by Angel Lawson
“Oh, I’m so sorry. That must’ve been really hard.”
He lifts his shoulders as though it’s no big deal. “It is what it is, and Richard has been great. He helped me get in school and gave me the job at the marina. Plus, I get to live in my awesome cottage.”
The sun has completely dropped into the horizon and the sky darkens. I tighten my grip on his hand and take a breath. “My dad left when I was eight. After my mother’s fourth book. He didn’t want to be the husband of Julia Barnes, author.”
Justin tilts his head. “Do you still see him?”
“Not really,” I say. “He has a new wife and two kids. The last I heard from him was when he sent me a check for graduation.”
He snorts. “What jerks.”
“Guys are kind of like that,” I say.
He cuts his eyes at me and frowns. “Not all guys.” He means it—or so he thinks, and maybe it’s true, but in my recent experience, guys kind of suck.
“I should go,” I tell him and I try to tug my hand from his but he holds tight. As we walk back the crickets start chirping, making a low hum against the small waves coming from the water. The vibe between us is awkward, so I ask, “Hey, what did you mean by an awesome cottage?”
This earns me a smile and he points past the patio, on the other side of the fireplace chimney. I see it: a small carriage house. “That’s it.”
“You live there?”
“Since I turned eighteen. Richard and I agreed we both could use some privacy. Lucky for me, he had a guest house fully furnished.”
“What, to bring girls home?”
“Hey, he’s single, too. It just worked out better for us both to have some space.” He stops abruptly. “Do you want to go in?”
I glance over at the small cottage. It’s bigger than my camper, which adds allure since I’ve been confined to such small quarters for a couple of weeks. Again, the mood between us changes, no longer awkward but a different type of tension. Tense with a heavy coil of energy linking between us. I can still feel Pete’s lips on mine and I push past the lump in my throat to confess, “I kissed Pete on the sandbar.”
His expression doesn’t change but he says, “Okay.”
“I know about your pact—the no girlfriend pack.”
He watches me closely. “You’ve done your homework.”
“And I just…Anita thinks I need a summer of fun—to get past some drama I left back home.”
“Summer’s summer of fun,” he mumbles, but he’s not mad. He’s still with me, hanging on every word.
“I know things were going good between us and I didn’t want it to get awkward. Or to hide anything…”
“It’s okay, Summer. Pete’s my best friend. And you’re an incredibly sexy girl. I can’t blame him for making the first move.”
My stomach churns from his words.
“I uh…I really should get back.”
He doesn’t fight me and we walk back to the driveway. His hand never leaves mine, and when we reach the car he positions his body so his back is flat against the door, blocking me from leaving. “Thanks for the ride home,” he says. There’s a growing intensity in his eyes.
“You really don’t care that I kissed Pete?”
“Nope.”
“Is he going to care if I kiss you?”
He thinks for a moment and pulls out his phone. I watch, confused as he types out a message. After a quick second it vibrates and the exchange goes back and forth. When he finished he holds it up for me to see.
I hear you kissed Summer?
I did.
Mind if I give her a shot too?
That’s her choice not mine…
“So, Summer, seems like that kiss is up to you?” His lips twist into a smile. “But for the record, I’m all in.”
His hands reach for my hips but he’s taking too long, so I grab his shirt and move closer. The instant I do a slow, wide smile briefly appears before his expression turns serious and he kisses me.
My hands fly to the back of his head and tug him toward me, and I lift on my toes to reach him better. If my first kiss of the day was slow and sweet, this is the opposite, beyond what I’d hoped it would be. The feeling of his lips, his tongue, and his body against mine lights a fire and it spreads to the pit of my stomach down to the tips of my fingers. My encouragement makes him greedy and I feel his hips push back into mine and his day’s growth of stubble rubs against my chin. I don’t care. When we part, we’re both breathing a lot heavier than before.
“That was,” he starts, but I kiss him again, because I like kissing and well, I like him.
This leads to another round of his lips on mine, then he focuses on the sensitive skin behind my ear until his teeth scrape down my throat to my collarbone and I crumble into giggles under his touch. “Ticklish,” I say, and he starts laughing too and it’s enough to break the fire between us for the moment.
“Good to know,” he says, raising his eyebrows in fun while staring at my lips.
“Good night, Justin,” I tell him and get in the car before I change my mind and take him up on the offer to see his cottage.
* * *
I’m carrying a basket of clothes to the laundry room the next day when Anita corners me. I smile at Sibley perched on her hip.
“So,” she says, following me into the small cinderblock building. I begin tossing clothes into the washer.
“So, what?”
She rolls her eyes. “I saw you cozying up to a few of the boys yesterday.”
“Whatever, we were all just hanging out. You missed it because you were snuggling in the boat with Bobby.”
“I have eyes in the back of my head. I saw you and Pete on the sandbar.”
I blush. There really are no secrets around this place.
“And you and Justin looked pretty tight all day yesterday.”
“He was being nice—helping me past my fear of the ocean.”
“I heard you gave him a ride home?”
“From who?”
She squints and reaches out to touch my chin, “What’s that?”
I push her hand away and measure out a cup of soap and pour it in the machine. “What’s what?”
“Looks like a rash.”
From Justin’s beard.
“Probably just from the sand or something.” I turn and exit the building. Anita follows me back to the camper.
“Sure, that could be it, or you know, face rash from making out with Justin last night!” She says this loudly, too loudly for being in the middle of the campground and surrounded by nosy neighbors.
Sibley giggles and says, “Jusssstin.”
“Shhhh!” I frown, looking around to see if anyone heard. Mr. Walker waters flowers in front of his camper but I doubt he heard me over his radio. I lower my voice and ask, “What’s your problem?”
She has the good sense to look guilty. “Nothing. I’m just glad you’re having some fun. And I like you. And I love him. Is it wrong to be happy that the people I care about are happy?
“Whatever,” she says following me to my camper. “I noticed you got home pretty late last night—way later than the rest of us.”
“Are you stalking me?” I ask, but I know she can see the entrance from her house. “I dropped him at his house and he showed me around.”
“Beautiful, huh? Just think—that could have been my life,” she sighs. “You know, if my mom and Richard had stayed together.”
“What and leave all this?” I glance around the campground. It’s Sunday afternoon and the grounds are starting to come to life. Mr. Walker is mowing the five by eight patch of grass out front, while some lady in lot #17 prunes her flowers. “I’m kidding, you know, it really is pretty fantastic here—in its own charming way.”
“I think so,” she nods, letting a squirming Sibley out of her arms to see the tiny dog one of the residents is walking.
My phone vibrates in my pocket and I check to see who’s calling. “It’s my friend Catherine. I sho
uld take this.”
“Keep me posted on the boys, I need details. I got married young, you know, I need a little excitement.” Anita waves and follows after Sibley.
“Hey,” I say into the phone.
“Hey girl! How are you?”
“Pretty good,” I tell her. I’m at my camper and sit down on one of the orange canvas chairs my mother has placed around our ‘patio’. “How are you?”
“Just packing and trying to get everything ready.”
“That’s right,” I say. “You leave in a few weeks.”
“Yep. It’s been crazy but I think I finally have it all together. I had to get a couple of new dresses. It’s cooler there.”
“Good,” I reply, hoping the jealousy isn’t evident in my voice. “You guys will have a lot of fun.”
“Not as much as we would with you.”
“Cathe…”
She sighs into the phone. “I know you’ve made your decision, but you can still change your mind! Mason really wants you to come. We all had dinner the other night and he told me he’s been trying to contact you.”
“Yeah, he’s been trying.”
“You should hear him out,” she says.
I look out at the water. It’s already warm and I want to get in my bathing suit and hit the beach. Not deal with this drama. “I’ve heard what he has to say.”
“He and Nicole broke up, did you know that?”
Hearing her name almost makes me gag, but at the same time, hearing the news of their separation sparks something in my chest. It also explains why he’s been calling so much.
I drop my head in my hand. Jesus, I’m a fucking mess.
“Great,” I say. “I’m officially the cause of a broken relationship.”
“That’s one way to look at it. Or that he wants you back enough to leave her.”
I wonder for a moment how I ever found Mason attractive. “It doesn’t matter. He lied to me. And I lied to everyone else. I can’t believe you’re pushing me to do this. A few weeks ago, you were worried about me.”
“That was before I heard his side of the story,” she says. “I was wrong. What you guys had was romantic. He could be your OTP.”
“OTP?”
“You know, One True Pairing? Like Romeo and Juliet?”
“You realize they both died. But you’re right, I was happy,” I tell her. “And it was doomed. Him breaking up with his girlfriend doesn’t make it any better. Really, it just makes it worse.”
“You have a week, Summer. He’s kept your name on the list so you can still go with us.”
I’m trying to formulate a response to this when I see Justin’s Jeep pull down the gravel drive to our camper. At second glance I see it’s not him inside, but Whit. He jumps out and my heart thuds at the sweet, sexy smile he shoots in my direction. My heart reacts to seeing him with more than a spark; it kicks into gear. “Catherine, I need to go.”
“Okay, but think about it—promise me.”
“I…” Whit looks good this morning. His shaggy hair is messy and cute. I hold up my hand to him, to let him know I need a minute.
“Think about it.”
“Fine, I’ll think about it—I really need to go,” I say to get her off the phone. I disconnect and stash the phone in my pocket. My heart pounds in that crushy kind of way and in that keeping-a-secret kind of way. Both equally dangerous.
“Hi,” Whit says, walking under the shady canopy. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, just talking to my friend from school. She’s about to go on this big trip to France and thinks I need to know every detail.”
“Sounds fun.”
“Yeah, it does.”
“So I have the day off,” he tells me and catches my hand in his.
“Oh, really? Strange, I have the day off, too,” I laugh.
“I thought you might. Want to spend it with me?”
He’s charming and handsome and my hand feels perfect in his. France? Who needs France? I squeeze his hand and say, “Yep.”
* * *
“Remind me next time to find out what we’re doing before I agree.” I’m knee-deep in the ocean trying not to have a panic attack. Both of my feet are on top of Whit’s and his arms are wrapped around my waist.
“Not that I mind this position, but really, I think we should try going further out.” He attempts to move his feet forward but I’m clinging to him so tightly it makes it difficult.
“Can’t we just go back on the beach? Because really, sharks can’t get you on the beach. Or crabs or sting rays or jellyfish.”
“Babe, none of those things are going to get you.”
Babe? If anyone else had called me that back home I would’ve punched them in the junk. Even Mason. But hearing the pet name come across Whit’s lips sends a flare of warmth straight to my belly.
I don’t let him know that. I already feel myself sinking in so deep with these guys. Every little thing they do draws me in. Instead, I crane my neck to give him my best skeptical look. It isn’t hard since I am entirely skeptical.
“You don’t know that. You don’t. You may have spent your whole life in the ocean and today, today! Could be the day a shark decides to eat you,” I explain. “And then me.”
At the campground, Whit instructed me to put on my bathing suit and get ready for some ocean fun. I was game, ready for an adventure, even after he drove the Jeep off the dirt road at the end of the island and past the signs that said: “No Entry.” He helped me out of the vehicle and carried a backpack filled with lunch over the dunes and down to the completely deserted edge of the island. It wasn’t long before he started talking me into getting in the water.
Thirty minutes passed and I’m only in up to my knees.
A wave comes at us, pushing cold water over my exposed stomach, I yelp and attempt to wiggle out of his grasp but he holds tight.
“It’s just a wave,” he says, hand lingering on my back. I know he’s right. It is just a wave. A wave filled with horrible sea monsters.
“Okay I think I can—,” the smile slides off his face and his eyes are over my shoulder, not on me. I turn to look and come face-to-face with a wave as tall as I am.
“Summer,” I hear him say just before the wall of water crashes over my head. At first, his hands are all over me, but the force of the wave pushes us both backwards and he loses contact. Water fills my mouth and nose and my heart jackhammers in my chest. I force myself to my feet, despite my fears of crabs and sand sharks. I choke and spit out salty water, shouting, “Whit!” I see him but another wave is at his back so I scramble out of the knee-deep water to get back to safety. His hands attempt to grab onto my hips as he tries to slow me down.
“Hold up,” he says, chasing after me, but I’ve made it to the beach. Once I’ve got solid ground beneath me, I fall to my knees on the hard-packed sand. I spit the salty water out of my mouth and adjust my bathing suit top from where the waves pushed it around.
“No way,” I tell him when he reaches me and sits down. He’s completely unfazed by the events that just happened. I look him in the eye. “I’m not going back out there.”
“Okay,” he says, brushing my wet hair over my shoulder. “I won’t make you, but tell me, why is the ocean so scary for you?”
“The water’s dark and I can’t see the bottom. Anything can be down there. The fish freak me out and seaweed wraps around my feet and just promise you’ll never make me do that again.”
“I won’t,” he says, pulling me into a hug. “Not ‘til you’re ready.”
“You may be waiting awhile.”
“I’m pretty patient,” he says in my ear and just like that, my heart is no longer racing due to the excitement in the water but because of the proximity of this man.
He dips his head and there’s a slight moment of hesitation, the one right before a guy makes his move. I lift my chin and he kisses me, once soft and then again. I kiss him back and he tugs me off the sand and onto his lap, until I’m straddling his w
aist. Adrenaline from the incident rushes through me and I feel a surge of energy. Boldness. No one is around, and I feel hungry for the way his lips taste and the way his hands wander over my exposed back and down the sides of my breasts. He’s hard beneath me and my mind and body war in conflict. Too fast or just right?
Unaware of my mental battle, Whit eases me over until I’m the one on my back, lying against the gritty sand. He lies next to me and I reach my hand out and run it along his chin, brush the long strands of hair out of his face. He leans over and licks my lip, tugging it gently with his teeth. He kisses like the ocean itself, wild but dangerous. Taunting me with every touch.
We’re both breathing heavily when we part and I can’t help but notice the darkness lingering in his eyes. “I’m sorry if I upset you yesterday. With my comment about school.”
His jaw tightens briefly. “It wasn’t you. The Citadel is a sore spot for me.”
“You don’t want to go?” I remember what Pete said.
“It doesn’t matter what I want.” Pain flickers across his expression.
“It matters to me,” I say.
His thumbs run underneath the bottom edge of my bathing suit top. Sand rubs between us, scratching the skin on my stomach, and the heat of his body spreads an ache from my chest to my toes. He buries his face in my neck and I laugh, squirming in the sand.
With a glimmer in his eye, he captures my wrists and asks, “What do you want, Summer Barnes?”
“From you?” I reply. The laughter and lust make it hard to catch my breath.
“Yeah,” he says between kisses, each one deeper than the one before it. “From all of us.”
“This is pretty good,” I say, not wanting to give more. “Just having a bit of fun before the realities of life hit again, you know?”
He doesn’t reply but I know he gets it. I know they all do and I can think of worse ways to spend my summer than with hotties like Whit. We’ve all got something we’re trying to run away from. Hold off.
Whit stands suddenly, towering over me with his perfect body, covered in wet sand. He raises an eyebrow and offers me a hand.
“Don’t make me go back out there,” I say.