The Summer Before Forever

by Melissa Chambers

  “No, I’m good. I want to take advantage of Jenna being gone and work on some sketches.” My chest pangs with the little white lie…or maybe it’s not so little. Either way, it comes with its own bag of guilt.

  “Night, sweetie,” my dad says, glued to the television.

  “Night.” I wave at Cynthia as she gives me the eye. Or maybe this is her normal good night look. Hell, I don’t know.

  I head up the stairs and to our room. I change into my nightshirt and shorts, but leave my bra on. I wash my face, brush my teeth, and then stare at the closed door. I’m pretty sure he wanted me to follow him in there by that head motion, but I’m starting to get paranoid about the whole thing. What if he’s asleep? What if he changed his mind? What if Cynthia comes in?

  I turn off the light and sit on the edge of my bed. A minute later my text tone sounds.

  Come see me.

  Relief mingles with exhilaration in my chest. I stand and ease my way to the bathroom. This time the door to his room stands open, an invitation so lovely and frightening I freeze in my spot for a long moment.

  It’s not like we’re going to have sex or anything. I’m just going to see him. That’s all. I’m just going to see my boyfriend. Is he my boyfriend?

  I put one foot in front of the other and eventually it gets me across the threshold to his room. Around the door, his tanned legs come into view illuminated only by a dim light which looks to be a candle on his desk. I reveal myself from around the door and find him sitting up on his bed, one knee up to the ceiling.

  I hold up a hand in greeting. He does the same.

  I smooth my thick waves out of my face and take a step toward him. He crooks a finger and motions me to him. I finally understand the term a moth to the flame.

  I go to him and sit on the edge of his bed. His legs make a 3-D diamond shape of sorts, and I can’t drag my gaze away from them, because that would mean I would have to look him in the eye again, and I’m not sure if I can manage it.

  “Did you get your sketchbook back?” he asks.

  I nod at his legs. “Hunter dropped by this morning. But you know that. You let him in.” I roll my eyes at myself and face the bookcase in front of me. I close my eyes really tightly and prepare myself for a question I have to ask him if I’m going to spend another second with him like this.

  “You asked me last night if I kissed Hunter, and I told you no.”

  “Mmm hmm.” His tone is deep, soothing.

  I forge forward. “What about you? Did you do anything with that girl?”

  He’s quiet, and I suddenly want all the way out of this room and back to my bed in Cliff Ridge. Now that I’ve kissed him, especially, I can’t imagine myself or him with anyone else in the entire world besides each other. It’s unthinkable. I can’t have the knowledge that I was his second kiss of the night. And I certainly can’t live with the idea that he did more with her than just kiss.

  “No,” he finally says.

  “Who is she?” Ugh. I hate that I asked, but I have to know.

  “She’s my friend.”

  The “f” word. If he were to call me that, I’d be devastated, but somehow him calling her that makes her seem important…like someone special to him…more special than I am.

  “You seemed close with her,” I say.

  “I’ve known her a long time.”

  I run the material of his comforter between my finger and thumb. “Have you ever slept with her?”

  “No.” His answer is quick and firm. Thank God.

  While I’m at it I might as well go for the big dogs. “Have you ever slept with anyone?”

  He hesitates. “Yes.”

  I can feel the life drain out of me. I knew he wasn’t a virgin. Look at him. But I had to ask, didn’t I?

  “Who?” I ask against my own better judgment.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Your ex you mentioned. Did you sleep with her?”

  He lets out a hard breath. “Yeah.”

  I nod. I knew that. Why did I have to ask? Lovely visual that gives me.

  “In this bed?” I’m on a roll now.

  There’s a dip in the bed, and he takes my forearm with this hand. “I don’t want to talk about her or anyone else. I want to talk about you.”

  I hear him, and I like it. I try to push the thoughts about the others away and not be a psycho.

  He tugs at my arm, and I turn around and face him. His blue eyes bear into mine in the candlelight. “Come here.”

  I scoot back on the bed and sit beside him. “I’m not like those girls you’ve been with.”

  “I don’t want you to be.”

  Warm sensations move around my stomach and up through my chest as I look at him. “I don’t know about sex. I mean…I know about it, but not firsthand.”

  “You don’t have to know about it. I’m not planning on going there with you.”

  I laugh, a little, a nervous sound, but I can’t help a twinge of uncertainty. “You don’t want to?”

  “That’s not what I said. I said I wasn’t going to.”

  I frown.

  He pulls me onto him, and I sit between his legs, my back to him, my head rested on his chest. I’m engulfed by the warmth and safety of his body together with mine.

  “I want to treat you how you deserve to be treated.” He traces a curve on my thigh. “I want you, Chloe. I want you so bad I can hardly stand it. But I will.”

  His words wash over me like a fountain of chocolate sprinkles. He wants me…like that. And not in a creepy or love me and leave me two seconds later kind of way. In a fantastically wonderful kind of way that I feel sure I will analyze a thousand different ways tomorrow.

  I grin. “What if I want to?”

  “Too bad.”

  I pull his arms around my waist. “What are we going to do then?”

  “We’re going to get to know each other. And I’m going to kiss the hell out of you, often.”

  I giggle, my stomach fluttering like crazy. “What if we get caught?”

  “We won’t.”

  “They could walk upstairs any moment,” I say.

  “I’m listening for them…always.”

  I snuggle into him, safe and warm.

  “I do need you to do one thing,” he says.

  I turn to the side, waiting.

  “Tell Hunter Raborn to never step foot on our doorstep again.”

  I grin. “Done.”

  He pulls my hand to his lips and gives it a kiss. “As you were.”

  Landon

  I drop off the key to the tram at the office and turn to head home when I’m met with Dane coming in from outside.

  “Dude, did you get my text? Tonight at Ricky’s. Two kegs. We’ve already got them set up.”

  “Not tonight, man.”

  “What the hell else do you have going on?” he asks.

  I take a couple of steps past him. “Ah, you know.”

  “Come on. I was hoping you’d bring Jenna.”

  “Not tonight,” I say.

  He narrows his eyes at me. “Are you hooking up with her?”

  The idea assaults my brain. Jenna feels like my sister. Gross. “Hell, no.”

  He cocks his head back, studying me. I head for the door.

  “Who then?” he shouts.

  I eye him and take off. It’s not that I want to hide my relationship with Chloe, it’s just that she’s supposed to be my stepsister in just over a month. These guys will never let me hear the end of it if they find out I’m with her. And I don’t want to hear it from certain friends I know who will try to warn me that this is the worst idea I’ve ever had and dating someone you will be linked to for the rest of your life is a disaster waiting to happen.

  Besides, I’m not having sex with Chloe. I don’
t want anyone even thinking of her in those terms. It’s so weird. I’ve gone possessive of her. I was never like this with my ex. And there’s absolutely no reason for it. Not one of my friends who have met Chloe has expressed any sort of interest in her. May be because they know I’ll kill them if they screw with her.

  She’s like this ruby that’s been left on a table at a party that nobody seems to notice except me, and I’ve snatched her up for the taking. Finders, keepers. I’m scared shitless someone else is going to figure out how incredible she is and try to take her. Damn Hunter Raborn just about did. He’s no idiot.

  Some other guy would make more sense—any other guy besides the one who is set to be her brother in a matter of weeks. But I’ve somehow managed to convince her to get involved with me. I guess that makes me selfish.

  But I’ve never been with anyone like her. I’ve never even met anyone like her. She makes me crazy in the best possible way. She’s unique—worldly in some ways but so innocent in others. My fist curls up just as the thought of that asshole who tried to…I can’t even think about it.

  I shower the stench of the day off of me in preparation for our first date. I put on a pair of jeans and a long sleeved button down with the sleeves rolled up.

  The shower comes on, and I smile, knowing who’s in there. I can only imagine what she looks like with the water dripping down her curvy body. Damn. I’ve got to quit thinking about that or I’ll be sporting wood for our date. Not real smooth.

  I walk past their room and head downstairs to wait for her. My mom and Derrick are watching a movie, so I join them on the couch, all casual.

  A while later, Jenna bounces down the stairs decked out in full-on eighties garb, wearing a lacey hot pink miniskirt, a zebra top, leg warmers, and hot pink heels. Bangle bracelets cover her arms, and her streaked blond hair is teased up in a side ponytail on top of her head.

  She plants herself in front of Derrick, my mom, and me. “I’ll totally be late tonight, like for sure, since these old eighties people will be breakdancing all night.” She covers her chest dramatically. “Like, gag me with a spoon.”

  “I love it!” my mom says. “Oh, Derrick, please take me to your reunion when it’s time. I missed mine last year.”

  He rolls his eyes.

  “So what do you think, Mr. Stone?” Jenna gives a twirl. “Do I look like girls who went to your high school?”

  He glares at her. “Like, totally.”

  The doorbell rings, and Jenna flits out of the room. “Later,” she says with a finger wave.

  Derrick turns to me. “You’re dressed up. Where are you going tonight?”

  “There’s a party at my friend Rick’s house,” I say, trying my best not to stutter through the lie. “Chloe wanted to come. Do you mind if I take her?”

  He raises his eyebrows. “Will there be alcohol there?”

  “No sir.” That part was the truth. There wouldn’t be any where we were going, not for us anyway.

  “All right, then. You’ll keep an eye on her?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chloe

  I roll lip gloss onto my lips and stare at my reflection. I actually feel beautiful tonight. I’m not sure if it’s Jenna’s makeup job or if it’s the date that waits for me downstairs. This is so crazy. I can’t believe I am dating Landon. I never could have dated him in Cliff Ridge. God, guys like him don’t exist in Cliff Ridge. Gorgeous, smart, a collegiate athlete. Even if guys like him did exist in Cliff Ridge, they wouldn’t be after me.

  And this is my second date this week. I laugh at the concept. Seventeen years of nada and then boom. Why now?

  Jenna’s tortuous list of confidence-building tasks springs to mind. I guess I wouldn’t have gotten the date with Hunter if I wouldn’t have gone to talk to him. But that was only encouraged because I saw Landon swooning over that exotic Mila Kunis lookalike.

  I shove her from my thoughts and focus on now. Right now, Landon waits downstairs to take me out. Right now, I feel beautiful. Right now, my nerves are twisting and tying and climbing up my throat. Toss in the fact that we’re sneaking around our parents, and I’ll be lucky if I don’t stroke out.

  I turn off the light and head to the top of the stairs. I have barely seen him these past two days. He was gone when I woke up both mornings, and then I left for babysitting jobs before he got home both afternoons. And when we’ve been home at the same time, his mom has been lurking nearby. It’s practically torture being near him but not getting to be with him.

  I take a deep breath and start down the stairs. He sits on the chair facing the staircase and turns toward me. His expression is unreadable, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of me. I quickly question my choice of outfit. I know he’s a conservative dresser to go along with his all-American boy next door image, so I considered toning it down for him. And then I asked myself what would Jenna do? I decided Jenna would dress exactly opposite of what she thought the guy would want. I could just hear her saying, “Screw him. Wear what’s comfortable for you. If he doesn’t like it…next!”

  So I’ve got on one of my favorite bohemian shirts. I think he’s going to like it because it’s sort of low cut, but just so my dad doesn’t get suspicious, I’ve got on a short-sleeve sweater to tone it down. I’ve matched it with a tan cotton skirt that hugs my hips, but comes down far enough so I don’t feel like a total slut. A rustic necklace with a copper pendant featuring a cutout lily hangs around my neck, and a single bracelet with a small piece of driftwood hangs on my left wrist.

  He wears a royal blue button-down shirt that makes his eyes stand out even more than usual and a pair of dark jeans. His dark locks are in order, and he’s clean-shaven. We go together like chocolate cake and pickle juice.

  “Hey,” he says, nonchalantly and looks back at the television like he’s bored. “You ready?”

  “Wow, Chloe,” Cynthia says. “You look incredible.” She slaps my dad on the thigh. “Look at your daughter, Derrick. She’s beautiful.”

  My dad rips his gaze from the television and forces himself to lay eyes on me. He lifts his eyebrows. “Wow. You look nice.” He turns to Landon. “Definitely keep your eye on her.”

  Landon stands and stretches. “Will do.”

  “Midnight,” Cynthia says.

  He nods and opens the front door. “No problem.”

  We walk through and remain silent walking down the sidewalk to his car. He opens the door for me, and I get in. He closes me in, and I feel like an absolute princess heading out to a ball.

  Neither one of us speaks until we have backed out of the driveway.

  He turns to me. “You look amazing.”

  My belly does a back flip. “Thank you. So do you.”

  He gives a smile and switches gears.

  “So are we really going to that party?” I ask.

  “Hell, no.”

  I giggle. I must stop that. I don’t giggle. “Where are we going?”

  “There’s a place in Seacrest that has great shrimp. Your dad says that’s your favorite, right?”

  I laugh. “You’re sweet for remembering. But it’s not really my favorite. I just hate to break the news to my dad.”

  “What is your favorite?”

  “I love Italian,” I say.

  “Okay.” He creases his brow. I seem to have stumped him.

  “Do you not like Italian?” I ask.

  “No, I love it. I’m just freezing up, thinking of somewhere good enough around here.”

  I pull up the restaurant finder app on my phone. I want to find something casual and quick. The last thing I want to do is sit across from him in some fancy, stuffy restaurant where I can’t touch him and kiss him. “How about Domenico’s? Have you been there?”

  “No, I don’t think so,” he says. “Is it close?”

  “It’s
2.7 miles west of here. 10763 US Highway 98.”

  He blinks, his mouth open, brow worried. He swallows hard and grips the wheel as his face colors.

  “Are you feeling okay?” I ask.

  “Yeah.” His voice comes out strained, so he straightens his throat. “West?” he asks.

  I gauge him. Did I say something wrong, or does he just really not want Italian?

  “You know what,” I say, “I’m not really hungry right now.”

  “Do you want to drive around a little first?” he asks.

  “Yeah. I want you to show me your town. Show me all your hidden treasures.”

  He looks at me with a slight smile. “Okay, but don’t say you didn’t ask for it.”

  We ride down a street with a handful of huge, brand new looking houses that give way to rows of empty lots with numbered signs in the front. He cuts the engine at the end of the street in front of a tall, wooden fence, and we get out of the car.

  “What is this place?” I ask.

  “A construction project gone bankrupt. My friend’s dad was the builder. The company who bought the property paid way too much and priced the lots too high. It’s too far away from the beach to get premium dollar, but that guy was too stubborn to come down on price. His company ended up collapsing.”

  I follow him to a break in the wooden fence, and he turns his back to me. “Hop on my back.”

  Mortification. “No.”

  He gives an encouraging nod. “Come on, just do it.”

  Oh, my God, this is the worst. He cannot be serious. I’m not Jenna. “I’m too—”

  “No you’re not. Just do it. I want to show you something on the other side of this fence, but there may be glass or something back there.”

  “Landon…”

  “I’ll pick you up and carry you if I have to.”

  “Okay, just give me a minute.” I cringe, but put my hands on his shoulders, and he hikes me up on his back.

  He walks us through the opening to reveal a field full of hills of sand.

  “What is this?” I ask.

  “Sand dunes.”

  “You could totally play hide and seek in those.”