“—crap balls!” Miko finishes for her.
They both stare in wonder at the home at the end of the long driveway.
My parents have owned the beach house almost as long as they’ve been married, so I guess I’ve never really thought about how it must look to someone who’s never seen it before.
“It’s not that dramatic, you guys,” I say, feeling sort of embarrassed.
My parents live in a mansion in Beverly Hills, but it is tasteful and almost modest by LA standards. The beach house isn’t modest at all. Even though they purchased it in bad shape and had it refurbished, it still stands as a stark display of their net worth, which is, well, a hell of a lot of money.
The house sits perched on three acres on the side of a mountain that is the kind of lush green you only find next to the ocean. It has a panoramic view of the Pacific stretching out in every direction and Santa Barbara below. It is done in a Cape Cod style with white walls, a gray roof, and a wraparound porch, complete with a long line of rocking chairs. It is also massive, with ten bedrooms, a guesthouse, and an infinity pool out back. I guess if you were seeing it for the first time, it might be a lot to take in; but it is easy to forget the grandeur, because to our family it is just home.
Brody parks the car in the driveway. Landon and Miko jump out and openly gawk at the view before I can even unfold myself from the backseat. Landon turns in a full circle, taking in the setting with wide-eyed wonder.
“This looks like a Nancy Meyers movie!” she says, clapping her hands.
“Well, that’s fitting, because Jack Nicholson lives next door!” someone calls from the porch.
I turn, feeling my first bit of happiness all day, just as a blonde ball of energy throws herself into my arms.
“Mali.” I smile at my little sister.
She looks like the poster child for a California girl, even though she’s been back in the state for less than twenty-four hours. She is almost as tall as I am, with long legs and the same golden hair as our mother. She has always been stunning, but at twenty-two she’s finally matured enough that she’s stopped being so vain about it. I have a sneaking suspicion that one too many failed relationships have made her question the value of those looks and whether they attract only the wrong kind of man. She kisses my cheek and then hugs Brody with the same kind of enthusiasm.
He releases her from a bear hug and tries to introduce Landon, but Malin cuts him off.
“You must be Landon!” she says, giving Landon a big hug.
Landon, I’m sure, senses a kindred spirit in another bubbly blonde who isn’t aware of personal-space issues and enthusiastically hugs her back.
“I am,” Landon says. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Malin.”
“And you’re Miko.” Malin turns and repeats the process with the final member of our entourage.
Next she hooks arms with them both and hustles them into the house before they can protest.
“We’ve just opened the crispest bottle of sauvignon blanc, and Liam and I have decided to use it for wine pong,” she tells them as Brody and I follow them up the steps. “You have to play with us; it’s tradition.”
“Wine pong?” Landon asks.
“Same rules as you’d expect, but we guzzle wine instead of beer,” Malin explains. “Oh, and we use clear plastic tumblers because Mommy won’t allow red Solo cups into the house.”
“A woman after my own heart.” Landon giggles.
“There you are!” my mom calls from the other side of the house. I can’t see her yet, but she can always be identified by the racket her shoes make hurrying across the hardwood. And if you listen carefully, you can probably make out the sound of the ice bouncing around in her wine glass as she walks.
“We’re so glad you all could come!” she squeals when she rounds the corner and sees us in the entryway.
She hugs everyone in turn, being careful to hold her wine glass out to the side, and then launches into hostess mode like a commanding general.
“Now, we’ve just opened the most divine bottle of white, and there’s some Dubliner on the cheese board that will make your toes curl—it’s so good! Brody, take their bags up. And Kenzie, will you show the girls to their rooms?”
I nod and pull my backpack higher up on my shoulder. Against my volition my eyes dart to the screen of my phone long enough to see that another text has come in. I shove it into my back pocket before I am tempted to read it.
After I show Landon and Miko their rooms and drop my stuff off in my own, I have to fight the urge to crawl under the covers on my bed and hide from everyone. But I know there is no way I’d make it half an hour before my mom would check me for fever, and her behavior makes everyone else worry, so I take a deep breath and leave the room. I find everyone in the backyard, where an intense game of wine pong is already underway. Landon and Malin have teamed up against Brody and Liam, and the girls’ team sinks a ball and celebrates while Liam pounds a tumbler of wine that probably costs more than my phone.
Daddy, as usual, is working his way through the cheese board and ignoring the gross abuse of his wine cellar. I hug him before taking a bottle of water from the fridge and making myself a little plate. I sit down at the long wooden table beside my parents and force myself to take some bites. Every time I think about my phone, I think I might be sick, but skipping meals isn’t an option for me. I pop some prosciutto into my mouth and force myself to chew. As if my thoughts are conjured into life, my mom looks in my direction and asks, “What time does your friend Taylor arrive, Kenzie?”
I fight the urge to choke on the food in my mouth.
“Yeah, when is he getting here?” Miko asks. “I thought he was riding up with us.”
“He . . .” I clear my throat. “He couldn’t—”
“Couldn’t give her a definitive time, because I thought I had some work to finish up,” a very familiar voice says from the doorway behind me. “But it turns out I wrapped up early. I must have left not too long after you guys did.”
For a second I think I might actually be sick. I sit frozen, unable to peel my eyes from the table in front of me while everyone jumps up to shake Taylor’s hand, and he thanks our housekeeper for showing him outside.
A sharp pain rushes through my shin, pulling me out of my daze. My eyes fly to Miko, who has just purposely kicked me under the table. She gives me a look that reminds me, once again, how perceptive she is. I need to pull myself together, because I am about to go full-on Marie Osmond and pass out in front of everyone. If Miko notices, then everyone else will clue in here soon.
“Kenzie,” my mom calls to me, “will you show Bennett to a room?”
I stand and turn around, and I try to act casual—I really do. But there is Taylor in those jeans he wears low on his hips and that faded blue T-shirt that is secretly my favorite and those stupid flip-flops that are way too beat up but that he refuses to trade in. And no matter what is going on in my head, right then I am so happy to see him that I nearly cry.
“I’ll help her!” Miko jumps up cheerfully to shuffle both Taylor and me into the house before anyone can question it. Thank God for her interference, because otherwise I might have just stood on the patio like a deer in headlights for several long minutes. As soon as she closes the patio door behind her, she hisses at us both.
“What’s going on with you two?” she demands.
“Nothing,” I say, looking away.
“Everything,” he says, looking right at me.
“What happened?” I can hear the accusation in her voice.
I don’t answer this time.
“She spent the night,” he tells her.
My eyes snap up in surprise.
“Why don’t you make an announcement?” I growl petulantly. “Maybe go tell my parents or my brothers? I’m sure they’d love to hear!”
They both ignore my ire.
“Just to sleep,” Taylor continues. “But it freaked her out, and she ran away this morning before I woke up.�
��
I expect Miko to give me grief in response to this information, but she lets out a very Landon-like gasp in outrage.
“You realize this makes two of my friends you’ve run out of your bed, Taylor?” she demands.
“Now that’s not fair,” he says, fighting a smile. “You know that time with Landon was alcohol related and nothing happened.” He runs a hand along his jaw. “This was the only instance where I was actively trying to get one of you three into bed with me.”
“Yeah, well,” she grumbles, “the buck stops here. Try hosting a slumber party that doesn’t send her careening in the opposite direction next time.”
“Yes ma’am,” he tells her seriously.
This is ridiculous! I am not going to stand here and listen to them discuss me like I am a problem to be fixed. Or worse, have them compare what happened last night to that time Landon got drunk and passed out in Taylor’s bed like a hobo. That pisses me off most of all.
“Come on,” I say briskly as I pass by him to head upstairs. I sound rude, and I know I am walking way too fast; but I have to, or else I’ll scream at them both and admit to being pissed off for all the wrong reasons.
“Godspeed,” I hear Miko whisper to Taylor.
I am up the stairs and opening a guest room door before I turn to see if he is behind me. Taylor walks right by me, and when I follow him into the room, he reaches over my head and slams the door, shutting both of us into the room.
“What are you doing here?” I demand.
Anger is good. Anger I know how to do. This thing with him, that’s where I am completely in the dark.
“You invited me.” He smiles, but for the first time since I met him, his smile seems forced.
“Don’t be obtuse,” I say, stepping away from the door—away from the close proximity to him.
“Don’t be a coward,” he counters vehemently.
I am momentarily stunned. I look away, at a loss for words for the first time in as long as I can remember.
“Max,” he says softly, but I feel the word like a caress.
It is the first time he’s ever used my first name.
He reaches out for my hand before I can pull it back. His touch is light, barely there at all, but I feel it all the way down to my toes.
“I told you I wasn’t going anywhere, and I’m not”—his fingertips brush my wrist—“but you can’t just disappear on me.”
I take a deep breath.
“Last night was a mistake.”
I’d meant for it to come out defiant. It sounded pitiful and unsure.
His fingers slide higher, running the length of my forearm and back down again.
“Last night was a long time coming,” he says gently, “and you know it as well as I do.”
His fingertips are playing havoc with my emotions. I want to throw myself into his arms, because I know how safe I’d feel in them. But the part of me that wants to do that battles with the long-ingrained belief that I need to guard myself. It is the only way to avoid being hurt again, or even worse, hurting someone else.
I pull my hand away and step towards the door.
“I don’t think I can do this,” I whisper, unable to produce any more volume than that.
He catches my hand again before I can get away.
“What if you don’t think?” he asks with a grin. I can actually see him forcing himself back into a familiar role. “Let’s just go downstairs and play in that monstrosity of a beer-pong tournament. And we won’t think about it. OK?” He leads me out into the hallway without stopping his monologue. “We’ll eat some cheese. I’ll charm your family. We won’t talk about kissing or sleepovers, or how soft that spot is just behind your ear—”
“Taylor!” I yelp when he runs his nose along the spot in question.
I hurry out of reach, unable to stop a smile. It is hard to hold on to an emotional shank spiral when he is here teasing me, pretending like nothing happened. He follows along at my heels.
“And we won’t talk about desserts or secret jobs, or that little sound you make in the back of your throat when I—”
He trails off just as we step out onto the veranda, and everybody looks up at us.
“Well, well, well. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mackenzie blush!” Malin calls from the Ping-Pong table. “Quick, somebody snap a photo for posterity!”
I sit quietly at the table for most of the afternoon, watching Taylor doing exactly what he said he would. My parents are ready to adopt him by the time everyone leaves to go change for dinner. He’s thrown me quick smiles and winks, and everyone tries to include me in conversation, but I can’t make myself join in.
I am relieved. Every single part of me is relieved that he is sitting here making jokes, deflecting everyone’s attention away from how weird I am acting. But feeling relief comes with the ever-increasing anxiety about what that relief says about me. This morning I ran out, and I told myself that I was upset because of how far I’d let things go and how easily I slipped into intimacy with him when I never allow that with anybody. But if that is true, if I was only upset about slipping up and not about being at odds with Taylor, why am I so grateful to have him here now?
I hurry back to my room and go through the motions of taking a shower. Since I spent the entire day dressed like a meth addict, I think I should put in at least a little effort for dinner.
We aren’t headed anywhere fancy, just following another long-standing tradition of visiting our favorite Mexican restaurant on the night before the Fourth. I don’t even know when it started, but we’ve been going to the same place every year for as long as I can remember.
I start to grab a pair of skinny jeans from my closet when Malin bursts into the room without knocking. She is wearing a white linen baby-doll dress that does everything for her long legs, and she has some sort of coral fabric wrapped around her throat like a scarf. She closes the door behind her and launches herself onto my bed just as she used to when we were little.
I start to slip a foot into the jeans when she scoffs.
“Holy Moses, not those!” She stares daggers at my pants. “I brought something better!”
She sits up abruptly and starts to unwind the material from around her neck. When it comes loose she lays the maxi dress on the bed next to her.
“I’m not really a dress kind of girl,” I say, stating the obvious.
“Don’t be such a bum!” She flashes me a grin. “A maxi dress is the equivalent of wearing a muumuu in public, and you are the kind of girl who likes to wear clothes large enough to accommodate at least three people at once.”
She goes into my bathroom and comes out with some hair products. Before I can protest she’s applied three different things and is styling my hair with her fingertips. It takes too much effort to argue, so I don’t.
When she is done she stands back and smiles as she appraises her work. She reaches out without looking and grabs the dress off the bed behind her to thrust it into my hands.
“This won’t fit,” I grumble.
“It’s too long on me,” she replies in a saccharine tone, “so it’ll fit you perfectly.”
I work the material around in my hands, looking for another flaw. It is cotton, so I can’t complain about comfort or the dress being too formal. But a halter neckline and the fact that it is backless make it feel too dressy.
“I won’t be able to wear a bra.” I raise my eyebrows at her.
“Please.” She pulls lip gloss out of the pocket of her dress and dabs some on. “Women all over this country pay doctors good money to get boobs as perky as yours.”
She hands me the gloss and turns to flounce out of the room as quickly as she came in.
“Mali, I don’t want—”
“Good effing grief, Max,” she says without turning around. “Just wear the effing dress!”
When I come downstairs fifteen minutes later, I am wearing the effing dress.
Thanks to Malin my hair is shaggy and mussed to perfection,
and since mascara was the only makeup I’d had on, her lip gloss goes a long way towards helping me look less pale.
I hear conversation from the living room and start to head in that direction, but Landon finds me first, with a little shot clutched between two fingers. Miko is right behind her, holding one in each hand.
“Max, you look so pretty!” she coos at me.
The compliment makes me feel even more anxious. I shouldn’t have worn the dress.
“Thanks,” I answer quietly.
“Oh jeez.” Miko pushes her way around Landon and thrusts a shot into my hand. “It’s worse than we thought if you’re being all demure and polite!”
They both look at me in confusion.
“What’s going on, girl?” Landon asks gently.
I am not even sure where to begin. I shrug uncomfortably.
Landon’s shoulders fall a little, as if she expected that response but hoped it would be something else. She holds up her little glass between the three of us.
“To Sandra?” she asks.
“To Sandra.” Miko and I clink glasses with her without hesitation, and we all swallow the shot of Jack. It probably isn’t the wisest course of action for me to have straight liquor, but it does take a little bit of the edge off the anxiety I can’t seem to shake.
“You look just gorgeous!” my mother says, coming up behind us.
When I turn around she is beaming. She loves it when I wear a dress; it reminds her of someone else. I discard the memory with a quick shake of my head.
Over her shoulder I see Taylor walk out of the living room, laughing with my brothers. His face lights up when he sees me.
“Kenzie, why don’t you ride with Daddy and me, and you can tell us how everything is at the bar,” Mom says, pulling me towards the door. My palms get sweaty and my steps falter. She must have misunderstood the reason for my hesitation, because she calls back behind us. “Taylor, you come along with us too!”
“Yes ma’am,” I hear him say.
All the stress I released with the alcohol comes back with a vengeance. My anxiety is getting worse.
At dinner I try to keep up with the conversation, but I am too wrapped up in my own head. I can’t stop thinking about Taylor, my job, and all the lies I am keeping up with. I get more anxious with every passing minute. Everyone is telling stories, and I try to look attentive; I even laugh in the right spots, but I know Taylor isn’t convinced. He keeps sneaking me questioning glances that I don’t answer. I manage to eat most of my dinner, but only because I know my mother is paying attention.
Sweet Girl Page 18