Take Me To The Beach

by K. L. Grayson, Karina Halle, A. L. Jackson, Marni Mann, Monica Murphy, Devney Perry, Kristen Proby, Rachel Van Dyken

  He’s stunned. “Are you sure?”

  “I just need a friend right now,” I tell him so I won’t scare him.

  He nods, his mouth forming an “oh.” “Of course,” he says after a beat. “Anything you need.”

  Normally I would be extremely nervous about Laz spending the night. I’m talking popping back some pills, breathing into a paper bag kind of nervous.

  But at this point, I am so spent, emotionally and physically, that I can’t be anxious at all. In fact, I’m craving him more than anything.

  We head into the studio and I flick on the lights. The place is a mess but I don’t care. All I care about is that bed in the corner and the promise of his warm body beside me.

  Wordlessly, I grab my night shirt and a pair of pajama pants from the dresser and head straight into the bathroom to change.

  I look at myself in the mirror and barely recognize the person staring back at me. My eyes are swollen, puffy, bloodshot. I’m pale as a ghost. Dark circles ring my eyes. I don’t think I’ve ever looked worse.

  But as I step out into the bedroom, I don’t care.

  The lights are off except for the faint bedside lamp. Laz is standing by the bed, in his T-shirt and black boxer briefs. Part of me wishes his shirt was off so I could properly ogle him so I have to settle for a brief evaluation of his legs. Men’s legs are usually meh, but Laz has some good ones. I know he hits the gym and he must spend a lot of time on them because his calves are defined and his thigh muscles are thick and taut. I’ve seen his legs before, obviously when he’s in shorts at the beach but this time I feel like I can look at him differently, in all the ways I never let myself before.

  “Which side is yours?” he asks, gesturing to the bed.

  “The left.”

  I walk over, conscious of my breasts swaying under the loose shirt and then get under the covers.

  He goes around the other side and does the same.

  It’s the first time we’ve been in bed together and I’m shocked at how natural it feels. How good. How right.

  I love you.

  I love you.

  I love you.

  “Good night,” I whisper to him as I reach over and flick off the lamp, putting us in darkness.

  “Good night,” he says.

  Then he reaches over for me and pulls me back into him as he moves forward, so he’s spooning me from behind, pressed hard against my back.

  My body ignites from the feel of him against me, the flames only tempered by the tenderness in my heart.

  It would be so easy to tilt my head back, pull his face down to mine. To kiss him. To fall into that kiss from last night. To pick up where we left off.

  But it would get messy, fast. It would get wild. And I would lose myself to him when I’m feeling most vulnerable. I feel like my whole soul is an open wound right now and that if I’m not careful, if I’m not smart, I could do some serious, irreversible damage.

  So I just let him hold me and for tonight, it’s enough. It’s more than enough. I’m by no means a small and dainty person but he’s just so large next to me that it’s impossible not to feel safe and protected. His height, his muscles, the breadth of his strong shoulders as his thick arms wrap around me, he’s my rock and anchor and everything I need him to be right now.

  “Sweet dreams, sweet girl,” he murmurs to me, kissing the back of my head.

  My heart flutters.

  And I melt.

  Laz

  All That’s Mine

  * * *

  “So do you think you can make it?” Abigail, my editor, says to me over the phone. “Again, I am so, so sorry that this is last minute. Things at the publishing house have been crazy lately, everyone is gearing up for the summer.”

  “I can make it,” I tell her.

  “Great, I’ll go ahead and book the flight and email you all the details.” She pauses. “Will you be going alone or should I try and get two seats. If I get two, then I’m afraid it can’t be a business class seat.”

  “Uh,” I stammer. “I—I don’t know yet. I haven’t had a chance to process it…”

  “I understand. How about you email me later today and let me know. Don’t want to wait too long, the LAX to New York flights are often sold out at such short notice.”

  I tell her thank you and hang up, dazed.

  My editor just called to tell me they’re having a book launch party in New York for the release of Everything’s Ruined, and obviously, they want me to attend. It’s a month before the actual release of the book, which is why the whole thing has caught me by surprise but she says it’s mainly for the review sites and there will be a lot of bloggers, press and industry people there, plus advanced review paperbacks to give out.

  Now my dilemma is whether to go by myself or not.

  It’s been ten days since that incident with Marina’s dad.

  Ten days since I stayed the night at her house.

  Ten days since she fell asleep in my arms.

  Ten days since I realized I’m in so fucking deep with her, there’s no way out for me.

  And despite the fact that I kept my hands to myself, that we didn’t even kiss, that I showed a fuck load of restraint to not completely devour her, things have changed between us.

  It was apparent the next morning. The ease we have around one other was gone. Tension replaced it instead. I know Marina was smarting because of what happened with her father, I know she felt ashamed and embarrassed and I did what I could to let her know her feelings were unwarranted. What happened with her father was rough, there was no doubt about that. But it only made me want her more, to know that I was shown this dark part of her life. It made me feel special.

  But even with all of that, I wonder if she’s feeling what I’m feeling. This shift that grows bigger and bigger each day, like two fault lines sliding against each other, inches at first, until, over time, you can’t bridge the gap. You can only fall into the void between the people you used to be to each other.

  Marina will never stop being everything to me. She always was. But now…she’s becoming more. She’s no longer a part of my life, she is my life. Every single waking thought I have, it’s about her. Every word that yearns to leave my pen, they’re about her. The friend I had, the girl I thought I knew, I was only scratching the surface with her before. I had no idea just how perfect for me she could be.

  But I’m getting ahead of myself here. On paper, we’re still friends. We still text and talk, even though we haven’t seen each other in the last ten days because we’re so busy.

  At least, I hope that’s the case. I’ve been busy writing, going to the gym, practicing new songs with the band and auditioning new keyboard players. I’m trying not to think about the book because, honestly, it’s terrifying. But I would shove all of that to the side if it meant being with her. Ten days is a long time to be apart and even though it was sometimes the norm for us back when we were friends, well, this just shows how much things have changed.

  But Marina has other plans. She’s determined to bring in extra income to her business, so with the whole couples dating night being a bust (I mean, whoever thought combining bees and romance together would work has a few screws loose), she’s trying to take her classes online and make educational beekeeping videos that people pay for. Which means writing out a lot of material for her to go over before she even takes it to camera.

  I’ve offered to help her film when it comes time but until then, she’s pushed me to the side and I can only hope that it has nothing to do with the changes in our relationship. We’re on that razorback ridge between being actual friends and being something more and I wouldn’t blame her if she was too scared to take the first step in either direction.

  Still, I don’t want to go to New York alone. I wouldn’t take Scooby or Frank, so Marina is the only one I really want by my side.

  I decide to call her.

  Marina picks up on the third ring. “Hey,” she says softly and her voice is like an a
rrow to my heart.

  I’m fucked.

  “Hiya,” I say back, smiling as a reflex, probably like an idiot, and so glad she can’t see me. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m just outside, having a coffee, watching the girls.” She sounds relaxed and happy which immediately puts my heart at ease. With all the turmoil with her father lately, it’s a nice change.

  “How are the online courses coming?”

  “I’m almost done. Thank god. I don’t know if it will be complete shit or not but hey, it is what it is.”

  “It won’t be shit. It’ll be mint. You know your stuff. Maybe you could incorporate that waggle dance for the camera.”

  She laughs. “Yeah right. This big ol’ butt of mine wouldn’t even fit on the screen.”

  “Don’t underestimate the power of your arse.” I pause. “Speaking of your arse, how about it coming to New York with me this weekend.”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “I guess there was a better way to say that. My publishers are throwing a party for me in New York this weekend. In Manhattan.”

  “But your book doesn’t come out for like six weeks, right?”

  “You’re right.” I’m impressed she remembers. Then again she’s always been my biggest cheerleader when it comes to Everything’s Ruined. “But they wanted to get a jump on it. It’s more for publicity and connections. I guess they want me to meet people.”

  “Well that’s awesome. I’m so happy for you.”

  “So will you come?”

  “You honestly want me to?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  She doesn’t say anything for a moment. “I’ll have to see about funds, I’m not sure I can swing it right now.”

  “Marina, you’d be covered.”

  “You don’t have to do that.” Then she gasps. “Oh my god, if it’s in New York, then obviously Jane is coming right?”

  Oh right. Jane.

  “Well, I suppose, I haven’t talked to her yet but…”

  “Of course she’s coming. New York is like a few hours by train from Boston. Oh my god, this will be so cool. Are you sure you can cover me?”

  “Yeah, the publishers said I could take someone. Don’t worry, they’re paying, not me.”

  “Oh this is so exciting. I’ll have to get a new dress. I’ll get to see Jane. I have to invite Naomi too, make it a total girl’s trip.”

  “Naomi?” I repeat. Not that I have anything against my stepsister or Naomi, but this has suddenly morphed into something else entirely. I had wanted to invite Marina to New York. Just Marina. Show her off as my date. Maybe…get a hotel room together.

  But obviously I’m being a fucking loon right now because that’s not on her radar whatsoever. It’s gone from a potential romantic weekend away to a bloody girl’s trip.

  “Laz?”

  “Huh?”

  “It’s okay if Naomi comes, right? I mean I know I just invited her and all and it’s cool if you say no. I know for sure you wouldn’t have to pay for her. It’s just with what happened with Robert and now they’re going through a divorce, I think it would be good for her.”

  “Yeah. Don’t worry about it. She can come. The more the merrier.”

  Marina practically squeals. “Okay, great! Yay! I’ll give her a text and let her know. Do you want to invite Jane yourself or should I?”

  “Go ahead. It’s your girl’s weekend right now,” I say flatly, wondering if she’ll pick up on my tone.

  She doesn’t. The one time she’s not overly intuitive. “Okay I’ll do that. And Laz…?”

  “What?”

  “I’m so proud of you.”

  I swallow hard, a strange warmth radiating through my chest as her words sink in. She’s the only person I’ve had in my whole entire life that has told me they’re proud of me. I’m not sure I’ve realized it until just now.

  “Thanks,” I whisper, my voice coming out choked. I clear my throat and say, “Go tell Jane and Naomi the good news. I’ll text you the details later.”

  “I will. Bye, Laz.”

  I hang up and stare at my phone for a few moments, just letting every bloody thing overwhelm me. Usually I run from anything like this, anything deep and complicated. I run by way of my pen. Writing is an outlet, a way to process, a venue for my feelings to live so I don’t have to face them myself.

  But today, it feels too new, too unique. This isn’t something I’m used to, this sliver of rejection that’s working its way through my skin. I’m sure Marina meant nothing by it and there’s absolutely no way that she could have known my plans, my wants. It’s not like I came out and said, “Hey, I was thinking you could come to New York for a romantic weekend, we could share a room. I want you so fucking bad.”

  Perhaps I should have said that but it’s too late now. This is happening and maybe it’s for the best. I’ll get to see Jane this way, which is nice since I only saw her briefly two years ago when she came here for Christmas. And I’ll have a whole entourage with me while I navigate the publishing world, so I don’t have to do it alone.

  But who needs an entourage of people when I only need one.

  The weekend comes in a flash and before I know it, I’m picking up Marina from her house to drive us to the airport.

  I haven’t laid eyes on her in two weeks now and the sight of her walking towards me steals the breath from my lungs, causes my blood to turn to mercury.

  She’s a fucking angel.

  It doesn’t hurt that she’s wearing a long white sleeveless top over jeans, her blonde hair billowing out behind her and shining in the sun.

  I immediately get out of the car to help her with her luggage, a carry-on hardcase that’s been adorned with a bunch of Honey Bees & Palm Trees stickers.

  “I like it, is this a new logo?” I ask, peering at it as I put it in the trunk. It’s better I’m staring at the suitcase than her because then I’ll act like a dead idiot and that’s the last thing she wants before a “girl’s trip.”

  “Yeah, I got it made last week. Thought free advertising wouldn’t hurt.” She takes a step toward me, opening her arms, her smile wide and free and open. “I haven’t seen you in weeks, Laz, where’s my hug?”

  Jesus, it’s already awkward. Normally I would give her a hug without thinking but now I’m so hyper aware of everything I’m doing around her.

  She’s still your Marina, still your friend, no matter what you’re feeling.

  I step into her, wrapping my arms around her while hers go tight around me. I close my eyes for a second, breathe her in, feel every nerve in my body spring to life. The longer I hold onto her, the harder I’m going to get.

  “You look bee-tiful,” I say lamely, trying to make it all a joke because if it becomes a joke, then I don’t have to be afraid.

  She laughs, that gorgeous sound, and smacks my arm.

  God, is this flirting? Is this just us?

  When the fuck did I start worrying about everything?

  This isn’t me.

  “You better keep all those bee puns to yourself this weekend,” she says, heading to the passenger door which I quickly open for her. “It’s all about you now. Are you nervous?”

  “Yes,” I tell her, going around to my door and getting behind the wheel. I twist in my seat to face her, my arms resting on the wheel. “I’m nervous.”

  But she doesn’t need to know that the book launch and party are the least of my concerns right now. It’s she that’s making me nervous. Making me wonder what I might do around her. I feel like that ridge we were previously tiptoeing across is coming to a blunt end really soon and we’ll have to decide which way we’re falling.

  It’s going to be a change either way.

  “You’re going to be fine,” she says, reach out and putting her hand on my shoulder. I can feel the heat of her palm through my T-shirt. It trips the memory of us after our date, when she grabbed my face, a desperate grip, and kissed me like she’d been starving for me her wh
ole life. My heart starts to skip at the thought and I’m living it all over.

  I lick my lips. “Promise?”

  “Promise,” she says, her eyes focusing on my lips for a moment before she blinks. Meets my eyes. Smiles. “Now let’s get going, we don’t want to miss our flight.”

  Naomi left for New York yesterday to have some early girl time with Jane, so it’s just the two of us on the flight. It’s funny how you can know someone for a long time, sit beside them on countless drives, but when you get on a plane with them, it’s like entering new territory.

  I tell her this just as the plane leaves the gate and starts taxing down the long runways of LAX.

  “Yeah, you’re right,” she says. “Our relationship just entered a new level. Like, you didn’t know I need a window seat.”

  Naturally, when I found out I gave her the window seat, though now I’m squished between her and this heavyset guy with big elbows.

  “And,” she goes on, “I didn’t realize you needed so much legroom.” She glances down at my legs which are almost askew trying to fit under the seat in front of me.

  “These seats aren’t built for anyone over six feet tall,” I tell her. I side-eye the guy next to me. Or anyone over three hundred pounds. Hell, I barely fit myself and I consider myself to be in tip top shape.

  “And that you’re a nervous flier,” she goes on.

  “What makes you think I’m a nervous flier?” I ask.

  She lifts her hand and points subtly at my headphones. “You have headphones at the ready, I saw you take an Ativan earlier, and you’ve been tapping your fingers incessantly so far and you’re not even listening to music yet.”

  “I’m a musician. That should cover all of that.”

  I won’t dare mention that I actually am afraid of flying and I actually consulted the 8 Ball before the flight, asking if the plane was going to crash. It said MEH, which wasn’t very comforting.

  “Right,” she says, leaning in close to me so our faces are inches apart. It would be so easy, so fucking easy, to lean in closer and kiss her. Inappropriate, for sure, but easy. “I’ll be watching you.”