I don’t bother knocking, which I don’t exactly recommend. It seems I’m a hot topic of conversation. Instead of making my presence known, I stand back and listen to my family discuss me in detail.
“She’s out of control,” Dad says.
“She’s going through a rough patch,” Peyton replies.
“I’m scared of what might happen to her,” Mom says.
Noah is the only one not speaking. He’s sipping his coffee and looking out over the surf, minding his own business. I’m sure he has an opinion, but he’s likely saving it for when he’s alone with Peyton.
“Ahem.” All four of them turn and look at me. It takes a moment before their shocked expressions morph into smiles. My mom is the first to stand and pull me into her arms. Her hug is genuine, but I’m too pissed to really put much effort into mine.
“We didn’t know you were coming down today,” she says, appraising me.
“Clearly.” I look around, making eye contact with my dad. He stands and pulls me into his arms.
“We only want what’s best for you, princess.” He kisses the top of my head, and I find myself fighting back the tears. When did I become my own worst enemy?
I bury my face in my dad’s neck. Try as I might, it’s hard to stay upset with him. I don’t know if it’s because he’s always been there for Peyton and I or if it’s simply because he’s my dad and right now my heart is breaking at the thought that I’ve disappointed him.
Growing up, my friends who have step-parents always complained about them, but aside from the normal parental grumbles, I’ve never said anything bad about mine. As angry as we’ve been at each other through my teen years, never have I thought about saying the words ‘you’re not my father’ to him. For one, I know it would devastate him and two, saying something to that effect would destroy any relationship we have. My dad has, from the day he entered our lives, always loved Peyton and me as his own.
After my dad pulls away, I look at Peyton. She has tears in her eyes, making me wonder if they’re for me or if something is going on with her. I can’t imagine her and Noah are fighting. They’re ridiculously in love, it’s rather sickening.
“P, can I talk to you? Out there.” I point toward the beach. It’ll give us some privacy, and the sound of the ocean will drown out our voices. She stands and reaches for my hand, linking fingers with mine. Together, we trudge through the sandy beach until we’re far enough away from our parents.
We sit, side by side with our legs touching. Peyton reaches for my hand again, almost as if she knows something is wrong. It’s our twin thing. When she was in the hospital, I wasn’t feeling her pain, but I felt… odd. I knew when she was in the accident something had happened, but I didn’t know what.
“What’s it like to be perfect?”
Peyton looks at me, but I keep my eyes trained on the surfers riding the waves. “What’re you talking about?”
“Everything you do, it’s perfect. The way Mom and Dad look at you, the way your relationship with Noah has been. Even Kyle, who was probably in love with you, is your best friend. It doesn’t matter what you do or say. You can do no wrong.”
“That’s not true, Elle. No one sees me as perfect.”
“Noah does,” I point out.
“Ha. If you think so, you should spend a day in our apartment. He nags me constantly about my socks being on the floor, about how I do the dishes, about how I always leave a glass or plate behind because I don’t want to rearrange what I’ve already put in the dishwasher. I have flaws, E. I have scars like everyone else. No one is perfect and those who strive to be, only let themselves down in the end. And if you think Noah thinks I’m perfect, you should have a long talk with him because I guarantee you, he doesn’t.”
“But he does. So do Mom and Dad. You walk on water where they’re concerned.”
Peyton laughs. “I call it guilt. I was living in Chicago while the rest of my family was living here. I was alone, granted, by choice, but when the accident happened, they couldn’t reach me for hours. They don’t think I’m perfect. They think I’m fragile and on the verge of a nervous breakdown.”
“Are you?” I ask, finally looking at her.
She shakes her head. “No, I’m not. I’m in a really good place with Noah. Yes, our schedules suck, and he’s giving up a lot to be with me, but I’m trying to make things worth it for him. I know living in Chicago isn’t his idea of a good time, but he tries, for me. He’s willing to do whatever it takes so I can have the career I want.”
“You know you don’t have to work once you’re married, right?”
Peyton shrugs. “I want to. I want to be on the sidelines calling a game. As odd as it sounds, I want Nick to turn on the television some Sunday and see me there, reporting. I want people to see that despite who my husband is or who my father is, I’m independent and can pave my way.”
“And I’m the opposite right now. I feel like no matter what I do, it’s wrong. If something is working, I’m looking for a way to break it. I hate school right now. I told Quinn I wanted to drop out and start my career and he fired me before he truly even hired me. He’s on my tail about my drinking, grades, and my social life.”
“It’s what big brothers do.”
“But it’s not. I need him to be supportive.”
“He is, Elle. All of us are, but watching you go through this change is hard. I would understand if we had a sheltered life, but we didn’t. We traveled the world on a tour bus. We’ve been to the Oscars, the Grammy’s and a slew of other parties. Dad didn’t keep us locked away or hidden from the paparazzi. And I know you went through a lot when I was in that bed, hanging on, but look at me, I’m fine. I’m getting married!”
I do look at her, and all I see is perfection. Somewhere along the lines of growing up, I went from the girl whose daddy called her princess because of how I dressed and acted, to the girl who started acting like her brother and dad, wearing combat boots and flannel shirts tied around my waist. Peyton, who everyone thought would be this tomboy, turned into a girly girl. We became polar opposites of who we were before we hit our teenage years. Part of me wishes I could go back, make a change or two while the other part of me wishes I never had to grow up.
“You are getting married, and I have a feeling it’ll be the most perfect wedding ever.”
Peyton moves a few strands of hair out of my face. “Elle, to me, you’re perfect. You’re my sister, my best friend and the only person who knows all my secrets. Even Noah doesn’t know everything. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m here for you. You can tell me anything, knowing I won’t judge. I’ll listen and offer what advice I can, but you have to let me in.” She pulls me toward her, allowing me to rest my head on her shoulder and for that short moment in time we become us again. Peyton and Elle, twins together taking on the world. Together, we sit and watch the guys surf, oohing and aahing when they do something cool, and chuckling under our breaths when they crash and burn.
8
Ben
The six-pack of beer I carry into my brother’s garage isn’t going to be enough to dim the memories I have of last night nor will it come close to erasing the horrors I felt this morning. Deep down, I knew I should’ve put a stop to everything Elle and I were doing last night, but I didn’t, and now I’m the one paying the price.
How does she not remember? One would think your body would remember a night of sex. It wasn’t some wham bam, catch in the morning romp either. I took care of her, and she, me. We made our first time count, and while she may have been drunk or tipsy when we started, I can guarantee she wasn’t by the time we finished. Yet, when the sun rose, she had zero recollection. I don’t even want to think how many times she’s done this. The thought literally makes me want to hurl.
I set the beer down on the garage floor next to the legs of my brother. He pulls himself out from under the car and smiles. “Two days in a row. I must’ve done something good in my past life.”
“And what were
you in your past life?” I ask my brother.
“Hell if I know,” he says, sitting upright. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his keys, where there’s a bottle opener. He takes two beers out of the flimsy cardboard carrier, pops the tops, letting the metal clank to the floor and hands me one. “Cheers. So why ya here?”
“Do I need an excuse to visit you?”
Brad pauses briefly before finishing his sip. “I saw you last night at your birthday party getting cozy with Elle.” He waggles his eyebrows, which results in me shaking my head. I stand and go over to his current project. About six months ago, some guy asked Brad to rebuild a ‘65 Mustang for him, offering him a boatload of money and a fancy garage to work in, which he couldn’t pass it up.
“What color is she going to be?”
“Cherry red with white leather interior.”
“How long until it’s finished?” I ask.
Brad comes over to stand next to me. “Once I finish with the engine, I’ll start the paint. The seats will be here in a few weeks. I can’t sew so I had to outsource them.”
“Then what happens then?”
My brother tips his bottle back and finishes his beer, whereas I haven’t even touched mine. Honestly, I’m not much of a day drinker, and as much as I’d love to get hammered and forget about the past twenty-four hours, it’s just not in me.
“Mr. Berg says he has another project, but he’s yet to say what it is, so we’ll see. Never know, maybe you’ll have a new roommate soon.”
“Or you could sublet,” I tell him with a shrug. Brad looks at me expectantly as if he’s waiting for me to finish. I sigh and finally take a drink from my bottle of beer. “I’ve been offered an internship in New York. I have until finals to decide on whether I’m going to take it or not.”
“What does Elle say?”
I shake my head. “I haven’t told her.”
“Why not? You’ve told her absolutely everything from the day you met her, and you didn’t share your big news with her?” This is true. I’ve told her things she probably shouldn’t know, like things about Brad that should’ve never left our house.
“I don’t know. Lately, things between us have felt strained.”
Brad shakes his head and returns to the front of the car where he grabs another beer. He holds one up for me, but I show him the one still in my hand, barely touched. “Like I said, last night you and little miss Elle were looking awfully cozy. I saw the way she was touching you and batting her baby blues. Even saw your girl turn green when you were talking to other women.”
“I doubt Elle was jealous of anyone speaking to me.”
Brad scoffs. “Ben, have you gone on a date since you moved here?” He drops a tool into the toolbox causing a loud clunk, making me jump.
I shrug. “Once or twice. I’m focusing on school.”
“Same excuse you used in high school.”
“I dated in high school,” I retort. Although, not heavily. It was usually a movie date or two, maybe dinner on occasion. Most of the time, I hung out with Elle, Peyton, and our group of friends. We’d party, hang at the beach, have bonfires, some would hook-up, and we’d repeat everything the next weekend.
“Right, what was her name? Elise?”
“Ella,” I mutter. For months, everyone gave me crap for dating Ella because her name was so close to Elle’s. Sadly, our relationship didn’t last too long because I referred to Ella as Elle one too many times. Their names were just so close it was an easy mistake. I vowed never to make the same one again when it came to dating someone with the same name.
“Oh right. I remember Mom even called her Elle at dinner. That was awkward. Elle used to think it was all fun and games.”
Elle thinks life is a game most of the time. Brad and I make eye contact, but that’s it. I don’t shrug or try to think of a comeback.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Elle and I slept together last night.”
“Right on, bro!” Brad sticks his hand up for high five, but I shake my head. His arm slowly drops, as does the expression on his face.
“Maybe she was drunk, maybe not. She told me she wasn’t.”
“Is she saying you raped her?”
I quickly shake my head. “No, nothing like that. She doesn’t remember.”
“You’re joking?”
I bring my bottle of beer up to my lips again, and this time I guzzle the contents down. Brad quickly hands me another with the top already popped. I drink about half before I feel like I have the confidence to face my brother with the most fucked up story of my life. “I wish I were. Last night was…” I pause, realizing Brad doesn’t need to hear the fluffy details about my encounter. “This morning, she freaked out when she woke up naked and asked me what happened. There was something about the way she looked at me and her voice. This feeling in my gut told me she was afraid we had crossed the line, so I lied and told her we kissed, but didn’t do the deed.”
“But you did?”
“Many times.”
“And she doesn’t remember?”
I take a long pull and finish this bottle as well. Brad goes to get me my third, but I wave him off. “Has this ever happened to you?”
Brad laughs but quickly stops. “Sorry, man. Nah, can’t say it has. I get the job done.”
“I got the job done, Brad. I have the scratch marks to prove it.” I turn and lift my shirt up. My brother utters some profanities before whipping me with a towel. I cry out and dodge his next maneuver. “Be serious for five seconds. I don’t know how you get so many chicks.”
Brad holds his arms out to the side. “It’s the bad boy image. Put some gel in your hair, act like you don’t give a shit and they come flocking to you with their daddy issues.”
“Somehow I don’t think gel is going to make Elle come running.”
“So forget her,” Brad says. He leans up against the car, his coveralls stained with paint and grease. “Honestly, it’s time to move on, Ben. This is your wake-up call. You slept with the chick you’ve been in love with for years, and she dogged you first thing. If that doesn’t scream friend zone, I don’t know what does. It’s time to pull up your big boy pants and get the hell out of dodge. Where’d you say your internship is?”
“New York.”
“Take it and run. Get out of California and explore the world for both of us. You don’t want to end up like me, working in some old man’s garage, praying he’ll have another car for me to fix so I can eat.”
“You know you could always come live with me.”
Brad shakes his head. “Nah, you need peace and quiet so you can graduate and become something. I’m good here, watching you succeed.” Brad heads to his toolbox and rifles through it until he finds whatever he needs. We’ve never really discussed our differences. While we look alike, we have different fathers, and while mine left me with a trust fund, which I can’t touch until after graduation, his father has always been absent. I think this is why Brad followed me to California when I moved out here for college, so I always had him.
“If I go, my apartment will be free for six weeks.”
“I got a bed here. You should sublet it and make some money back, and then take that money and find a nice girl to spend it on who doesn’t go by Elle James. She doesn’t deserve you, Ben. She never has.”
“You say that, but you like her.” I point out.
Brad nods. “I do. Elle’s a cool chick. So is Peyton. But liking her and thinking she’s the best fit for my baby brother are two different things.” Brad drops down onto his creeper and pulls himself under the car. A sure signal our conversation is over. I try to linger and even look around for something to do, but this is where Brad and I differ greatly. He’s good with his hands, while I’m creative with my mind.
“I’ll see,” I say loud enough for him to hear.
“Call me when you need a ride to the airport. I’ll take you.”
“Thanks.”
As soon as I pull away f
rom the garage, I drive toward the beach. It’s early spring, a Saturday and the traffic is going to be a pain, but it’ll give me time to think and process everything Brad said. As much as I don’t want to admit it, he’s right. I need to move on. I need to do what’s right for me. I think last night had to happen to bring me to this point. Elle and I are on two different pages. She wants to party and hook-up. I want to graduate and start a career and a life with someone I’m in love with. That’s something we can’t do together.
It takes me almost two hours, but my toes are finally in the sand. Of course, everywhere I look there are couples, chasing each other, making out or walking hand in hand along the shore, making me feel like I’m missing out on something very important in life.
The thing is, as hard as I try, I can’t imagine myself with anyone other than Elle. I’ve tried, and maybe it’s because she’s always there, living next door, barging into my apartment, calling me at all hours of the night. I can’t escape her, even if I tried.
And I really need to try.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and turn it on. It comes to life with messages from classmates thanking me for the party, but nothing from Elle. Honestly, I didn’t expect her to text or even call. What would she even say? I knew better than to sleep with her, yet I went ahead and did it anyway because I’m stupidly in love with her and now I’m going to be the one to pay the price. That price will be our friendship because I don’t know if I can go on pretending like nothing happened between us, and I definitely don’t know if I can turn a blind eye when she brings another guy home.
9
Elle
“YAHOO!”
* * *
Slowly, I open my eyes and let the sunlight in. There’s another joyous scream coming from somewhere outside, and for some odd reason, I’m smiling. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I’m home with my family, and when I’m here, everything feels right in my life.
My Unexpected Love: The Beaumont Series: Next Generation Page 5