“This is the beach house.” I get it; it is quite extravagant. Only because my mother just has to have the best of the best.
She gapes at the palm trees behind me. “You lucky bitch! Why didn’t you say it looked like that?”
I shrug and narrow my eyes. “Would you guys like to come? There’s plenty of room, and I bet my parents wouldn’t mind.” Plus, I miss her and Julia. Even though Julia can be snippy at times. You never know who you’ll miss until you aren’t around them anymore.
“That’d be sweet!” Jaimie nods and says, “But first, we have to catch—I mean—find Scarlett Johansson. She’s here shooting some indie movie. Not gonna lie, she’s on our top list to fuck together.”
“Oh…um, okay.”
Julia nods in agreement. “True.” She is suddenly jolted forward and cursing out someone I can’t see. “I swear if another person almost runs me over on their fucking skateboard, I’m yanking off ponytails—male and female!”
Jaimie rolls her eyes with a smile and snatches her phone. “Anyway, what’s up?”
“Hmmm? Nothing.” I shake my head, smiling softly. I don’t want to talk about what’s going on here. I called her so I could get my mind off of it. Not talk about it.
She makes that signature Jaimie look that says Do you think I’m dumb? Spill, bitch.
I resign, sighing. “Fine…Grey is here…with Rose.” My voice is low as I stare at the glowing keyboard, unable to face her. I hear the longest and most dramatic gasp in all of history. I swear, she’d make a great actress if she weren’t hell-bent on becoming a fashion designer. “Amazing, right?”
“Not amazing, not even a little bit!” She pauses, and I flick my eyes up to meet hers. Her face is softened, and her voice is even softer. “How are you holding up?”
“Very well,” I lie, and she makes that face again. “Okay, not well at all. But I shouldn’t even be upset about them, or him—I hurt him, and I ruined everything we had.”
“Just because you messed up doesn’t mean you can’t still wish for what you had.”
“But I am in the wrong.”
“Do you love him?”
I pause and run a hand through my hair. “Yes, I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”
“Then do something about it,” she says.
“I can’t, Jaimie.” I raise my voice, frustrated with myself. “I destroyed him. I destroyed us. There is no going back.” My voice breaks.
“Hey, listen, girlie,” Julia says, moving the camera to her face. “You’re in Miami, the capital of prime entertainment. Why don’t you party your heart out instead of bitching?”
“Julia!” Jaimie hisses, shoving at her.
“She’s right, though,” I interrupt their little spat. You don’t just forget your first love without getting rid of the memories—good or bad. Even though the bad was heavily there, we shared some wonderful, positive memories, and I’m not sure I can just forget them. Or him. No amount of partying can take the feelings away.
The call ends because I tell them I’m going to take a nap. Really, I just need to distract myself. I set my laptop to the side and stand up. I go inside and change into a bathing suit, then come back downstairs and dive into the pool even though I can’t swim. I’m sure I can find my way back up; I just need to get away for a little while.
The cool water entombs me, and all the noise of the city and everything else goes numb, leaving me in a crystal blue world of silence. I close my eyes and thrash my body until I am at the bottom of the ten-foot pool. I don’t stop until my butt touches the bottom, and I wade, keeping myself down.
I stay under as long as my lungs allow. I open my eyes and look up—I am mesmerized. A beam of light gleams down into the pool and lands on my outstretched legs. I reach my arms out and watch the way my skin glows. I feel ethereal and at peace. I close my eyes again, lay back, and wonder how long I can stay under here. Down below, I have nothing to worry about. No ex, no feelings—nothing. I can just float and float and worry about nothing but floating…
I panic when I feel arms wrap around my waist. I flail my arms and am suddenly aware how my lungs are on fire. I am struggling for breath; my throat feels bloated. I am moving, moving, moving until my ears pop! and I take a big intake of air. I cough up water and instantly wrap my arms around the person’s neck. I pinch my eyes closed and listen to the faint sounds of panicked yells. I am laid down on the hot pavement.
“Livvy?”
“Liv?”
“Hey, now, wake up.”
“Open your eyes, Liv.”
“Livvy, open your fucking eyes!”
I groan, and apparently, it’s enough for the people freaking out, because I hear collective sighs of relief. I slowly open my eyes and am met with a white-hot light burning into my eyes. I begin to sit up, but my chest is too tight, and I can hardly breathe. And they’re all telling me no, so I lay back down and take deep breaths.
“Jesus, Olivia. You’re drowning yourself now?” My mother grows loud as she tip-taps her Louis Vuitton’s near me. I shut my eyes even tighter, trying to shrink inside my skin and disappear. But I don’t move anywhere. I’m still here, about to be lectured for “drowning myself,” which is not true. I just wanted some time to think. Or, rather, not think at all.
She continues to demand I see a therapist or stay at the hospital again, and I begin to cry. I want to go back under.
“Miss Westerfield,” Louise says. “Please, now is not the time. She is crying and just got dragged out of a ten-foot pool!” She raises her voice. “Give her some space before jumping down her throat! Jesús!”
There is a slight pause before Mother’s heels click-clack away and the patio door is closed.
I open my eyes. The first things I see are Mason and Noah peering over me with wide, worried eyes. Louise is standing at my feet, hunched over on her knees, head tilted, worry lines growing steeper with each flick of her gaze over me, assessing me.
“I’m fine,” I tell them in a hoarse voice. I wonder if I’d been crying in the pool…it sure feels like I’ve been crying forever.
“Like I just said, you just got dragged out of a ten-foot pool!” Louise exclaims, and I close my eyes and moan in pain. I just want her to go away. And Mason and Noah. I just need to float; I’m trying to float where I didn’t have to see their stupid faces or their smiles or their interlocked hands. I imagine myself in her place, and then I begin crying again. I am such a baby. I should just get over him, right? I should be like him. I should move on. I should soak up my tears, float to the surface, and focus on better things. I should just live, not sink like a freaking rock.
Once I hear her grunt something in Spanish about me being a “stubborn child,” I speak.
“I need to do something tonight,” I say plainly, opening my eyes.
Noah and Mason exchange looks. I must look insane: speaking in a level voice about going out after I was just saved from drowning. But it’s what I have to do. And I don’t care what I do, it just has to be something. I realize I need to switch from this lane of depression and guilt and move onto the lane of recovery. I need to recover from being a stupid girl and I need to recover from Grey.
“Are you sure you don’t need a doctor?” Mason asks, looking me up and down. “You could still have some water in your stomach. Maybe it’s playing with your head?”
“I—” I begin, but Noah cuts me off.
“Why did you go down there, anyway? I thought you couldn’t swim.” He looks confused.
“I said I’m fine,” I snap, and they frown at me. I close my eyes briefly, then smile from ear to ear and look between the both of them. “So, who’s taking me out?”
Noah smiles a sly smile. “I mean, I thought you’d never ask…”
I laugh, and I mean really laugh. It feels like the first time in a long time. Noah stares at me, and Mason frowns. I look between the both of their odd expressions, one ogling over me with the other looking like he just got rejected.
“Oh,
perk up,” I tell them both. “We’re eighteen—”
“Nineteen,” they interrupt me, and I glare at them. They laugh. Good to know they’re getting along, bad to know they’re using their bond against me.
“As I was saying, we’re young…why shouldn’t we have some fun?”
“Ah, the young goody-two shoes Livvy is long gone, isn’t she?” Noah teases, brushing a piece of wet hair behind my ear. I shiver at his touch and swat his hand away. He laughs.
“Are you in or not?” I eye Mason as he gets up, looking intently at his phone.
“I’m in.” Noah pulls me to my feet.
“Mase?” I inquire, lifting a questioning brow.
“Huh?” He looks up from his phone like he forgot we were here. He chews on his lower lip, and I frown. “Can’t. Not tonight.”
“Why not?” Noah asks, crossing his arms. I watch as his sun-kissed arms flex and rip my eyes away to look at my best friend. It’s amazing and terrifying how much he has changed. It’s quite distracting, really. Too distracting.
“Rose and I planned on hanging out tonight, maybe going to see a movie or something,” he says with a hint of a smile. “We’ve been rekindling our relationship.”
My heart warms at the idea of them making up and connecting after all those years ago, when his family turned their backs on him, save his grandparents. Who am I to step in the way of that?
“It’s no problem,” I tell him, and he smiles and leaves.
“And then there were two,” Noah whispers in my ear. I shiver again and nudge him away. He laughs, and I glare up at him. “So, where are we going tonight?”
“I don’t know, but I just need to go away. That’s all I know.” I smile at him.
“Cryptic and kind of weird, but you got it, Livvy.” I nod at him and begin to walk inside when he grabs my wrist softly and whispers from behind me, “Oh, and don’t do that again, m’kay?” His voice is soft. I just look back and get lost in his emerald eyes, then I feel a shiver coming on and nod.
I slip inside the house with the feel of his gaze weighing on me.
Chapter Eleven
A few hours later, we are riding along the coast. The air is warm with subtle cool winds and smells salty. As we drive in the night, looking for a place where my mind can be free, I can feel my chest grow lighter. I stick my arm out of the window and let the wind slip through my fingers, leaning my chin against the cool metal of the car. If I close my eyes and think hard enough, it feels like I’m flying, floating, and at peace.
“What’re you thinking about?” Noah asks.
I look over at him. His eyes shift, his face half shaded by the shadows filling the car. “Nothing,” I tell him, and he raises his eyebrows. I laugh, and his lips quirk in a smile that is so him, then he looks back at the road. “I’m serious.”
There is a thin layer of silence.
“Who was that guy we ran into earlier, anyway?” He tries to sound casual, but I can sense the dying need to know in his voice.
I sigh and pull my hand back in. “Someone I used to know.”
He chuckles and flicks my bare thigh. “Are you seriously quoting Gotye right now?”
“Maybe.” I draw out the word, and he and I look at each other, then burst into laughter. I curve my hair behind my ear to stop the wind from blowing it in my eyes. Then I let out a sigh and drag my nails along my thigh. I’m trying my best not to fidget with my charm—his charm—like I normally would. Because then Noah would see it and he’d ask the meaning behind the words, and I’m just not ready to explain. They hold a deep, thoughtful meaning and will always have a home in my heart…I don’t deserve to have it attached to me everywhere I go.
I play with it, and it’s quiet except for the low volume of the pop channel on the radio.
“Livvy,” he sing-songs, and I smile softly, eyes glued to the silver glistening under the light from the sky.
“Noah,” I sing-song right back. He knows I hate that nickname. It’s childish and just brings up memories of him screaming it at me while chasing me around with a handful of dirt in his palms, ready to ruin my white dress. He was always such a little devil.
He flicks my thigh again. “I’m serious.” He glances over at me. “Who is he?”
I resign and decide to tell him. He won’t shut up about it if I don’t. “My ex-boyfriend.”
He hums and taps the wheel. “Why the split?”
“I—” betrayed him when he was already fragile and just learning how to heal. He glances at me with pursed lips and raised eyebrows. I blush and sink lower in the seat. I play with the frays on my shorts and shrug. “We just didn’t mesh well together.”
“Meaning?” he inquires.
“Drop it, Noah,” I tell him seriously.
A beat of silence, then two, then three, then—
“Can you at least tell me his name?”
I sigh. “Grey.”
He scoffs and grips the wheel. “No wonder he was an asshole.” He looks at me with slanted lips. “Dude has a color as his name.”
“Shut up!” I don’t like him making fun of Grey like that, but I can’t help but laugh. And he does too and faces the road. “I’m sure it’s short for something?”
“Like?”
I shrug, suddenly feeling very bad. “Greyson? Gregory?”
“You don’t know your ex-boyfriend’s real name? Sorry to break it to you, honey, but you were catfished.”
“I was not! Shut up, Noah!” I smack his thigh, and he pinches mine. I snort in laughter and swat his tickling hands away from me. Our laughter fills the air, and for the first time tonight, I feel like it’s not going to turn out shitty like they always do. And I can thank Noah for that. If I knew he’d be this useful when it came to lighten my mood, I would have called him up a long time ago. I can already see our friendship growing beautifully. He can make me laugh and kind of forget about he who shall remain nameless, and that already gives him two points in my book.
About twenty minutes later, we pull up to a blue building with white aging shutters; a dock is visible from where we are. A lot of people are out on it, and I can hear loud sounds of engines revving repeatedly and shouts and the water splashing. As we get out and walk up to the large building, I take in the sight of the soft shades of color constantly shifting against the grimy windows and get a glimpse of a full-on party through the partially open metal door.
“Where are we?” I ask Noah.
He shrugs. “You never really specified where you wanted to go, so…”
My mind is becoming cautious, telling me to turn around and go back home. We could watch a movie, and I could imagine I’m floating and I’d be fine. But I don’t want to be fine, and I don’t want to go home. I want to be here, with Noah. And I want to break through the surface, with him by my side.
I step by him and pull back the door. It’s lighter than I thought it would be. Instantly, I am met with loud electronic music and shouts and laughter and smiling faces. There’s minimal grinding on the dance floor and more spinning with clusters of girlfriends and animated talking with guys. It’s chill, and I feel a two-ton weight lift off my shoulders instantly. I smile at Noah, who looks around with a smile of his own, and grab his hand.
I pull him in the direction of the bar and order myself a Coke. Noah looks at me, then orders one himself, explaining that he has to drive back and doesn’t really like alcohol that much. And it only makes my adoration for him grow. We get our drinks, clink them together, and announce, “Coke buddies,” then laugh and pop them open. For a while we lean against the bar and talk about how he used to try to get me to drink alcohol on Thanksgiving when we were twelve and the adults weren’t looking, and laugh, and dance, and break through the surface.
When we are waiting for the next song to play, I say, “Want to go check out back there?” the same time he does. We chuckle, and he grabs my hand and pushes through the crowd, pulling me to the open doors that lead to the dock and the strange noise I first heard when
we arrived. We nab a spot against the railing, lucky because of how many people are crowding the space. Many are whistling and clapping and throwing popcorn. I wonder what has them so entertained. And then I look at what they’re watching, and I gasp.
There are people riding jet skis. They’re flipping and giving each other high fives as they pass and making loud “wooting” sounds. It all collides in my ears, and I laugh uneasily, scared they could get hurt but also very amused. It screams danger and fun and everything I could really use at the moment. I scream along with the people looking on and cheer them on, pumping my fists in the air, screaming as loud as I can. I get a few whistles and howls and stop and giggle as I lean into Noah.
“This is amazing…dangerous, but amazing nonetheless,” I admit to him, eyes glued to the guys in life vests.
“Yeah, it is.” I turn to find him staring at me, and I quickly avert my eyes the same time he does. He clears his throat and rubs his arms awkwardly. “Sorry about that—”
“You did nothing wrong.” I wave my hand dismissively and look away, staring wide-eyed at the sand below the deck. What the heck was that?
There is a deafening sound of collective screams that sound blood-curdling. I whip around to the building and step back as everyone on the docks begin piling back into the party. What the heck is going on? Noah looks just as confused as me. Even the guys skiing stop and rush up to the building. It sounds like a fight broke out in there. I can hear the smash of glass and grunts and people cheering, and my body freezes. It sounds bloody and violent, and I want to leave, now. Noah and I both look at each other when we realize the only way out is through the building.
Oh, geez…
“Come on,” Noah says, face serious as he pulls me toward the door. I try to keep up with his long stride, pressing against his body. The entire place is encircled around a fight, obviously, and my stomach twists when I think of Grey. It couldn’t be him. Maybe two guys were in a heated argument and became too rowdy and started fighting. It’s the most logical reasoning. It’s what I’m praying for right now. I can’t see Grey. I just forgot about him. Now he’s going to show up and set me back one hundred steps? It’s not fair, not one bit.
Grey: The Retribution (Spectrum Series Book 3) Page 7