by Jordan Ford
And I do…sometimes.
Maybe she’s waiting for me to say I want her back.
Which I do…sort of.
We reach her driveway and walk past the mailbox, stopping on the large white tile outside her front door. She’s playing with the strap of her handbag, so obviously lingering.
This was our spot, for nearly a year. This is where we’d linger every time I was about to leave her. We’ve made out on this tile—everything from chaste kisses to heated tonsil hockey. Her body would press against mine and I’d want her so bad in those moments, but she’d always pull away. We never took things to the next level.
Why?
Because I wasn’t her one?
Because she wasn’t ready?
I gaze down at her now and can’t help wondering if it was a sign.
We never took things to the next level because we were never meant to.
It makes me hesitate, even when she tucks her hair behind her ear then brushes her finger over her bottom lip.
“Thanks for walking me home,” she whispers.
“That’s okay,” I rasp, then lick my lips.
She’s waiting for me to make a move, but for some weird reason, I can’t. “Good night, Sav.”
Her brown eyes dip with disappointment, and then she nods. “Night, Aidan.” Without another glance my way, she rushes to her front door and disappears inside.
“Shit,” I mutter.
Did I just completely screw that up?
What the hell is wrong with me?
I hustle up the driveway, wanting to get away from the house and my shame. What kind of guy doesn’t go for it with Savannah Green? She would have let me kiss her tonight, but my body wouldn’t make the move.
“You really are a fucking loser,” I mutter darkly, confused by the fact that everything I’ve been pining for suddenly doesn’t feel like enough.
Once again, I’m forced to face the fact that maybe Harley is right: I’m an entitled shit who isn’t satisfied with life.
My mind flicks back to the party…and Skylar.
Man, when she finds out what I didn’t do with Savannah, she’s gonna have my head.
It’s a small show of mercy that she’ll be too drunk to care right now and too hung-over to scratch my eyes out tomorrow. I’ve got at least one day’s grace.
Whipping out my phone, I text Simon again.
Me: Skylar okay?
Simon: Aren’t you supposed to be busy right now?
I roll my eyes and type back: Skylar. What’s she doing?
Simon: Dancing topless by fire.
“Shit!” I pick up my pace, cursing Craig as I text: Coming back now.
Simon: Don’t bother. Someone called cops. We out.
Me: Do I need to get Sky?
Simon: All good. With Craig now. Will make sure she gets home.
That doesn’t sit too well with me. I don’t trust Craig to get Skylar home without screwing it up. But I do trust Simon.
Me: Thanks. Tell me all tomorrow.
Simon replies with a thumbs-up emoji and I know he’ll be good for it. The guy’s not a gossip or anything, but he’ll relay the facts as he saw them. That’ll be enough for me to get a picture of what went down while I was walking Savvy home.
I stop at the end of her street. There’s no point going back to the beach if the cops are gonna break things up. All I can hope is that Craig’s dad is one of them. He always goes easy on us teens…unlike Officer Kimble. That chick is a hard-ass.
Turning left, I head up the hill to my place.
Mom will want to know why I’m walking in early, and I really don’t feel like having that conversation. So instead, I take the walkway that leads to a small lookout on the edge of the cliff. I can’t see the party or the steps from this spot, but I’m guessing it’s chaos down there. I’m kind of glad not to be a part of it.
Resting my hands on the railing, I gaze out across the water, listening to its sound and wondering what Harley is doing right now.
24
A Drug-Free Sleeping Pill
HARLEY
It’s been a long, lonely night.
Screw that.
It’s been a long, lonely day.
I had to work for most of it. If anything is going to depress me, it’s scanning groceries at Freshmart for an entire freaking day. I was begged into working a double shift to cover Paulo’s butt. That guy gets sick way too often to be believable.
With a huff, I roll onto my back and stare up at the gloomy ceiling. My bed is unusually intolerable tonight, but I don’t feel like getting up and pacing my cluttered house either.
I just want to sleep!
But I can’t.
I’ve been trying since about eleven thirty. No dice.
I can safely label this day a full-blown SNAFU.
The surf sucked this afternoon, so I missed out on my daily exercise. It put me in a foul mood. It always does. Jed was busy with some family dinner, so it was just me and my sorry ass. Mom had already left for work at Sugar Pop by the time I walked in the door. That’s been the only highlight of my day.
In an act of true self-pity, I binge-watched Riverdale on Netflix and ate an entire bag of popcorn, plus a tub of chocolate ripple ice cream, which goes against all my eating beliefs. It was an emotional moment of weakness that my stomach is now cursing me for.
Maybe that’s why I can’t sleep.
I roll onto my side, bunching the pillow under my cheek and gazing at the phone on my bedside table. The red numbers of my digital clock highlight the edges of the device, and I can’t deny that my stomach has nothing to do with the fact that I can’t sleep.
It’s all Aidan’s fault. The fact that he hasn’t texted since our bust-up. The fact that I want to be mad with him, but all I’ve done, all day, is miss him. Wish we were in the water together or sharing a bowl of tortilla chips.
I don’t want to like him. How many times do I have to tell myself that!
But I can’t leave things as they are. It’s torturing me, thinking that our last encounter was me snarling at him like some animal.
With an angry huff, I switch on my light and sit up in bed.
I check the clock: 1:18 a.m.
If I text him now, it won’t disturb him. He’ll be asleep, have his phone on night mode and won’t get the message until the morning. If he uses night mode. Doesn’t everybody use night mode? Or is that just me?
What if he’s still awake?
What if the text wakes him?
“Oh, just do it! Or you’ll never get any sleep.”
Biting my lips together, I pick up my phone and unlock the screen.
Aidan’s text from Friday is still on display.
Want to surf today? The report looks good. I read it right. I think.
My face scrunches, longing pulsing through me.
“Yeah, I want to surf,” I whisper.
Aidan’s the only real surfing buddy I’ve had since “that guy,” and as scary as it is to admit, I really love having someone to hang out with in the water.
So I like him.
I can manage that, right?
All I have to do is remind myself how horrible human beings can be, and that will stop me from wanting anything more than Aidan’s friendship.
“Friendship,” I murmur. “A surfing buddy.”
The thought makes me smile, and I start typing before I think any harder about it.
Sorry for being a bitch about the summer job thing. I didn’t mean to rag on you so bad. I’m up for a surf tomorrow afternoon if the waves are good. Let me know if you want to join.
I bite my lip so hard it starts to hurt, then send the text without proofing it. I just need to get it out there.
He might respond.
He might delete.
I probably deserve the delete, but at least I’ve done everything in my power to get my surfing buddy back.
“Your buddy. That’s it,” I whisper into my pillow after I lie back down and switch o
ff the light.
25
A Slice of the Blues
AIDAN
Harley’s text is burning a hole in my pocket.
I woke up to it and wanted to reply right away, but Mom walked in before I could, ordering me out of bed and reminding me of the family lunch we have. She wanted help in the kitchen preparing salads to take with us, and every time I even reached for my phone, she barked at me to “Get on with it.”
As we walk out the door, I finally manage a quick reply:
Super keen. Have fam lunch first. Will text when I head to beach.
I slip the phone into my pocket and can’t help my grin. There’s nothing I want to do more than go surfing with Harley this afternoon.
“Why are you smiling?” Mom asks as we walk around to Uncle Jeff and Aunt Marlo’s house.
“No reason.” I shake my head.
Dad snickers and tries to nudge me with his elbow, nearly dropping the platter of salmon crackers Mom prepared. “Things must be going well with you and Savannah.”
Dad wiggles his eyebrows at me, then starts to laugh when I turn away.
“Oh, Luke, stop embarrassing him,” Mom chides, but I can see she’s fighting a smile too.
Shit, I really should have told them about our breakup already. Although, I thought after last night I wouldn’t need to bother.
A confused frown wrinkles my forehead.
Why didn’t I go for it last night?
And why does that question feel so damn hard to answer?
“Grayson, honey, slow down. I don’t want you dropping that,” Mom calls ahead.
My younger brother ignores her, charging ahead and nearly barreling straight into Officer Malloy, who is walking down the path away from Skylar’s front door. He’s in uniform today, his mustache neatly clipped, his police badge glinting in the sun.
“Sorry about that, Dayton!” Mom rushes past the mailbox as Grayson dodges her glare and runs into the house.
“No problem.” The man smiles although looks kind of grim too.
“Everything okay?” Dad asks, then grins. “Hope there’s no problem at the De Beer residence, Officer.”
The police officer’s expression clears, and he puts on a smile, glancing at me before turning back to my parents. “Just checking up on a certain partygoer from last night. Things got a little crazy. My Craig is currently in bed nursing the mother of all hangovers.”
Mom winces, then glances back at me.
I raise my hands and am relieved to say, “I left early to walk Savannah home. I didn’t even have time for a drink.”
“Sounds like you were the smart one, then.” Officer Malloy raises his eyebrows before slipping on his shades and walking past me.
“Have a good shift.” Mom says goodbye and we head towards the house. She’s muttering something under her breath. I can’t catch it all, but I’m pretty sure I hear, “…do with that girl.”
I bet Mom’s relieved that Skylar is only her niece and not her daughter.
“Sasha.” Aunt Marlo greets her sister-in-law at the door. Her smile is bright and sunny as always, her dark hair perfectly styled, her red-and-white dress making her look like a Vogue model.
“Hi, Marlo.” Mom laughs and kisses her cheek. “Looking gorgeous as always.”
“Oh, stop. So do you.” She drags Mom into the house.
Dad and I follow, laying down the food on the dining room table. Everything is set for our family lunch, and in spite of the fact that it’s only family, everything is perfect. Because that’s the way Aunt Marlo does things. Appearance means a lot to her. It shines through in every aspect of her life—the straightness of the cushions on each couch, the carefully selected color palette in every room, the fact that there are never smudges on the glass windows.
And I think my mom’s finicky. She’s got nothing on Marlo De Beer.
I don’t know how Skylar copes with it.
I scan the open living area and don’t spot my cousin, so I wander into the kitchen and catch the tail end of Aunt Marlo’s explanation.
“So, God bless Dayton Malloy. He wasn’t even on duty last night, but Craig called him in a panic, saying the cops were coming. So Dayton rushed down to the beach and gathered up a bunch of kids and personally dropped them all home.”
My mom’s eyes bulge. “The party must have gotten pretty wild if someone called the cops.”
“I think the noise was the biggest issue, but we all know the kids would have had alcohol down there.” Aunt Marlo notices me hovering in the doorway but keeps going with her story anyway. “So, this morning Dayton is visiting every teen he dropped off, and he’s doing it in uniform just to really drive the point home.” She shakes her head but is fighting a smile. “Skylar is looking thoroughly reprimanded. I think her migraine hangover is punishment enough, but Dayton turning up in uniform really freaked her out.” She giggles. “What am I going to do with that girl?”
“Well, she’s a party animal, just like her mother was,” Mom teases.
Aunt Marlo gasps but then can’t help laughing along with her in-law.
I cringe, hoping they don’t delve into stories of Aunt Marlo dancing topless at a bar somewhere. I wonder if Skylar’s mom knows just how wild her daughter got last night.
Simon still hasn’t texted me the details, but I’ve picked up enough from overhearing that conversation. Grabbing my phone, I send my friend a quick message.
Me: Waiting on deets, man.
Simon: Just waking up. Not much to tell. Craig’s dad showed up and took us home before Officer Hard Ass arrived. Jonah got stung. Parents made him spend the night at the station. Think he’s grounded forever. You seen Sky?
Me: Looking for her now. Expect a visit from Malloy. He’s doing rounds.
Simon: Thanks for the heads-up. See you Monday.
I sign off and slip my phone away, wondering if I should send Jonah a sympathy text. But I kind of want to talk to Skylar first.
Walking past Grayson, who of course is playing on his phone, I pick up that the dads are talking about politics, so I quickly sidestep that one and head into the den where I find Skylar curled up on the couch. She’s squished right into the corner, her knees tucked against her chest. I don’t think she’s ever looked so small…or awful. Her cheeks are pale, her eyes puffy and red. For once, she hasn’t dressed up for the occasion and is sitting there in pale blue sweats and a baggy shirt that obviously belongs to her dad.
“Hey,” I softly greet her. “You okay?”
Glancing at me, she swipes a tear off her cheek and swallows. “I feel like shit.”
I wince and walk down the two steps into the room. Taking a seat beside her, I follow her gaze out the window. Like us, Skylar’s house looks out over the water. The den has one narrow tall window that goes from floor to ceiling. A slice of blue to break up the solid, pale gray wall.
“How much trouble are you in?” I softly ask.
She hitches her shoulder.
“How bad’s the headache?”
She scoffs and slowly blinks. “Bad.”
“Do you…uh…remember much about last night?”
Her slight shoulders ping tight, her entire body tensing beside me. “I was pretty drunk,” she hedges.
I can’t help wondering if she remembers more than she’s willing to say. If she recalls dancing half-naked, making out with another guy, cheating on Craig. I want to know where she disappeared to and just how hot and heavy she got with crew cut.
Does she know Craig’s expecting makeup sex, or a blowjob at the very least?
I grimace, hating the guy. Skylar shouldn’t be with him. I open my mouth to tell her, but wonder if now is the best time. She seems kind of fragile, which is so unlike her. Does she really need to know that her boyfriend’s a complete dick too?
Craig would kick my ass if I started meddling in his relationship with Skylar.
But that shouldn’t matter.
“Hey, Sky…” I start slow, trying to figure out the
best way to word things.
“How’d it go with Sav last night? I haven’t heard from her this morning. Her dad probably let her sleep in, unlike mine,” she grumbles. “Stupid parents woke me as soon as they walked in the door.”
There’s a harsh bitterness to her tone, and I can easily sense that her mood won’t allow for any extra conflict.
I’ll talk to her about Craig tomorrow, when she’s feeling better.
And I won’t tell her how I flaked with Savannah either. That’s not what Skylar wants to hear right now, so I dish out the facts and hope they’re enough to appease her.
“I walked Sav home last night. We left before the bust-up.”
She nods but keeps her eyes out the window. “That’s good,” she rasps, her voice feather soft.
It’s weird seeing Skylar this way.
Shit, I shouldn’t have left her. I should have made sure she was okay before taking Savvy home.
“Hey, can I get you some aspirin or something?” My lame attempt to make up for bailing.
She sniffs and shakes her head, then winces, rubbing her aching temples.
I get the distinct impression that she’s done with talking. So I seal my lips and just sit with her, silently staring out at the ocean and counting the minutes until I can get out of here and hit the water.
26
Screw Danger & Live a Little
HARLEY
My toes are buried in the sand, my arms crossed.
I squint against the burning sun as I gaze at the beautiful sets of waves rolling in.
There are just a couple of problems.
1. These waves will annihilate Aidan.