Although I should’ve expected Sabrina to be here, I’m a little disappointed in myself for instantly feeling jealous. Carter has done nothing to imply that he likes her and is completely fulfilling his duties of fake boyfriend. It’s hard to get past thinking about the way I used to be. The way he used to be. And have we really changed?
If you’d asked me after that almost kiss, the way he smoothly went for it and the way I predictably panicked, I’d say no. But when Sabrina goes for the hug and he wraps his arm around my waist, I can’t help feeling a difference between us. And when he shuts everyone down about drugs, I feel relief. Maybe he really is trying.
But then again, there’s a reason they’re asking him.
I’m just thankful when we leave the room.
“Want something to drink?” he ask/shouts over the thumping music. There are people everywhere. I shake my head, trying to pretend I’m not completely overwhelmed, which would be way easier if every eye in the room wasn’t following the two of us. I’ve spent my life as the semi-invisible sibling to a shining star and I’m used to people’s gazes sliding past me to get a better view of my brother, but with Carter standing by my side, I’m suddenly not so invisible.
Carter is different than my brother, though. People walk up and offer him all sorts of things. Beer. Cigarettes. A bottle of Schnapps. Two girls in bikini tops and cut-off shorts walk up and even though they don’t say it, from the way they bat their eyes and lick their lips, it’s pretty clear they’re offering something, too. Carter smiles at all of these opportunities, politely declines each and every one. Then their curious gaze shifts to me in question, wondering if I’m why he said no.
Am I?
He runs his hands through his hair. “Well, I need a soda, come on, the kitchen is this way.”
I follow him through the crowd, bumping into people, avoiding dancing bodies and sloshing drinks. The house is beautiful, like something out of a magazine, and I can’t imagine how much of a mess these people are going to make. Do his parents not care?
In the kitchen, Carter fishes a can of soda out of the ice-filled sink and holds it out to me. I take it, because truthfully, I’d said no before because I thought he may have meant alcohol. It’s not that I care that these people are drinking, I just…I already feel so out of control lately, so confused around Carter that the last thing I need is to lower my inhibitions.
He pops the tab on his can and takes a drink, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. A hand lands on his shoulder and mine and I look over to see Paul Wentworth, captain of the baseball team, red-faced and carrying a baseball bat for some reason.
“Haines,” he says, slurring the name. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” He tilts his head and whispers not-so-quietly in Carter’s ear, “Thought you could maybe hook me up.”
Carter’s eyes flick to mine and his expression…it’s ashamed? Embarrassed? What I am noticing is a trend. Are these people happy to see him or do they all just want something from him? A weird feeling settles in my stomach.
“Sorry, man,” he claps Paul on the back. “Not today.”
“Sucks,” he grumbles, then takes another look at me. “Hi, I’m Paul.”
“Yeah,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I know. You sat two desks over from me in Spanish this year.”
He narrows his eyes and he gapes a little. “Clarke’s sister?”
“Beatrice,” Carter says, surprising me by using my full name. “Her name is Beatrice.”
“Bea…” He tries to focus. “Are you sure? Because I think I’d have noticed you before.”
“To be fair, we’re all dressed like clones at The Academy.” Boys in suits and ties. Girls in white blouses and plaid skirts. “Don’t worry, it’s not like you’re just an unobservant idiot or something.”
Carter’s eyes widen and he fights a grin. I can’t help but smile back. Paul Wentworth is an idiot. Because of that, it takes him a minute to process what I’ve said, like he’s not sure if he’s been insulted. Before he can react, Carter’s linked his fingers with mine and he’s dragging me out of the enormous kitchen and out the back door to a patio.
“Did you just call Paul an idiot?” he asks, slipping his arm around my waist, like it’s always meant to be there. “Because, unless I’m imagining it, that was the best moment of my week.”
“You got six first places in the swim meet, and me insulting some moron was your best moment?”
He shrugs his broad shoulders. “Swim meets happen every week—but someone calling Paul out? That’s a rare occurrence.”
The tension from earlier has left his face and I’m glad to see him smile again. I didn’t realize how much it lit up his whole face.
A whoop of excitement catches my attention and I look down the long patio, lit with strung lights and a massive stone fireplace. I do a double take.
“What the…”
There’s a long table and even I can recognize they’re playing beer pong. The surprise is who’s playing. Katherine stands on one side of the table, ping pong in one hand, beer in the other.
“Wow,” I say, trying to comprehend what I’m seeing. “I never thought I’d see the day that Katherine Stint played beer pong at a party.”
“Yeah?” A familiar voice says from behind me. “Well I never thought I’d see the day when you’d be slumming it with the guy next door.”
Rage rolls through me and I turn, finding that my hand is already midway through the air. It’s inches away from Atticus’ cheek when Carter grabs hold of it and pulls me away.
“Good call, bro,” my brother says, strolling off to hang with my former friend.
Carter grips my wrist and holds my eye. “Are you okay?”
I barely recognize my voice when I reply, “No. I don’t think I am.”
“Come on,” he says, “let’s get away from these fools.”
And against better judgement, I let Carter Haines lead me into the night.
19
Bea
As impressive as the house is with its state of the art…well, everything, the beach access is surprising in a different way. Away from the patio and pool, there’s a basic stairway carved into the sloping cliff that leads to the sandy beach and water. They’d kept it as natural as possible. After my admission, Carter leads me down to the sand, away from the noise and chaos of the party.
“I’m sorry if I ruined your night,” I say, taking a deep breath of sea air.
“Contrary to popular belief, parties aren’t really my thing.”
I look up at him and frown. “Are you serious? You throw them all the time. And these people…they seem to think you’re a regular feature.”
“My friends throw them. At my house. My dad travels all the time and doesn’t really care what I do.”
There’s a hint of hurt in that statement. Mr. Haines isn’t around much—at least twice a week there’s a cab waiting out front or dropping him off. He’s always carrying a suitcase.
“I didn’t know. I just thought that was what you wanted.”
He shoves his hands in his jean pockets and shrugs. “When I first moved here, I made the mistake of telling some kids about where I came from—what I’d experienced. They took it the wrong way.”
“How so?”
“They assumed the lifestyle I’d left was the lifestyle I’d lived. That’s not how it was, though.” Rumors have always swirled around Carter; girls, drugs, behavior. The kind of stuff that gave me a reason not to have any interest in him. “After a while it just seemed easier to go with it.” In the dark, he gives me a tight smile. “To be fair, there were perks as well as drawbacks.”
I know that look; girls. I ignore that little tidbit. “So the rumors about drug use?”
“I don’t use drugs, Clarke.” His voice is raw. “Despite how it seems, I am serious about swimming. I tell everyone my dad and coach drug test me so they’ll give me a pass. Strangely, it only encouraged the druggie reputation.”
“Do they test you?”
“Sometimes, but I’ve never failed one.”
By now we’ve reached the edge of the water. I kick my flip-flops off and let the cold waves roll over my feet. He does the same, leaving his Converse and socks in the sand.
“I don’t drink, either. I hate it. My mom’s boyfriend was a drunk, and,” he swallows thickly, “he was a not a good person. He hurt us both.”
“Carter—”
He holds up his hands. “There’s some bad stuff in my past, Bea, and for the first time I feel like I can share it with someone, but only if you want to hear it.”
I reach for him, overwhelmed by the emotion in his voice. “I’m happy to listen.” I’m willing to take away a little bit of his pain.
He exhales. “Mom always had crappy choice in men. Believe it or not, my father was probably the best decision she’d made, but he was long gone by that point. Mom would let these freeloaders move in, they all drank too much, had tempers, but the last one…I knew something was wrong with him. I could feel it.”
“His name was Reggie and he’d lived with us for about six months. One night, they started fighting and he threw a plate across the room. It shattered, and in a crazy fluke, a shard hit me in the back, cutting me really bad.”
I reach around his back and touch the scar I’ve seen every day this summer. He wraps has hand around mine, holding it in place. “My mom told the EMT it was an accident and I didn’t say anything to the doctor. I was afraid they’d pull me from the house and he’d be alone with my mom and hurt her. Even so, once I healed, I tried my hardest to just spend as much time out of the house as possible. School, friends, swimming. I’d stay out as long as I could. One night, I came home from practice and the place was a wreck. I thought we’d been robbed. It’d happened before. Our apartment wasn’t in the nicest neighborhood. But then I saw it.”
I’m almost afraid to ask, but I do, “Saw what?”
“Blood. I searched the apartment for my mom. In the kitchen I saw a broken bottle—blood on the jagged edge. I felt like my heart froze in that moment, you know? Like I knew already, but what if…” He wipes his face but not before I see the glint of a tear on his cheek. “I found her in the bathroom. There was blood everywhere, Bea. I found her, but it was too late, and she was gone.”
I reach for his hand, for his face. I touch his cheek, his chin prickly with growth. “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry. I never knew.”
He looks down at me. “No one does.”
The enormity of that truth isn’t lost on me.
“What happened to her boyfriend?”
“Her murderer? He’s in prison. They found him down at the bar in the neighborhood after he tried to start another fight. The police picked him up and I think he was so drunk he confessed.” He sounds lost—small. “My mother never told my dad about me, and I didn’t know much about him at all, other than they’d had a brief relationship. When they couldn’t find any family, I was placed in a group home down in L.A. My caseworker kept looking, though, and eventually found my dad.” He laughs darkly. “He had no idea I even existed. Can you imagine finding out you’re the parent of a fourteen-year-old? No wonder he hates me.”
“Hey, your dad doesn’t hate you. And he let you move in.” That explains a lot, and I wonder if my mother knew this all along.
“He did, and I know I shouldn’t be so hard on him, but…I don’t know. I just felt so helpless that day—for all those years. I have a lot of anger and me showing up on his doorstep isn’t what he expected. He’d planned on being a bachelor for life. He’s married to his job and I’m just grateful he’s given me a place to live, that he allows me to keep training.” He looks to the side. “The swimming really helps me handle my emotions, and it’s what my mom wanted.”
The wind gusts off the water and I shiver. Carter’s eyebrows furrow and he steps closer, giving me some of his warmth. Something’s shifted between us tonight and I realized we’ve been touching, tangled up in one another since he started speaking. He seems less tense than before, but I still sense something under the surface with him. Something dark. Angry.
“So everything all those people up there think about you isn’t true.”
He runs his hand through his hair. “I don’t know. At the group home, I ran a little wild. I wanted to numb the pain and I did some stuff I probably shouldn’t have.”
“Why’d you stop?”
“Mr. Washington, my caseworker, knew I needed out of that place, which is why he kept looking for a relative. He also encouraged me to keep training hard and get out my extra energy in the pool. When I got here, everything was so different, so strange. Clean and fancy. I wanted to leave all that old stuff behind but people wanted to pigeonhole me and I let them.”
“It really can be strange sometimes. I mean, look at the size of that house.” I glance over my shoulder. “Why don’t you just let everyone know the real you? The non-drinking, non-partying Carter Haines that’s standing here with me?”
He shrugs again and looks toward the water. “It’s easier this way. People see what they want.”
“People see what you give them.”
His eyes sweep over me. “Then what are you hiding from, Beatrice Clarke?”
I instantly feel defensive. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know who convinced you that you’re not a pretty girl, but let me assure, you those notions aren’t true.” His bare foot grazes mine. “Sure, you’re a little quirky, and spending huge amounts of time on makeup and hair is obviously not your main priority—”
“Huh, I wonder where I got such a notion?” It comes out more flippant than I want.
“I’m not finished,” he says, taking my hand. My heart pounds like the waves coming into the shore. “You’re not like those other girls trying to be something they’re not, but you’re also hiding the real you from the rest of the world. It’s like you’re fighting against yourself.” He tilts his head. “Or your brother.”
“Sorry dude, but that dorky, weird, socially awkward girl you’ve been living next door to for the last three years? That is the real me. Sorry she’s so disappointing.”
I turn to walk away but he grabs me and pulls me into his chest. Startled by the move and his closeness, I look up and see the determination in the set of his jaw. “You’re a lot of things, Clarke, but I didn’t think scared was one of them.”
I laugh. Loudly and genuinely. “Then you don’t know me very well at all, because I’ve spent my whole life scared, Carter. Terrified of losing the things important to me and guess what? It all happened anyway. My brother. My best friend. They were all I had and now they have one another.”
“After what I just told you, I don’t think you get to lecture me about losing people.”
It hits me in the gut and I’m instantly shamed. “Oh, oh, Carter, I’m sorry.”
“I’m not looking for your pity,” he says, still holding me close. “I just want you to admit that you’re a pretty awesome person.” He grins slowly. “Maybe this is why this works with us.”
“Because we’re both secretly awesome people who excel in presenting a fake persona to the world?” There’s a ring of truth in that, just like there’s a hint of unspoken truth on his face in how he’s watching me. If we’re being honest, I need to know. “Tell me something.”
“Ask me.”
“Were you mad that I didn’t kiss you earlier?”
He thinks it over for a moment, which makes me completely unnerved. He finally says, “Mad is the wrong word.”
“Then what’s the right one?”
He swallows and his eyes dart to my mouth. “Disappointed, maybe.”
“In yourself?” I joke, because what else can I do? This boy is so close to me right now and we’ve revealed too much, way more than our bargain agreed to.
“Actually, yes.”
I don’t know what he means but I do recognize the look in his eyes. It’s the same one I saw when he was on the starting block before his event at
the swim meet. Determination. Focus. Winning.
“I’d promised to be on my best behavior, not to do anything stupid, not to push you too fast, and I did all of those things in one impulsive moment.”
I wonder if he can hear my heart, because it’s beating so hard and fast. It’s lost in the pounding of the waves and sand, lost in the way he’s looking at me.
“Maybe I’m disappointed in myself, too.” I feel the ebb of energy rolling up my arm from the contact at our fingertips. “For being scared. If I can’t kiss my fake boyfriend, what am I going to do when I get a real one?”
“Good point.” He holds my eye. “Maybe we need to just break the seal. Go for it. No more excuses.”
“What?” That panic rises again in my chest. “Now?”
“Why not?”
There are a million reasons why and he knows it. I see it in the way doubt flickers in his eyes. Because he knows and I know that once we do this, there’s no going back—fake relationship or not. We’re leveling up. But he shakes off any concerns and tilts his head to the side, watching me closely. I feel his hand slip behind my neck, threading into my hair. His fingers are warm, but I shiver anyway from his gentle touch. I’m still scared—no, not scared nervous--and when he slowly lowers his mouth to mine, I don’t panic. At least not outwardly.
“Ready?” he asks, our lips almost touching. “Please don’t say cheese.”
I laugh. “I won’t. I promise. I’m ready.”
He smiles, the confidence returning. His lips are soft when they brush against mine, making them tingle with anticipation.
Since I don’t know how to behave, I swallow back nervous energy and ask, “Is that all? Because I was expecting a little more firework—”
He doesn’t let me finish, connecting our mouths a second time. Despite my lack of experience, I instinctively know what to do, I know what I want. He moves his other hand to cup my face, deepening the kiss. In that moment all I feel is him, his mouth, and the cold ocean water running over my feet. I hear pounding in my ears and assume it’s my heart about to explode, but then I hear my name carry over the wind and footsteps on the sand.
Bea and the Bad Boy: Young Adult Sweet Romance (Love in Ocean Grove Book 3) Page 9