Summer Girl (Summer Girl #1)

by S. Love

  River cuts me some slack and doesn’t shout out to me anymore. I can feel his stare burning like lasers, but I don’t give it another thought. He’ll lose interest.

  Almost at the bottom of the cliff now, a flash of red on the underside of a black snapback brim pulls my attention to an expanding group on the dock. It’s Ozzie, Topher, and Falcon. But they aren’t alone. Four girls are with them. One of them grabs her ash-brown hair when it gets caught on a rogue gust of wind, and she traps it to her shoulder, turning into Ozzie’s chest so her face is no longer in its direct path.

  I stumble over the sight of them all together, a ping of something sour fizzing in my belly. My eyes keep traveling back to them as I walk down the cliff. Another of the girls has got her phone out, and she’s typing something into it as Topher speaks.

  I can’t see a route that will take me out of the parking lot without being seen by them, so I duck my head and pull Mariah close, accelerating the pace and lowering my eyes to the ground. I pass between cars and pickup trucks, hoping to stay out of sight. There’s still quite a distance between me and them, so it’s not too hard a task.

  “Ay!”

  I keep walking, only a few steps from the exit and the sidewalk.

  “Ay! Lyla! Wait up!”

  It’s Topher calling me, but I’m far enough away now it would be believable that I didn’t hear him stretching his voice all the way across the lot.

  My name from his mouth gets louder and nearer. Mariah turns first, tugging me back with her tiny grip when she sees Topher.

  I sigh with my back to him, then turn around and construct a smile of my own like I wasn’t just making a quick escape to get as far away from him in the shortest amount of time.

  “Topher,” I say, artificially surprised. “Hey.”

  “Fuck off.” A smile quirks one side of his mouth as he jogs across the worn-down blacktop with the sleeves of his wetsuit flapping against his thighs. “You didn’t hear me calling you? Get outta here with that shit.”

  “Fine.” What’s the use in lying? It’s only Topher. “I just need to get Mariah home.”

  His brows crimp when he looks at Mariah by my side, then lifts his eyes back to me. “How’d you get here? We’re like miles away from home.”

  I smile, swaying on the spot like a proud toddler who just tied their laces for the first time. “I drove your dad’s Audi.”

  “You drove?” Topher laughs. “Right. How’d you really get here?”

  “I told you, I drove.”

  He gives Mariah a light look like he obviously doesn’t believe me. “She drive?” he asks her. But I’ve tuned out of whatever her response to him is because the rest of the group’s on their way over, girls included.

  Ozzie’s eyes sweep over the tops of the cars, then pause on me. His expression shifts from bland to annoyed, just like that. That’s the effect I have on him, mostly negative. His niceness always catches me off guard because that’s not who he is. Why am I always forgetting that about him? Or just choosing not to believe it.

  Topher does a shoddy job of introducing me to the girls when they get here. He throws names at me too fast to paste to memory, and we exchange short, stilted smiles. I know where I’m not wanted, but Topher doesn’t.

  “So,” he says, regardless of the cold atmosphere. “Hannah’s got a free house tonight, and we’re all going round there.”

  “It’s not a party,” the girl whose name is Hannah interjects. “Small gathering.”

  “But Lyla can come, right? She’s with us.”

  Wow. Topher really is out to lunch. Someone throw this boy a clue. Please.

  “Uh, sure.” Hannah smiles, sweeping a look down my body that rubs me up all wrong.

  The girl with the wavy ash-brown hair hanging just past her shoulders looks between the boys, but she’s particularly close to Ozzie. “You guys can ride with is if you want.”

  “Just give me the address.” Ozzie says. That hostility I thought we’d cracked seals itself tighter around him, blocking everyone else out.

  Something like hurt flashes in the girl’s brown-blue eyes. “Will you remember it? You don’t have a phone or—”

  “Are you near here?” There’s a spike of unmistakable impatience in his tone.

  “Yeah.” The girl nods, but there’s confusion in her eyes Ozzie pretends not to notice.

  “Then I’ll know it.”

  She rattles off the door number and street name, repeating it twice, the second time much slower.

  “Ly, I’ll ride with you. Give you some pointers on your driving.” Topher slings his arm around my shoulders, and I push him off me. He just laughs, favoring Mariah instead. He lifts her up and carries her across the street when the WALK signal illuminates and the traffic in all directions stops.

  I’m filled with all sorts of bad feelings when we pull up behind Ozzie’s Jeep onto the tree-lined driveway just off a quiet side street. The long driveway leads to a three-story brick house with white wood paneling. The house is built on a dock that protrudes straight out of the sea, with its own private boat landing and boathouse.

  We get out of the cars and walk to the deck that surrounds the house, the three girls leading the way.

  An American flag sticking up from the anchored speedboat flaps in the wind. I look up at the house, at the white life raft mounted to the gray brick wall with the name ‘Whitmore’ painted in black curving around the top part of the ring. The name of the residency maybe. It’s all very New England. Very quaint and authentic. Stinks of money, too. It’s not as grand as the Osbornes’ mini mansion, but it has its own rustic charms that place it in a different league altogether. Like this house has been on this private dock for generations, and anyone who’s lived here is a semi-important figure in the community.

  Before we’ve got a foot through the glass-pained door, two more pickup’s pull into the drive. It’s a mix of boys and girls, more people I don’t know.

  The girls who invited us here go out of their way to pour Ozzie, Topher, and Falcon drinks, and I step outside, trusting Topher with Mariah when it becomes clear I won’t be receiving the same treatment, or anything near to that hospitable level.

  Outside, the sky’s darkening in tie-dyed layers. The desert-orange hue sinks into what looks like the end of the ocean, streaks of blue slashing through the waning daylight. The sun’s sunken to another corner of the world, and I’m shivering without my jacket to keep me warm.

  I put my hands on the railing, then lean my forearms on it. The two anchored boats bob on the water, no waves this far to the east, and it’s like looking out over a different ocean. Just beyond the jutting cliffs, a little farther along the coastline, it’s another story, the waves there still going strong for another couple days in the hurricane’s aftermath.

  The house door swings open, and a minute later I hear the trickle of water as it splashes the deck.

  I glance over my shoulder. Ozzie steps under the spray of an outdoor shower in his shorts and nothing else, ducking his head and running his fingers up over the back of his scalp. Water bounces off his shoulders, slides down the back of his neck and his spine, and I turn away.

  I’m too aware he’s behind me, though, practically naked with water sluicing over the hard, long lines of his body.

  I don’t understand how one minute a person can be all over me, then the next minute act like he doesn’t even see me. Then there’s the times in between when he flat-out can’t stand me and doesn’t shy away from making sure I know it.

  I sneak another glance up and down his body, heat returning to my face when he turns his body a little bit to the side, and I get his full profile. His hands slide into the front of his shorts and lift the waistband from his hips so he can rinse off thoroughly.

  Ugh. My cheeks burn. Watching him is making it hard to breathe, and It’s not just his beautiful, strong, athletic body, or getting lost in the ocean of his sea-green hazel eyes. There’s an aura around him, always, and he’s pulling me into
his atmosphere without trying or meaning to. Even when I know I should stay away my body demands to get closer to him. I’m stuck in the fight between wrong and right. What I want and what’s bad for me. He’s a poisonous apple, but that doesn’t stop my mouth from watering to take a greedy bite.

  The house door opens again, grinding my thoughts to ash, and the girl with the ash-brown hair brings Ozzie a fluffy, white towel to dry off. There’s something in the way his gaze lingers on her, the way she watches him, that makes me feel like I’m intruding.

  She eventually leaves, and Ozzie’s outside for a while longer before I’m alone with three strange guys who are lighting the enclosed firepit on the deck. Music vibrates from a portable speaker, and one of the guys at the fire drops what he’s doing and walks over to me with two unopened beers in his hands.

  “How about it?” He holds one of the beers out to me with a small, friendly smile. I stare at it for a ridiculous amount of time, then figure it hasn’t been opened yet, so I’m safe enough. Then I remember I drove here, and my driving’s barely passable without alcohol flooding my bloodstream. “I’m driving.” I shrug and smile.

  His boyish features only sag for a second, then he plasters his smile back into position. Muscles show through his blue wifebeater, and the brim of his snapback low over his eyes shades the indigo in them. He’s preppy but handsome. Clean-cut. He spends plenty of time at the gym judging by the muscle definition in his arms and chest, and the only reason I’m paying him this much attention is because I’m in the degrading process of selling my soul to the devil and comparing him to Ozzie. Ozzie whose body has been shaped mainly by the pull of the ocean and hours upon hours every day controlling a surfboard. He works out, I know that. He has to keep up his stamina to be so good at what he does.

  God, he isn’t here and I’m dragging him into situations he doesn’t belong in. It’s time to get a grip and pull my mind back from the dark side.

  I chill outside, literally—I’m freezing—with the two preppy guys who are varsity football players for their high school and not surfers. The guy who offered me the beer, his name’s Jay, and the other guy’s name is Kyle. I haven’t seen Topher, Falcon, or Ozzie in almost an hour. They’re in the house where the lights in the kitchen glow a warm yellow, throwing golden triangles over the dock.

  The pungency of frying onions wafts in the salty air. All I ate was a packet of jerky earlier, the sandwiches left in my bag untouched. I hope Mariah eats something, because I’ve left my backpack in the car, and it’s getting late. I don’t want her to fall asleep without eating.

  A light comes on in one of the upstairs windows, my eyes adjusting to the extra brightness. Next time I look up there, the white curtains have been drawn. The window’s open, and I hear a girl laughing, followed by the deep timbre of a male voice. The girl laughs again, more of a giggle.

  “They ain’t coming back out here.” Kyle speaks into the neck of his beer, feet kicked up on the seat of the canvas chair opposite him. “You came with those dudes from the Pearl, right?”

  “Right.” I try and tune out the upstairs giggling, and who’s in the room responsible for the noises.

  “Yeah, kinda shit leaving you out here alone.” Kyle chugs his beer, eyes trained carefully on me, too focused for casual. “There’s only one thing goin’ on up there. I can give you a ride home if you wanna bail now.” He shakes his beer. “I’ve only had this, so I’m good.”

  “I can get myself home, thanks.” They both seem like decent guys, but I’m not here for this. I rise out of my seat and mentally stop myself from marching across the deck to the house, displaying steady footing like I’m not burning up with humiliation inside. I feel so third-wheeled here, I lift my hand and knock on the glass kitchen door rather than open it and walk right in.

  No one comes to answer, so I knock again, harder. Eventually, after knocking another three times, my patience fizzling to air over being left standing here like an idiot, one of the girls walks into the kitchen, her gaze trained on the door. Something in her features flinches when she recognizes me, but then her face smooths over, her mouth flattening.

  She opens the door, but doesn’t move to let me in. “Yeah?” The irritation in her voice lodges any words deep in my throat.

  “I, ah…” I’m not sure I know what’s going on here, but there’s definite hostility, and it isn’t coming from me. I’ve been placed on the other side of a wall even though I came here with the people inside her house. I shake my head, dusting off the confusion. “Could you just get Ozzie out here for me? I need to talk to him.”

  The girls sweeps her eyes over my face. “He’s kinda busy. I’ll get a message to him.”

  She’ll get a message to him? Yeah, peace out. I’m done. They know I’m out here and not one of them has come to see why or what I’m doing, who I’m with. Fucking assholes. They all deserve each other.

  I look into the girl’s eyes, not backing down. “Yeah, well I’m not going anywhere without Mariah, so tell Topher or Ozzie to get out here now so I can take her home and they can carry on with whatever it is they’re doing.” I meant whoever they’re doing, but one bitch in the vicinity is one bitch too many.

  The girl makes a scoffing sound, like she can’t wait to be rid of me. “Fine. Wait here.”

  She shuts the door too hard on my face, and I’m so annoyed with myself. I turn around, sick of seeing inside that stupid house with the stone tile floors and oak cabinets.

  My eyes settle on the lighthouse in the distance, and everything in me freezes. Upstairs, from the bedroom with the open window, raised voices carry like exploding bombs. That has to be Ozzie, but the music disguises what’s being said, or in the girl’s case, screamed. She pelts curse words at him like stones, her tone begging and annoyed. Ozzie’s voice isn’t as loud as hers, but his stoked anger rises to that familiar threatening level the longer she attacks him. Furniture gets thrown, or something’s knocked over, and then it’s quiet up there, like I imagined the entire fight.

  But from the looks on Jay and Kyle’s faces, it did happen, and we all heard it.

  It takes Topher forever to come to the door, and he doesn’t have Mariah with him. His hair’s dried in the time we’ve been here, the tousled waves flopping over his forehead. He pushes it back, dragging his fingers through the light strands.

  “What’s goin’ on, L?” He glances around, and then fake shivers. “It’s colder than the Bering Sea out here.” He doesn’t bring up the commotion from upstairs, so I don’t.

  “Apparently I can’t come inside. Why did you tell me to come here when those girls obviously don’t want me in their house? They wanted you guys, not me.”

  Topher shows me the palms of his hands, the expression on his face opening up. “Whoa—”

  “I don’t care,” I cut him off in a steaming rant. “Just go get Mariah so I can take her home.”

  “You can’t leave now.”

  One more word out of him and I might just pitch an epic fit.

  “You forgot I was even here.” I fold my arms, numb at this point. I need my jacket, and to be anywhere else. “Can you just get her?”

  His expression transforms, and he laugh-scoffs at me. “Are you mad?”

  My disbelief explodes into amusement. “Am I mad? What the hell do you think? You came here to get laid, fine. But don’t leave me out here like some dummy while you do it.”

  “Hey, that’s not—”

  “Then who’s upstairs?” Out of instinct, I glance up to the window. “It’s not you, so…” I glare at Topher, waiting on his answer.

  He doesn’t have one, though. And the sheepish look that drops his eyes from mine gives away everything I already know.

  There’s nothing he can say to lower me from the height I’ve climbed, and the stubborn looks we trade couldn’t translate that message any clearer.

  Topher turns and walks into the kitchen. When he comes back with Mariah, my jacket slung over his shoulder, I yank it from him and put a h
and at the top of Mariah’s back, urging her forward. I unzip my jacket pocket as I walk, a clumsy task since I’m also yelling in my head at myself not to cry or make myself look anymore pathetic, like that’s even possible. I’ve hit new, record-breaking lows today. Go me.

  I unlock the Audi and buckle Mariah into her booster seat. She must be able to sense the tension streaming from me, so I soften some and give her a loose smile, letting her know she hasn’t done anything wrong.

  I reach into the backseat and brush a curl behind her ear. “Tired?”

  She nods, then yawns. She’ll be asleep soon. I’m surprised Ray hasn’t called to see how she is. It’s after nine p.m., late for Mariah. There’s been no check-up phone call, though. No texts, either. He may have the big house, the successful career and the money, but I’m not sure any of those things qualify him as a better parent than Tina.

  I open the driver’s side door and slide into the leather seat behind the wheel. I turn on the ignition and leave the radio and music off, hoping Mariah will go to sleep quicker with just the hum of the engine to get her there.

  I shift the car into reverse, glance at my sideview and rearview mirror, then over my shoulder and—

  “Holy shit!” I take my foot off the gas pedal and grab my chest with both hands. Ozzie’s face is at my window, a dark, scary figure in the night peeking in on me.

  When I’ve got it together, and can breathe at a sustainable pace, I let my window down to find out why he’s creeping around inducing massive heart attacks in his victims.

  “You really know how to a frighten a girl. If surfing doesn’t work out, you could always become the next night stalker.” I frown, glancing from his face to his T-shirt, the fabric stretching across his chest. “I should have run you over.”

  He drags his gaze slowly over me, as though savoring every one of my facial features. It’s intense, and I like it as much as I want him to knock it off.