Grayson didn’t even fight them. He didn’t care.
His mind kept replaying the image of Landon tossing in the surf, his pale body thrashing in the waves.
“We don’t have to talk about what happened,” his mother began. Her words had the practiced air about them. She was a professor, but Grayson was certain that it was also because she liked to rehearse what she would say in her mind long before saying it. He was like his mother in this way.
And when had she composed this speech? In the car on the way home? When he was in the shower? Or maybe even in the car on their way to retrieve their almost dead son.
“Especially if you’re tired,” his father added. “The swim alone must’ve been exhausting, not to mention—” There was a jerk under the table and Grayson was fairly sure his mother had just kicked him. His father grimaced. “We just want you to know we’re proud of you.”
“Landon is dead.” Grayson pushed the rice around on his plate with the back of his fork.
His father reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “You couldn’t do anything about that.”
“I should’ve done more. I should’ve—”
“If anyone is to blame for Landon’s death, it’s the authorities,” his mother interjected. “They should have told the town about the siren attack. There should’ve been a notice to stay out of the water. This town—”
“Lill,” his father said and her mouth snapped shut.
“I’m just saying. How are people supposed to stay safe if they aren’t properly informed?”
His father fixed him with his gaze again. “You’re not to blame for what happened and we’re proud of you for handling the situation the best you could.”
“Please stop saying that,” Grayson said. He couldn’t sit at this table with his Chinese food and be congratulated by his parents as if he’d won some prize. Landon was dead.
Landon was dead and—
“Keeping your cool in a dangerous situation is everything.” It was his mother speaking. “It’s going to take a long time to get over this. Maybe you’ll never completely get over this loss. But we wanted you to know that we are here and we’ll do anything we can to help you. If you need something, tell us.”
This loss.
They weren’t even saying his name.
He understood all of the words coming out of their mouths. He even understood that the reason he was here at the table while his best friend was dead on a beach was because he’d been blessed with smart, patient parents who’d prepared him to survive.
And it was more than that. He’d gotten lucky. He’d been damn lucky.
Then why was he so angry? Why did he feel like he shouldn’t be the one in the chair? Why did it feel like it was unfair that Landon should be dead and that he should be alive? Why did he want to trade places with him?
I wanted it to be you, Abby had said.
“If you need anything—” his mother was saying again.
He exhaled and pushed away from the table. “I need some air.”
“We’d rather you stay in the house,” his father said.
His mother shot him another look and his father grimaced as if expecting another kick.
“But we won’t tell you what to do,” his mother said. “But why don’t you go to bed? You’ve had one hell of a night.”
“Yeah, it’s late,” he said, conceding to his parents’ will. The relief was written all over their faces. “I should check on Abby anyway.”
He pushed back from the table and took his plate to the kitchen. He rinsed it without really seeing the dish in his hands, nor did he see the kitchen around him. It seemed like another person was making his body move through the house, up the stairs.
In his bedroom, he found Abby in his double bed. She was facing away from him, toward his big picture window at the tulip poplar tree dancing in moonlight. He thought she was asleep until she spoke.
“Will you hold me?” she asked. She glanced over her shoulder. “I can’t fall asleep.”
“Okay.” He slipped under the covers.
She was warm now, so much warmer than when they’d been naked on the beach just hours before. Her hair smelled like his shampoo and despite everything, a strange possessiveness rose up in him.
Stop it, he told himself. Stop thinking about her like that.
Not only was it wrong to think about his best friend’s girlfriend like that, but Landon had just died. She couldn’t possibly be interested in him right now.
And yet she was reaching her hands under the covers. She was twining her fingers with his.
“Please,” she said, snuggling deeper into his arms. He curled one arm under her head, and slipped the other over her waist.
How many times had he dreamed about this in the last six months?
How many times had he wondered what Abby would feel like in his arms?
Countless. And if he was being honest with himself, she was the reason he couldn’t decide between UCLA and CCU. Part of him wanted to go to UCLA in order to get away from her. No—
from the temptation of her.
He’d played a scenario in his mind that went something like this: He went away to LA for four years. Abigail and Landon broke up while he was away but became friends again. Then when Grayson returned after college one summer, or when he graduated, he and Abby would have their chance. When it came time to tell Landon, he would be cool with it because he would be over Abby and dating someone else.
The alternative fantasy had been staying in Castle Cove and going to CCU with Abby. And...
Only that wasn’t how it was going to go now, was it?
Landon was never going to be a problem ever again.
“Why?” he whispered. The word was out of his mouth before he could censor it. He hadn’t meant to open this conversation. If he was lucky, she would be asleep and he wouldn’t have to explain himself.
But she was turning over in his arms. Her thighs were brushing against his thighs.
“Why, what?” she asked. Her breath was hot on his cheeks and nose. God, her mouth was so close.
He licked his lips and tried to think of any other why he might use. But he was too aware of her body. Too aware of the way his hand felt on the dip of her hip. Too aware of the way he’d begun to throb, his heartbeat radiating from his navel down to his knees.
“Why did I see you? With the siren?” she asked.
He gave the smallest imperceptible nod. His nose brushed hers when he did.
For a long time she said nothing.
That’s what you get for trying to make her talk about it, you moron, he thought. Landon just died. He died while she was...she was... The last thing she wants to talk about is that.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Forget I said anything.”
She ignored this apology. “I think I figured it out at junior homecoming. How I feel about you.”
Grayson’s stomach twitched. Junior homecoming was almost two years ago.
She licked her lips. The skin shimmered as she spoke. “When I was shopping for my dress, the—”
“Navy blue one,” he interjected.
Her breath hitched. “Yeah, that one. I can’t believe you remember. Landon never remembers what I wear.”
Remembers. Because to her he wasn’t dead yet. He understood that. Was that why this felt so wrong? Holding her like this? Wanting her even after the night they had and the awful sight of Landon’s body thrown against the shore...
“When I was shopping for it, I kept picturing you. I wanted to know if you’d like it. If you would notice that I’d dressed to match you.”
He had noticed. But Landon’s suit hadn’t been so different from his own, in either style or color, so Grayson wondered if it was all in his head. Was he only seeing what he wanted to see?
“I think I’ve always wanted you, but Landon asked me first. And I loved him too, but it took me a long time to realize I didn’t love him like that. He was a guy I trusted and cared about, but there was no...
”
I’d been too scared to show interest, he thought.
“But I wanted to be sure. I started taking more of the same classes as you. The same after-school activities as you. I wanted more so I could figure out what I really wanted.”
“Did you?”
“Yes. I want more.”
The throb in his stomach was nearly unbearable, except now it was spreading upward, through his chest and into his head. It was becoming hard to think.
“If you don’t see me that way,” she said, licking her lips again. “If you don’t—”
“I do,” he said. It wasn’t a smart thing to say. This was neither the time nor the place.
Right now his best friend was zipped up in a black body bag on his way to the Castle Cove County morgue. And he was lying in his warm, safe bed with more than half an erection and best friend’s girlfriend in his arms. Shame flooded him.
Before he could process what was happening, she slipped an arm around his waist and closed the remaining distance. He could feel her nipples through her shirt, rubbing against his chest. Her lips found his in the dark.
When she rocked her whole body against his, he had to swallow down the sound building in the hollow of his throat.
Don’t, don’t do it, his mind warned. But he was already leaning in. He was already finding her lips with his.
She sighed into his open mouth and shivers ran down his spine. He slid his hand up her back and crushed her to him.
“Here,” she whispered, and pushed against his arm until his hand was on her hip. Then she grabbed that hand and slid it down the front of her pants.
His fingers traced over the rough stubble from where she’d shaved. She opened her legs wider and he found her wet.
So wet.
The last time he’d fingered a girl was Olivia Richards in the back of her Ford Mercury after rehearsal for Oklahoma! one night. He tried to remember what Olivia had liked best about his performance—what she’d responded best to—and started there.
Grayson trailed a finger over the soft hood of her clit, back and forth. She gripped him harder, whimpering into his ear. His erection grew so hard he thought he would burst inside his sweatpants.
When her squirms gave over to desperate mewling, he slid his fingers inside her. Her moan rose in her throat.
He clasped the back of her neck and pressed her mouth against his throat, hoping to muffle her sounds.
He froze, thinking he heard a creak on the stairs. For a long time, they lay perfectly still, his fingers inside her, listening to the dark.
“You have to be quiet,” he whispered.
She nodded, her soft cheeks rubbing against his throat. Her grip on him only tightened.
He began to pull his fingers out, only to slide them in again. She whimpered in his ear, but the sounds were soft. When he bore down, letting the heel of his hand press against her clit while he kept working his fingers in and out, her moans grew loud again.
“I’m sorry,” she said, breath heavy. “But please don’t stop. Please.”
He sympathized with her. The throb in his pants was unbearable.
Then he felt her hand—in her own pants. At first he was confused.
“No, don’t stop,” she whispered. “You should—yes.”
He pumped his fingers in and out of her while she rubbed her clit. It took almost no time at all to send her over the edge, and before he’d even established a decent rhythm, loving the slick, soft feel of her, he felt her contract. He rode the wave, not stopping until she was fully spent.
Then her hand was slipping past the waistband of his pants.
He hadn’t been wearing boxers or briefs under his sweats, so her hand found his erection immediately.
Her fingers were already wet with her own juices as she cupped him and began to slide her hand gently up and down his shaft.
Now it was his turn to bite back a moan.
She sucked at his throat and ear as she rubbed him, picking up speed. It was the moisture in her hand that made the sensation euphoric.
As if reading his mind, her hand disappeared.
He was close to begging, but he was rewarded for his patience. When her hand reappeared, it was even slicker than before. She’d clearly touched herself one last time for his benefit.
“God,” he moaned. Whatever he meant to say next was swallowed up by her mouth closing over his.
She probed his tongue with hers and wouldn’t let go. She devoured him as her hand continued its steady, relentless rhythm.
Then he came and she held on as if she could milk every drop out of him.
“Grayson?” his father called out. He was at the end of the hallway, where the landing split between the two bedrooms.
His heart jolted. “Yeah?”
His voice was tight in his throat.
“Abby’s mom isn’t coming tonight. She’ll be here tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Grayson said, hoping his voice sounded steady despite the rabbit pulse in his ears. “Thanks.”
“Try to get some sleep, all right?”
“Yep,” he said. And that’s when he knew his dad knew. After all, he had called out from the landing rather than from his door. And why would he tell him to get some sleep unless he suspected he hadn’t even been trying?
“Good night, son.”
“Night.”
Neither Abby nor Grayson moved until they heard his parents’ bedroom door click closed.
Abigail seemed unperturbed by this. “I want more of you,” she whispered.
“My bed squeaks,” he said.
“So let’s get on the floor.”
Grayson had heard that male sirens emitted a potent pheromone that induced arousal in women. Was Abigail still reeling from its effects? If so, no amount of effort would placate her tonight. Only time would do that.
She saw his hesitation. “Or not.”
“I want to,” he said and he wasn’t lying. He was certain, with enough, encouragement he could rise to the occasion.
“But you don’t want your parents to hear you?”
“And...” But he wasn’t sure how to finish this sentence.
“And?” She pulled back and looked him in the eyes. She leaned over the side of the bed and grabbed her towel. She used it to wipe her hands and then his. This gave him time to compose his thoughts.
“I don’t have any protection,” he said. “And I suspect what we just did might not be the most...hygienic.”
“I’m clean,” she said. “I just did my annual. You won’t get anything from me.”
He smiled, pushing the hair back from her face. “I want to be sure you really want this. You’ve been through a lot tonight.”
“We’ve been through a lot,” she corrected him.
Landon. Grayson kept replaying all his favorite memories of Landon. Landon over at his house, eating chips and drinking soda after school while they played Resident Evil on PS4. Landon with slicked hair and braces as they went to their first dance. Landon when he’d confessed that he wanted to ask Abby out and whether or not Grayson thought it was okay.
Why would I care? Grayson had asked.
Because she’s your friend, too.
Abby searched his face. “I know I want this. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve rehearsed this moment in my head. I’ve imagined us in just about every place I could think of—my bedroom, yours, the back of my car, in the pool at school after one of your meets. I help you change out of your swimsuit in those tiny shower stalls and—”
“That’s weirdly specific.”
“I’ve also pictured us in one of those long boats out on the water.”
“You can’t paddle one with less than four people. Well, you can, but it would be hell.”
“On the beach...” Here she stopped talking.
She’d gotten that wish tonight at least. Or a comparable experience, if the male siren had been convincing enough.
Abby’s lip quivered. “It’s too soon, isn’t it? Oh go
d, you must think I’m an awful, heartless—”
“No,” he said. He wrapped his arms around her as she began to cry.
“Hey, no. I don’t think that.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m terrible.”
“You’re not terrible,” he said again, because he wanted to be sure she’d actually heard him. She only cried harder.
“I probably just ruined the one friendship that means anything to me. God, Grayson, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have tried to—god, what’s wrong with me?”
He held her tighter.
“You probably don’t even feel that way about me.”
“I do,” he admitted. “I swear I do. I just didn’t figure it out as quickly as you did.”
She pulled back, looking into his eyes. “How long?”
He was sure that his crush on Abby had developed in tenth grade. There was evidence at least, in the way he’d begun to notice her more. Or rather, what he began to notice changed. The way her face lit up when she smiled. The way her gym shorts sat on her hips and curved under her buttocks when she did laps around the gym. The way his heart would skip a beat when she would slide her arms around his neck and hug him bye at the end of the day.
But he didn’t really know for sure until he’d started applying to schools in September. When he considered the distance of each school, or tried to imagine himself with a new life in that new place, it was Abby who kept crossing his mind—not his family or his friends or his love of Castle Cove.
It was her he didn’t want to leave.
“I figured it out nine months ago, but I’d been crushing for a while before that.”
“Nine months ago. At the beginning of senior year?” she asked.
A shadow fell across her face as something cut across the sky, momentarily breaking the moonlight.
“Yes,” he said.
“So...you liked me all year but didn’t say anything.”
“You’re—were—with Landon.”
A cascade of emotion seized her face. She began tugging on his pants again, almost feverishly.
“No,” he said. “Abby, no.”
She stopped, her expression caught somewhere between desperation and anger.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said.
The tears broke, spilling down her face. “Once you start to think about it, once you start to realize what this means, you’ll break it off.”
Night Tide Page 36