“Hey,” I say, still trying to shake off dreams of Jack Sparrow dueling Austin for a kiss. “What’s up?”
“Missing you, that’s what. The whole dance team misses you.”
“You’re with the team?”
“Mm-hm, at this rest home doing service. Well, at least one of us is doing service. I’m pulling weeds and shoveling crap while the other girls complain about their lack of thigh gap.”
“What a joy.” I turn over and smile as I pick up the palm-leaf flower, the one Austin made for me.
“Tell me about Georgia so I don’t have to think about worms,” Haylee pleads. “Has it been totally lame?”
I twirl the flower under my nose and smile. “It’s been amazing.”
There’s a pause on the other end, like Haylee’s pulling the phone closer to her ear. “Who’s the boy? Is it that Brian guy?”
“No, it’s not Brian.”
“So it is a boy! Who?”
“It’s nothing,” I say, failing to convince even myself.
“Yeah, right.”
“I promise, it’s nothing. Come on, Haylee, I’m with Kyle.”
“Sienna, we can argue all day, but we both know I’ll win in the end. Spill it!”
“All right, all right. He saved me last weekend on River Street from a couple of creeps.”
“Ew, you had creepers after you? I hate pervs. Nothing you couldn’t have handled on your own though, right? I mean, they didn’t hurt you, did they?”
“No.”
“Good. But you said this guy saved you. This is you we’re talking about, Sienna. Spunky. Quick. Smart.”
This is why I love Haylee. I replay the scene in my mind, me fainting in the clutch of two drunks like some idiot damsel in distress. I contemplate telling her about my fainting spells. “I was feeling kind of off that night, not myself.”
“Well, so this guy saves the day and then . . .”
“He bought me some shoes.”
“What? Shoes! He saves your life and then buys you shoes? Girl, he’s a keeper.”
I laugh. “You don’t even know him.”
“I’ve heard enough.”
“It was nothing, Haylee. We just got ice cream and walked around and—” I pin my lips together. Really, I should keep the rest quiet and pretend it never happened.
“Just tell me one thing, Sienna. Does he have anything that belongs to you? Do you have anything of his? Tell me you don’t already have his sweatshirt!”
I glance down at my pajamas—Austin’s Property of Meadowbrook Monarchs shirt.
“You do!” Haylee exclaims.
“It’s just his T-shirt.”
“Oh, okay. Yeah, that’s nothing,” she says sarcastically.
“It really isn’t. It’s a long story.”
“That’s fine by me. I’m here all morning, shoveling crap and pulling weeds.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“You said it’s a long story.”
I pull the neckline of Austin’s shirt up to my nose and search for his scent, remembering how he held my hand last night. On our first date that wasn’t even officially a date. “Hay, this can’t go any further than it already has.”
“Why not?”
“Because of my mom. She doesn’t like me seeing him, not one bit. Haylee, she’s worse than ever these days, hanging on by a thread. Staring off at nothing. Weeping when she thinks no one is around. Watching my every move like a hawk.”
Haylee lets out a deep breath—she knows my mom. “That stinks.”
“Yeah. And anyway, I’m with Kyle.”
“So?”
“Haylee!”
“I didn’t mean it like that, Sienna. All I’m saying is Kyle is here in Virginia. Dream Boy’s in Georgia.”
“You’re saying I should play them both?”
She exhales. “Sienna, you’ve been with Kyle on and off for, like, ever. Think about it. You and Kyle have four years of college ahead, and you’ve never seriously dated anyone else. Right?”
I didn’t expect Haylee to take this side, but I see her point. Makes me sound pathetic, actually. As shallow as it was, dating Kyle Price had been a major boost for my social life. Everyone suddenly knew me, admired me. But then it became more. Our families are so close, and Kyle was there for me after my dad died like no one else was. We’re magnets. Inevitably, we end up together.
“Listen, we don’t have to talk about Dream Boy if you don’t want to. I just want to know one more thing.”
I roll my eyes, highly doubtful. “Uh-huh.”
“His name. That’s all.”
“His name is—”
“Aaand a picture. If you have one.”
“Actually, I do.”
“Ooh, send it to me!”
Just then, the doorbell rings, and I wait for someone to get it.
“Sienna. His name! The picture!”
“Austin Dobbs. He went to Meadowbrook High. Haylee, he played football against Kyle.”
A long pause. “You. Are. Joking! I’m gonna Facebook him. See who knows him. Hey, what’s he doing in Georgia?”
“Good question. He doesn’t say much about himself.”
“Ooh, mystery man. Not exactly your type, girl. More like mine.”
“No way, he’s taken. Listen, Hay, you have to promise you won’t tell a soul.”
“Cross my heart.”
The doorbell rings again. “Gotta go.”
“Don’t forget the picture!” she shouts before I hang up. I punch buttons as I jump out of bed, bringing up the picture from last night on my cell. The sight of Austin, his head turned, his eyes glued on me, pulls me to a stop at the top of the stairs.
I went to bed confused after talking to my mom, wondering what on earth possessed me to so openly trust a boy I’ve known for one week. Now everything feels right, and I can’t wait to see him again. I thank Haylee for that as I sprint down the stairs, sending her a text with the picture on my way.
I fling open the front door and glance up. Shock pulses through me, and the doorframe rattles as I slam the door shut. He didn’t even have a chance to look at me. His back was turned like he’d given up on anyone answering. Did I honestly see Austin on my front porch?
I run my fingers through my hair and open the door again, finding an unbearably handsome and somewhat bewildered Austin Dobbs.
I smile, excited and shocked all at once. “Hi.”
“Hey,” he replies, those incredible dimples sneaking out.
It takes a minute for me to notice the bouquet of flowers, palm-leaf roses to be exact. “You made those?”
“Ah, kinda.”
“The hippies,” I say.
“Yep.”
My cell vibrates in my hand. I glance down to see Haylee’s reply.
My type 4 sure. Hand him over. SO hot!!!
I glance up at Austin, not about to argue with the “hot” part. My cell keeps vibrating. More texts from Haylee. I ignore. I don’t need to check the mirror on the wall to know what a nightmare Austin is looking at.
I glance anyway, color draining from my face as I meet my reflection. Wildebeest. That’s the first animal that springs to mind. My blond hair hangs in unwieldy strands around my face, beside two cowlicks on the top of my head that look horrifyingly similar to—yep, horns. To top it off, I’m wearing my comfiest frayed shorts and Austin’s shirt, which looks like a navy blue tent on me.
I rub my cheek nervously, trying not to make eye contact. I slip my fingers through my hair, an attempt to tame the wildebeest mane. Then, instinctively, I cross my arms over my chest.
No bra?
This couldn’t get worse.
Austin clears his throat, regaining composure—no doubt from the shock of such a ghastly sight. I catch a nervous grin on his face. “You look good in that shirt.”
“Sorry. I—ah—I’ll wash it and give it back.”
He chuckles, and his gaze meets mine with a look that leaves my knees feeling like somethin
g loose and jiggly; Jell-O, maybe. He steps up the last stair and crosses the threshold, coming far too close. “Don’t bother washing it. It smells better on you anyway.” His eyebrows climb a notch as his eyes slide down the length of my body. “And it looks a whole lot better on you, too.”
Heat rises in my face, but the thought of my mom seeing Austin here pulls my mind back into focus. “Spencer?”
“What?” he calls back, sounding perturbed.
I peek around the corner and find Spencer at the TV playing some Captain America Xbox game, Marvel action figures scattered on the floor around him. “Where’s Mom?”
“Shopping with Brian’s mom,” he replies. “Said she’d be back later and that I’m in charge.”
“Uh-huh, right.”
“She did too!” Spencer insists, and I decide to drop it. He and Mom haven’t exactly been buddy-buddy lately. Spencer puts up a tough fight about taking his antidepressants, which doesn’t go over well with Mom. “Okay,” Spencer admits, “she said shopping and the part about being home for lunch. But she didn’t say you’re in charge, so that means I am.”
“Fine.”
Spencer looks past me. “Who’s that?”
I turn around. Austin takes a step forward so he can see Spencer. “Hey, man. I’m Austin.”
Spencer only glares at him. This is great. Austin comes here to give me flowers, finds a wildebeest instead, and meets my little brother on one of his down days.
“Do you play Xbox?” Spencer asks with a snobby tilt of his chin. This is an eight-year-old boy’s way of sizing someone up.
“Um, yeah,” Austin replies. “Only if I get to eat Lucky Charms while I’m playing, though.”
Spencer’s face lights up with the biggest smile, the kind only my dad could draw out. With a twist in my heart, I notice the football lying beside him, the one he and Dad used to toss around on the beach together. “You like Lucky Charms?” Spencer asks.
I smile at the fact Austin remembered.
Austin smiles, too. “Oh, yeah. But I’m pretty crappy on Xbox, to be honest. My buddies always beat me.”
“Well, I’d ask you to play with me,” Spencer says, “but I’d probably just kill you.”
Austin laughs. “Probably would. But, hey, I’ll toss that football around with you instead.”
Spencer’s paddle hits the floor. “You will?”
Austin looks to me for permission. He can’t possibly know what this means to Spencer.
“Go ahead,” I say, happy for a moment to steal myself to the bathroom to transform the wildebeest. I run up the stairs and stash the flowers in my room so my mom won’t get suspicious. Then I dash for the shower. I dab on a touch of makeup, throw on my swimming suit, and cover it with a shirt and shorts. I snag my perfume and spray, walking into the mist before running back downstairs.
I look out back, smiling as Austin wades through the water to catch a stray ball Spencer threw.
“Catch?” Austin asks me as I approach.
I try to stand confidently as the ball zooms toward me. Despite my football skills—I don’t have any—I make a decent catch. Austin holds his hands up to catch a return toss.
“She’s even worse at throwing,” Spencer speaks up. “The fish out there catch more of her balls than I can.”
Austin looks to me. “Oh, yeah?”
“Spencer,” I hiss.
I look at Austin and confirm it with a shrug. Austin closes the distance between us. I’m increasingly aware of him—his shower-fresh scent, every curve of muscle and the rise and fall of his chest with every breath—as he stands behind me and wraps his arms around mine.
“I’ll teach you,” he says, his warm breath at my ear seeping in. Whispering a thrill.
His hand cups the back of mine. I watch as he positions my pinkie and ring fingers over the threads and slides my thumb down. “Hold the ball with your fingertips.”
I glance at his face above my shoulder, his blue eyes, strong jaw, and his lips. And suddenly, football is the last thing on my mind.
“Now, lift your arm.”
I clear my throat, concentrating. “Like this?”
“Mm-hm.” His nose brushes through my hair. I take several shallow breaths, my pulse flickering as he smells my hair. “Keep your eye on the target.”
I force myself to focus on Spencer. Since he’s staring at us like he would at a clogged toilet, I remind myself to make him promise not to speak a word of this to Mom.
“Now step into the throw. Put your whole body into it, not just your arm.” Austin practices the motion with me. “Then let the ball roll off your fingertips.”
His body guides my movements. After a few run-throughs of the motion, he tells me to let it fly, and I do. The ball rolls off my fingertips and soars through the air in a perfect spiral, landing in Spencer’s open hands.
“Wow, that was perfect! Definitely my best throw ever. Thank you.”
“It was my pleasure,” Austin says.
I giggle.
Spencer clears his throat audibly. “I’m going to go play with friends now. Or maybe to the bathroom to puke.”
I turn. “Which friends?”
“Bobby’s mom is picking me up. Mom said I could go.”
“Don’t let Bobby be mean to you, okay?”
Spencer rolls his eyes, already on his way out of here. “I’ll take that over this.”
I wait for Bobby’s mom to come and see Spencer off. When it’s finally just me and Austin and a few strangers strolling along the beach, I turn to him. “Do you have work today?”
Austin shakes his head.
“All day?”
He grins.
Tossing aside all thoughts of Kyle, my mom, college, and everything else that will make it impossible for me and Austin to be together, I close the gap between us and tug down the rim of his ball cap.
He slips his hands around my waist and pulls me in, the feel of his strong arms around me making my heartbeat flicker. “But first . . .” he says, as though he just remembered something. He turns and jogs away. “Wait here. There’s someone I want you to meet.”
CHAPTER 16
Sienna
I wait, my curiosity getting the best of me. Before long, I spot Austin coming back, a yellow Lab jogging at his heels.
I give the slobbery dog a pat on the head. “So this is Turbo.”
Turbo drools on my toes, and Austin pulls him away. “I’m sorry. He was waiting by the car, and he’s pretty excited about the beach.”
“He’s fine,” I say as though dogs salivate on my toes all the time. I fake confidence as I give Turbo a scratch between his floppy ears. Mom would have dug her own grave if anything hairy or smelly set foot inside our house. Basically, I’ve never had a pet. “Good to meet you, Turbo.”
Turbo barks, and I fly back, startled. My butt hits the sand, and Austin stifles a laugh. Austin gives me a hand up. I whack his arm. “Don’t laugh.”
Turbo dashes off, sniffing the sand and chasing waves. Austin doesn’t relinquish his hold on my hand as we start toward the pier.
“He seems like a good dog,” I say, watching as a toddler in swim trunks chases after Turbo.
“Yeah, he saved my life at least once.”
“Really?”
“There was this one time when I was a kid, walking home through some rough parts of town. It got dark. I got lost. Luckily, Turbo was with me.”
“He knew the way?”
Austin nods. “I saved his life at least once, too, so we’re even.”
“How?”
“It sounds kinda funny now. Freaked me out, though. My mom was cooking with macadamia nuts, and Turbo was cleaning up shop. I knew chocolate was bad for him, but I had no idea about nuts. He ate a bunch of them. Started choking.” Austin falls silent like that’s the end of the story.
“And?”
“Heimlich,” he replies.
“Heimlich? You did the Heimlich maneuver on your dog?”
Austin nods.
“I didn’t even know you could do that on a dog.”
“Neither did I,” he says. “Turbo starting acting weird, shaking like he was going to die. The vet said he almost did die. Most dogs are allergic to nuts and chocolate, stuff like that. But Turbo is deathly allergic.”
“Wow. You saved your dog’s life—that’s, like, heroic.”
“Squeezing a nut out of my dog is hardly heroic.”
The sun overhead beats down on us, painfully hot. Austin must be feeling it, too, because he whips off his shirt, revealing a rippled chest and a bulging, tattooed bicep.
“Is there a story behind that tattoo?” I ask, eyeing the almost abstract swirl of lines that looks something like a bird if you stare at it long enough.
Austin pauses, enough for me to doubt his reply. “Nah.”
“Yeah right!” I say. “Now I really want to know.”
“It was dumb.”
“The best stories start out that way,” I say.
He laughs.
“I’m waiting.”
He rolls his eyes. I don’t relent and Austin finally caves. “All right. So, a buddy of mine from an opposing team made me a bet. If our team won, he’d tattoo our team’s mascot, a lion, on his arm. If his team won, I had to tattoo his team’s mascot on mine.”
My gaze falls to his tattoo again. “A pigeon?”
“Pigeon?” he exclaims, going cross-eyed as he does a double take of his own arm. “It’s an eagle!”
I laugh. “That’s the story? That’s how you ended up with a bird on your arm?”
Austin heaves a sigh. “Stupid, yeah. I warned you.”
“And you followed through with it,” I say in disbelief. “You lost and then you actually put the bird on your arm.”
Austin looks me square in the eyes. “I gave him my word, didn’t I?”
Actually, I can appreciate such honesty.
“In my defense,” Austin says, “I was a sophomore.”
“Ah, that explains everything.”
“Your beach house—” Austin coughs like he’s trying to change the subject. “It’s . . . nice. Crazy nice.”
I try to downplay it by explaining that it’s my grandpa’s, not ours. However, I end up blathering on about my grandpa and all of the companies he owned, the business he started, and how he helped my dad start up Viva Bella as well—way too much information. Again.
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