“It the extra mile stuff. It counts.”
He nods and something with his expression changes. “Someone taught me all of that stuff a long time ago. I guess it stuck.”
He doesn’t clarify who “someone” was and I don’t ask.
The creamery is packed when we get there and Carter tells me they stay open late on meet nights knowing a crowd is expected. Dozens of kids run around with chocolate-covered mouths. I see a few kids I recognize from camp and inwardly groan at how exhausted they’ll be in the morning. Carter and I line up and I observe person after person congratulate him on his success tonight. They all give me an appraising look, like they’re sizing up the girl with the super-star swimmer. It’s all very different from the Carter I know from home.
A handsome young man takes my order, spending an inordinate amount of time giving me options. I go for my standard, chocolate and peanut butter.
“Good choice,” the other worker says. A girl with dark eyeliner and pink streaks in her hair. “That’s my favorite.”
I get out my money to pay but Carter gets there first, paying for both.
“You don’t need to do that,” I tell him on the way out the door.
“Why not? You came to my meet and got all dressed up. You took time out of your day for me, it’s the least I can do.” We walk away from the crowded picnic tables, passing a few high school-aged swimmers. Most, if not all of them, watch the two of us closely.
I spot a familiar face in a cluster of girls sitting on the curb. Sabrina. I nudge Carter and he looks up, body tensing slightly before he reaches for my hand.
“How come she’s not on the swim team?” I ask. It’d be a good way to get close to him.
“She’d probably have to get her hair wet,” he smiles. “She told me earlier she’d be down here tonight.”
“Ah, so that’s why you’re paying for ice cream and holding my hand.”
He shrugs. “Come on, let’s go down by the water.”
I let him lead me and feel the eyes of everyone, including Sabrina, on our backs as we head down the dark path.
“Ugh,” I say, taking a bite of my ice cream.
“What?” he asks, still holding my hand, even though we should be far enough out of sight.
“I’m not used to people paying attention to me.”
He snorts. “Are you kidding?”
“No. Atticus, yes, me? I’m like one of those pilot fish that follow him around or something.”
There are a few swings on the hill overlooking the beach. We sit on one, the chains creaking at our combined weight.
“First of all, whether you know it or not, people do notice you. And second, it’s definitely not like a pilot fish. You’re certainly not one of the sheep that follow your brother around.”
He licks the strawberry ice cream on the side of his cone. I stare at him for a minute, both entranced by his mouth and confused by what he’d just said. “You’ve said it yourself, I’m a weirdo. Katherine and I were both weirdos until she abandoned me for the popular life.”
He shakes his head and pushes the sand with his feet, making the bench swing. “That’s not how you’re seen. The two of you were a force of your own. The two quirky, aloof girls that didn’t need the popular crowd. That scares people, especially guys. We’re both lazy and easily intimidated. We don’t like to work for what we want.”
This is news to me and I’m not sure I’m buying it. “Katherine and I hung out by ourselves because no one else wanted to be our friend.”
“Or because you two were so thick no one thought they could get in.” He gives me a smug, knowing look. “What happened with you two, anyway?”
I make a face. “What do you mean, what happened? Atticus happened. He stole my best friend from me.”
His eyebrows furrow. “Why is that so awful? Your brother, your best friend. It kind of makes sense.”
“No, it doesn’t.” I don’t want to talk about it anymore so I take a bite of my cone and stare at the dark water below. The sky is very dark and there are a million stars out. We glide back and forth on the swing.
“It was my mom,” he says suddenly.
“What?”
“My mom taught me how to be polite and chivalrous and all that stuff.”
I’ve never heard anything about Carter’s mom. I’ve definitely never seen her. “Do you see her often?”
He focuses on the horizon. “No. She died when I was twelve.”
“Oh,” I say, mentally doing the math. He didn’t move here until he was fourteen. “I didn’t know that. Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
But I’m not sure it is. My mom makes me crazy but I can’t imaging losing her or my dad.
“We lived down in L.A.,” he continues. “It was just the two of us, unless she had a boyfriend hanging around.” The word boyfriend comes out with a hard edge. “It wasn’t easy and she worked hard to support the two of us, but…” he shakes his head, unable to finish his thought. “It seems like a really long time ago.”
We swing in silence for a few more minutes and I have no idea what to say to his revelation. If he even wants me to say anything at all. The wind kicks up and I shiver.
“You cold?”
“A little.” I rub my bare arms.
He stands abruptly, and I think he’s ready to go but he pulls off his hoodie in one swoop. He hands it to me. “Here.”
“Oh, I can’t take that.”
“Sure you can,” he says with a lopsided grin barely visible in the faint light. “You’re my girl, right? Girlfriends wear their boyfriends' clothes.”
I guess that’s true. I’ve definitely seen Katherine walking around in some of Atticus’ shirts. Reluctantly, I allow him to lower it over my head. I’m engulfed in his scent; the heady mixture of chlorine, soap, and sun-tan lotion as well as his warmth and the softness of the fabric. He holds out his hand and I stand.
“Thank you,” I say, not sure if I mean for the hoodie or for him confiding in me about his mom.
He gives me a small, genuine smile and nods.
As we walk back toward the parking lot one thing lingers in my mind. Carter Haines is definitely not the person I thought he was.
14
Carter
I was right. Under the too big shirt and baggy shorts, Bea has an incredible figure. I knew those long legs couldn’t be an anomaly. The more I look at her, really look at her, I realize she’s not the kind of girl that needs to put a lot of time in her hair or makeup. Over and over again, I find myself drawn to the spark in her green eyes and to the dangerous pink of her lips.
This fake relationship is easier to navigate than I would’ve imagined.
The whole night was kind of perfect and really, unexpected. I never wanted my dad at my meets. It was too much against the memory of my mom cheering me on as a kid. She always made an effort to be at every meet and not because she saw my future—because she saw me. Tonight, when I saw Bea from the starting block, I felt a little tug in my chest. The kind that made me want to do well for someone else—to make another person proud. It’d been a long time since I’d felt that way.
When I’d stepped out of the water, heart hammering from the adrenaline, and realized she’d come over to see me, I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. I got a good look at her in that new outfit—the cut-off shorts that gave a perfect view of her legs, the tank top that revealed her graceful neck and delicate collar bones.
I felt a connection when I hugged her. Then another when she looked at Katherine and Atticus with such betrayal. I knew how it felt to feel that way about someone you care about. That’s why I told her about my mom. Just saying it out loud made the weight on my shoulders a little lighter.
Why is this girl so easy to talk to?
All of it feels like a rush now that we’re leaving the beach and I look over at her, a little sad she’s covered all her pale skin with my hoodie but also feeling a sense of possessiveness that she’s wearing it. If anyone outs
ide the Creamery wondered if we were together earlier, they wouldn’t now. Especially Sabrina. I just hoped she’d get the picture. I was tired of fending her off at work. From the small smirk on her mouth, I had a feeling a simple sweatshirt wasn’t going to sway her.
Whatever. I’ve marked my claim, even if it’s just pretend.
That’s when I answer my own question. Why is it so easy to talk to Bea? She doesn’t have any real expectations on me. She doesn’t want me for what I can get her; beer, weed, trouble. She’s got no hopes for the future; viewing me as a ticket to success. No needs that can lead me down the path of destruction. She’s pure. She’s here for the moment. We’re on equal footing.
I like how that feels.
15
Bea
One of the luxuries of being a camp counselor is not having to work on weekends like the lifeguards. There’s also the bonus perk of being allowed to use some of the facilities, like the pool, so when Maria calls and asks if I want to join her on Saturday afternoon, I tell her the truth.
“Absolutely not.”
“What?” she asks. “Why not?”
“Have you seen my skin? I’m a ginger! Fair hair, fair skin. I don’t tan, I freckle.”
“Then wear sunscreen.”
There are other, bigger concerns that I don’t want to mention. Like the fact I’m not entirely comfortable wearing a bathing suit in front of other people.
And by other people, I mean Carter.
“Bea! I need your help. Sam is working this afternoon and I’m hoping he’ll invite me to this party everyone is talking about.”
“Maria, you’re a strong, capable woman. Just ask him yourself.”
“Maybe I will, but I still need a partner to go with me so I don’t just look like a creeper hanging out alone at the pool on my day off.”
“And I won’t?”
“Carter’s there, right? I saw his name on the schedule. Perfect excuse for you to go.” She raises her voice. “Pleeeeease? I went shopping with you.”
I sigh loud and intentionally. “Fine.”
“I’ll pick you up in an hour!”
Maria is annoyingly on time, with her hair twisted in a knot on top of her head and wearing a cute black coverup over her black bikini. We flash our ID cards to get past the gate and spot two lounge chairs by the deep end.
On the way across the deck, I glance over at the guard stand, relieved to see Carter and another guy working today. I need a break from the curious looks I’ve been getting all week from Katherine. More than once I’ve had to remind myself not to go over and tell her everything out of habit.
Carter sees us walking in and Maria waves. He lifts his hand in return but his eyes, even covered in dark sunglasses, are trained on me. Oh, I bet he’s loving my fish-out-of-water moment.
Maria spreads her towel on the chair, then pulls her cover-up over her head and drapes it over the back. I’m feeling hyper aware of my body and the plain Jane bathing suit I’m wearing underneath.
Finally I just suck up the nerve and pull off my T-shirt and shorts, revealing the black one-piece with an intricate design on it.
Maria’s eyes narrow as she takes it in. “Wait. Is that…”
“The Marauder’s Map from Harry Potter. Yep.”
“I love it,” Maria says, watching me fidget with the straps. “It’s perfectly you.”
At the moment, getting a good look across the pool at the girls in their bikini’s and Maria next to me, I feel perfectly ridiculous. We live at the beach. Bathing suits are a requirement if I like it or not. Why don’t I have a normal one?
I quickly get on the chair and spread lotion on my arms and legs.
“Ugh,” she says, shaking her head. “I see Sabrina is camped out here on the weekend, too.”
“She’s probably burned Carter’s schedule into her brain.”
“Well watch out, Sabrina’s on the prowl.” I follow Maria’s gaze and see that she’s crossing the pool, headed straight for Carter in a purple one-piece. Her suit isn’t lame like mine. It has little cut outs at the side and one on the belly. It’s kind of silly and I can only imagine the crazy tan lines, but it looks good on her.
Carter has just swapped spots with the other guard, leaving the chair and moving to the rotating position. Sabrina seems to take this as an opportunity to approach him, which doesn’t seem to faze Carter in the least. They talk for a second and I wait for him to walk off, walk away, but he doesn’t. No, he laughs at something she says and my stomach twists with annoyance. This is basically rule number one in our agreement. It’s also the thing that may get him fired.
“Do you get jealous when other girls approach him?” Maria asks. “Because I would totally get jealous.”
“No,” I say, defiantly, although it’s more because Carter isn’t mine to get jealous over. I am annoyed. He’s breaking our rule. How many times a day does he do this? How foolish do I look without even realizing it? “Carter’s a good-looking guy with the body of an Olympic swimmer. There’s no doubt people are going to check him out.”
“So you trust him. That’s good. I’d probably be freaking out.”
Do I trust him?
He laughs again and she bends over to scratch her leg, giving him a full view of her assets.
“Oh boy,” I mutter, realizing Carter is about to fall into a snake pit. “I think I’m going to get some water."
I hold up my mostly full bottle.
Maria nods. “Good plan.”
I hop up and stroll across the pool, trying to exude a level of confidence I do not actually possess. As I get closer I hear Sabrina say, “I’ve got a tiny cut on my finger. Do you think you could get me a bandage?”
“Yeah, sure,” he says cluelessly. He walks toward the little pool office. “Let me get the first-aid box.”
I don’t think he’s seen me, so I circle around the guard chair and although my stomach twists nervously I cut him off before he can walk in the door.
“Carter,” I call. He looks over at me, eyes sweeping down my body. A little grin curves his lips.
“Hey, babe.”
Babe. Butterflies in my stomach betray how hearing that fall from his lips feels.
Sabrina watches us closely and clears her throat. He pulls his eyes from me and glances back at her. “Let me get that bandage.”
If she thinks she’s going to follow him in the room, she’s wrong. I do it instead. I step into the office and find him searching through the metal box.
“What are you doing?” he asks. “You know Erin will get mad if you’re back here with me.”
“Erin’s going to be more upset if another dad complains about you hitting on his daughter and neglecting the pool.”
He pauses and glances out the door. Understanding clicking in place. “I’m not doing anything.”
“No. You’re not, but Sabrina? She has other plans. She doesn’t even care that you’ve got a girlfriend.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know,” I confess. “This is way outside my wheelhouse, but the best thing is for you to make it clear you’re not interested.”
“Gotcha.”
He plucks out the bandage and leaves the box on the desk. Then he takes my hand and a step toward the door. I think he’s going to walk out like this—the two of us hand-in-hand, and it makes sense, but he doesn’t stop there. Just before we exit, he pushes me up against the door frame. One hand presses against the wall next to my head, giving me a view of his long, lean arms. His bulging bicep is inches from my face. My heart hammers in surprise as well as confusion, which only multiplies when he says just loud enough for his voice to carry, “Thanks for coming to see me. Last night was really great.”
I don’t react, completely confused. “What?”
He raises his eyebrows and tilts his head slightly toward the pool deck. “You know, when we hung out last night…that was special.”
“Oh, right. Yes, so much fun.”
“We’
re on for tonight, right? Jackson’s party?”
The only Jackson I know just graduated from The Academy and is a total idiot. I play along anyway. “Yep, can’t wait.”
“Good,” he smiles and it’s one of those types that even fake, weakens my knees. “See you later, okay?”
“Okay.” The word comes out shakier than I’d like. He steps back, motioning for me to leave the office before him. I do, coming face-to-face with Sabrina, who doesn’t look pleased.
“Oh, hi,” I say, giving her a nervous but triumphant smile.
“Here’s your bandage,” Carter says, walking out behind me. “See you later, babe.”
I skip a step and almost face-plant, barely managing to hold myself upright. I glance over my shoulder and see his cheeky grin as I walk back across the pool deck.
Fake dating Carter Haines is a lot of things, but boring isn’t one of them.
That evening, I’m lying on my bed lamenting my sunburned nose and shoulders when my phone buzzes.
C: What time do you want me to pick you up?
I stare at the phone trying to figure out what Carter is talking about.
B: Pick me up for what?
C: Jackson’s party.
B: Wait, we’re really doing that? I thought that was a ruse.
C: Did you just say ruse?
B: Yes, get familiar with it. It summarizes our whole relationship.
C: I’ll get you at 7.
B: No! Wait.
C: 7
I flop back on the bed and groan up at the ceiling.
I guess I’m going to a party.
One glance in the bathroom mirror tells me my nose is bright red. I try powder and concealer but neither work.
In my closet I rummage through the bag of clothing from my shopping trip with Maria. To give her credit she didn’t force me into some kind of alter-ego clothing personality change of booty shorts and tube tops. But I could admit my regular outfits of ironic T-shirts and shorts were a little bland. I mean, that Taco Cat shirt is amazing but even I know better than to wear it to Jackson’s party. I may as well put a target on my forehead.
Bea and the Bad Boy: Young Adult Sweet Romance (Love in Ocean Grove Book 3) Page 7