“The brother, Elliot. Yeah, he wants you.”
A laugh gets stuck in my throat and I grunt. “No he doesn’t.” That’s insane. There is no way Elliot wants me. I’ve only seen him two times. And on top of that he doesn’t even know me. Whit has clearly lost her mind.
“You didn’t spend half of the night with him. He asked me a billion questions about you. It felt like every time I turned around he was asking a different one.” She folds her arms across her chest. “And on top of that, he kept saying how Drake wasn’t right for you.”
“That doesn’t mean he wants me.” Why would Elliot want someone like me? I have hard time believing one Robertson brother might actually like me let alone two.
Sometimes I think that behind Drake’s beautiful face and luminous eyes is a beast with razor sharp teeth, ready to maul me or swallow me. Every time I’m with him I have to remind myself that may be someone like Drake could fall for someone like me. Even though deep, down inside I know I’m living in a dream world by thinking that.
A lot of times I like to think that I’d be perfectly content living in a dream world where everything is blissfully perfect, and people love each other, treat each other with respect, crap daisies, and eat hot fudge sundaes all day, every day, without gaining a pound.
And even though I like to think that way, I know that’s not reality. I’d give anything to step away from reality now and keep on pretending because let’s face it; reality sucks.
Whit grabs my shoulder and starts shaking me. My head bobbles back and forth and I swear I can hear my brain rattling in my skull. Plus the shaking makes my head throb harder. “You really are clueless, aren’t you my friend?”
“It just doesn’t seem right?” Elliot and Drake are beautiful, bronzed God’s of perfection. So how could two specimens of perfection want someone as imperfect as me? I’m not used to being noticed by guys so Whit’s comment about Elliot liking me as well is hard to process.
“Face it, babe, high school is over. In this world you’re not the geek in chess club. You’re a stone cold fox.”
Her comment makes me laugh. Maybe that’s what other people think, but in my eyes I will always be the invisible, chess-club geek.
****
After some heavy persuading and a twenty dollar bribe Whit gets me to come out of the house and go down to the beach. On the way we pass a group of guys and several of them shout at me.
“Nice ass!”
“Can we hire you again?”
“Shake it for me, baby!”
I hang my head low in humiliation and keep my eyes on the sand. When will this get old? I wish I could rewind time and have a do-over.
We get farther away from the group and I can still hear them laughing.
“Ignore them,” Whit mutters.
That’s easy for her to say. She’s not the one who dropped trou in front of everyone and gave the customers what they paid for.
“Well, well,” someone says.
Whit comes to a halt abruptly. I’m not paying attention to where I’m going and smack into her back. Her head whips around. “Watch where you’re going, Robs.”
“Sorry.” I lift my head and Elliot comes into view looking like a bronzed God. Shirtless. Toned abs. Perfect hair. Gleaming white-toothed grin.
“If it isn’t the life of the party.”
I’ve had enough. My table dancing moment was the only moment like that I’ve ever had in my life. “Would you give me a freakin break?” I snap.
Elliot raises his hands. “Easy. I was just joking.”
I scowl. “Well, don’t.” It’s bad enough that I’m dancing on a table on YouTube in my underwear for the whole world to see. I don’t need to be reminded of it for the rest of my life.
“Don’t mind her,” Whit interjects. “She’s still hung over and suffering from the aftermath of her first and only striptease.”
Only is right. I will never ever do that ever again. Did I say never ever? Because I don’t think I can say those two words enough. Never ever. Never ever. Never ever. Give me a library and books over beer and frat parties from now on. Maybe I should move into a convent. You never see nuns go wild.
Elliot and Whit chat for a minute and my eyes break away from them and observe the beach, searching for Drake. Then I decide I don’t want to see him and lower my head again. I replay the horrifying video in my mind. Maybe he didn’t see it because I can’t remember seeing him in the crowd of onlookers. I remember seeing Elliot, but I didn’t see Drake.
“There’s a bonfire on the beach tomorrow night,” Elliot says. “You guys should come.”
“I’m swearing off parties for the rest of my life,” I groan.
Elliot winks at me. “Come on. It will be fun. And I promise I’ll keep an eye on you. I won’t let you get out of control.”
“How noble of you.”
“We’d love to come!” Whit pipes up and I scowl at her for speaking up for me.
Elliot turns to leave and locks eyes with me. “I hope to see you guys there.” He walks away, but not before tossing me a flirtatious grin over his shoulder. He can flirt with me all he wants, but that’s not going to change the fact that my heart belongs to someone else.
And conveniently, it happens to be his brother.
“Thanks for asking me if I wanted to go,” I say to Whit as we find a bare spot on the sand and spread out our towels.
She shakes her head, frustrated. “What else are you going to do? Stay inside for the rest of your vacation and mope?”
I shrug. “Maybe.”
Whit spreads out on her towel. “Relax. This whole thing will blow over and before you know it every one will be talking about something else.”
I hope for my sake that Whit is right.
~11~
I fell for you hard, like ice to the ground. You were like no one that I've ever found. I fell into something, something with you, but I'm sure it wasn't love because that's not what love is supposed to do.
~Author Unknown~
She’s not.
It’s been 48 hours and I’m still catching flack for my lil dance.
I wish I knew who freaking taped it and put it up on the internet. If I ever find out I’m going to strangle them.
As we walk toward the giant blazing fire I hear a few guys snicker. A couple even whistle. Don’t these people have anything better to worry about? Probably not.
People camp out around the six foot bonfire in beach chairs. I spot Sadie on the far end, phone in hand, typing away. She’s on that phone a lot. It’s like the best friend she’s never had. I wonder who she talks to all the time and I wonder why she didn’t bring whoever she’s talking to with her.
As I continue scanning the small crowd, I spot Drake. Warmth sears through me and I feel my own personal bonfire igniting inside of me. He glances at me seductively, and I swear I can see bright orange flames circling his blue irises. He bows out of the conversation he’s in the middle of and heads over to me and Whit.
He nods at me and panic spreads through me like an infection. “Oh no,” I gasp. I haven’t seen him since we kissed on the beach and I’m not sure how to act. This is going to be awkward.
Whit leans close to my ear. “Just play it cool.” She sounds so confident when she says it and she knows me, I have a tendency to screw situations like this one up. I either say the wrong thing or can’t find my vocal chords at all.
“Robin.” Drake stands across from me, his head cocked to the side, a cocky grin on his lips. His full, pink pouty lips that smothered me into oblivion just two days ago.
“Hi,” I squeak, cover my mouth then lower my voice. “Hi, Drake.” He’s wearing a white wife-beater that glows against his sun kissed skin and navy blue board shorts. My attention averts to his biceps and the way the toned muscles flex when he shoves his hands into his pockets. “So,” I say trying to break the ice. “What’s up?”
Drake sticks his tongue out the slightest bit and licks his bottom lip and a flutter
of desire courses through my veins. Traveling at a high speed. Like a shot of adrenaline to the heart. “Not much.” He inches closer and an overwhelming feeling to have his hands on me crawls on my skin. Touch me. Touch me. Touch me. Please. Inside I’m screaming for it. I’m begging for it. I’m dying for it. He extends his hand. “You wanna go for a walk?”
I give Whit a look, asking her if she cares if I go with him. She smiles and says in her finest fake, Brooklyn-like accent, “Get outta here.”
I laugh and take Drake’s hand as we wander away from the fire and away from civilization.
The ocean is quiet tonight. No crashing waves or loud rushing water. Just soft plunking as the tide crawls across the sand. I can make out the outline of seagulls as they flap their wings, nose-diving into the violet colored horizon. The stars peak through the fading clouds and look like they’ve been stenciled in the sky with glow-in-the-dark spray paint.
We’ve walked for at least a mile, hand in hand before either one of us speaks. Drake goes first. “So I heard about your little dance.” His voice is deep and husky and beautiful. A voice that I’ll never get sick of listening to. A voice that I’d like to hear whisper sweet nothings into my ear.
I blush and look at my feet. Wet sand squishes between my toes and I laugh nervously and kick some up. “Heard?” I feel his eyes on me and I lift my head, meeting his gaze.
Drake gently caresses my hand with his thumb. “Well and saw…I watched it on the internet.”
I exhale and look away. My cheeks flush and I keep my gaze low, hoping that redness will subside. “Like everyone else on the planet.”
He laughs. “I didn’t think you had that in you. You’re a little wild, kid.”
No I’m not. I’m not wild at all. It’s crazy what a little alcohol can make a person do.
“Not usually.” Then I’m plagued with curiosity. “Where were you when it was happening?” I want to tell him I searched the crowd in the video for him, but I don’t.
“I walked out of the room for a second to get another drink.” Drake stops and we face each other. He releases my hand and his fingers skim my cheek. I fight off the urge to kiss his palm and pull his arms around my waist. And I don’t need to fight the urge any longer because he makes a move.
He drops his hands from my face, staring deep into my eyes and slides them down to my waist. He grips the fabric on my tank-top tightly and yanks me forward until our bodies are pressed against each other’s. He brushes his lips against mine and it’s amazing how such a soft kiss can unravel me. I’m an orange and he’s peeling away my layer of skin.
“Kiss me again,” I whisper. And I don’t have to tell him twice. He envelopes me in his arms and his mouth hovers over mine. His lips move in a frenzy and his tongue slips over mine. He clutches the fabric of my tank-top, gripping the thin cotton tightly as he grazes my bottom lip with his teeth.
At the moment, all I can think about how bad I want him to do more. The kissing is not enough. It’s just a portion of him. He’s like a chocolate chip cookie. I can’t just have one. I want five, six, or seven. I want all of him. I need all of him. And I want to give him all of me.
Maybe this seems silly. It seems silly that I’m willing to toss away my virtue like this, something I’ve kept sacred my entire life. But as I pull out of the kiss and brush his blond bangs away from his face, gazing into his baby blues, I can’t imagine sharing this part of myself with anyone else. I’ve obsessed over Drake for the last three years. I’ve never let another guy squash the fire he ignites inside of me.
Then I make the second reckless move I’ve made on my summer vacation. I shove him away and he stumbles backwards startled, mouth gaping, eyes wide. “What’s gotten into you kid?”
I want to say, you. You have gotten into my head, my mind, and my heart. You have infected my soul with a burning desire that I can’t put out. But I don’t say any of that. Instead I shove him again, a fierce passionate look in my eyes and he falls backwards, his butt skimming the wet sand. I straddle him and he clutches my shoulder, staring up at me, captivated by my spontaneous gesture.
For a moment neither one of us moves. We’re mesmerized, swimming in each other’s gazes. Slowly Drake slides his fingers up my waist, locking my hips against his. Then he sits up, still staring, not breaking his focus. There’s sand all over his arms and the rough texture scratches against my burnt skin, making it feel raw.
He glides a free hand up my spine and I shiver as my shirt slides up and I feel his moist fingers against my back. He gently pulls the hair tie from my hair and my shoulders are covered in waves of chocolate cherry locks. “I want you,” he whispers. “I want you bad.”
And I want him. Oh how I’ve wanted him. For years and years and years. And this moment seems a little surreal to me. That finally, after all this time I finally get what I’ve wanted. What I’ve coveted. What I’ve adored.
I twist the thick straps of his wife-beater around my forefingers and urge his lips closer to mine with each tug. He’s so close his warm breath trails along my cheek bones and heats my face. His lips are so close and if I move an inch mine will touch his. “You do something crazy to me, kid.”
And he does something crazy to me too. I’m a nut job in a mental institution. Clearly incapable of functioning normally and Drake is the orderly he comes to me every morning to deliver my pills. Without him I’ll be crazy forever. Only he is capable of getting rid of the insanity because he is the cure to it.
~12~
Why am I afraid to lose you when you're not even mine?
~Author Unknown~
We’ve been making out for what feels like years, but I want to stay like this forever. Our limbs entwined. Mouths touching. Body heat blazing. Heavy breathing. My heart thumps so loud that in between our raspy breaths I hear it in my ears, drowning out the sound of the ocean.
And Whitney’s voice. “Ummm Robin?”
For a second I’m almost convinced that I’m hearing things all-together until her voice sounds off again. “Robin!”
A throbbing ache pulsates in my lips as I pull away from Drake and glare at Whit, annoyed. “What is it?” I ask in a snarky tone. Why is she doing this? She knows how I feel about him. She knows that I’ve been waiting years for him. “This better be important.”
Her eyes flash to Drake. She gives him a hard look then her gaze softens when she looks back at me. “Come here, please.”
“I’m kind of in the middle of something, Whit.”
“This is important,” she says sternly. “I need to talk to you.”
I stare at Drake for a moment then ease up off of him. “Don’t go,” he says.
I sigh and walk towards Whit. “This will only take a second, I promise.”
Whit flashes Drake another hard look over my shoulder and leans close to my ear. “You need to stay away from him.”
I jolt back slightly, baffled. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“I heard you, but what you’re saying doesn’t make any sense. You know how I feel about him.” I keep my voice hushed, hoping that Drake can’t hear all, if any of our conversation. Glancing coyly over my shoulder our eyes lock and a soft smile tugs at his lips.
Whit slaps my shoulder and I face her. “Exactly, which is why I’m doing what BF’s do. I’m warning you beforehand so that you don’t get hurt.”
I narrow my eyes and jam my fists into my hip. “Did Elliot put you up to this?” Standing on my tip toes, I try to catch a glimpse of him, thinking that he might be lurking behind her somewhere.
“No. This is all me,” she tells me. “Elliot has nothing to do with it.”
I’m torn between curiosity and anger. I can’t understand why she felt she had to come out here and pull me away from Drake. Also, I know Whit. She likes to be the center of attention and let’s face it, during this week she has been anything but that. I twitch my hips, tapping my foot as I make little dents in the wet sand with it. “So let’s hear it then. Enlighten me,
Whit. Tell me what’s so important.”
“I can’t tell you here,” she whispers.
Her vagueness is irritating and I snap, “This isn’t even about me is it? It’s about you!”
She sneers at me and cocks her head to the side. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“God, Whitney! For once just once could you stop thinking about yourself? You’re just jealous because for the first time since the second grade I’m the one who’s getting all the attention.”
Whit points to her breastbone with widening eyes. “Me, jealous? You have got this so wrong it’s sick.” She leans forward and gestures to Drake behind me. “This isn’t about me! I’m not jealous and I can’t believe you’d even go there! I came here to tell you something important and you accuse me of being jealous! Where do you get off, Robin?”
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