Great. Now I feel like the asshole who stole her father from her since he’s been living here with my mom and me for months.
“So, Georgia Tech, huh?” she asks, thankfully changing the subject.
“Yeah. I was born in Atlanta. My dad took me to a game when I was a little kid. After watching Megatron make a few catches, I knew I wanted to be a wide receiver.”
“Megatron?”
“Calvin Johnson?” I ask, but she shakes her head.
She must not be as into football as her dad thinks. I toss the ball up and catch it.
“So why are you going to North Florida State? Why not Georgia Tech?” she asks.
Because I can’t keep numbers straight to save my life, and that shit won’t fly in Division 1 football. “They gave me a wrestling scholarship. I’m going in as a history major. Probably law school after that.” There. That sounds stable enough.
She nods, but glances at the poster of Odell Beckham Jr. on my wall. “If you’re going to be wrestling in college, shouldn’t this be a poster of Stone Cold Steve Austin or something?”
I lower my chin. “Competitive wrestling is not the same as pro wrestling.”
“You mean you don’t do body slams and elbow guys in the eye?” She smiles at me for the first time and it’s like the floor falls out from beneath my feet.
“Not on the mat,” I manage.
She glances at the poster. “Guess there aren’t a lot of popular competitive wrestling heroes out there.” She turns to me. “Why did you choose wrestling over football?”
And there it is. I shift in my seat, my face warming. “No reason,” I lie. But there are a thousand reasons, number one on the list being that I can’t ask the quarterback for a Division 1 team to kindly exclude numbers from his play calls. The team would be the laughing stock of the SEC. “What’s your sport?”
She laughs. “Walking is the closest thing I do to exercise.”
“There’s trails in the wooded area on the far end of the resort. I can show you,” I say.
She glances down at the ground, looking uncomfortable again as she tucks a stray wave behind her ear. What did I say this time?
“Chloe!” her friend yells from the other room. “I can’t decide which shirt I’m wearing. I think I’m gonna wear one of yours.”
Chloe rolls her eyes and takes a few steps toward the door, and since I’m a guy, I can’t help but glance at her ass. She’s got a rockin’ bod. She’s not skinny like her friend, but she’s full of curves in all the right places. And she doesn’t seem to have a clue that she’s hot…which makes her even hotter.
The sobering thought of my mom marrying her dad wakes me from my temporary insanity. This girl’s going to be my sister. I don’t need to be checking out her ass…no matter how hot she is. My mom threatened to strangle me if I touched either of these girls while they’re here. She doesn’t need to worry, though. I’m not about to mess around with any girls this summer. I’ve got too much shit going on.
“Welcome to Destin, little sis,” I call out after her.
There. Boundaries. Keeping this a brother-sister thing.
She hesitates and almost turns back toward me, but then heads to the bathroom with a mumbled, “Thanks.”
Chapter Three
Chloe
The shower has been running for a few minutes. Jenna sits on her bed eyeing me, a devilish smile on her face. I’ve been trying not to look at her, but the way she’s practically vibrating with excitement is too hard to ignore.
She points at the door and whispers, “He’s naked in there.”
As if I hadn’t thought about it at least twenty times in the last ten seconds. I scowl at her. She sticks her tongue out at me.
“He’s a wrestler,” I say.
“Like The Rock?”
I chuckle. “No, like a real wrestler. He’s going to do it in college.”
She plops onto her belly, kicking her feet back and forth. “So he rolls around on a mat with other guys? That’s hot.”
I groan. “Shut up.”
“Chloe!” My dad’s voice bellows through the house.
Jenna jumps off her bed and winks. “Ooh. It’s Chloe’s hot dad.”
“Why did I bring you here?” I ask.
“You had no choice.”
I wince. She seems okay with the fact that her parents ditched her for a summer tour. They’re both bluegrass musicians, and they got a couple of sweet spots in a traveling bluegrass jamboree. I thought her dad was going to cancel everything on the spot when I picked her up this morning, but Jenna worked her typical magic and talked them into following their dreams all over again.
We head down the stairs and round the corner to the kitchen. My dad puts up groceries next to a tall blond woman I can only assume is my new “mom.”
“Hey, Dad.” I give him a side-hug.
He kisses me on top of the head, a step further than he usually goes. But it has been five months since I’ve seen him. We talk once a week or so, but it’s fairly superficial. How is his work? How are my grades? Am I still drawing? Like I’m three and I’ve moved on from Play-Doh.
“Dad, you remember Jenna,” I say, gesturing to her.
She flutters her lashes. “Hello, Mr. Stone.”
My dad turns to set down a bag before addressing Jenna, and she takes the opportunity to flash me a quick, knowing smile. Gross.
He rests his hands on his hips. “Of course. We’re so glad to have you this summer. I just hung up with your father a minute ago. He said you already checked in with him and let him know you arrived safely?”
Jenna nods. “I talk to him all the time. We’re close.”
The tension between my father and me thickens, and he actually coughs from it. He turns to my future stepmother and wraps his arm around her. “This is Cynthia.”
Her face opens into a warm, welcoming smile. “So nice to meet you girls.”
She is…pretty. Not a bombshell, but attractive. She’s got a nice figure for an old person. I guess I expected her to be a little younger, but she looks about my dad’s age. She grabs my dad’s arm and gazes up at him. She is smitten with him, no doubt about it. Is my dad smitten with her?
“Thanks for having me this summer,” Jenna says.
“We’re happy you’re here.” Cynthia looks at me. “Both of you.”
She seems genuine which eases my mind half a percent.
“I hope you like seafood, Jenna. We picked up some shrimp to boil and some scallops to grill,” my dad says.
“I’m doing hushpuppies and new potatoes, too,” Cynthia says.
“Sounds delicious, Miss…” Jenna stops herself.
“Cynthia, please,” Cynthia says. “Chloe, your dad says shrimp is your favorite.”
Favorite? Not necessarily, but I’ll let that one slide in the interest of avoiding an awkward initial meeting.
“Yes,” I answer with a smile. “Thanks.”
So it turns out Cynthia isn’t terrible. She seems sweet and thoughtful. That’s one positive. Now, if I can just avoid the total weirdness of living with my father who I can’t seem to carry on a decent conversation with and the fact that my new brother is a complete hotfest, this summer might just be bearable.
Dinner is weird. My mom always served as the buffer between my dad and me. They’ve been divorced since I was fourteen, but my dad and I have always chosen activities like movies and shows for our daddy/daughter time together—anything where we didn’t have to talk much.
But Cynthia wants to know all this stuff about me. What types of drawings do I do? If I could travel anywhere in the world where would it be? What is the most underrated book I’ve ever read? I’m exhausted by the time we finish our salads.
Landon sits to my left at the head of the table, and the way he watches me makes me nervous. I know he’s
being polite because I’m talking, but still. I glance at him a few times just so it’s not like I’m afraid to look at him, but I’m not used to guys who look like him looking at me. And he seems genuinely interested in what I’m saying, which freaks me out even more.
I wasn’t like this before. At least I don’t think I was. It’s not like I was ever this glowing popularity queen or anything. But I wasn’t weirded out by a guy my age listening to me answer questions.
Out of nowhere, like a swarm of flies, flashes of that night two weeks ago on the pontoon boat assault my brain. Beer breath being blown into my mouth, the sound of Trevor’s zipper sliding down, his out-of-control tongue leaving a wet spot on my cheek. I squirm in my seat, my stomach rolling in queasy waves.
“Are you okay, Chloe?” Cynthia asks.
I glance up at her, my cheeks warming. “Yeah.” I struggle for more words, some excuse for what is probably a disgusted look on my face, but nothing comes to mind.
Cynthia directs her questions at Jenna, and I take the opportunity to scoot my food around on my plate while I try to catch my breath. I don’t look up to confirm, but I can feel Landon’s gaze on me. He’s probably trying to figure out what kind of freak has entered his home.
When enough time has passed to consider this meal in the books, I thank my dad and Cynthia for dinner, and Jenna follows suit. I offer to load the dishwasher.
“No, not tonight,” Cynthia says. “Just enjoy your first night here. Landon, are you going out?”
He backs his chair from the table. “I was thinking about it.”
“Why don’t you take the girls? You could introduce them to some of your friends.”
The waves in my stomach are back. Friends? I’m doing better than expected with Landon, but that doesn’t mean I’ll be okay hanging out with a bunch of strange guys. “Oh, no. You don’t have to do that.”
“Yes he does.” Jenna frowns at me, then gives him a huge smile. “We’d love to. What time do we leave?”
Ugh. I’m gonna kill her.
“How about half an hour?” he says.
“But—” I begin.
Jenna grabs me by the arm. “We’ll just go get ready.”
We scurry up the stairs, and I close us into our room.
Jenna eyes me. “What is up with you? You looked like you were going to hurl during dinner, and now you’re all antsy. It’s the beach at night with cute boys. Why would you not want to go?”
The last thing I need is Jenna poking around in my head right now. I’m nowhere near ready for her to know about what happened with Trevor. “What if he didn’t want to take us out?”
She waves me off. “Please. He can show his new gorgeous little sister and her hot friend around for the night. He should be honored to do so.” She strips to her bra and panties and tosses clothes out of her suitcase at random.
I put on makeup and change into a pair of leggings and an olive-colored t-shirt. Someone’s footsteps bang up the staircase, creak down the hallway in front of our room, and then the door to Landon’s room closes.
With Jenna occupied in the closet, I sneak through the bathroom and knock on the door to his room.
“Come in,” he says.
I do, just in time to see him pull a shirt out of his closet.
He turns to me. “Hey.”
“Hey.” I shift from one foot to the other. “You probably don’t need us to come with you tonight. I’m sure you’re doing guy stuff with your friends, and they probably don’t want two girls tagging along.”
He gives a chuckle. “Trust me. My friends will be thrilled to meet the two of you.”
I swallow hard as my stomach prickles with unease. “Yeah, but I think Jenna and I will just go by ourselves. I’m sure we’ll meet your friends at some point this summer.” Some point in broad daylight.
“At least let me drive you so you know where to go—where people hang. You don’t have to stay with me.”
He tosses the shirt he’s holding over his desk chair and turns his back to me. He tugs his shirt at the collar and pulls it off over his head, exposing his contracting back muscles.
I take a step backward, shocked he’s just gotten naked in front of me. Well, his top half, at least, and his back is to me. But still. His back is actually kind of nice—smooth, tanned with more freckles, muscles all chiseled and stuff. I’m offered a peak at his six-pack of a stomach as he turns to the side to grab his other shirt.
I shudder. Before Trevor, I never thought about how much power guys had over me physically. I’d always been impressed by their strength. Their muscles had been a turn on. Now their size and bulk send chills up my spine, and not in a good way.
My thoughts must show on my face, because after he pulls his shirt over his head, he turns toward me and frowns. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
I shake my head, wishing away the weird. “I’m fine.” I point toward the door. “We’re ready if you are?”
He moves a few steps toward me, focused on my neck like a freaking vampire or something. I stand frozen in my spot, memories of the night on the boat flashing through my brain—one in particular of Trevor stalking toward me, wetting his lips.
Landon points at my necklace and meets my gaze. “May I?”
Okay, so it’s possible I’ve overacted a bit. I’ve got to figure out how to be a normal person again.
“Sure,” I say.
He brushes my collarbone as he takes my necklace onto his finger. “It’s a dove, right?”
My chest pounds at his closeness, and I’m not sure if I’m scared or something else. “Mmm hmm.”
He lets it slide off his finger and gazes down at me. “I like that.”
I give him a closed mouth smile and nod, still trying to decide what direction my emotions are taking at this moment.
“You ready?” he asks.
He turns and walks out of his room, flipping the light switch off as he goes.
Landon
We say our goodbyes to our parents and head to my Jeep. I hold the door open, and Chloe gets in the back seat. I avoid another check of her ass by glancing at the house while she gets in. Jenna lays the front seat back and sits shotgun. Why does that not surprise me?
I shut the door and head for my side. Out of the corner of my eye, I see them both giggle as I pass in front of the car. Part of me wonders if I have a stain on my ass or something. The other part wonders if one of them is into me. Who knows with girls.
“Where are we going?” Jenna asks.
“The Longneck Eel,” I say. “It’s a hangout on the beach.”
Jenna starts messing with my radio. She jabs at my presets, and I give her the eye.
“Where is the music?” she asks. “These are all sports talk. What is this?”
“Satellite radio,” I say.
“Where’s the pop channel?”
“Why the hell would I know that?” I ask.
She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “You don’t know the pop channel preset?”
“Of course not.”
“I’m sure he’s a rock guy,” Chloe says. “Most guys are.”
Yeah, not so much. My mind whirls backward in time to my well-meaning middle school therapist using Christian rap tracks as part of my therapy, clapping and snapping in my face as she rapped multiplication tables to me. She was determined to be the one who finally got through to my fucked up brain. When that hadn’t worked, she’d moved on to pop and then rock, successfully ruining every genre of music for me one painful song at a time. She thought she just needed to find the one kind I’d connect to. Instead, the only breakthrough I had was that I would never listen to another beat again without feeling like a two-year-old who couldn’t add two plus two.
“Fine,” Jenna says. “What’s the preset for the rock channel? And not that old
crap from the 80’s.”
“I don’t know,” I say, losing patience.
This gets Chloe’s attention. “You don’t like rock?”
I know I should try to get past the music thing, but avoidance is so much easier. I shrug. “It’s all right, I guess.”
“Then what do you listen to?” Chloe asks.
“Sports talk.”
I might as well have called her mother a whore the way she looks at me.
“So you don’t listen to music?” she asks, frowning.
“Not really, no.”
She studies me like I’m a test subject in a science lab. Awesome. First, I freak her out in my bedroom. Now I’m the freak for not liking music. I’m off to a great start.
I park on the street and step out of the car to help Chloe out of the back. Her soft hand rests in mine, and even after she’s out of the Jeep, I don’t want to let it go. Stepsister, not girl, I have to remind myself.
I lead the girls to the wooden stairs. At the bottom, we fling off our shoes and head toward a group of about seven or eight of my friends hanging by the water. I’m shaking hands and giving slaps on the back to the ones I’m seeing for the first time this summer when I spot Toby Ellis, official douchebag of Okaloosa County. He sees me at the same time and rushes me for a takedown. He’s my size, but he’s got a gut slowing him down, so I dodge him, and he lands face down in the sand.
The guys explode in laughter, and one of them slaps me on the chest. “Who’re the girls?”
Chloe and Jenna take a few steps toward us.
“This is my sister,” I say, half as a joke and half as a warning.
Toby is up off the ground, his pride no doubt down in that sand. He wipes himself off. “You don’t have a sister, asshole.”
“I do now.” I wrap my arm around Chloe’s back and rest my hand on her shoulder. “This is Chloe. Her dad is marrying my mom.”
Chloe winces at my touch, so I back off. Maybe to her I’m just some touchy-feely asshole she just met, regardless of the fact that we’ll be family in a few short months. Or maybe it’s something else. I’ve seen girls get skittish around guys before. I hope I’m wrong, but I’m getting the feeling there’s more going on here.
The Summer Before Forever Page 2