The Tenth Girl

by Aarons, Carrie

  Chapter Eighteen

  Harper

  If smoking pot at a beach bonfire is the Florida thing, then hanging out on the river is the Texas thing.

  Half of Haven High School seems to be parked along the shoulder of the road as Mary-Kate pulls her truck into the long line of pickups. She stops the car, grabs her bag, and starts to get out.

  “Um, where are we going?” We aren’t anywhere close to … well, anywhere.

  MK laughs and points. “That clearing up there, we have to walk about five minutes into the woods until we get to the river.”

  I bristle, thinking this seems like a bad idea. But it is the middle of the afternoon, and even though it’s November, it’s still almost eighty degrees outside.

  I shouldn’t even be going to this thing after last night. After I let Cain touch me in places that no boy has ever touched me before. After I let him wipe away my tears, and tell me everything I wanted to hear.

  Had he been lying? It sure didn’t feel like it. And when he’d dropped me off at home, an hour later than my curfew so I had to sneak through my bedroom window, he’d planted a gentle kiss on my lips.

  Aside from the Annabelle debacle, last night had been perfect. And I flushed inside every time I thought about Cain and me in that backseat. Which was only, oh, every damn second.

  I follow her, gripping my bag to my side as we walk through brush and trees, most definitely getting poison ivy in the process.

  “This better be worth it,” I grumble.

  “Trust me, it’s a good time. Plus, you told me you wanted to see all of Haven, so I’m giving you the grand tour.” MK winks at me.

  “That was when I was being open and fun. Now I’m dirty and sweating,” I grumble again, and she shakes her butt at me as we break through the trees.

  Then my mouth drops. Kids in the water, on the banks, hanging from rope swings and up on a train bridge that looks like it hasn’t seen a locomotive in what looks like fifty years. Music is blaring, red cups are everywhere, and every person here is in a bathing suit. Floats fill the water, coolers crowd the sand and I almost can’t believe that no one can hear this from the shoulder of the road where we left our car.

  I sure hadn’t heard it.

  “You want to jump first and then we can lay out and get a tan?” Mary-Kate is sliding her bag off of her shoulder and onto the sand, stripping down to only her bikini.

  I feel self-conscious. Even though I lived in a bathing suit as a Florida native, something about Haven and its teenagers made me doubt my body. I was fully aware that my boobs fell out of any top I purchased, and my simple black two piece was nothing compared to these girls and their designer swimwear.

  Backing up so that I’m almost against the trees, I shrug out of my shorts and tank top, and set my bag behind a big oak so that no one can take it. When I reveal myself, MK whistles at me and a bunch of people look. I must blush the color of a ripe strawberry.

  “Let’s go!” She claps and I follow her, folding my arms across my body as we walk.

  My skin bristles and I know he’s here. Cain. Is it strange that I am fully aware whenever he’s in my presence now, even if I don’t see him?

  He hadn’t told me he was going to be here, but did he have to? After last night, what was the protocol? I was all so new to this.

  Immediately, MK wants to jump off of the old looking bridge. Apparently, it’s what everyone does. A rite of passage.

  Which is why, ten minutes after that, I’m teetering on the edge of said bridge, at least fifty or sixty kids splashing in the water below or horsing around on the bridge beside me while chanting at me to jump.

  My legs shake, and I’m petrified. This has to be about a forty-foot drop. While it doesn’t look so high when you’re driving up to it, standing on the precipice is another story. It’s not the act of doing it that seizes me, it’s the fear. The mental lock on my brain that tells me no, you cannot move your limbs to accomplish this.

  Suddenly, the bridge starts to shake, and I let out a yelp.

  “Don’t freak out,” A deep voice says beside me.

  I turn my head, and there is Cain, naked save for a pair of white and navy plaid board shorts. Momentarily, my fear skedaddles and lust replaces it. Lord have mercy, this guy is hot. Six-pack abs, long, lean arms and legs, that strong jaw. His olive skin and jet-black hair are already wet, meaning he must have seen me from the water and came up here.

  “Wh-what are you doing?” I can’t help but stutter, both from the lust and the fear.

  “Making sure you’re okay.” His small smile has my heart galloping.

  “This is higher than it looks.” We’re standing close, his hand right next to mine, gripping the cables behind us.

  “It’s not as bad as it seems … and once you jump, the feeling is indescribable.”

  Kind of like standing on this bridge with you, I think.

  “But, the water … it’s not deep enough.” I put up another excuse.

  Cain raises an eyebrow. “You know it is. You saw dozens of kids do it before. Don’t let your brain mess with you.”

  His eyes skate my body, and a chill of goose bumps breaks out even though it’s hot and muggy. I bite my lip, and he stares at the motion. People are staring at us now, I can see them point to us from down in the water.

  “I’ll hold your hand. And on the count of three, we jump.” He nods as if to get me to agree.

  Holding out his big, calloused palm, I inspect it for a second. My fear is dissipating, and the need to touch him grows stronger. I grasp it, sucking in my breath for a second as my hand comes off the cable of the bridge. Now I’m teetering with just one hand grasping the structure behind me, the blood in my knuckles turning cold.

  I hesitate for a split second before lacing my fingers through his. Our hands are no match for each other; his is big, brawny and tan, mine is small, delicate and pale. But he grips the only part of me he can hold onto as if I’ve just given him a gift, and my mouth goes dry feeling the roughness of his skin against my own palm.

  Cain’s full bottom lip is now between his teeth, and I’ve never wanted to kiss a boy more than I do right now.

  “Okay, on the count of three, we’re going to jump. Got it?” He squeezes my hand.

  I’m too scared about the jump and enamored by him to talk, so I nod, taking a deep breath as he counts off.

  “Three!” Cain shouts, and before I know it, I’m letting go of the bridge behind me and pushing off hard with my legs, my toes hitting the open air last.

  Cain’s hand is plastered to mine, his body drifting toward me as we drop. It’s like we’re in slow motion; I look at the water below, the sky above, and then over to him. He’s watching me, a genuine smile stretching his face. I smile back, a giggle escaping my mouth.

  This feeling is … everything. The falling, the leap of my heart, the way my toes wiggle through the open air.

  What hits my heart most of all was that Cain climbed out there with me. He showed everyone in the river and on its banks that we were … what? Together? In spite of my knowledge not to think wishfully, I did it anyway. I hope we are together.

  When we finally hit the water, it burns. In the best way possible.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Cain

  The tiny marina on McCray Lake houses less than a dozen decent sized boats, and maybe ten little dinghies.

  Gnats buzz in clusters around the humid, musty water, and the brush and cattails hide the lake from the outside world. I sit on the hood of my Jeep in my fishing gear, my tackle box on the ground next to me.

  I see a Camry with a Hook & Hunt logo sticker slapped on the side pull up, and Harper’s eyes dance with laughter when she sees who is waiting for their fishing lesson.

  “You booked me to be your caddy of fishing?” She smirks as she gets out of the car, worn jean shorts and a plain white tank top looking way too good on her.

  “I figured you needed a little break from the office.” I push off the tru
ck and walk to her, not stopping until my hands are in her hair and my mouth is exploring hers.

  Harper gives a little squeak and a moan, and I’m hard as a steel pipe in two seconds flat. I’m usually raring to go, but this girl does something else entirely to me.

  I’m not sure what the fuck I’m doing. Why I’m pursuing this girl so hard. And I really need to stop thinking of her as “this girl,” because I repeat the name Harper in my head so many times a day that I should really stop lying to myself.

  I know better than this. The females in my life always leave. My mother couldn’t even stand to be around me, and I don’t need psychoanalysis to realize that’s why I can’t form a lasting bond with anyone of the opposite gender.

  But Harper … she makes all of those fears and self-doubts disappear when I’m with her. How does she do that? And why am I letting her?

  We’d seen each other in school, had smirked when we passed each other or shared a flirty word. But I’d been busy with practice and I knew Harper wasn’t going to make a move. I could see it in her eyes, she wanted to experiment more. So did I, not that it would happen on the boat today. She wasn’t the kind of girl who would let me get her naked on the open water, but hell if my cock didn’t know how fucking hot that would be.

  Yes, if we form a relationship and she falls for me, and lets me take her to bed … then I’m accomplishing my end goal. I wanted to get close to her, to fuck her. That was my original mission.

  But what if it came at a cost? What if I was falling too? I didn’t want that shit, didn’t need those feelings. Girlfriends were something I didn’t do, especially now when I was going to graduate and go off to college. I had no time for romance and fights and caring … college football was a full-time career.

  But here I was, paying her place of work for fishing lessons that I didn’t need purely so I could spend more time with her. I knew what Grady and the guys would say. I was pussy whipped. That a girl was getting the best of me. They’d been curious about our time spent together, wanted to know where I had gone last weekend at The Atrium.

  It wasn’t technically a practice day, but on Sunday most of the seniors met at the school weight room to shoot the shit and work our muscles.

  “Kent, where did you get off to last night?” Emmitt throws a barbell off his shoulders and to the ground.

  Grady sits up from the bench he’s doing chest presses on, and asks the same. “Yeah, I barely even saw you! You missed the two topless sophomores who lost in beer pong.”

  “Aw damn, can’t say I wouldn’t have liked to see that. But I had other … matters to attend to.”

  “What he means by matters is that new girl, Harper.” Paul smirks.

  I shrug, not giving away any details. I want them to think I’m putting my hands all over that girl. I have a reputation to uphold.

  “Too bad you haven’t fucked her.” Grady’s jealousy seethes through as he bumps me on his way to the water fountain.

  “How do you know?” I pick up a medicine ball and start throwing it against a wall, and catching it on the bounce back.

  “Because you’d be bragging like a king. You’d have won. No one would keep their tenth girl a secret. Unless … you were falling for her or some shit.” Emmitt eyes me.

  Will has been silent for most of this ridiculous conversation, as he usually always is. But even he perks up at Emmitt’s last sentence.

  Six pairs of eyes are glued to me. I fix up my face before I turn around from where I am facing the wall, putting on my superstar quarterback golden boy persona.

  “Believe me, she doesn’t mean jack shit to me. Just another pair of tits and ass. But this one needs hand holding before she spreads her legs. Don’t worry, I’ll beat you fuckers.”

  I try to keep that sentiment in mind, ignore the throbbing of my heart in my chest as I pull back from Harper and she looks up at me with a radiant smile.

  “Do you really not know how to fish?” She tilts her head.

  I put a fingertip on her chin. “Sweetheart, I’m a boy growing up in the boondocks of Texas, close to a lake. Of course I know how to fish. I just wanted to see if you did.”

  Harper scowls. “You do know that I worked at a bait and tackle shop for like, two years in Florida, right? I bet I’ll bag way more fish than you.”

  “Is that a bet?” It reminds me that she is only a bet, too.

  “Nah, I don’t want to compete with you. Fishing is supposed to be relaxing. Plus, I think you play too many games as it is.” She pins me with those baby blues.

  I follow her down the dock, carrying her tackle box like the gentleman I am. Because I paid for this fishing lesson, we get to use the store’s boat, which is a little nicer than the crappy old dinghy my dad had always taken me on. Once we’re all set up, our lines in the water, sitting next to each other in the bucket seats, she turns to me.

  “You’ve lived in Haven your whole life?”

  I nod. “Born and raised. Third generation.”

  “So, are your grandparents and parents around?”

  I grin at her. “What is this, twenty questions? My gramps is in a nursing home right off Main Street. My dad is in the military, so he’s not around a lot.”

  She doesn’t ask about my mom, so she must have heard about it from somewhere. “That must be hard. So … it’s just you? Do you live with anyone? A teammate’s family?”

  My line begins to pull, and I try to reel it in, but whatever I caught wriggles free. I sit back again. “Nope, just me and my lonesome in my dad’s house. I’m eighteen, so legally I’m allowed to live alone. It gets real quiet though. Maybe you can come over and keep me company.”

  Harper glances at me, trying to maintain the blush on her cheeks. “Somehow, I think that would be very dangerous for me.”

  I play innocent, brushing a lock of hair off her shoulder. “What? I just want you to come over to see my bookcase.”

  She turns her whole body to me, folding her long, slim legs under her. “What’s with that? You just happen to like to read and know all of these passages from classic books? And why do I feel like I’m the only one who knows this factoid?”

  I sigh. Normally, I hide my interest for books. Girls don’t care about that shit, they’d rather hear about football or kiss you. And my friends would call me a pussy. But, Harper, she’s genuinely interested.

  “My granny, God rest her soul, got me into it. After my mom skipped town, she kind of become my surrogate mama. This one summer, she’d read a paperback every two days out by the blow up pool she set up in her backyard for me. I loved her like hell, and wanted to imitate her. I was about ten, and she’d told me that if I wanted to do it right, I’d pick a better book than When You Give a Mouse a Cookie. She’d gone to the library and checked out The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, and I was hooked. I read, I think, about eight books that summer. More than I’d ever read in my entire life probably, in three months. After that, I’d ask for copies of my own for every birthday and Christmas.”

  Harper’s eyes light up. “God, I would love to have my own bookcase of copies.”

  I stare at her. “You like to read so much, I assume, since you are always bugging me about my books. You’re telling me you don’t have any books at home?”

  She shakes her head. “No room for books in a trailer, remember? And, not really much money left over after other expenses. I was a library kid.”

  “You were the little girl sitting between the stacks, weren’t you?” I could just see her, knobby knees with stacks of books she wanted to read piling up around her.

  Chuckling, Harper nods. “So, what are you reading now?”

  My line jiggles, and I grab hold of it. Harper’s does too, and our attention goes to the rods in the water. “I’m re-reading Jurassic Park before the next movie comes out.”

  Harper makes a humming sound in the back of her throat, concentrating on reeling in her catch. She’s struggling, and I let go of whatever is on the end of my line, moving behind her wher
e she now stands to help her pull. Her body is flush against mine, and I smell the daisy scent in her hair.

  We pull together, her cute little grunts filling the air. Finally, we’ve got the fish up and on deck.

  “She’s a beauty.” Harper beams, staring down at her catch.

  She nabbed a foot long trout, and she’s right, it’s a nice fish.

  “Guess I did beat you.” She smirks, and her eyebrows raise.

  Oh, sweetheart, if you only knew how much further behind me you actually were. I just pray she doesn’t catch on to what game we are actually playing.

  Chapter Twenty

  Harper

  Cain: I can’t stop thinking about your tits.

  Holy hell.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about him touching them. Since that night at The Atrium, we hadn’t done more than kiss. Although I was not sad about how that night had ended, I did wish I’d seen more of the mysterious party place that was whispered about in reverence through the halls of Haven High School.

  Mary-Kate had been miffed that I hadn’t checked in with her when I got there, but as soon as I’d told her what had happened in hushed words, she’d squealed and forgiven me. However, she had told me I’d missed a wild night in the building that had been an army depot during World War II. That would have been cool to see, but I liked what I’d done better.

  Every time I thought about Cain touching me in the moonlight, heat would pool between my legs. I wanted to do it again, every time I saw him. Just thinking his name brought excitement, and I now understood why sex was so addicting. I hadn’t even had it yet, but each time I thought of Cain Kent, I pictured getting naked with him and having our bodies meet. Everywhere.

  Harper: You’re making me blush.

  Cain: I want to see you blush everywhere. It turns me on.

  He was being so blunt, and I squeezed my thighs together where I lay on the bed. Were we sexting? I’d never sexted before, and it made me giddy.