“Damn,” Hunter says. “I can’t find it on here. I think I lost a bunch of songs somehow. Only about half of my stuff is on here.” He searches the sky. “Maybe I can’t access the cloud from out here.”
“Don’t you just love technology?” I ask.
“Actually, yes, but not so much right now.” He gives me a crooked smile.
I smile back, and he looks between his iPod and me a couple of times, and then pockets the iPod. “Screw it. We’re good.” He waves the group off, as if they were all super-concerned about the music.
Jenna stares at me with a proud grin on her face, which embarrasses the crap out of me.
Hunter and I talk for a while. He tells me about growing up in Nashville and how nobody is actually from there because they all move in from other cities. I have to admit I can barely detect a Southern accent. He’s so comfortable to be around I actually tell him about karaoke and singing Shifting Shapes, and with that comment I seem to graduate from some chick at a party who may be cool, to somebody he may have actual interest in.
He’s kind of cute. This is the type of guy I should be with. He’s just my speed, and he’s obviously all about music since he’s been over here trying to get tunes going for this group ever since we arrived. He’s wearing the t-shirt of a very cool band. And he’s totally non-threatening. So why don’t I feel some form of a spark ignite?
“So you’re Landon’s friend?” he asks.
“Sort of. I’m going to be his stepsister.”
Visible relief floods his face, and he nods. “Cool. So you’re staying with him and his mom?”
“Yeah, and my dad. For the rest of the summer, actually.”
A hand brushes the small of my back. “We’re leaving, Chloe.” My chest tingles as Landon’s low voice sounds behind me, and he’s using my real name instead of calling me little sis. I wonder if that’s for Hunter’s benefit.
“Sure.” I smile at Hunter and hold out a hand. “It was nice to meet you.”
He starts to shake my hand, and then ends up coming in for a hug. I pat him on the back and realize this is what it would feel like to hug a brother.
“If you’re going to be here for a while, can I get your number?” he asks. “I’ll text you the name of that Slow Fix album so you can check it out.”
“Yeah. Sounds good.” Because I could never find that on my own. But it’s sweet, and I’m flattered. I just wish it went beyond that.
We switch phones, and I type in my number. I hand him his phone back. “Have a good night.”
“I will.” He gazes at me with a sweet smile as I wave to him.
Landon walks beside me through the woods. “Hunter’s cool,” he says.
I nod. “Yeah, super nice guy.”
Hands grip my shoulders hard, and I know what’s coming, so I brace for impact.
“Chloe has a boyfriend,” Jenna sings in my ear from her position on my back. I swear I’m going to be the first seventeen-year-old with back issues due to her best friend’s piggy back rides.
Landon gives her a weird look that I enjoy. “Last I checked they were just talking,” he says. “Damn, Chloe. You must move fast.”
“Don’t be jealous, too tall,” Jenna says. “He is perfect for her with his messy hair and ratty, band t-shirt and all.” She hugs my neck. “You two look adorable together.”
I start to protest, but I decide not to. What’s wrong with keeping Landon guessing? I stop and drop her off my back.
Jenna plows between the two of us and locks arms with us both. “I love you two dorks.” She kisses me on the cheek and then Landon. She breaks away, runs, and jumps up to touch a limb which she misses.
Landon points at her. “Did she smoke something while I wasn’t looking?”
“I’d be curious myself if I didn’t know her so well.”
He narrows his gaze. “She’s more hyper than usual.”
“She’s dialed up a notch higher tonight. I think she’s just really having fun down here.”
He glances at me. “Are you?”
I don’t look at him. “A little bit.”
“So you got something knocked off the list today,” he says.
I stifle a grin. “Two somethings.”
He frowns. “We did the self-defense class. What else?”
I glance up at him and then duck under a branch. “I talked to Hunter. Going up and talking to a boy was on the list.”
He stiffens his spine. “Oh. Cool.”
He’s being weird…jealous? If it’s the latter, I think I like it.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chloe
I’ve spent the week with my headphones on for two reasons. I’m reviewing my entire catalog in search of the perfect songs for Landon’s playlist, and it erects a barrier between my father and me so we don’t have to talk much when we pass each other.
A few days of the beach and pool was about all Jenna and I could stand, so we both landed jobs. Cynthia, having served as real estate agent to half the homes in this resort, spread the word that I was a reliable babysitter, and it’s unbelievable the people who have come out of the woodwork to employee me.
Jenna has gotten her dream job. Why am I not surprised? The deejay from the karaoke bar found her on one of her multiple social media sites and has hooked her up with one of his deejay friends. Ed’s karaoke business specializes in wedding receptions and family reunions, and apparently he finds Jenna’s name to be an actual draw for business. Her job is to get the party started and keep it going until quitting time. I doubt the most well-trained career specialist in the country could have placed her in a job better suited for her.
Hunter has been calling. I like him a lot more than I thought I would. He’s growing on me, kind of like a birthmark that’s most of the time annoying, but occasionally you look down and think it’s actually kind of cool and unique.
He’s taking me out tonight. I refuse to call it a date. I definitely don’t want to call this my first date, so I won’t. But he is picking me up, and we’re going to see a showing of Spinal Tap that’s playing at some small theatre in Fort Walton, so actually, I’m thinking that probably constitutes a date.
Jenna’s got a date, too. Roth’s cousin is getting married, and Jenna is going to the wedding with him. She swears it’s just “as friends,” but judging by the way she’s dressed, I’m dubbing this a date. Cynthia took her shopping, just the two of them, and Jenna came away with a tightly fitted black and white number that makes her look like a size negative quadruple zero. Part of it might be the sky-high heels she’s borrowed from Cynthia. She’s a little wobbly in them, but holding her own.
Roth shows up to collect her, and I think he might pass out when she appears at the top of the staircase. His face turns beet red, and he wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. It feels like prom without the pictures and doting parents. My dad and Cynthia see them out and holler up to me that they will be back in thirty minutes with dinner.
Landon’s door is cracked halfway open. I’ve seen him this week, but I’ve made it a point to give him a wide berth. He’s been mysteriously M.I.A., working a lot in the day and disappearing at night. I wonder if he’s seeing that exotic girl from the inlet. Why wouldn’t he? She is every guy’s wet dream. The idea of it puts waves in my stomach.
I tap on the doorframe with my knuckles. “The parentals are getting our dinner.”
He lays the book he was reading flat out on his chest. He lies on the bed in thin, heather gray sweat shorts and a green t-shirt looking practically edible. He turns toward me.
“Was that Roth a minute ago?”
I nod. “Jenna looked incredible. I thought he was going to drip sweat on the floor.”
“Please tell me you didn’t tell her she looked good. Her head might not fit back through the door.”
I try not to smile and
head back to my room.
“When are you going to make my playlist?” he calls out.
I stop in the hallway and let a smile invade my cool exterior. I wipe it off and head back his way. “I’m just putting the finishing touches on it.”
“Can I see what you’ve got so far?” he asks.
“You probably won’t know many of the titles or artists. You’ve got to just listen and be pleasantly surprised.”
He scoots over on his bed and pats the empty space next to him. “Then let me hear.”
I’m not sure what to make of this. Nobody’s home but the two of us. My dad and his mom will be home soon, but still, I’ve never lain on a guy’s bed before.
Since we almost kissed last weekend, there’s been a strange distance between us, as if we scurried like rats to opposite corners of the barn and both found other mates immediately.
He situates a hand behind his head, exposing the muscles of his inner arm. “I promise I won’t bite.”
Too bad, I think for a split second.
I step forward on blind faith and run justifications through my brain with each step. It’s no big deal. It’s just a bed. It’s even made up. It’s not like we’re going to have sex on it.
I am suddenly overcome with needing to know whether or not he has had sex in this bed.
I sit on the bed and put an earbud in my ear. I hand him the other one and am forced to scoot closer to him so the cord will reach. I scroll through his list. This is a lot of pressure, and I want to make sure I pick the right song.
I pull up “Lose Yourself” by Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, and with the beginning chords, compounded with the guy I’m in the room with…on the bed with…my mind reels with emotion.
“Lay with me.” Landon’s voice comes out raspy and deeper than usual. I have been commanded, and I don’t think I could deny the request if there was a pot of gold in it for me.
I lie next to him and close my eyes while the chords and drumbeats wash over me. The song is slow and thoughtful, the lyrics simple but compelling. I was reluctant to put this song on his playlist because it’s over eight minutes long, but there is no better song in my library to illustrate both emotionally through the music and literally through the lyrics the way I feel when music transports me.
We’re over halfway through the long song when a brush of a fingertip traces the back of my hand. A stimulant unequal to any drug on the planet explodes in my belly, and I struggle as my breaths become intermittent.
The tip of his finger continues its exploration of my hand, easing its way up and down each single finger deliberately. I can’t open my eyes. I can’t think of what this means because it feels like the turn of a corner, although I don’t want to overthink it. I want to be present in this moment now without anything in the past or the future mattering.
His touch makes its way to the inside of my hand. If I thought his touch on the outside of my hand was sensual…holy heart attack. The grazing of his finger sends a symphony of nerve endings on the inside of my hand standing up and joining in with a choir of angels in a heavenly version of Ode to Joy.
The music is fading, and I know I have about a minute left where the song morphs into a different but just as intimate pattern as it exquisitely fills its role of winding down, being the final track on an album. I can’t remember what song comes after this one on the playlist, but I know I have betrayed myself with all the fast tempo ones I’ve got surrounding it that threaten to put an end to the most intimate moment I’ve ever experienced in my life.
After a few intense seconds of silence, we are assaulted with one of my favorite Foals tunes, and I turn the sound down a notch or two, breaking away from his touch.
I consider putting my hand back down there, but I rest it on my belly instead. I am too in love with this moment for it to become anything more.
We’re no longer touching, but every inch of my body is aware of him there. I want to relax, but there’s no way I can with him next to me.
“You know we’re not all like him, right?” he asks.
Trevor. As much as I despise the ugly thought of him creeping into this perfect moment, I appreciate the words beyond measure.
“I know.”
His arm moves, and I tense even further in anticipation of what he’s going to do with it. But he doesn’t touch me. He simply adjusts it into a different position.
We listen some more, an alt-J song.
I see for the first time he’s got those barely noticeable glow in the dark stickers of a solar system on his ceiling. “Did you post those stickers on your ceiling?”
“They came with the house. Don’t tell my mom about them. She’ll be in here with an ice scraper if she knows they’re here.”
We lay silent for a while, still plugged into one another.
“I like this one,” he says. “Is this classic rock?”
“Sounds like it, doesn’t it? It’s Wolfmother.”
We listen some more. I drop my elbows to the bed, and thread my fingers together.
“Have you ever been in love?” he asks.
A bolt of sensation shoots up through my chest sending my body into a quivering mess.
“Me?” As if he’s talking to someone else in this room.
He doesn’t answer, just turns his head toward me, waiting for my answer, leaving my heart pounding.
“No, actually, I’ve never been in love,” I say. “Have you?”
“I may have thought so, but now, I don’t think I was.”
His gaze drags down to my mouth, and back up to my eyes. My breaths come stilted as I try to process his loaded words. Or maybe they aren’t loaded. Maybe I’m dreaming all of this, which would make so much more sense because this moment with him seems too perfect to be real.
The ringtone on my phone sounds off a text alert, and I pick it up a little too quickly, fumbling my phone in my hands. It’s Hunter confirming the time for tonight.
“He’s taking you out?”
My chest tightens. “We’re going to a movie in Fort Walton.”
“There’s two movie theatres in Destin. Why is he taking you to Fort Walton?”
“It’s an old one playing at a specialty theatre.” I look down at my hands. “Do you want to come?”
“You go.” He takes the bud out of his ear and picks up his book.
I’ve been dismissed, the precious moment demolished by a simple text regarding logistics. I head out of the room.
“Thanks for the song,” he says, not looking up from his book.
I’d ask him which one, but I’m pretty sure I know the answer.
Landon
Hunter Raborn. I am losing the girl I’m falling hard and fast for to Hunter Raborn. I mean, he’s a nice guy, but I’m Landon Freaking Jacobs—captain of the wrestling team, wide receiver, voted best-looking in my class, as annoying as that was. I have my pick of any girl I want in this town. But my girl is going out with Hunter Raborn tonight. And I’m letting her.
What the hell am I doing?
What if he kisses her? What if she likes it? My blood heats up by a hundred degrees at the thought.
I shut my book. Fuck this.
I stomp down the stairs and throw my ass on the couch. If he’s going to take her out, he’s at least going to have to go through me first. I rip the sleeves off this t-shirt I’m wearing. I do realize how irrational I’m being, but I’m pretty sure Superman himself couldn’t stop me if he was here.
I stare at the door willing that bell to ring. It does, and I jump off the couch and go stand by it, making him sweat it out on the other side.
“I’m coming in two seconds,” Chloe shouts from upstairs.
I open the door and little red-headed Hunter waits on the other side. He smiles at me all innocent-like.
“Hey Landon. How’s it goin’?” He offers
me his hand, and I take it and squeeze as I shake it.
His naïve expression morphs as his face flushes, eyebrows furrowed. I finally let go of my grip, and he shakes his hand a little as he pulls away.
“Good,” I grunt.
“Um, is Chloe here?”
“I don’t know.” I grip the side of the door, effectively flexing my bicep, tricep, and forearm.
He focuses his gaze on my upper arm, and then looks up at me with a cautious smile. “Okay. I’ll just text her and see if she’s ready.”
“Are you here to pick her up?” The left side of my nose twitches upward, carrying my lip with it.
His eyes widen. “Yes?” he asks rather than states, his voice coming out in a squeak.
“Hunter,” Chloe says from the stairs as she hurries down them. “I’m so sorry. I was just trying to find my sketchbook. Did you bring yours?”
Her sketchbook? She’s going to show that to this nerd? They’re going to fucking sketch and create art together?
He jabs a thumb at his car. “Yeah, it’s in the car. Are you ready?” He transfers a wary gaze to me and stumbles backward down the step.
Chloe gives me a strange look, and then smiles at him. “Sure.” She steps down and heads toward his car with him.
“What time are you coming home?” I shout.
She hesitates, and turns back toward me with a furrowed brow.
“In case your dad asks,” I toss in.
She glares at me. “Late.”
I shut the door and stand in the foyer, aimlessly. So this is what I’ve come to—scaring the shit out of guys half my size. I’ve never been a bully a day in my life. I guess there’s a first time for everything.
My gaze is drawn to a stack of bridal magazines, and I’m suddenly irritated at my mom and Derrick. Where are the two of them at a time like this, anyway? They were supposed to have been back here forty-five minutes ago. Why didn’t Derrick insist on meeting Chloe’s date? I know he said he’d met him before, but still. What kind of father doesn’t want to be home to hand his daughter off to the asshole who’s going to take her out on a date?
The Summer Before Forever Page 14