When she reaches the end of the boardwalk, she leans down to unclasp the straps of her shoes. I realize being just friends with her is going to take some serious self-control. Her body is spectacular, and I mentally slap myself for thinking of all the things I’d like to do to it.
“Hey,” I holler. “Wait up.”
The only acknowledgment I get that she’s heard me is a quick glance over her shoulder. I double my stride until I’m next to her. “Christ. Why are you always in such a hurry to get somewhere?”
“I’m not.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” As I speak, she slows, but only slightly. “I kind of promised Marley I’d stay with you. If you would stop running like there is a fire under your ass, that’d be most appreciated.”
She shoots me a disapproving glance. “I don’t need to be babysat. You should go do body shots with Marley and Mateo. I’m sure half of the town’s population would be grateful.”
As we reach the lifeguard tower, she looks at the ground. The sand is still wet from the rain earlier, but she doesn’t seem to care because she flops down and crosses her legs.
I grab her beer, twist the cap off, and hand it back to her. “Nah, I’m happy to stay here.” I take a long sip of my drink, allowing the cold, amber liquid to snake its way down my insides, providing temporary relief from the lingering heat of the day. I decide to change the subject. “So your car is a real easy fix.”
“Really?”
“Yup. Just a fan belt. Dirt cheap.”
“I’ll pay for it as soon as I can.”
“That’s not what I meant. I mean, I wasn’t trying to suggest you should pay for it.”
“Of course I should pay for it,” she replies in obvious disgust. “That’s what people do. They pay for things.”
“This one is on the house. Consider it a welcome-back present.”
“A present? From you?”
“Is that really so unreasonable?”
“Well, we don’t know each other. Not really.”
“Let’s change that.”
“I’m not interested. Even if you come bearing gifts like beer.” She holds up the bottle I’ve just given her.
“You’re not interested in being my friend? That’s a little harsh. If I had feelings, I think they’d be hurt.”
She laughs. She finally laughs, and I feel like I’ve won some kind of fucking lottery. “If you had feelings, huh?”
“They come around every now and then, but it can be as rare as a lunar eclipse.”
“I don’t think a guy and a girl can be just friends,” she says.
“I respectfully disagree. Why do you think that it’s not possible?”
“Nature of the beast, I suppose. People are sexual by nature and that’s hard to ignore.”
“What if you or I were unsightly?”
“Ugly?”
“You know, grotesque, horrible, hideous? What if either one of us was a hideous but incredibly awesome person? I have friends who are girls who I am not attracted to. It doesn’t make them any less my friends.”
“But we’re not hideous.”
I nudge her shoulder and widen my eyes. “Well, I’m not, but you . . .”
“Hey,” she cuts me off. “Watch it.”
“I’m just kidding. You know you’re hot, Emma Fletcher, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be your friend.”
FOUR
Emma
Why does Tristan Banks want to be friends with me? A voice in my head, one that I should probably listen to, is wary and screaming at me to proceed with caution. I am so caught up in trying to determine why he’d want to be friends with me that I hardly notice the buzz from the alcohol that makes my blood warm. It’s also helping me to relax a little.
“May I have another beer?” I ask.
Tristan’s eyes lock on mine and he smirks, digging in the box to retrieve my second beer. “As your friend, am I supposed to tell you to slow down a little?” He twists the cap off.
“Probably. Doesn’t mean I’ll listen.”
“Oh good,” he jokes. “You’ll fit in perfect with Mateo. He doesn’t listen either. Only he doesn’t have the manners you do.”
“I wonder what they’re doing.”
Tristan twists his body and points to where his friend and mine are. “It looks like Marley is being the center of attention and everything Mateo has ever dreamed of is coming true.”
Sure enough, I can see Marley sprawled on top of a makeshift tiki bar. Her skirt is pulled down at the waist just enough to reveal her hip bone. Mateo has his lips pressed against it and from the look on Marley’s face, I think she’s enjoying herself far more than she could have anticipated. “I see not much has changed with Marley. Always the life of the party.”
At my words, Tristan’s expression changes. Is it the same sympathy that I’d seen in Logan’s eyes? Or is he merely curious? I don’t know.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he replies. “Just thinking about how one of you hasn’t changed at all and you’ve changed so much that I barely recognized you.”
“It’s not like we were best friends before,” I point out. “What if you only ever knew the person I wanted you to see?”
Tristan shifts in the sand and leans against the lifeguard tower. “Isn’t that the same for all of us? I mean, it’s not like anyone purposely walks around showing the worst side of themselves, proudly displaying their secrets heart-on-sleeve style. They’re too afraid the world will judge them.”
“That’s true.”
He smirks, bringing the neck of the bottle to his lips. “I guess the question then becomes: What made you want to change the person you portray?”
“I’m still the same person. I changed my hair color. You’re reading too much into nothing,” I say a little too defensively, the way a person who was lying would. “Not everyone has secrets, you know.”
“Whatever you say.”
“You sound disappointed.”
He shakes his head. “Nope. I’m simply pointing out that the person you are, or the one that you’ve shown me in the past, has changed. That’s all.”
“I disagree, but even if it were true, is that a bad thing?”
He gives a casual shrug of his shoulders. “No. Objectively speaking, it’s neither good nor bad.”
“Good.”
“Good,” he agrees.
The silence between the two of us stretches out into the wide expanse of beach. I can hear Tristan inhale and exhale, and through the corner of my eye I can see the subtle rise and fall of his broad chest.
The quiet doesn’t faze him, but it’s the equivalent of nails on a chalkboard to me. “So, how long have you worked in your dad’s shop?”
He takes another sip of his beer. He’s still nursing the same one he’d had when we sat down and I’m ready for a third. My inhibitions are a little freer, although nowhere near ready to run wild.
“Only a little while. I haven’t actually been back for very long.”
“Back? From where?”
“MIT,” he says.
Holy shit. Not what I expected. “MIT, really?”
He nods and grins. “Alas, I’m not just a pretty face.”
Obviously. “What were you taking?”
“Civil engineering,” he replies.
“Why’d you come back?”
I know I’m asking too many questions, but this is fascinating. A nugget of information I never would have predicted about Tristan.
He stands, brushes the back of his pants off, and stretches his hand out to help me up. “Whether you choose to admit it or not, we all have secrets, Emma Fletcher, and that is one of mine. C’mon. You’re wet.”
Tristan
Emma has consumed several beers and she’s a little tipsy. It takes her a few attem
pts before she’s able to grasp my hand. When she does, she’s appalled, her words beginning to slur and spill over into each other. “I beg your pardon?”
It takes me a minute to realize what she thinks I’ve said. I told her she was wet. The heat radiating from her body is enough to give me a tan and I chuckle. It’s been a long time since a girl could make me blush.
“Your clothes are getting wet sitting on the sand,” I clarify. “Tisk, tisk, Emma. It’s no wonder you don’t think members of the opposite sex can’t be friends. Dirty thoughts, huh?”
She is the same color as those little tomatoes Mateo shovels in his mouth like candy. “I can’t believe I just said that.”
Her hand is still wrapped in my palm. It’s tiny and soft, and I wonder what the tips of her fingers would feel like touching me.
Forget it, Banks.
I squeeze her hand and laugh. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. We’re sexual by nature, right?”
She nods, becoming aware that her hand is still in mine. She yanks it away like my touch is poison. “Where are we going?”
I leave the case of beer behind and shove my hands in my pockets in order to quash the desire to take her hand again. “Thought maybe we could go for a walk. You’ve had two beers in less than an hour, so you either have a ridiculously impressive alcohol tolerance for such a slim girl or you have to be feeling something by now.”
As if on cue, she hiccups and looks shocked. It catches her unaware and she claps a hand over her mouth. “Maybe.”
“Yeah,” I say, “maybe.”
We keep in stride with each other as I lead her back to the main area where the partygoers are. There’s more light, more people, and most importantly, it’s dry.
“Sorry,” she says.
“What do you have to be sorry for?”
“I shouldn’t have drunk so much so quickly.”
At her words, I fear she might be feeling nauseous. I’ve been there so many times myself, so I stop walking. “You okay? Are you feeling sick?”
She shakes her head. “No, I’m fine.”
When I look at her, she looks away, up, to the side, to her shoes. Anywhere but my face.
“You sure?” I ask her.
“Yep. I’m sure.”
We continue to walk until Brady Maxwell, town he-whore, comes staggering toward us. Guy thinks he’s a real player, but he’s nothing but a worthless little douche who uses women. I can’t be bothered with him on the best of days. Sure, Jenny and I may use each other, but I respect the hell out of her. She’s beautiful and brilliant and in charge of her life. Brady is just a bitch who is rumored to hit on freshmen ’cause he can’t manipulate any women his own age.
“Banks,” he slurs, “I heard you were back. Where you been hiding?”
He looks like a fucking cartoon character. His eyes are crossing, unable to focus on my face, yet somehow magically they wander, or at least one does, to Emma. Her body goes rigid, waves of anxiety rolling off her. I feel instantly protective and position myself in front of her.
“At the shop, mostly,” I say, hoping my answer will appease him enough to send him on his way.
He stumbles clumsily closer and reaches out, arms flailing with no real direction, although I’m sure he’s trying to grope at Emma.
“Ne’mer’mind,” he drawls. “I’d stay in hiding too if I was banging a fine piece of ass like this one.”
My hands are out of my pockets and clenched into fists at my sides. My jaw is tight, teeth grinding against each other. I want to haul off and clock him as hard as I can for talking about her that way, but I don’t need to start a brawl in the middle of the boardwalk. “Back off,” I warn.
I can feel Emma’s body inch closer to mine. So close, her breath is on the back of my neck. She doesn’t like the vibe Brady is putting out and neither do I. Every instinct is tweaked and I can’t help but feel like he’s a dog that needs to be put down.
He looks at me incredulously. “Or what, Tristan? I don’t hear her telling me to leave. In fact she looks like she could use a good lay.”
He makes a move to push past me to grab at her, but I turn with him and secure my left hand on Emma’s hip to let her know I’m not going to let anything happen to her. I bring the right one up and make a fist that I pull back like I’m lining up a pool shot and let go. As I make contact with his jaw, there’s an audible pop and Emma gasps behind me.
He stumbles and grabs the side of his face. “Hey, fuck you, man!”
“I said back off.”
But like the drunken fucking idiot he is, he squares his shoulders and stands up taller, ready to take me on. He starts running his mouth more, hissing that Emma’s a slut until he spots Mateo, who is jogging toward us. Marley follows behind him.
He comes to a halt beside me, eyes darting from Emma to Brady to me. “Everything all right here?” As he speaks, he cracks his knuckles. For those who know Mateo—which is pretty much everyone in Stonefall—this is the one and only warning he will be kind enough to issue. He only cracks his knuckles in preparation for some unlucky person’s face to kiss them. He holds a championship title in boxing, so I can count the number of times I’ve seen it go farther than this.
Mat doesn’t need to fight my battles. I can definitely hold my own. I make him sweat when we spar together and I’m the only person who has managed to take him down, but this doesn’t change the fact that it’s funny as hell when he steps in.
Brady looks like he’s just pissed himself when his arms shoot up in the air as if Mateo’s fists are loaded guns. “Everything is fine, man. I was just leaving.”
Mateo looks at me for confirmation.
“Yeah,” I say. “You were.”
Emma
Marley probably could have dealt with Brady by herself. She wouldn’t have hidden like some coward. She would have had Brady on his knees, begging for forgiveness in ten seconds flat.
I’m not like her.
I can’t stop shaking. I know it’s stupid, but the same scenario keeps running through my head like a nightmare on repeat. What if Tristan hadn’t been there? I would have frozen. I would have frozen and then what would have happened? What could have happened? I squeeze my eyes shut and swallow the knot in my throat, which only pushes it into a solid mass of discomfort in my stomach that makes me want to puke.
We’re standing outside Tristan’s truck. A plaid jacket he had in the cab is draped over my shoulders, and Marley is running her hands up and down my arms like she’s trying to warm me up. It doesn’t matter. I still shake.
“I’ll go make him bleed, darling,” Mateo offers. He’s pacing back and forth, taking deep breaths to calm himself. When he spoke to Brady, his entire demeanor was calculated and very controlled, but we all knew he could kill Brady with his bare hands if he wanted to. They are that lethal.
I smile and shake my head weakly. “You’re sweet, Mateo, but I just want to go home, please.”
“Of course we can go.” Tristan’s voice is gentle.
Marley stops the friction on my arms. “Do you want me to spend the night with you? Because I can.”
“No,” I say, climbing into the front seat of Tristan’s truck. “Not necessary. I’ll be okay, I swear. I just want to get home.” I hope I’m convincing enough, but I doubt it. I don’t believe myself.
Tristan’s truck is ridiculous and since he’s the only sober one, we all have to manage to fit. I can’t imagine anyone under five foot six actually being able to get inside it because it’s raised so high from the ground. My suspicions are confirmed when Marley tries and fails. Despite the intensity of the situation, she giggles, which in turn makes me giggle, until we’re all laughing. Anything to take my mind off what could have happened feels good.
Mateo scoops her up and lifts her to the door of the truck, getting in back beside her. In the rearview mirror, I ca
n tell Marley is affected by his charm.
Tristan gets into the driver’s side, puts the key in the ignition, and turns to me. His eyes are hauntingly beautiful, even in the dark, the strangest shade of blue, like water.
“You all right?” He speaks so softly, I’m not sure Marley or Mateo would be able to hear him.
I wrap my arms around myself and slouch into the seat, allowing his jacket to blanket me. It smells amazing. “I’m okay,” I lie.
As he places his hand on the stick shift, I watch him switch gears and zone out on his legs working the brake and the clutch, because somehow focusing on such mundane things makes me feel safe.
I started this evening determined not to be friends with Tristan, but now that seems impossible. He’s been nothing but kind to me. He’s protected me and now, whether he knew it or not, he comforted me. I can’t remember the last time I slept without nightmares, but for the next twenty minutes, I feel safe enough to close my eyes.
Hands grip the tops of my arms.
“Stop trying to get away, you stupid bitch.”
I open my mouth to scream but nothing comes out, so I scramble as far away as I can get until I’m nearly behind the steering wheel. My eyes fly open to see a stunned Tristan standing outside the passenger door, holding his hands up in surrender.
“Easy,” he says. “You fell asleep.”
I gather my bearings. Tristan was driving us home. When I can breathe again, I look behind me. “Where’s Marley?”
“I dropped her and Mateo off first. Your place is a little closer to mine than either of theirs. Made sense that I’d come here last.” He blinks, and I realize he is waiting for me to do something aside from remaining immobile across the bench seat of his truck.
“Sorry.” I climb across and hoist myself down on the ground, reluctantly taking his jacket off my shoulders and holding it out to him.
He shakes his head. “Keep it. You look comfortable in it.” He puts a hand on the back of his neck. “Can I walk you to your door?”
The Enchantment of Emma Fletcher Page 4