brighter than the sun. Before I had a chance to discard my board or grab a beer, Derek, one of our tight ends, trudged through the sand with a football in hand.
Derek tore off his T-shirt. “Let’s throw. We can warm up before practice.”
Fine by me. Anything to keep my gaze from wandering—or my mind, for that matter. I stuck my surfboard in the sand and barely eyed Montana. She was wearing big movie-star-like sunglasses with dark lenses, so I couldn’t tell if she was looking at me. I hoped she wasn’t since I was trying to calm my dick down.
I opened my hands. “Ball.”
Derek tossed the football to me. Within a second, other guys spilled onto the beach—some with their girlfriends, others with coolers and chairs. I jogged down to the water’s edge as Derek and our center, Lou, went long. Well, Derek went long. Lou, on the other hand, couldn’t run all that fast. He was all neck and gut, and rightly so for the position of center. I reared my arm back and threw a perfect spiral as the ball sailed down the beach and into Derek’s arms.
Breaking Rules Page 3