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CASSIE
July
“Idon’tthinkweshouldhookupanymore.”
OhmyGod.
No.
Nonononono.
See,thisiswhypartiesshouldbebanned.I’mnotevenjoking.Weneedtogobacktotheprohibitiondays,exceptweoutlawsocialeventsinsteadofalcohol.It’stheonlywaytoavoidthislevelofembarrassment.Orrather,secondhandembarrassment,becauseI’mnoteventheonegettingdumped.
Thathonorisbestowedupontheguywiththedeep,playfulvoice,whohasn’tcaughtuptothefactthathisdumperisdeadserious.“Isthissomeweirdsortofforeplay?Idon’tgetit,but,sure,I’mdown.”
Thegirl’svoiceisflat,linedwithdryhumor.“I’mbeingserious.”
Shepausesforalongbeat,duringwhichIconsiderwhetherIcanmakearunforitwithoutthecouplenoticing.
Nomorethantenfeetawayfromthem,I’msittingagainstadriftwoodlog,concealedbyshadows.Butacleangetawayisdifficultbecausetheychosetobreakupintheworstpossiblelocation—rightwherethebeachgrassthinsandthedunesflattenintoastretchofpackedsand.MymindhasbeenMission:Impossible–ingescaperoutessinceTheDumpingcommenced.Thecoupleisfacingthedarkocean,whichmeansifIattempttotakethebeachroutebacktotheparty,they’llseeme.ButifItrytosneakbehindthem,they’llhearme.Haveyouevertriedwalkingsilentlyinbeachgrass?Youmightaswellattachabellaroundyourneck.
Myonlyoptionistoremainhiddenuntilit’sover.Theconversationandtherelationship.Becausewhilenobodywantstogetdumped,havingithappeninfrontofanaudienceisahundredtimesworse,soI’mofficiallytrappedhere.Heldhostagebysocialetiquette.
Ofallthetimestowanderawayfromthebonfireandlookatthestupidstars.
“Ithinkthishasrunitscourse,”thedumpersays.
Ican’ttellwhateitherofthemlooklike.They’remereshadows.Atallshadowandashorterone.Ithinktheshortonehaslonghair;Iglimpsewispystrandsblowinginthenightbreeze.
Fromtheotherendofthebeach,thehumofvoices,laughter,andfainthip-hopmusictravelsalongthewater,triggeringthedesperateurgetobebackattheparty.Idon’tknowasinglepersonthere,yetIdon’tthinkI’veeverlongedforthecompanyoftotalstrangersmorethanIdointhismoment.ThepartyisatsomelocalnamedLuke’shouse.IwassupposedtomeetmyfriendJoy,whobailedatthelastsecond.Iwasliterallygettingoutofmycarwhenhertextpoppedup;otherwise,Iwould’vejuststayedhome.ButIfigured,hey,I’malreadyhere.Mightaswellmingle,maybemeetsomepeople.
Ishould’vehoppedrightbackinthecarandescapedwhenIhadthechance.
Theguyisfinallycatchingonthatthisisn’tajoke.“Wait,really?Ithoughtwewerestillhavingagoodtime.”
“Honestly?Notsomuchlately.”
Ouch.Sorry,bro.
“Oh,don’tlookatmelikethat.Idon’tmeanthesex.That’salwaysgood.Butwe’vebeendoingthisfriends-with-benefitsarrangementforalmostayearnow.Yeah,it’sbeenonandoff,butIthinkthelongerwekeepitup,thegreatertheriskthatoneofuscatchesfeelings.Wesaidfromthestartthatwedidn’twantanythingserious,remember?”
“Yeah,Iremember.”
Thetallshadowliftsahandanddragsitthroughhishair.Eitherthat,orhe’spettingatinycatthat’ssittingatophishead.
Itrulycan’tseeadamnthingouthere.
“I’mnotinterestedingettingintoarelationshipanytimesoon,”sheadds.“Idon’twantaboyfriend.”
There’sapause.“WhataboutWyatt?”
“Whatabouthim?LikeIkeeptellinghim,heandIarejustfriends.AndIjustwanttobealoneforawhile.”Shechuckles.“Look,webothknowyou’llhavenotroublefindinganewfriendwithbennies,Tate.Andifyouwantmorethanthat,you’llhavenotroublefindingagirlfriendeither.It’sjustnotgoingtobeme.”
Doubleouch.
Iappreciatehercandor,though.She’snotwastinganytime.Notleadingthisguyaroundbythenose.Imean,itdoessoundlikethiswasmoreofacasualFWBsituationship,butthatmightactuallybetheworstkindofbreakup.Beingfriendswiththepersonbeforethesexystuffandwantingtoremainfriendsafterit?That’satrickyneedletothread.
Ihaven’tbeenofficiallydumpedbefore—thatwouldrequirebeinginanactualrelationship—butifIweretoeverbetherecipientofabreakupspeech,I’dwantittosoundlikethisone.Quickandtothepoint.Justsnuffoutthecandlesothere’snotevenaglimmeroflightleft.It’sover.Moveon.
Granted,Isaythatnow.ButconsideringIbawlatthosecouriercommercialswherethelonelygrandmotherreceivesaholidaycardfromhergrandkids,I’dprobablycollapseinapooloftearsatmydumper’sfeetandthenpromptlycheckmyselfintoaposhwellnessfacilityformelancholia.
“Okay.Cool.”Hechucklestoo,albeitwryly.“Iguessthat’sthat,then.”
“That’sthat,”sheechoes.“Arewegood?”
“Ofcourse.We’veknowneachothersincewewerethirteen.We’renotgoingtostoptalkingjustbecausewe’vestoppedbanging.”
“I’mholdingyoutothat,”shewarns
Finally,blessedly,miraculously—they’redone.Theinteractionends.Herflip-flopssmackloudlyagainstthesandasshewalksaway,takingthebeachroutetowardtheparty.
Onedown.
Onetogo.
Tomydismay,theguymovesclosertothewater,whereheproceedstostandlikeastatue,staringout.Thenewpositionplaceshimclosertoashardofmoonlight,providingabetterviewofhim.He’stall.Muscular.WearingboardshortsandaT-shirt,althoughIcan’ttellwhatcolortheyarebecauseit’stoodark.Ithinkhishairmightbeblond.Andhe’sgotagreatbutt.Idon’ttendtonoticebutts—didn’tthinkIwasabuttgirl,infact—butthisonereallydrawstheeye.
Withhisbacktome,thisismychancetocreepaway.Islowlyrisetomyfeetandwipemyclammyhandsonthefrontofmydenimshorts.Man,Ihadn’trealizedhowwroughtwithtensionIwas.Mypalmsonlygetsweatybeforeafirstkissandaparticularlyharrowingsituation.Akaeveryconversationwithmymother.Ergo,mypalmsareperpetuallydamp.
Itakeadeepbreath,andthenasmallstep.
Relieffluttersthroughmewhentheguydoesn’tturnmyway.Yes.Icantotallydothis.Hell,Ionlyneedtomakeittothatdunetenfeetaway.Ifhenoticesmeafterthat,IcanpretendIcamefromthegrass.Ohsorry!Justtakingawalk,didn’tseeyouthere!
Escapeiswithinreach.Icantasteit.So,ofcourse,Imakeitaboutfivefeetbeforemyphonedecidestothwartmyeffortsbyloudlyalertinganincomingtext.
Andthenanotherone.
Andanotherone.
Theguyspinsaround,startled.
“Hey.”Hisdeep,suspiciousvoicetravelstowardmeinthenightbreeze.“Wherethehelld’youcomefrom?”
Ifeelmycheeksheatup.I’mgratefulit’stoodarkforhimtoseetheblush.“I’msorry,”Iblurtout.“I,um…”Mybrainscramblesforasuitablereasonformypresence.Itfails.“Ididn’thearasinglesecondofyourbreakup,Iswear.”
Oh,fuckinghell.Brilliant,Cassandra.
Thatgetsmeafaintlaugh.“Notasinglesecond,huh?”
“Nope,notaone.Seriously,IcanassureyouImostcertainlydidnotjustsithereandlistentoyougetdumped.”Mymouthhasrunawayfromme.It’sincharge.It’sthecaptainnow.AnotherthingthathappenswhenI’mnervous:Itendtobabble.“Forwhatit’sworth,youhandleditwell.Imean,youdidn’tdroptoyourkneesandclingtoherlegsandbeghernottogo.SoI’mgratefulforthat.Sparedusbothmoreembarrassment,youknow?It’salmostasifyouknewIwastrappedbehindthatlogoverthere.”
“Trustme,ifIknewyouweresittingthere,Iwould’veuppedthesadnessfactorbyliketwohundredpercent.Throwninsometears,maybecursedattheheavensandbemoanedmypoorbrokenheart.”
Hesaunterscloser,andwhenIgetabetterlookathisface,myheartinstantlyspeedsup.Holyshit,he’sgorgeous.Whatonearthwasthatgirlthinkinglettinghimgetaway?
Isweepmygazeoverhisclassicallyhandsomefeatures.IwishIcoulddiscernwhatcolorhiseyesare,butit’stoodarkouthere.Iwasrightabouttheblondhair,though,soIassumehehaslight-coloredeyes.Blue.Maybegreen.Inthoseboardshortsandslightlyrumpledtee,helookslikethequintessentialbeachboy.
“Andwhywouldyouhavedonethat?”Iask.
“Youknow,justtomakeyouextrauncomfortable.Aspunishmentforyoureavesdropping.”
“Involuntaryeavesdropping.”
“That’swhattheyallsay.”Hismouthcurvesintoamischievoussmile,whichIthinkmightbehisdefaultexpression.Hetipshisheadthoughtfully.“Butyouknowwhat,I’llletitslide.Icanneverholdagrudgeagainstacutegirl.”
Mycheeksgethotter.
OhmyGod.
HethinksI’mcute?
Imean,Ididselecttonight’soutfitwiththeendgoalbeingcuteness.Shortshortsthatgivemylegsadeceptivelylongerlook,pairedwithatighttanktop.Black,becausethat’stheonlycolorwiththeabilitytomakemyboobsappearsmaller.Inlightcolors,they’rebouncingaroundliketwouncontainedbeachballs,evenwithasupersupportivebra.
Irealizehisgazehasn’toncedriftedtomychest,though.Orifithas,he’sdoneitsosmoothlyanddiscreetlythatIhadn’tnoticed.Hiseyesremainfixedonmyface,andforamomentI’mtongue-tied.IseeattractiveguysbackinBostonallthetime.Mycollegecampusispracticallycrawlingwiththem.Butsomethingaboutthisoneismakingmewobblyintheknees.
BeforeIcanthinkofawittyresponsetohiscutegirlremark—oranyresponseatall,really—myphonedingsagain.Iglancedown.AnothertextfromPeyton.Followedbyanotherone.
“Someone’spopular,”heteases.
“Um,yeah.Imean,no.It’sjustmyfriend.”Igritmyteeth.“She’soneofthoseannoyingpeoplewhosend,like,tenone-linemessagesinsteadofasingleparagraph,sotheyjustkeeppoppingupandthephonedingsoverandoveragainuntilyouwanttosmashitovertheirhead.Ihatethat—don’tyouhatethat?”
Hisjawdrops.“Yes,”hesays,withsuchsincerityIhavetogrin.Heshakeshishead.“Ifuckinghatethat.”
“Right?”
Afinaldingsounds,bringingustoatotalofsixPeytonmessages.
WhenIskimthenotifications,I’monceagainthankfultobeinthedark,becauseI’mcertainmyfaceisevenredder.
Peyton:How’stheparty?
Peyton:Anycuteguys?
Peyton:Whoarewegoingtoflingwith?
Peyton:Trytosnapsomepicturesofthecandidates!
Peyton:Ireallywanttobepartofthisprocess.
Peyton:IwishIwasthere!
IwanttosaythatPeytonisjoking.Alas,sheisnot.Mymainpurposeforcomingtothepartytonightwastofindaworthycandidateformysummerfling.
It’sbeenawhilesinceIspentanentiresummerinAvalonBay,butIstillrememberwatchingvariousfriendsovertheyearsfallheadfirstintosummerromances.Thosepassionate,giddy,exhilaratingloveaffairswhereyoucan’tkeepyourhandsoffeachotherandeverythingfeelssourgentandintensebecauseyouknowit’sonlytemporary.EverymomentispreciousbecausecomeSeptember,it’sgoodbye.I’dbeensojealousofthosegirls,longingforasummertimeloveofmyown,butitwashardtofocusonboysandromancewhenmyfamilywasinconstantturmoil.
AftermyparentsdivorcedwhenIwaseleven,MomandIcontinuedreturningforthesummers,atleastatfirst.Mom’ssideofthefamily,theTanners,hasalonghistorywithAvalonBay.Mygrandparentsownabeachhouseinthemoreaffluentpartoftown,andtheyexpectedustomaketheyearlytriptovisitthem.Backthen,MomandDadwerestillputtingonthecordialpretenseformysake.OnceDadremarried,however,allbetswereoff.Mom’sangeranddisdaintowardhimwasoutintheopennow,andviceversa,whichmadecomingbacktotheBayanexerciseinpsychologicalwarfare.
Fortunately,MomremarriedshortlyafterandannouncedwewouldnolongerbespendingoursummersintheSouthCarolinabeachtownwhereI’dbeenbornandraised.Ican’tsayIwasn’trelieved.ItmeantthatwhenIdidcomebacktovisit,IcouldseeDadinpeaceandenjoymyself.Ofcourse,thenI’dreturntoBostonwhereMomwouldinterrogatemeanddemandtoknoweverywordmyfatherutteredabouther.Whichwasannoyingandunfair,butstillbetterthanbeingtrappedinthesametownwithbothofthem.
“Areyougoingtotextherback?”
Theguy’svoicejoltsmefrommythoughts.“Oh.No.I’llanswerherlater.”
Ihastilytuckthephoneintomybackpocket.IfIthoughthearinghimgetdumpedhadbeenuncomfortable,it’snothingcomparedtothemortificationI’dfeelifhesawPeyton’smessagethread.
Hewatchesmeforamoment.“I’mTate,”hefinallysays.
Ihesitate.“Cassie.”
“Areyouhereforthesummer?”
Inod.“I’mstayingwithmygrandmother—shehasahouseoveronthesouthend.ButIactuallygrewupinAvalonBay.”
“Youdid?”
“Uh-huh.ImovedtoBostonwithmymomaftermyparents’divorce,butmydadstillliveshere,soIbasicallybecameasummergirl.Well,maybenotanofficialsummergirl,sinceIusuallyonlycomebackforaweekortwoeveryJuly.ExceptthisyearI’mstayingtillafterLaborDay,soIguessI’marealsummergirlnow.”
Stopbabbling!Iordermyself.
“Whataboutyou?”Iask,desperatetotakethefocusoffmeandthefactthatImust’veusedthephrasesummergirlaboutfourmilliontimesinonesentence.
“Theoppositeofyou.ImovedtotheBayatthestartofjuniorhigh.BeforethatwelivedinGeorgia.St.Simon’sIsland.”Tatesoundsabitglum.“IenvytheBostonthing,tobehonest.Ikindofwishwemovedtoacityinsteadoftradingonebeachtownforanother.Doyougotoschoolupthere?”
“Yes.IgotoBriarUniversity.”
“AnIvygirl,huh?”
Wefallintostepwitheachother,headedinthedirectionoftheparty.It’snotadiscussedcourseofaction,justinstinctive.
“I’mgoingintomysenioryear,”Iadd.
“Cool.Whatareyoustudying?”
“EnglishLit.”Iglanceoverwryly.“Iknow.TotallyuselessunlessIwanttobeateacher.”
“Doyouwanttobeateacher?”
“Nope.”
Hegrins,andIcatchaglimpseofstraightwhiteteethinthemoonlight.Hissmileisperfection.Agirlcouldgetlostinit.
Iforcemyselftolookforward,shovingmyhandsinmypocketsaswewalk.“Youknowwhatpissesmeoff,Tate?”
“Whatpissesyouoff,Cassie?”Icanstillfeelhimsmilingatme.
“Everyonesaysyoufindyourselfwhenyou’reincollege,right?ButfromwhatI’veseen,it’sjustabunchoflamepartiesandall-nightstudysessionsandlisteningtosomeblowharddroneonandoninalecturehall.Andmeanwhileyousittherepretendingyouenjoyedtheboring-assbookyouwereassignedtoread,wheninrealityit’smoreenjoyablewatchingwaterboilthanreadingmostclassicliterature.There—Isaidit.Theclassicssuck,okay?Andcollegeisboring.”
Tatechuckles.“Maybeyou’renotgoingtotherightparties.”
He’sright.I’mnot.BecauseI’venever,everattendedapartywhereI’vespokenatlengthwithaguywholookslikeTate.
Aswenearthebonfire,ourpathisnowclearlyilluminated.Musiccontinuestoblast,aslowreggaesongthathasseveralcoupleswrappedaroundeachother,movingtothesultrybeat.Thecrowdseemstobecomprisedentirelyoflocals.Atleast,ifthere’sanyoneherefromthecountryclub,Idon’trecognizethem.Thesummersetdoesn’ttypicallysocializewiththeyear-roundfolks.JoythinkstheonlyreasonshewasinvitedtonightwasbecausethatLukeguywashopingtohookup.“Thoselocalboysgetakickoutofseducingtherichgirls,”she’dlaughedoverlunchearlier.
NotthatIwouldknow.I’veneverbeenseducedbyalocal.Ialsodon’tconsidermyselfarichgirl,althoughIsupposeIamone.Mymother’ssideofthefamilyhasmoney.Afairamountofit.ButI’llalwaysviewmyselfasthegirlwhogrewuponSycamoreWay,inacozyhouseinthesuburbsnotfarfromthissectionoftheBay.
Withthelightofthebonfiremakingiteasiertoseeeachother,TateeyestheponytailI’mfiddlingwithandletsoutagroan.“You’reaginger,”heaccuses,hiseyestwinkling.They’realightblue,justasIsuspected.
“Don’tpaintmewiththatgingerbrush,”Iprotest.“I’macopper.”
“That’snotarealthing.”
“I’macopper,”Iinsist.Igripmyponytailandholditclosertohisface.“See?Darkred.It’spracticallybrown!”
“Mmm-hmm.Keeptellingyourselfthat,ginger.”
Heseemsdistractednow.Hisgazedriftsacrossthefireandmygazefollows,comingtorestonagirlwithbrightredhair.Atrueginger.Unlikeme,whoisacopper,thankyouverymuch.
Thegingerischattingwithtwootheryoungwomen,andallthreearedrop-deadgorgeous.Shinyhairandprettyfaces.Skimpyclothes.Andthey’vegotthoseperfectbeachbodiesthattriggerapangofinsecurityinme.I’vealwayswonderedwhatit’sliketohavenormalproportions.It’sprobablyawesome.
Tate’sexpressiongrowspainedforamomentbeforehewrencheshiseyesoffthegirl.
Understandingdawnsonme.“OhmyGod.Isthather?Thedumper?”
Heslidesoutalaugh.“Itwasn’tadumping.Andwe’restillfriends—that’snotgoingtochange.Shejustcaughtmeoffguard,isall.I’musuallytheonewhoendsthosetypesofthings.”
“Doyouwantmetogobeatherupforyou?”Ioffer.
Pursinghislips,heassessesmyframe.I’mfive-threeandkindofscrawny.Slender,exceptformyhugechest.Really,myboobsareprobablymoreeffectiveweaponsthanmyfists.
“Nah,”heanswers,lipstwitching.“Idon’tthinkI’dfeelrightbeingresponsibleforyourdeath.”
“That’sreallysweet.”
Hesnorts.
“Tate!”someonecalls,andwebothturntowardtheshout.
Averytallguywithareddishbeardstandsnearby,holdingupajoint.HewavesitenticinglyatTateandarchesabrow.Aninvitation.Tatenodsattheguy,indicatingwithhishandthathe’llberightthere.
“Whyaretheresomanyredheadshere?”Idemand.“Isthisaconvention?”
“Youtellme.Theseareyourpeople,afterall.”
Igrowlathim,andhejustlaughsagain.Ilikethesoundofhislaughter.
“Wantmetointroduceyouaround?”Tateoffers.
Hesitationgripsme.I’mtorn.Ononehand,itwouldbefuntostayandhangout.Buttheredheadedgirliswatchingusnow,aslightlybemusedlookonhergorgeousface.Infact,alotofeyesareonus,Irealize.IgetthefeelingaguylikeTateinvitesthiskindofattention,andIsuddenlywishwewerestillshroudedinthedarknessofthebeach,justheandI.Ihatebeingthecenterofattention.AndIcan’timaginehowmuchnervousbabblingI’lldowitheachnewpersonImeet.
SoIshakemyheadandsay,“Actually,I’mheadingout.Gotsomewhereelsetobe.”
Hegrins.“Fine.Bethatway,Ms.Popular.”
Hardly.TheonlyplaceI’mgoingafterthisishome.Butit’sprobablybettertolethimbelieveI’mflutteringfrompartytopartyonFridaynightslikesomeelusivesocialbutterfly.Peytonwouldapproveofthatplan.Alwaysleave’emwantingmoreismybestfriend’smotto.
“You’reheretillSeptember,yousaid?”
“Yup,”Isaylightly.
“Cool.ThenI’msurewe’llseeeachotheraround.”
“Yeah,maybe.”
Shit.Thatsoundedfartoononcommittal.WhatIshouldhavesaidissomethingcoyandflirty,like,Ihopeso…andthenaskedforhisnumber.Iinwardlysmackmyself,scramblingforawaytofixtheerror,butit’stoolate.Tateisalreadysaunteringofftowardhisfriends.
Iftheylookback,it’sagoodsign.That’swhatPeytonalwayssays.
Swallowinghard,Istareathisretreatingback,hislongstridemakingtracksinthesand.
Andthen.
Helooksback.
Ibreatheinreliefandofferhimanawkwardwavebeforeturningaway.Myheart’sbeatingfastasIheadupthegrassypathtowardtheroad,whereIparkedmygrandmother’sLandRover.Ipullmyphoneoutofmypocketjustasanothertextlightsupthescreen.
Peyton:So???Havewefoundtheluckyguy?
Ibitemylipandglancebackinthedirectionoftheparty.
Yes.
Yes,Ithinkwehave.CHAPTER2
CASSIE
Ifindmygrandmotherinthekitchenthenextmorning,pullingamuffinpanoutoftheoven.Shemovesittothecoolingrackonthecounter,nexttothethreeothertraysalreadysittingthere.
“Morning,dear.Pickyourpoison,”Grandmachirps,glancingatmeoverhershoulder.“We’vegotbanananut,bran,carrot,andtheblueberryjustcameoutsoitneedssometimetocool.”
Nodoubtshe’sbeenupsince7A.M.bakingupastorm.Forawomaninherseventies,she’sstillremarkablyspry.Whichisfunny,becauseontheoutsidesheappearssofragile.She’sgotaslenderbuild,delicatehands,andherskinisthinninginheroldagesoyoucanalwaysseebluishveinsripplingbeneathit.
AndyetLydiaTannerisaforceofnature.SheandmygrandpaWallyranahotelforfiftyyears.Theyboughtthebeachfrontlotforasonginthelatesixties,afterGrandpawasinjuredinVietnamanddischargedfromthemilitary.EvenwilderisthattheyweremyagewhentheybuilttheBeaconHotelfromthegroundup.Ican’timaginebuildingandthenoperatingahotelattwenty,especiallyoneasgrandastheBeacon.Andupuntiltwoyearsago,thewaterfrontpropertywasmygrandparents’prideandjoy.
ButthenGrandpapassed,andthehotelwasnearlyguttedbythelasthurricanetoravagethecoast.Itwasn’tthefirsttimetheBeaconfellvictimtoastorm—it’shappenedtwicebefore—butunliketheprevioustimes,nobodyinthefamilywantedtorenovateandrestoreitthistime.Grandmawastoooldandtiredtodothejobherself,especiallywithoutGrandpaWallybyherside,andIknowshe’ssecretlydisappointednoneofherkidschosetotakeupthatmantle.Butmymomandhersiblingsweren’tinterestedinsalvagingtheBeacon,soGrandmafinallymadethedecisiontosell.Notjustthehotel,butherhousetoo.
Thehousesaleclosesintwomonths,andtheBeaconisbeingreopenedinSeptemberunderitsnewownership,whichiswhywe’reback.GrandmawantedtospendonelastsummerinAvalonBaybeforeshemovesupnorthtobeclosertoherkidsandgrandkids.
“Howwastheparty?”sheasksasshesettlesintoachairatthekitchentable.
“Itwasokay.”Ishrug.“Ididn’treallyknowanyonethere.”
“Whowashostingit?”
“SomeguynamedLuke.He’sasailinginstructorattheclub.That’showJoymethim.AndspeakingofJoy,shedidn’tevenshowup!Sheinvitesmetoapartyandthendesertsme.Ifeltlikearandominterloper.”
Grandmasmiles.“Sometimesthat’smorefun.Goingsomeplacewherenobodyknowsyou…”Shearchesathineyebrow.“Itcanbeexcitingtoreinventyourselfandplayaroleforthenight.”
Igrimace.“Pleasedon’ttellmeyouandGrandpausedtomeetathotelbarsbackinthedayandpretendtobeotherpeopleinsomeweirdrole-playtospiceupthemarriage.”
“Allright,dear.Iwon’ttellyouthat.”
Herbrowneyessparkle,givingherayouthfulair.It’sfunny,Grandmacomesoffassoelegantandunapproachableinpublic.Alwaysdressedlikeshesteppedoffayacht,sportingthesepreppylittleoutfitsmoresuitedforposhNantucketthanlaid-backAvalonBay.IswearsheownsathousandHermèsscarves.Yetwhenshe’saroundfamilytheicyexteriormeltsandshe’sthewarmestwomanyou’llevermeet.Ilovehangingoutwithher.Andshe’shilarious.Sometimesshe’lldropadirtyjokeoutofnowhereatabigfamilydinner.It’sjarringwhenspokeninherdelicatesouthernaccent,anditputsusallinhysterics.Mymotherhatesit.Thenagain,mymotherdoesn’thaveasenseofhumor.Neverhas.
“Didyoumakeanynewfriends?”Grandmaprompts.
“No.Butthat’sokay.I’llseeJoywhileintown,andPeytonmightcomevisitforaweekortwoinAugust.”Iwanderovertothebakingtraysandstudythemuffinselections.“IstillwishIdidn’tletyoutalkmeoutofgettingajobthissummer.”
Grandmaplucksoffasmallpieceofherbranmuffin.AslongasI’veknownher,herbreakfasthasconsistedofamuffinandacupoftea.That’sprobablyhowshe’smaintainedherfigurealltheseyears.
“Cass,sweetheart,ifyou’dgottenajob,well,thenyouwouldn’tbeabletohavebreakfastwithme,wouldyou?”
“That’sagoodpoint.”Iselectabanananutmuffinandgrabasmallglassplatefromthecupboard,thenjoinheratthetable.Alittlewalnutfallsoffmymuffin,andIpopitintomymouth.“Sowhatarewedoingtoday?”
“Ithoughtwe’dgointotownandbrowsesomeofthenewshopsthathaveopenedup?LeviHartleyhastakenituponhimselftorevamptheentireboardwalk.Hisconstructioncompanyhasbeenmakingitswaythroughalltheestablishmentshurtbythehurricane,fixingthemuponebyone.There’saverynicehatshopIpassedtheotherdaythatIwouldn’tmindvisiting.”
OnlyGrandmaLydiawouldwanttogotoahatshop.TheonlyhatI’veeverwornistheBriarUbaseballcaptheyhandedoutatfreshmanorientation,andthat’sbecausetheyforcedustoputthemoninordertoswearfealtytoournewschool.Ithinkit’ssomewhereinthebackofmyclosetnow.
“Hatshopping.Ican’twait.”
Shesnortssoftly.
“AndIneedtofindapresentforthegirls’birthday,soIwouldn’tmindpeekingintoacoupleofthosekidstores.Oh!Anychancewecanpopintothehoteltoo?Ireallywanttoseewhattheydidinside.”
“SodoI,”Grandmasays,aslightfrowntouchingherlips.“Theyoungwomanwhoboughtit—MackenzieCabot—promisedshewouldpreserveyourgrandfather’sandmyintentfortheproperty,maintainitscharmandcharacter.Shesentmethedrawingsoftheupgradesthey’dbedoing,alongwithpicturesofherprogress.Theyindeedshowedhercommitmenttorestoringeverythingasclosetotheoriginalaspossible.ButIhaven’treceivedanupdatesinceearlyJune.”
Herconcernisevident.IknowthatwasGrandma’sbiggestfear—theBeaconbecomingcompletelyunrecognizable.Thehotelwasherlegacy.Itsurvivedthreehurricanes,waslovinglyrebuiltbymygrandparentstwice.Theyputeverythingtheyhadintoit.Theirblood,sweat,andtears.Theirlove.Anditirksme,justabit,thatnotasingleoneoftheirfourchildrenfoughttokeepitinthefamily.
Mytwouncles,WillandMax,liveinBostonwiththeirwives,andtheyeachhavethreeyoungkids.Bothwereadamanttheyweren’tgoingtorelocatetotheSouthtorenovateahoteltheydidn’tcareabout.AuntJacquelineandherhusband,Charlie,haveahouseinConnecticut,threekids,andzerointerestindippingtheirtoesinthehospitalityindustry.Andthenthere’sMom,whohasafullsocialcalendarinBostonandisbusyspendingherex-husband’smoney,whichatthispointisoutofpurespitebecauseshewentintothemarriageindependentlywealthy;theTannersareworthmillions.ButmyformerstepdadStuartmadethemistakeofbeingtheonetoaskforadivorce,andmymotherisnothingifnotpetty.
Iscarfdowntherestofmymuffinbeforehoppingoutofmychair.
“Okay,ifwe’regoingintotown,letmechangeintosomethingalittlemorepresentable,”Isay,gesturingtomyrattyshortsandlooseT-shirt.“Ican’tbegoinghatshoppinginthis.”IaimapointedglareatGrandma’simpeccablypressedchinos,sleevelessshirt,andstripedsilkscarf.“Especiallynexttoyou.Like,jeez,lady.Youlooklikeyou’regoingtoaluncheonwithaKennedy.”
Shechuckles.“Haveyouforgottenmymostimportantruleoflife,dear?Alwaysleavethehousedressedasifyou’regoingto—”
“—bemurdered,”Ifinish,rollingmyeyes.“Oh,Iremember.”
Itellya,Grandmacangetdarksometimes.Butit’sgoodadvice.Ithinkaboutitoften,infact.OnetimeIaccidentallyleftmydormwearingmymust-do-laundrypanties,theneon-orangeoneswiththehugeholeinthecrotch.WhenIrealizedit,IalmostbrokeoutinhivesatthethoughtthatifIweretobekilledtoday,thecoronerwouldundressmeonthatmetalslabandmycrotchholewouldbethefirstthingtheysaw.I’dbetheonlyblushingdeadbodyinthemorgue.
Upstairs,Ifindapinksundressandslipiton,thenbraidmyhair.MyphoneringsasI’mslappinganelasticbandaroundtheendofthebraid.It’sPeyton.Ididn’tcallherbackwhenIgothomelastnight,butIdidsendanintentionallycryptictextIknewwoulddrivehernuts.
“Whoishe?”shedemandswhenIputheronspeakerphone.“Tellmeeverything.”
“Nothingtotell.”Iwanderovertothevanitytableandexaminemychin.Ifeelazitcomingon,butmyreflectionsaysotherwise.“Imetahotguy,turneddownhisinvitationtohangoutwithhimattheparty,andwenthomeinstead.”
“Cassandra.”Peytonisaghast.
“Iknow.”
“Whatthehelliswrongwithyou?Thewholepointofgoinglastnightwastomeetadude!Andyoufoundone!Andyousaidhe’shot?”
“HottestguyI’veeverseen,”Imoan
“Thenwhydidyouleave?”Herconfusionmightaswellbeanaccusation.
“Ichickenedout,”Iconfess.“Hewastoointimidating!Andyoushould’veseenthegirlshewaswith—theyweretheseperfect,tall,fitgoddesses.Withperfectlyproportionedboobs…unlikesomeoneyouknow.”
“OhmyGod,Cass.Stop.YouknowhowIfeelaboutyoubeatinguponyourself.”
“Yeah,yeah,youwanttopunchmeintheface.Ican’thelpit,though.Seriously,thosegirlsweregorgeous.”
“Andsoareyou.”Afrazzledsoundechoesoverthespeaker.“Youknow,Ireallyhateyourmother.”
“Whatdoesmymotherhavetodowiththis?”Isnicker.
“Areyoukiddingme?I’vebeentoyourhouse.Ihearhowshetalkstoyou.Iwasactuallyspeakingtomymomaboutittheotherday,andshewassayingallthathurtfulshitisboundtoaffectyourself-esteem.”
“Whyareyouspeakingtoyourmomaboutme?”Idemand,embarrassmentclimbingupmythroat.
Havingabestfriendwhosemotherisaclinicalpsychologistisdefinitelyapainintheasssometimes.I’veknownPeytonsincewewereeleven—wemetnotlongafterMomandImovedtoBoston—andPeyton’smotherwouldconstantlypryintomypsychewhenIwasakid.Shealwaystriedgettingmetotalkaboutmyparents’divorce,howitmademefeel,howmymother’scriticismaffectedme.Blah,blah,andblah.Idon’tneedashrinktotellmethere’sadirectcorrelationbetweenmyinsecuritiesandmymother’sverbalattacks.Orthatmymotherisaragingbitch.Iknowitalltoowell.
OntherareoccasionsDadandIhavespokenabouther,he’sadmittedthatMomhasalwaysskewedmoretowardmememeonthealtruismscale.Butthedivorcereallytwistedsomethinginsideher.Madeherworse.Itcertainlydidn’thelpthatheremarriedwithinayearandahalfandnowhastwootherdaughters.
“Momthinksweneedtosilenceyourinnercritic.Akayourmother’shorriblevoiceinyourhead.”
“Ishutmyinnercriticupallthetime.Silverlining,remember?”Becausewhilemygrandmother’sliferuleistomakesureyougetmurderedinyourSundaybest,minehasalwaysbeentolookonthebrightside.Findthesilverliningineverysituation,becausethealternative—wallowinginthedarkness—isboundtodestroyyou.
“Ofcourse,LittleMissSunshine,”Peytonsaysmockingly.“Alwayslookingforthesilverlining—howcouldIforget?”Hervoicetakesonanoteofchallenge.“Okay,fine.Sotellme,what’sthesilverlininginlettingHottieslipaway?”
Imullitover.“He’stoohot,”Ifinallyanswer.
Laughterburstsoutofthephone.“Thatwouldbethereasonnottolethimslipaway.”Shemakesaloudbuzzingsound.“Tryagain.”
“No,that’sreallyit,”Iinsist.“ImagineifthefirstguyIeversleepwithisatthatlevelofhotness?It’llspoilallfuturemenforme!I’llexpecteverymanwhocomesafterwardtobeaperfectten,andwhennobodymeasuresupI’mjustgoingtobedevastated.”
“You’reimpossible.Didyougethisnumberatleast?”
“No,Itoldyou,Iranawaylikeanervousbabblingbunny.”
Sheletsoutaloud,heavysigh.“Thisisunacceptabletome,CassandraElise.”
“Mydeepestapologies,PeytonMarie.”
“Ifyouseehimagain,you’reaskinghimout,understood?”Mybestfriendhassnappedintototalitarianmode.“Nobabbling.Noexcuses.Promisemeyou’llaskhimoutnexttimeyouseehim.”
“Iwill.Ipromise,”Isaylightly,butonlybecauseI’mconfidentI’llneverseehimagain.
Joke’sonme,though.
ThemomentGrandmaandIstepoutsidefiveminuteslater,IfindnoneotherthanTatestandinginourdriveway.CHAPTER3
TATE
Ittakesasecondtorealizethecuteredheadontheporchisthesameonefromthepartylastnight.Shewasright—herhairismorecopperthanginger.Iguessthebonfiremadeitappearlighter.Mygazethendartstoherchest,justaquickpeektoconfirmIhadn’tfallenintosometeenage-boyfantasyyesterday.Butnope,didn’tdreamit.Herrackisobjectivelyspectacular.Suemefornoticing.I’maman.Ialwaysnoticeagreatrack.
She’swearingashortsundressthatfallsmid-thighandclasheswiththered-paintedtoenailspokingoutofherstrappysandals.Andshe’sstaringatmeasifshe’snotquitesurewhattomakeofmypresence.
“Mr.Bartlett,whatbringsyouherethismorning?”
MygazeshiftstotheolderwomannexttoCassie.“Morning,Mrs.Tanner.”Iflashaneasysmilethatmyfriendstellmecoulddisarmadictator.NotthatLydiaTannerisadictator.She’saperfectlynicelady,basedontheinteractionswe’vehadwhenIwashousesittingtheplacenextdoor.ThisismyfourthsummerstayingatGilandShirleyJackson’sluxurywaterfrontproperty.I’vebeenlookingforwardtoitforweeks
“JustwantedtostopbyandletyouknowI’mwatchingtheJacksonplaceagainforthesummer,”Itellher.“Soifyouseelightsonatrandomhours,or,youknow,handsomeguyswalkingaroundinthenude,don’tbealarmed…andfeelfreetokeeplooking.”Iwink.
Cassiesnortsoutasarcasticlaugh.
“Cassandra,”Lydiachides.“Lettheboythinkhe’scharmingus.”
“Think?”Imockgood-naturedly.“Youknowyouloveme,Mrs.Tanner.”
“AsItoldyoulastyear,youcancallmeLydia.Thisismygranddaughter,Cassandra.”
“Cassie,”shecorrects.
“Actually,wemetlastnight,”IinformLydia.“Ranintoeachotherataparty.How’sitgoing,ginger?”
“Donotcallmethat.”Cassieglowersatme.
Lydiaturnstohergranddaughter.“Well,thereyougo,dear.Wewerejustdiscussingyourlackoffriendoptions,andlook,nowyou’llhaveafriendrightnextdoor.Andhe’salreadygivenyouanamusingnickname!Thisiswonderful.”ShereachesoutandpatsCassieonthearm,asifplacatingadistressedpuppy.
Cassie’scheeksredden.“Youaretheworst,”shegrumblesathergrandmother.
Chuckling,Lydiadescendsthestepsofthewraparoundporch.“I’llgostartthecar.”
“Shesaidthatonpurposejusttoembarrassme,”Cassiemutters.Shenarrowshereyesatme.“Ihavefriends.”
Iblinkinnocently.“Suresoundslikeit.”
“Ihavefriends,”sheinsists,agrowlcomingfromthebackofherthroat.
Ichokedownalaugh.Fuck,she’scute.Like,ridiculouslycute.Ihaveathingforchickswithfreckles.AndoneswhoblushwhenIsmileatthem.
“Doesthatmeanyoudon’twanttobemyfriend?”Iask,eyeingCassieinamusement.
“Friendshipisahugecommitment.Weshouldprobablyjuststicktobeingneighbors.Butyou’reinluck,becausethatmeanswecandolotsoffunneighborlythings.”Shepauses.“I’mnotquitesurewhat.MaybestandattwowindowsthatfaceeachotheranduseflashlightstosendMorsecodemessages?”
“Isthatwhatyouthinkneighborsdo?”
“Idon’tknow.Mydormwindowlooksoutatabrickwall,sonobody’ssendinganycovertmessagestome,unlessyoucountthedrunkfratboywhoalwaysgetslostonhiswaytoGreekRowandstumblesaroundshoutingthatthemoonisn’treal.AndI’mnotfriendswithanyoftheneighborsatMom’shouseinBoston.NotthatyouandIarefriends.Imean,Idon’tevenknowyou.We’retotalstrangers.Although,Ididseeyougetdumped,whichwasequallyupsettingforbothofus,andthatkindofsharedhumiliationleadstoaforcedkindofintimacythatnobodyshouldeverhavetoexperience—”Shecutsherselfoff.“Youknowwhat?I’mjustgonnago.GrandmaandIaregoingintotown.Goodbye,Tate.”
Mylipstwitchinadifficultattempttosuppressagrin.“Uh-huh.Cool.Seeyoulater,neighbor.”
Shehuffs,andmysmilespringslooseasIwatchhermarchoff.Mygazelowers,restingbrieflyonherass.Damn,agreatrackandagreatass.She’sontheshorterside,though.I’vealwaysbeendrawntotallergirls.Atsix-one,Idon’twanttobreakmyneckbendingdowntokisssomeone.Cassie’sfive-two,five-threetops,butsomethingaboutthesetofhershouldersandthewayshewalksgiveshermorestature.Andshe’sfunny.Alittlestrange.Butfunny.IwasalreadylookingforwardtothesenexteightweeksattheJacksonhouse.HavingCassienextdoorforthesummeristheicingonanalreadydeliciouscake.
ThewhiteRangeRoverheadsfortheendofthecirculardrivewaywithMrs.Tannerbehindthewheel.Iwatchitdisappear,thenheadnextdoor.Becausethehomesonthisstretchofthewaterfrontaresituatedonaslope,thereisn’talotofspacebetweenthehouses,atleastnotonthestreet-facingside,whichmeansyou’realwaysseeingyourneighbors.Butthehigh,westerlylocationalsomeansspectacularviewsofAvalonBay,andunparalleledsunsets.
TheJacksonhousetookafewhitsinthelaststorm,butGilinstantlyhiredacontractortofixitupandalandscapertohauloutallthefallentreesanddebris.Allthatremainsnowarethemoss-drapedoaksandothermaturetreesthathavestoodstrongandproudfordecades.Thepropertyisloadedwithcharm.ItblowsmeawayeverytimeIstayhere.
Istepthroughthegracefulwhitecolumnsontothecoveredporchandletmyselfinthroughthefrontdoor.Inside,Igivetheimmaculatemainflooralongonce-over.Ialwaysgetparanoidhousesittingthisplace,afraidofbreakingsomethingpricelessorspillingbeerallovertheirexpensiverugs.Iwanderintothechef’skitchentowardthelongestislandI’veeverseen.Myfingertipsskimsleekoak,paintedanauticalblue.Thehousekeeper,Mary,washereyesterday,soeverythingiscleananddust-free.Thesmelloflemonandpinemingleswiththefamiliarsaltyscentwaftinginfromthebackdoors.ThefirstthingIdidwhenIgotherewasopenthethreesetsofFrenchdoorsthatmakeuptheentirerearwallofthelivingroom.MymoodisalwaysathousandtimesbetterwhenIcansmelltheocean.
MyphonebuzzesandIpullitoutofmypockettoseeamessagefrommymother
Mom:Allsettledin?
Itapoutaquickresponse.
Me:Yup.Unpackedandreadyfortwomonthsoffreedom.Youguyswerereallycrampingmystyle.
Mom:Yes,I’msureallthathomecookingwasarealdrag.
Me:Shit.Fine.I’llmissthatpart.ButGiladdedaFountainLightningtohisprivatefleet,soIthinkthatmightmakeupforallthegreasytakeoutI’llbeeating.
Mom:I’lldropoffsomefrozenlasagnas.Greasepoisoningisnojoke.
Me:Howaremychildren?Dotheymissme?
Mom:Well…Fudgejusttookafour-hournap,andPollyjustateabug.SoI’mgonnasay…no?
Me:Nah,soundslikecopingmechanismsformissingme.YoushouldletthemsleepinyourbedwhileI’mgonesotheydon’tfeellonely.
Mom:Surewon’t!
Igrinatthephone.Myparentsaresadistswhorefusetoletourfamilydogssleepintheirbed.I’llneverunderstandit.
Me:Anyway,Igottago.I’llmessageyoutomorrow.
Mom:Loveyou.
Me:Loveyoutoo.
Idon’tcareifitmakesmethebiggestloserontheplanet,butsometimesIthinkmymomismybestfriend.Handsdown,she’sthecoolestchickIknow.AndItellhernearlyeverything.Imean,sure,Ikeepmysexlifetomyself,butthere’sverylittleelseIwon’tconfideinMomabout.Dad,too.Infact,Ithinkhemightalsobemybestfriend.
Christ,maybeIamahugeloser.
Leavingmyphoneonthecounter,IambletowardtheFrenchdoorsandpeeroutside.Beyondthestonediningpatio,grill,andoutdoorfireplaceisashortwoodenstaircaseleadingtotheupperdeck.BeyondthatisthepaththattakesyoutothelowerdeckandtheJacksons’long,privatedock,completewithanelectricboatliftandacoveredpierhead.Ifocusmygazeontheendofthedock,admiringthetwoboatscurrentlymooredthere.Gil’sprizedHallberg-Rassy,theSurelyPerfect,ismooredattheyachtclubmarina,buthekeepshishigh-performancepowerboatandBostonWhalerSportFishermanatthehousefortheseason.
AshiverrunsthroughmeasIgawkatthered-and-whitepowerboat.TheLightning.Christ,I’dkilltotakeherout,butshe’sludicrouslyexpensiveandI’dneverdreamofaskingGilifIcoulduseher.
Iseriouslyenvythisman’slife.Arealestatedeveloperwho’sworthmillions,Gilownsseveralpropertiesaroundtheglobeandprettymuchanentirefleetofboats.HeandShirleyarespendingthenexttwomonthsinNewZealand,wherethey’relookingtoaddanotherhousetotheirportfolio.And,knowingGil,anothersailboat.Luckyassholes.Theirlifesoundslikepureheaventome—sailingaroundtheworld,exploringnewplaces…
Thesailingpart,inparticular,iswhatreallygetsmybloodgoing.Beingapart-timesailinginstructorattheclubdoesn’tfeellikeenoughtome;foryearsI’velongedtobeoutonthewaterfull-time,butthat’ssimplynotfeasible,notwhenIalsoneedtoputinthehoursatBartlettMarine,thefamilybusiness.Don’tgetmewrong,it’snotabadgig.Andit’salwaysastonishingtoseehowmuchmoneypeoplearewillingtodropontheirboats.Butstill,I’dratherbeonaboatthanhandoverherkeystosomebodyelse.
SinceIhavethedayoff—andGil’spermissiontousetheWhalerandtheSea-Doos—Igrabmyphonefromthekitchencounter.Theweather’sperfectforadayonthewater,andIscrollthroughmymessagethreadstryingtodecidewhichoneofmyboystotext.
I’mprettysureDanny,afellowinstructorattheclub,isworkingtoday.
Lukeshouldbehome,butIhaveafeelinghe’llbetoohungoverfromthepartylastnight.WhenIleftaround2A.M.,hewasstilldoingtequilashotswithourfriendsStephandHeidi.
I’daskmybuddyWyatt,ourlocaltattooartist,butthingsarekindofweirdbetweenus.Notonmyaccount,though.Iwasjustgoingaboutmybusiness,hangingoutwithAlanahereandthere,whenWyattbrokeupwithhislongtimegirlfriendandsuddenlydecidedhehadathingforAlanatoo.NextthingIknow,I’minalovetriangleIneverwantedtobepartof,overawomanwhodoesn’tactuallywanteitheroneofus.
ItextLukefirst,whorespondswithoutmincingwords.
Luke:Bro,I’msohungover.IfIgooutonthewaterI’llpukealloveryouruglyface.
ItryEvanHartleynext,thoughI’mprettysurehetoldmelastnightthatheandhisbrotherCooperwereatoneoftheirconstructionsitestoday.Imessagehimanyway,becausehe’sthetwinmorelikelytoshirkhisresponsibilitiesandgoday-drinkingonaboatwithme
Evan:Can’t.We’resofuckingbehindonthisstupidjob.
Damn.GuessI’monmyowntoday.
Evan:Butwe’regrabbingbeerswithDannylater.RipTide.Around7.Youin?
Iquicklyshootoffaresponse.
Me:I’mdown.Seeyouthere.CHAPTER4
CASSIE
“Doyouthinkasix-year-oldwouldlikethis?”IholduparedT-shirtthatfeaturesapurpleunicornridingasurfboard.“Whatarekidsintothesedays?Ihavenoideawhat’sageappropriate.”
Mygrandmother’slaughterechoesbetweenus.“AndIdo?Ijustturnedseventy-four,dear.WhenIwassixyearsold,dinosaursstillroamedtheearth.”
Isnort.“Seventy-fourisnotold.Andyoudon’tlookitanyway.”
Iputtheshirtbackontherack.Ifeellikethecolorsaretooloud.WhenIsawthegirlsatEaster,theywerebothcladinpalepastels.Hmmm.ButthatcouldhavejustbeenanEasterthing.Iknowmystepmother,Nia,likestodressthemupforholidays.WhenIvisitedthispastChristmas,theywereinmatchingreddressesandcutemistletoeheadbands.
Ugh.Thisiswaytoohard,whichonlyhighlightshowlittleIknowmyhalfsisters.ButIsupposethat’sboundtobetheresultwhentheirmothermakessureIspendaslittletimeaspossiblewiththem.Hell,Ibetifitwereuptoher,Iwouldn’tevenbejoiningthemforthebirthdaycelebrationsnextmonth.PoorNia.Shewasprobablysecretlyfuriouswhenhertwingirlswerebornonmybirthday.And,God,theironyofthat…Dad’snewdaughtersbornonthesamedayashisoldone,effectivelyerasingmefromhislifeand—
Silverlining!thevoiceinmyheadshoutsbeforeIsinkanydeeper.
Right.Idrawanevenbreath.Thesilverliningofsharingabirthdaywithmysisters…Onepartyinsteadoftwo.Consolidationisalwaysaplus.
“Idon’tknow.”Mygazeconductsanothersweepoftherackofchildren’sclothing.“Maybewecangototheboardgamestoreinstead?Theonenexttothesmoothieplace?”Shoppingforthisgifthasbecomesurprisinglydaunting.
GrandmaandIexitthestoreandstepintotheoppressiveJulyheat.Iforgothowhotitgetsdownhereinthesummer.Andwhatatotalmadhousethemainstripbecomes.ButI’munbotheredbyboththeswelteringairandthecrowds.AvalonBayisn’tjustthequintessentialbeachtownwithitsboardwalk,touristshops,andannualcarnival—it’smyhome.Iwasbornhere.Allmychildhoodmemoriesaretiedtothistown.Icouldbegoneforfiftyyearsandthatsenseoffamiliarity,ofbelonging,wouldstillberightherewhenIreturned.
“Whenareyouseeingyourfather?”Grandmaasksasweheaddownthesidewalk.Theairissohotandhumidthatthepavementbeneathourfeetispracticallyhissingfromtheheat.
“Friday,”Ianswer.“I’mgoingovertherefordinner.AndthenSaturdayeveningwemighttakethegirlsoutsomewhere.Maybeminigolf.”
“Thatwillbefun.Hewasn’tabletoseeyouthisweekend?”
Althoughthere’snojudgmentinhervoice,Ican’thelpbutcometoDad’sdefense.“Thegirlshadawholebunchofbirthdaypartiestoattend.IguesstheirentiresocialcircleisabunchofJulybabies.”
Andhecouldn’tstepawayforanhourorsoandtakeyoutolunch?
Dinner?
Dothegirlsnothaveamotherwhocanwatchthemforawhile?
Isn’ttheirbedtimeeighto’clock?
Allvalidquestionsifshe’dasked,butGrandmahasmoretactthanthatandknowsmyrelationshipwithDadiscomplicated.
Inallhonesty,I’musedtobeinganafterthoughttohim.Foryearsnowhe’smadeaconcertedefforttoavoidbeingalonewithmeifhecanhelpit,graspingontoanyopportunitytoensureNiaandthetwinsaretheretoserveasabuffer.I’msureheknowsInotice,buthedoesn’tacknowledgewhathe’sdoingandneitherdoI.Andsoitjustkeepsgrowingbetweenus,thismountainofwordsIcan’tsaytohim.Itstartedoffasatinylittlewordhillandnowit’sapeakofunspokenproportions.Thickwithemotionandriddledwithobstacles.LittleaccusationsI’llneversayoutloud.
Whydidn’tyoufightforcustody?
Whydidn’tyouwantme?
“Areyoulookingforwardtoseeingyoursisters?”
IpushthebleakthoughtsawayandpasteonasunnysmileforGrandma.“I’malwaysexcitedtoseethetwins.They’resocute.”
“AretheystillfluentinFrench?”sheaskscuriously.
“Yup.FluentinFrenchandEnglish.”MystepmotherisHaitianandgrewupspeakingFrench,soshewasadamantthatherkidsknowhernativetongue.It’sfunwatchingRoxanneandMoniqueconverseinFrench.Sometimes,it’sRoxyspeakingFrenchandMoansweringinEnglish,orviceversa,whichmakesforsomehilariousone-sidedconversations.Ireallydoadoremysisters.IwishIgottospendmoretimewiththem.
Grandmaseemstobeslowingdown,soImatchmygaittohers.“Youokay?”Iask.
We’vebeenshoppingfortwohours.Notthelongesttime,butit’salsoahundreddegreesoutandshe’sdressedinsilkfromheadtotoe.I’msurprisedherclothingisn’tplasteredtoherbody.Iwouldbeasweatymess.ButGrandmaisperpetuallyput-together,evenwhenbakingunderthesun.
“Iamfeelingtheheat,”sheadmits.Sheuncurlsthescarffromaroundherneckandusesapalehandtofantheexposedflesh.Thesuncontinuestobeatdownonus.She’swearingawide-brimmedhat,butI’mhat-freedespiteourvisittothehatshop.
“Let’sjusthittheboardgameplaceandthenheadhome,”Isuggest.
Shenods.“That’sagoodidea.”
We’renearingthesmoothieshopwhenatraitorappearsatthestorefrontwindow.Joytapsonthewindowandwavesatme.Sheholdsupafingertosignalshe’llbeonesecond.
“Oh,Joy’scomingout,”Itellmygrandmother.
Itakeherarmandmoveawayfromthesidewalktoletagroupofpedestrianspass.It’sanever-endingstreamofpeople,AvalonBayatitsprimetouristpeak.Families,couples,andgroupsofrowdyteensarealreadyswarmingthestreetsandfillingthebeach,andwiththecarnivalhavingjustbeensetupattheendoftheboardwalk,it’sgoingtobeevenmorepackedinthecomingweeks.Ireallymissedthisplace.
Joyexitstheshopsuckingonthestrawofhersmoothie.She’swearingawhiteminidressthatcomplementsherdarkcomplexion,wedgesandals,andoversizedsunglasses.Gucci,hergo-todesigner.
“I’msogladIbumpedintoyou,”shechirps,browneyesshininghappily.“Iwasliterallyabouttotextandseeifyouwantedtogoouttonight.”
Imockglareather.“Why?Soyoucanbailonmeagain?”
Shegroansrepentantly.“Argh,Iknow,I’msosorryaboutlastnight.”
“Whatthehellwasthatabout?Youtwistmyarmintogoingtosometownie’spartyandthendon’tevenshow?”Igrumble.
“I’msorry,”shesaysagain,buthertoneisbreeziernow,herremorseallbutgone.Joy’sbeenflightyforaslongasI’veknownher,andshedoesn’twastemuchtimegroveling.Oncesheapologizesforasin,shemovesonfromitwithlightningspeed.“Ilefttheclubandwasgoinghometochangefortheparty,justlikeItexted,butthenIpulledintothedrivetofindIsaiahwaitingonmydoorstep.”
Isaiahistheguyshe’sbeenonandoffwithsinceweweresixteen.LasttimesheandIspoke,though,shesworeshewasdonewiththat.Itskwithdisappointment.“Pleasedon’ttellmeyougotbacktogetherwithhim.”
“No,no.HewasjustdroppingoffaboxofstuffIleftathisplace.AndthereweresomephotosintherethatI’dprintedout,sowestartedgoingthroughthem,andonethingledtoanotherand—coveryourears,Mrs.Tanner—wefucked.”
Mygrandmotherbarksoutalaugh.“It’slovelytoseeyoutoo,Joy,”Grandmasays,beforereachingovertolightlypatmyarm.“Cass,whydon’tIdrivebacktothehouseandJoycantakeoverasyourshoppingcompanion?”
“Areyousure?”Mybrowcreases.“You’reokaydrivingonyourown?”
“Idroveushere,”sheremindsme,offeringthatdignifiedone-raised-eyebrowlookthattranslatestodon’tquestionyourelders,dear
Iquestionheranyway.“Yes,butyousaidyouwerefeelingtheheat.Whatifyouhavesunstroke—”
“I’llbefine.Go.Yougirlshavefun.Soundslikeyouhavealottochatabout.”Eyestwinkling,Grandmaleavesustoourowndevices.
Iwatchhergo,andherstronggaitandstraightshoulderseasemyconcerns.Sometimesit’shardtorememberwhatatoughbroadsheiswhenitlookslikethemerestbreezecouldknockherover.
“Sowhatarewebuying?”Joyasks.
“IwantedtopopintotheboardgamestoretofindsomethingforRoxyandMo’sbirthdays.”
“Wow,Nia’slettingyouseeherpreciousprogenyontheirspecialday?”
“Benice.”
“Nah,that’syourjob.You’retheniceone.I’mtheragingbitchinthisfriendship,remember?That’swhywemakeagoodteam.”
It’saninterestingfriendship,I’llgiveherthat.WhereasImetPeytonwhenImovedtoBoston,I’veknownJoysincewewerefive.Shewasasummergirl,herfamilycomingdownfromManhattaneveryyeartospendJunetillAugustintheBay.Wewereinseparableaskids,buteventuallydriftedapart,notreconnectinguntilIwassixteenandvisitingmydadforafewweeks.Mysisterswerebarelytwoatthatpoint,soDadhadhishandsfullandverylittletimeforme.Iendedupspendingmostofthevacationhangingoutbythecountryclubpool,whereIbumpedintoJoyonemorningandthefriendshipgotareboot.
“Yeah,andwherewasmyteammatelastnight?”Idemand.“Istillcan’tbelieveyouditchedme.Ididn’tknowasinglepersonthere.”Whichisn’tsurprising,consideringIcouldprobablycountthenumberoftowniesIknowbynameononehand.
Thesummerkidsdon’tusuallysocializewiththelocals.Theytravelindifferentcircles,spendingmostoftheirtimeonexpensivefamilyyachtsoratthecountryclub,whereIanticipatepassingthebulkofmytimethissummer.InmyfutureIpredictalotoflyingaroundonloungechairsandcheckingoutallthehotpreppyboys.
Don’tgetmewrong,I’mnotoneofthoserichgirlswhorefusestowork.I’vehadpart-timejobssinceIwassixteenandjustspentthelastthreeyearsofcollegeworkingasabarista.Myworkethiccomessolelyfrommyfather.Dad,whodidn’tcomefromafilthy-richfamilylikeMom,alwayshammeredtheimportanceofgood,honestworkintomyhead.Grandma,however,refusestoletmegetajobwhileI’mintheBaythissummer,determinedtoforcedailyqualitytimeonme.I’mcertainlynotcomplaining,though.IpreferGrandma’scompanytomost.
“Ihearditwasagoodtime,”Joysaysaswefallintostepwitheachother.Shesipshersmoothie.“Theguywhoinvitedme—Luke?HetextedearlieraskingwhyIdidn’tshow.Poorboywasdevastated.”Shegrins.“Itotallywould’vehookedupwithhimtoo.He’scute.ButstupidIsaiah.Ijustcan’tstayawayfromthatasshole.”
“It’sarealproblem,”Iagreesolemnly.
“Youdidn’ttalktoanyoneatall?”shepushes.“NoteventheinfamousHartleytwins?Ithinkoneofthemwasthere.”
Okay,soIcannamethoselocals.I’mprettysureeveryone,localandsummerkidalike,hasheardoftheHartleys.Thetwosinfullyhottwinswhousedtoraisehellaroundtown.Therewasonerumorgoingaroundbackinthedayaboutastolengoat,astolenpolicecar,andajoyridearoundtheBaythatendedwithoneofthetwinsinthehospitalforaconcussion.Butthatsoundstooludicroustobetrue.Thetalesoftheirnumeroushookups,particularlywiththeGarnetCollegegirlswhoarriveeverySeptember…well,thoserumorsItendtobelieve.
“Ididn’tseethem,”Isay,searchingmymemory.Ivaguelyrememberatalldudewithdarkhairandtattoos,but,really,thatcouldhavebeenanyone.“Ididtalktooneguy,though.”
“Ahh!Yes!That’smygirl.Who?”
“Tate.”ItrytorecallwhatGrandmacalledhimthismorning.Mr.…“Bartlett.TateBartlett?”
Joy’sjawfallsopen.“Really?Oh,Iknowallabouthim.”
“Youdo?”I’msurprised.LikeIsaid,asidefromtheoccasionalillicittryst,summerkidsandlocalsaren’ttoosociallycompatible.
“Ohyeah,hehookedupwithmysisterlastsummer.”
“No!Shutup!Louisa?”Forthesheerlifeofme,IcannotenvisionJoy’soldersisterhookingupwithanybody,letaloneTate.Louisaisasprimandproperastheycome.Ialwaysassumedshewaswaitingformarriage.“Whataboutherchastitybelt?”
Myfriendsnorts.“Someonefoundthekey,andhisnamewasTateBartlett.He’saninstructorattheyachtclub,likethatLukeguy.They’refriends.”
Istillcan’twrapmyheadaroundLouisaandTate.“Howdidthatevenhappen?HimandLouisa.”
“Shewasfeelingadventurouslastyear.Remembershewasgoingthroughherawfulplatinum-blondphase?Itextedyouapicofit.”
Inodgravely.“Thatdidnotlookgood.”
“No,itdidn’t.”Joytwiststhesmoothiestrawaroundwithherfingers.“So,anyway,theymetattheclub,heaskedherout,andtheyhookedup.Justthirdbase,Ithink.Because,youknow,it’smysister.ButI’mtoldhe’samajorplayboy.”
Notexactlyashock.Guysthatgood-lookingusuallyhavetheirpickofwomen.
Hearinghe’saplayer,though,doesdullsomeoftheTateshine.“Sohe’sgotarepforbeingasleaze?”
“Actually,it’stheopposite.Like,thismanhooksupmorethanacelebrity,yetyouwon’thearabadwordabouthim.Everyonewhoknowshimorwho’sbeenwithhimgetsallstarry-eyedwhenyoubringhimup.Startsgushingabouthowsweetandwonderfulheis.Andgreatinbed,ofcourse.”
“Ofcourse,”Iecho,rollingmyeyes.Inside,I’mabitrelievedtohearhedoesn’thaveaslimyreputation.
“Howdidyoumeethim?Whatdidyoutalkabout?”Shelinksherarmthroughmine.“Iwantallthedetails.”
Wespendthenexthourintown,whereIstrikeoutonthegirls’birthdaypresents.IrealizeI’mgoingtohavetoaskDadforsuggestions,whichfeelslikedefeat.Joydropsmeoffathomeandwemakeplanstoreturntotheboardwalklatertocatchsomelivemusic.Sheleavesmewiththepromisethatshe’llgrabmeateightandabsolutely,onehundredpercentnotbailonmethistime.
Athome,IpasstherestofthedayreadingbythepoolandtextingwithPeyton,theneatdinnerwithGrandmaonthebackdeckoverlookingthequietbay.Ioffertoplaycardswithherafterward,butshewantstoturninearly,sowepartwaysatthetopofthestaircase,Grandmaheadingtoherroomandmeduckingintomine.
IalwaysstayinthesameroomwhenIvisit.Decoratedinshadesofwhiteandyellow,thebedroomisspaciousandairy,withhardwoodflooring,aprivateensuitebath,andabigbaywindowwithabuilt-inreadingbench.Otherthantheantiquedeskandarmoire,themainpieceoffurnitureisthehugefour-postbedthatItossmyphoneonto.
Ineedtotakeashower,washmyhair,andfindsomethingcutetowearintotowntonight.OperationFlingmayhavehitasnaglastnight,butifI’mseriousaboutfindingmyselfapassionatesummeraffair—andIam—thenit’stimetokickthatplanintogear.
Ideally,mysuper-hotandapparentlyvery-open-to-hookupsneighborwouldbetheonetohaveaflingwith,butI’vealreadyhadtwoopportunitiestomakeamove,oratleastaskforhisnumber,andI’veblownitbothtimes.Therefore,puttingallmyeggsintheTatebasketprobablyisn’tasmartmove.Ineedtobeopentomeetingotherguys.Broadeningmyflinghorizons.
Andnobettertimetostartthantonight.
Ipulltheelasticoffandbeginundoingmybraid,wanderingtowardthewindowtopreemptivelyclosethecurtainsbeforemyshower.
ThenIfreeze.Myfingersgomotionless,myhalf-undonebraidforgotten.
Frommywindow,Ihaveaclearviewofthehousenextdoor.Andthewindownextdoor.Theonethatfacesmine.Andsincethetwohousesareseparatedbymereyards,andtherearen’tanytreesonthesidepaththatcutsbetweenthehomes,Iamprovidedwithaclear,unobstructed,perfect,gloriousviewofTateasheundressesinthebedroomacrosstheway.
Mybreathlodgesinmythroat.
He’sfacingawayfromme,andIpracticallydroolwhileIwatchthesinewymusclesofhisbackrippleashetosseshisshirtaside.Hisshouldersarebroad,armswell-sculpted.Hereachesforthewaistbandofhisswimtrunks.
HisshortsdroptothefloorandIalmostchokeonmytongue.
Holyfuck.Iknewhehadanicebutt,butseeingitinallitsbaregloryis…otherworldly.Ican’ttakemyeyesoffit.Ifeellikeatotalperv,andIknowifthesituationwasreversedandhewaswatchingmechangefromhiswindow,I’dbereportinghimtothecops.ButI’mfrozeninplace,unabletotearmygazeaway.
Turnaway,Cassandra.
Turnaway.
Stopit.
Mymouthhasgonecompletelydry.Hisbodyisspectacular.Hardplanesandleanmusclesandlong,tannedlimbsalljoiningtogethertoformoneoutrageouslysexyspecimenofaman.I’mbreathinghardnow.Heartpounding.Tatedragsonehandthroughhairthatappearsabitwindblown,wanderingaroundtheroomasifinsearchofsomething.Completelynaked.Completelyoblivioustothefactthathisnext-doorneighborisoglinghim.
Thenheturnstowardthewindow.
Andhe’snotsoobliviousanymore.
He’svisiblystartledwhenoureyeslock.Hisbrowfurrows.Lipspart,justslightly.Icatchonebriefglimpseofthefull-frontalexperiencebeforeIspinonmyheelanddartawayfromthewindow.Myheartrateisofficiallyincardiacarrestterritory.Hecaughtmelooking.WhatthehelldoIdonow?Whatifhereportsmeortellsmygrandmother—
Myphonelightsup.
“OhmyGod,”Imoanoutloud.
Icanbarelywalkovertothebed,that’showweakmylegsfeel.MyhandtremblesasIreachforthephone.Igrabitanddiveintothebathroom,asfarawayfromthatdamnedwindowaspossible.
Onthescreen,someoneistryingtoAirDropmeanote.
TateB.
WithashakyfingerIhitaccept,andthenotepopsup.
Ithinkweneedtotalkaboutthis.—Tate
Underneaththemessageishisphonenumber.
I’mmortified.ButI’malsonotdumbenoughtothinkwecansweepthisundertherugandpretendIwasn’twatchinghimundress.AndwhileI’mnormallythetypeofpersonwhorunsscreamingfromallconfrontations,thisneedstobedealtwithASAP.Otherwisewe’reinforalong,awkwardsummer.
IclickonTate’snumbertopullupanewmessagethread.
Me:IAMSOSOSORRY.IswearIwasn’tspyingonyou.Iwasjuststandingatmywindowwhenyouwalkedbyandstartedstripping.
Tate:Uh-huh.I’msurethat’sexactlywhathappened.
Me:It’strue!Ionlysawyounakedforlikethreeseconds,max.
There’sashortbeat.
Tate:Didyouenjoytheshow?
Me:Ew.No.
Ewno?
Whatthehelliswrongwithme?ThisiswhyI’msingle.Someonetriestoflirtwithme,andIrespondwithewno.ClearlyIhaveissues.
Me:Imean,Ibarelysawanything.
Tate:Comebacktothewindow.
Mypulsequickensagain.
Me:No.
Tate:Justcomeback.IpromiseI’mnotstandingherewithmyhandonmydickorsomethingcreepy.
Wary,Iexitthebathroom.Aspromised,Tateisnotbeingcreepy.He’satthewindow,atowelwrappedaroundhiswaist,aphoneinhishand.Whenheseesme,hegivesacheekysmileandraiseshisotherhand.He’sholdingaflashlight.
Inarrowmyeyes,whichpromptshimtostarttypingone-handed.
Tate:What’sMorsecodefor“peepingTom”?
Me:OMGstop.I’malreadyembarrassedenough.
Itoccurstomethatinsteadoftexting,wecouldjustopenourrespectivewindowsandcallouttoeachother.Thenagain,soundtravelsonthewaterandIdon’twantmygrandmotherhearingasecondofthisconversation.
Tate:Look.Cassie.I’llbehonest.Yousawmyass.Ithinkit’sonlyfairthatIseeyours.
Isquawkinoutrage.Hecan’thearit,buthemustknowImadesomesortofindignantsoundbecausehegrinswidely.
Me:Absolutelynot.
Tate:Onecheek?
Me:No!
Tate:Fine.Youdriveahardbargain.I’llsettleforyourtits.
Iknowhe’sjoking.AndIthinkifanyoneelsehadsaidthattomethey’dcomeoffasatotalperv.Butthere’sjustsomethingaboutthisguy’sgoodlooksanddazzlingsmile.Nopartofhimgivesoffpervertedvibes.
Still,Ican’trewardhimforthatkindoftalk.Don’twanttosetaprecedentoranything.SoIwalktothewindowwhiletypingafinalmessage.
Me:You’lljusthavetouseyourimagination.
ThenIclosethecurtains.CHAPTER5
TATE
MydadcallswhenI’monmywaytomeettheboysattheRipTide.TheBluetoothkicksinandIanswerwithaquick,“Hey,Dad,what’sup?”SinceI’vegotthetopdownontheJeep,Ieaseuponthegas,drivingslowersothewinddoesn’tdrownouthisvoice.
“Canyoudomeasolidtomorrow,kid?”
Ican’thelprollingmyeyes.I’mtwenty-threeandhestillcallsmekid.Meanwhile,ifanyoneisakid,it’sGavinBartlett.Mydadisbasicallyanovergrownboy,sofullofenergyandlifeithonestlygetsoverwhelmingsometimes.HewasabigbaseballherobackinGeorgia,soIgrewuphearingfromeveryoneontheislandhowawesomemyfatherwas.ThenwemovedtoAvalonBay,aplacewherehedidn’tknowasoul,and
“Depends,”Itellhim,sinceIknowbetterthantoblindlyagreetofavors.“What’sup?”
“Canyoucomeintoworktomorrowmorningforacouplehours?IwanttotakeyourmomtoStarfishCove.”
“What’stheoccasion?”
“Doesthereneedtobeone?Amancan’ttakehiswifeonaspontaneousSundaypicnic?It’sromantic!”
“Dude.Idon’twanttothinkaboutmyparentsmakingoutataromanticpicnic,pleaseandthankyou.”
“Makingout?We’regoingtothirdbaseatleast,kid.”
Imakealoudgaggingnoise,mostlyforhisbenefit.Truthfully,thereareworsethingsinthisworldthanhavingparentswhoarestillmadlyinloveaftertwenty-fiveyearsofmarriage.
I’moneoftheraremembersofmyfriendgroupwhosefamilyiswholly,disgustinglynormal.I’manonlychild,soIneverhadtodealwithanyofthatsiblingrivalryshit.MomlovestogardenandDadstillplaysbaseballwithamen’sleagueintown.WhenpeopleaskmewhyI’msolaid-backandtakeeverythinginstride,it’sbecause,well,Ihaven’tencounteredmanyhardshipsinmylife.TheclosestthingtoturmoilweexperiencedasafamilywasabriefroughperiodwhenwemovedfromSt.Simon’stoAvalonBay.Thestressofthemove,combinedwithDadchangingcareers,causedsomearguingbetweenmyparents,abitoffrictionaroundthehouse.Andthenitpassed.
I’vebeenlucky,Iguess.
“Sure,Icandothat,”Irelent.AsmuchasIhatetheideaofworkingtwojobstomorrow—morningatthedealershipandthenafternoonattheyachtclub—IknowMomwouldenjoyapicnicatStarfishCove.AndI’moneofthoseassholeswholikesmakingmyparentshappy.
“Thanks,kid.Ioweyouone.Oh,andkeepaneyeoutforamannamedAlfred.OrAlbert?Can’tremember.Anyway,he’scominginaroundninetolookatthefifty-footBeneteauthatSamPowelljustbroughtin.”
“What?Sam’ssellingtheBeneteau?”Iaskindismay.
“Alreadydid.WeclosedthedealonFriday.”
“Shit,really?Didn’thejustdoarefitin2019?Andhespentachunkonthatnewteakdeck,no?”
“That’swhyhe’ssellingnow—therefituppedthevalue.Thisisthetimetosell.”
“ButSamlovesthatboat.”
“Loveshiskidmore.AndshegotintoHarvard.GottapayforthatIvyLeaguetuitionsomehow,right?”
“That’srough.”
Wechatforafewmoreminutesbeforehangingup.AsIturnleftontothemainroadleadingdowntown,mymindisstillonSamPowellpartingwithhisbelovedsailboat.Man,IneverwanttobeinthepositionwhereIneedtochoosebetweenmykidandmyboat.NotthatIhaveeitheroneofthoseyet,butmygoalistoatleaststartworkingtowardsecuringthelatter.Icouldprobablybuyausedforty-footBristol,maybeevenaBeneteauOceanisinthenextcoupleyearsifI’mabletosavemoremoney.
Afterthat,well,ideallyI’dbesailingheraroundtheworld,althoughthat’smoreadreamthanagoal.Apipedream,atthat,becausethere’snowayIcanjustfuckoffformonthsonend.Dadalreadyhasitallplannedout—hewantstoretireearly,andoncehedoes,I’llbetakingoverBartlettMarine,sellingotherpeopletheirdreamboatsratherthansailingmyown.AndwhileIcan’tdenythedealershipturnsaseriousprofit,ithasn’texactlybeenmylifelongdreamtorunit.
MainStreetisalreadypackedwithcars,notanopenspacetobefound.Ienduphavingtopullintooneofthegravelbeach-accesslotsandhoofithalfamiletotheRipTide,whereIfindmyfriendsgatheredaroundahigh-toptablenearthestage.OurbuddyJordyandhisreggaebandplaythisvenuemostweekends,butthey’renotheretonight.Intheirplaceisametaloutfitwithaleadsingerwho’sscream-singingunintelligiblelyricsasIsidleuptotheboys.
Cooper,cladinablackT-shirtandrippedjeans,issippingonabeerandwincingattheungodlynoisescomingfromthestage.Hisotherhalfisnowheretobefound,andbythatImeanEvan,histwin.Mackenziewouldbehisbetterhalf,thechickwhogotCoopertosmilemoretimesinthelastyearthaninalltheyearsI’veknownhimcombined.Genuinesmiles,too,andnotthecockysmirkshe’dflashrightbeforeweusedtofuckshitup.
ChaseisnexttoCoop,engrossedwithhisphone,whileDannylistenstothebandwithapainedexpression.
“Theseguysareawful,”Isay,wonderingwhothehelldecidedtobookthem.Thesingerisnowmakingstrangebreathingnoiseswhilethetwoguitaristswhisperintotheirmicrophones.“Whyaretheywhisperingnow?”
“Ishesayingmyskullisweeping?”Cooperdemands,wrinklinghisbrow.
“No.It’smysoulissleeping,”Dannytellshim.
“It’sboth,”Chasesayswithoutlookingupfromhisphone.“Myskullisweeping/mysoulissleeping.Thosearethelyrics.”
“Deep,”Isaydryly,andmyownskullnearlyweepswithreliefwhenthesong—ifyoucouldcallitthat—ends,andthesinger—ifyoucouldcallhimthat—announcesthey’retakingaten-minutebreak.
“Ohthankfuck,”Dannybreathes.
Myperipheralvisioncatchestheblurofawaitress,andItwistaroundtosignalherbeforeshecandisappear.“Becca,”Icall,becauseeveryoneknowseveryoneinthistown.
“Tate!Hey!WhatcanIgetya?”
“CouldItroubleyouforaGoodBoy?”Iask,namingoneofourlocallybrewedbeers.
“Yougotit.AGoodBoyforagoodboy.”Shewinksandhurriesoff.
Coopersighs.“Betweenyouandmybrother,Idon’tthinkthere’sawaitressintownwhohasn’tseenyourdicks.”
“And?”Icounter,grinning.“Arewaitressesoff-limitsnow?”
“Onlyifyoubreaktheirhearts.Idon’tneedanyonespittinginourdrinks.”
“Ha,talktoyourbrotherthen.I’veneverhadahookupendonanythingotherthangoodterms.Can’tsaythesameforEvan.AndspeakingofEvan—whereishe?Wasn’tithisideatocomeheretonight?”
“Yup.”Cooperrollshiseyes.“ButthenhegotthebetterideaoflockingGenevieveintheirbedroomafterwegothomefromwork,andnobody’sseenhimsince.”
Ihavetolaugh.EvanhadbeenitchingtogetbacktogetherwithGenevieveWestsinceshemovedbacktotheBayafterayearawayinCharleston.Notonlydidhewinherback,butthey’renowengaged.GoodforEvan,though.He’slovedthegirlsincetheeighthgrade,forfuck’ssake.Hedeservesthewin.
“Ican’tbelievethey’reactuallygettingmarried,”Chasesays,shakinghishead.
“It’swild,”Iconcur.
“Ihearyou’renext,”Dannypipesup,elbowingmeinthearm.“WhendoyouplanonproposingtoAlana?”
Ipretendtothinkitover.“I’mgonnahavetogowith…never.Idon’tthinkI’vemetanyonelessinterestedinmarriagethanAlana.Besides,that’snothappeninganymore.”
Coopglancesover,intrigued.“No?”
“Nomorefriendswithbenefits,”Itellhim,shrugging.“We’rebacktobeingregularoldfriends.”
Dannyhoots.“Shedumpyou?”
“Dumpingwouldimplybeinginarelationship,andwedefinitelyweren’tinone.”
“DidyoubreakthenewstoStephyet?”Coopersnickers.“IthinkthegirlshadabetgoingthatyouwouldfallinlovewithAlana.PrettysureStephstakedherlifesavingsonyes.”
“Love?”Iraiseabrow.“Dude,Ican’tbeheldresponsibleforSteph’sirresponsiblegamblingchoices.Hasshemetme?”
Whatthehellislove,anyway?It’soneofthosewordsthatgetsthrownaroundsohaphazardly,likegrainsofriceatawedding.Ilovethis.Ilovethat.Loveyou.Loveyoutoo.I’veexperiencedplatoniclove,sure.Ilovemyfamily,myfriends.Butromanticlove?Thekindoflovethatrunssodeepyoufeeltheotherpersoninyoursoul?MyonlyrealrelationshipwaswithagirlIdatedinhighschoolforayear.Wehadagoodtimetogether.Thesexwasphenomenal.ButwasIinlovewithher?
Whenitboilsdowntoit,Isuspectitwasjustlust.Sameastherestofmyencounterswiththeoppositesex.Thestringofhookups,theflings…lovedidn’tplayaroleinanyofthose,andthatincludesmyarrangementwithAlana
“Yo.Tate.”Acoasternailsmeintheforehead.
Iblinkbacktorealityandheartheboyschortling.“Whatthehellwasthat?”Igrowl,rubbingmyforehead.
“Youliterallyzonedoutfortenminutes,”Dannyinformsme.
“Tenminutes?”Ichallenge.
“Okay,maybe,like,tenseconds,butstill.Beccadroppedoffyourbeerandyoudidn’tevensaythanks.”
Ohshit.Ilookovermyshoulder,butBeccaisalreadyservinganothertable.IreachformyGoodBoyandtakeasip,justastheflinch-inducingshriekofmicrophonefeedbackfillsthebar.
“No,”Dannyblurtsout.“Fuck,no.They’reback.”
Unenthused,thefourofusturntowardthestage,wherethebandhasindeedreturned.Theywastenotimeburstingintoasongthatstartswithaninexplicablesurfriffthat’scompletelyincongruoustotheplaintivewailsleavingtheleadsinger’smouth
“Yeah,no,”Coopersays.Heslamshisbottledownandglancesatme.“Chugthatbeersowecangetthehelloutofhere.Ican’tlistentothisallnight.”
“Joe’shashalf-priceshotstonight,”Chasesays,alreadyslidingoffhisstool.“Ivotewegothere.”
DannyfrownswhenhenoticesI’mnotdrinking.“Didn’tyouheartheman?Chug,”heorders,pointingtomybottle.“Myearsarerebelling,bro.”
“Fine.”Igrimace,thentipmyheadbackanddrainabouttwo-thirdsofmyGoodBoybeforecallingitquits.
WhilethebandcontinuestoassaulttheeardrumsoftheRipTide’spatrons,myfriendsandIbail,hurriedlyclimbingthenarrowstaircaseuptothestreet.Weemergeintothenightamomentlater,thebalmyheatwarmingmyface.It’sjustasnoisyouthereonthemainstrip,butIpreferloudvoices,raucouslaughter,andfaintcarnivalnoisestothetorturechamberweleftbehind.
We’vemadeitaboutthreestepsdownthesidewalkwhenafamiliarfaceentersmylineofsight.
Well,lookatthat.Mynewtemporaryneighbor.She’swithafriend,atallchickwithflat-ironedhairandflawlessskin.Bothgirlswearshortdresses,althoughthefriend’sismuchtighterthanCassie’s.
“Seriously,ginger?”Icallout,grinning.“You’vebeenintown,what,lessthanaweekandsomehowI’verunintoyoueighty-ninetimesalready?IfIdidn’tknowanybetter,I’dthinkyouwerestalkingme.”
Cassie’sjawdrops.“Iamnot.Andstopcallingmeginger.ItoldyouI’mnotaginger,I’macopper.”Shecrossesherarmsasiftoemphasizeheroutrage,butallitdoesisemphasizeherchest,pressinghertitstogetherinaseriouslyappealingway.
Fuck.Thatrack.Ican’thandleit.Itdoesn’tgounmissedbytheothers,either.EvenCooper,whohasagirlfriendwithwhomhe’snauseatinglysmitten,brieflyflickshisdarkeyestowardCassie’schest.Shenoticestheattention,becauseherfacesflushesandherarmsdroptohersides.
Thefriendlookshighlyamused.“Don’tdenyit,Cass.”Shewinksatme.“Wetotallyfollowedyouhere.”
“Wedidnot,”Cassieinsists,pokingherfriendintheside.ThenshegesturestothedooroftheRipTide.“We’rejustheretoseetheband.”
“Oh,youdon’twanttodothat,”Iwarn.“Trustme.They’retotalshit.”
“Aw,no,really?”Herexpressionconveysdisappointment.“Thisisoneoftheonlyplacesthat’sfeaturingalivebandtonight.Whyaretheyshit?Whatkindofmusicisit?”
Coopersnorts.“FuckedifIknow.”
Dannythinksitover.“Allright.IfIhadtopindownagenre,I’dsayitwas,like…rockabillysurfemometal.”
Mygazeswivelstohim.“Dude.That’sactuallyprettyfuckingaccurate.”
Cassieandherfriendmakeidenticalfaces,scrunchinguptheirnoses.“Thatsoundsawful,”Cassiecomplains.
“IthinkSharkey’shasabandplayingtonight,”Chasesayshelpfully.
Thefriendshakesherhead.“Yeah,wecan’tgothere,”sheanswers,pouting.“It’stheoneplacewealwaysgetcarded.”
Cooperspinstowardme.“Bro,we’remakingfriendswithunderagegirlsnow?”Hesighs.
“Hey.I’mtwenty-one,”proteststhefriend.ShejabsaFrench-tippedfingernailatCassie.“She’stheoneholdingusback.”
“Gee,thanks,”Cassiesays,hervoicedry.
“Butdon’tyouworry,”thefriendassuresCooper,clearlyhavingsethersightsonhim.“Cassie’sbirthdayisnextmonth,sosheandIwillbehappytomeetyoutwo”—thatbossyfingernailsnapstheairbetweenmeandCoop—“atSharkey’soncemygirlislegal.Howdoesthatsound?Onemonthfromnow.Eighto’clock.Sharkey’s.It’sadate.”
“Joy,”Cassiechides.Shelooksbackatme.“She’sjustjoking.”
Iraiseabrow.“Soit’snotyourbirthdaynextmonth?”
“No,itis.That’snotthepartshe’sjokingabout.We’renotgoingonadoubledate,Ipromise.”
“Iwould’vebeenupforadoubledate,”Dannyproclaimswithasadmoan,pretendingtobewounded.“ButIwasn’tinvited.”
“I’mgay,soIdon’tcare,”Chasetellsthewomen.
Cooperletsoutanothersnort.
“Anyway,itwasniceseeingyouagain,”Cassietellsme,alreadyedgingaway.Sheglancesatmyfriends.“I’mCassie,bytheway.ThisisJoy.AndI’mnotastalker,nomatterwhatyourstupidfriendsays.I’veneverstalkedanyoneinmylife.Well,unlessyoucountthatoneweekinhighschoolwhenIkeptrefreshingthisguy’sFacebookpagehopinghisrelationshipstatuswouldchangebecauseIheardheandhisgirlfriendwerehavingproblems,butthat’smorecyberstalking,Iguess,andI’mnotsurethatactuallycounts—”Shestopsabruptlywhensherealizesshe’sbabbling.
Openlygrinning,Joydoesn’tcometoherfriend’said.Isuspectshe’susedtoCassie’sblabbering,andIkindoflovethatshedoesn’tjumpinandrescueher.Justletsherdigthatholedeeper.
“Tate,”IintroducemyselftoJoy,andshesmirksinawaythattellsmesheknowswhoIam.Reputationprecedesme,Iguess.Iintroducetheothers,endingwithCooper,anditturnsoutbothgirlsknowexactlywhoheistoo.
“You’reoneofthebad-boytwins,”Joysayswithbarelydisguisedglee.
Heoffersafaintsmile.“Everythingyou’veheardaboutusisalie.”
“Excellent,”shesays,flashingasassysmile.“BecauseIheardyouhaveagirlfriend.NowthatIknowyoudon’t…”
Ismotheralaugh.She’sgothimthere
“Okay,thatoneistrue,”heamends,laughingsoftly.
“He’sverymuchspokenfor,”Iconfirm.“Livinghappilyeverafterandbuildingahotelempirewithhisgirl.”
“Oh,right,”Joyexclaims.“Iheardaboutthat.”ShelooksatCassie.“HisgirlfriendisthenewowneroftheBeacon.”
ThatcapturesCassie’sinterest.SheinstantlyfocusesonCooper.“YourgirlfriendistheonewhoboughttheBeacon?”
Henods.“We’vespentthepastyearrestoringtheplace.ThegrandreopeningisinSeptember.”
“Iknow.That’swhyI’mhere.Mygrandmotherwastheseller.TheBeaconwasinmyfamilyformorethanfiftyyearsbeforeshesold.”
Coopisstartled.“Noshit?LydiaTannerisyourgrandmother?”
“Sheis,”Cassieconfirms.“I’mstayingwithherforthesummer.Wesoldherhousehere,too.ItclosesinOctoberandthenshe’smovingupnorthtobenearfamily.Mywholefamilyiscomingtothereopening.Grandma’sreallyexcitedforit.”
“Damn,don’ttellmygirlfriendthat.”Coopgrins.“Macisstressingsohardaboutit.Shedoesn’twanttoletyourgrandmotherdown.”
“I’msureshewon’t.Honestly,Grandmaisjusthappythenewownerisdedicatedtopreservingheroriginalvisionfortheplace.”
“Wedidourbest,”hesays,histonesincere.Andnowthathe’srealizedthesechicksaremorethanjustthirstyboardwalktouristslookingtohookup,he’salotmoreamenabletotheirplight.“GotoBigMolly’sinsteadofSharkey’s,”headvises.“They’vegotabandtonighttoo,andIhaveitongoodauthoritythebartenderthereisn’taboveservingacocktailortwotoatwenty-year-old.”Hewinks.“TellJessethatCoopsayshi.”
“Thanksforthetip,”Cassiesays,flashingagratefulsmile.
Dannystepsin,clearlyboredwithallthechitchat.“Allright,ladies.Nicerunningintoyou,butwe’vegotsomealcoholtoconsume,fellas.”
Wesaygoodbyeandpartways,movinginoppositedirections.FrombehindmeIhearCassietellJoysheneedstousetherestroombeforetheyhitBigMolly’s.“I’llwaitouthere”isJoy’sfaintresponse,andtheguysandIarealmostablockawaywhenIhearhighheelsonthepavement.
“Tate,”avoicehisses.“Wait.”
IlookovermyshouldertofindJoybarrelingourway,heelsclickingandslinkyreddressswirlingaroundhertonedthighs.
“Interesting,”Coopermurmurs,clearlyamused.
“Onesecond,”Itelltheboys.IbreakofffromthegroupandmeetJoyabouttenfeetaway.
She’sbreathlessfromrunninginheels.“Igottabequick,”sheblurtsout.“BeforeCasscomesout.”
Shit.Isshehittingonme?Ihopenot,becausethatfeelskindofshady,doingitbehindCassie’sbacklikethat.
Butshesurprisesmebyasking,“WhatdoyouthinkofCassie?”
Ifurrowmybrow.“Inwhatway?”
“Inallways.Thinkshe’scute?”
“Smokinghot,”Icorrect,agrinspringingup.
Joybrightens.“Oh.Perfect.Thatwaseasy.Andyou’reokaywithallthenervousbabbling?”
“Inwhatway?”Iecho.“Whatdoyoumeanbyokaywithit?What’shappeningrightnow?”Ifeelstupid.Sometimesitfeelslikewomenarespeakinganentirelydifferentlanguagefromme.Mymomdoesitallthetime,carryingontheseconversationsshemusthavestartedinherhead,becauseIhavenocluewhatshe’ssaying,andDadandIwillconstantlylockgazesoverherhead,like,whatthefuck?
“Listen,”Joysaysinaserioustone.“CassandIareflingshopping.”
“I’msorry,what?”
“Well,she’sflingshopping.ImayormaynotbebacktogetherwithmyselfishassofanexIsaiah,butthat’sawholeotherdrama.”Shewavesamanicuredhand.“Anyway,Cassie’slookingforasummerfling,andIthinkyou’dbetheperfectcandidate.”
I’mhavingtroublecontainingmyamusement,bitingmyliptokeepfromlaughing.“Isthatso?”
“Oh,it’sso.Butshe’snevergoingtoaskyouout,soI’vetakenituponmyselftointervene.EspeciallyafterIsawyoutwointeract.Itseemedlike,Idon’tknow,therewasalittlebanterhappening?FromwhereIwasstanding,itlookedlikeyoumightbeinterestedin…dotdotdot…”
“Imight,”Isayslowly.“Imean,I’malwaysupfor…dotdotdot…”
Shebeamsatme.“Excellent.ThenI’mgivingyouhernumber.”
Iofferasmuglook.“Alreadyhaveit.”
Herjawdrops.“Seriously?Thatsneakylittle…”Sheshakesherhead.“Well,okaythen.Thatwassupposedtobemyroleinthiswholetransaction.Youknow,puttingtheideaoutthereintheuniverse,thatifyouweretobeintoher,shemightbeintoyoutoo.I’mthesexualcommunicationsfacilitator.”
“Ofcourse.Becausethat’sarealjob.”Itipmyhead.“AreweatthepartwhereyouhandmethenotethatsaysDoyoulikeCassie?andIhavetochecktheyesornobox?”
“Oh,honey,we’reintheeraofdickpicsanduup?texts,”shereplies,rollinghereyes.“Youcanfigureitoutfromhere.”CHAPTER6
CASSIE
OnThursdaymorning,GrandmaandIfinallygetthattouroftheBeaconHotel,anexperiencethatisparadoxicallylikesteppingintoatimecapsulewhilealsotakingatimemachineintothefuture.MackenzieCabotchoseanaestheticthatsomehowmanagedtopreservetheoriginallookoftheBeaconwhilemodernizingit.It’samazingtosee.SheknockeddownwallsIneverwould’vethoughtofknockingdown,brighteningthemainbuildingwithnaturallightandaddingadozenmoreocean-viewrooms.
Evenwithallthechanges,I’mstillovercomewithnostalgia.EverythingIseetriggersanewmemory.Inthelobby,asweascendthegrandstaircase,IrunmyfingertipsalongtheintricatelycarvedbanisterandrememberhearingGrandpaWallyboast,Seethisbanister,kiddo?Isandeditallbymyself.Andyourgrandma,shehelpedmepaintit.
WhenMackenzieshowsushowshemanagedtoreplicatemanyoftheoldbrassfixturesinthebathrooms,GrandpaWally’sexcitedvoiceisinmyhead,explaining,Theseniftytowelhooks?Theywerespecificallydesignedforpassengerships.Oceanliners.Grandmasawtheminanauticalmagazineandsaid,Wallace,weneedthesefortheBeacon!
Hismemorywassosharp,everydetailetchedintohisbrain.That’sprobablywhatmadeitallthemoreheartbreakingwhenhestartedtoforgeteverythinginhislateryears.Itwasdevastatingtowatch.Heforgotournamesfirst,thegrandchildren.Thenhisownkids—mymom,hersisterandbrothers.EvenUncleWill,who’dbeenGrandpa’sfirstbornandfavorite,waseventuallylosttothejumbledseathathadbecomeGrandpa’sbrain.Andthen,finally,henolongerrecognizedGrandmawhenshecametovisit,andthat’swhenweknewitwasover.Mentally,hewasgone.Physically,ittookanotheryearforhisbodytocatchup.SometimesIthinkthedementiawasworsethanhisactualdeath.
Mackenzieradiatesprideasshetakesusaround,pointingoutvariousupgrades.Theyredidtheelectrical.Allnewplumbing.Installedtwoelevators.Constructedanadditionintheback,movingtherestaurantsothathalfofitisnowanoutdoorpatiothatoverlooksthesprawlingpoolgrounds.Wevisitthespa,whichisnolongerhousedonthethirdfloor,butinanewlybuiltadjoiningbuildingconnectedtothehotelviawindingpalm-linedpaths,withagorgeouswhitestonefountaininthecenterofthemainpath.
Whoa.Thischickhassunkalotofmoneyintothis.Andshe’ssoyoung.Mackenziecan’tbeolderthantwenty-twoortwenty-three,yetsomehowsheownsabeachfronthotelinSouthCarolina.IthinkIknowwhoIwanttobewhenIgrowup.
“Youdidastunningjob,”GrandmaLydiatellstheyoungwoman.“Simplyexquisite.”Mygrandmothercanbehardtoreadwhenshe’sinpublic,butrightnowthere’snomistakingherpleasure,thedeepglowofapprovalinhereyes.
Mackenziereleasesabreathheavywithrelief.“YouhavenoideahowhappyIamtohearthat.Iswear,everydesignchangeImade,Iwassoconsciousoftryingtostaytruetoyouroriginalvision.”
“Youdid,dear.Thisis…”Grandmalooksaround.We’veendedourtourinthesmallcaféoffthelobby.Itusedtobethegiftshop,butMackenziemovedthattoanotherwing.“It’sperfect.”
AbroadsmilefillsMackenzie’sface.“Thankyou.I’msothrilledyoulikeit.”Shegesturesbehindus.“CanIgetyoutwoacoffeeoranything?”sheoffers.Technically,thehotelisn’topenyet,butshetoldusthecaféhasbeenupandrunningthepastfewweekstoaccommodatetheworkerswhoarestillmakingfinishingtouchesontheplace.
“Ateawouldbewonderful,”Grandmatellsher.
“I’lltakeacoffee,”Isay.“Cream,nosugar.Thanks.”
Mackenzienodsandgoestothecounter,wheresheexchangeswordswiththebarista,amaninanavy-bluepolowithTHEBEACONstitchedingoldthreadovertheleftbreast.
“Thisisamazing,”IwhispertoGrandmaasIleadhertoatableoutside.
Thecaféoffersasmallpatiowithasmatteringoftables.Toourrightisawhite-paintedstaircasethatleadsdowntoawideverandawithhandmaderockingchairs,acozyspottositandwatchthewaves.
Grandmaadjustshersunhattobettersecureittoherhead.She’salwaysbeenincrediblyprotectiveofherskin.Sundamageisnojoke,Cassandra,Igrewuphearing.It’stheonethingsheandmymomagreeon;Mom’salwaysharpingaboutsunscreenandhatstoo.Althoughinmymother’scase,it’slessaboutgettingcancerandmoreaboutmaintainingyouthful-lookingskin.Appearancetrumpseverythinginmymother’sworld.
“Mackenzieiscool,”Iadmit,sittingdown.“Oh,andImetherboyfriendontheboardwalkthisweekend.”
“Isthatso?”
“Yeah.JoyandIranintoTate.Theguywho’shousesittingnextdoor.Hewaswithsomeofhisfriends,andoneofthemwasMackenzie’sboyfriend,Cooper.”
Grandmalookspleased.“That’swonderfulyou’remakingfriends.”
“Imean,Iwouldn’tsayI’mmakingfriends.Ispoketoourneighborontheboardwalkandconsequentlymethisfriends.That’saboutit.”Ichuckleather.“Stoptryingtoforcefriendshipsonme.I’mgood.IhaveJoy.”
“Iknow,butitwouldbeniceifyoucouldfindyourselfanicebiggrouptospendtimewiththissummer.”Shetakesonafarawaytone.“WhenIwasyounger,alltheyoungpeopleintheBaysocializedtogether.Therewereaboutfifteen,twentyofus.Wewouldtaketheboatsoutandspendhoursonthewater,orthegirlswouldlieonthebeachwatchingalltheoiled-upboysplaysports.”Shechuckles.“Theremighthavebeenplentyofalcoholinvolvedtoo.”
Isnicker,tryingtopicturemygrandmotherinatinybikiniandoversizedhat,cruisingtheBaywithabunchofrowdyteenagers.Butit’simpossible.WheneverItrytoimagineGrandmaatmyage,mybraincan’tcompute.Samegoesformymother.It’sevenhardertoimagineherasyoungandcarefree.IrefusetobelieveMomwaseveranythingotherthanahaughty,designer-cladwomaninhermidforties.
Asifoncue,myphonebuzzes.MomhastheunsettlinghabitofalwayscallingjustasI’mthinkingabouther.
“Ugh.It’sMom.Ihavetotakethis.”IglimpseMackenzieheadingtowarduswithatrayofbeverages,soIstandup.“I’llberightback.”
Grandmanods.“TellherIsaidhello.Takeyourtime.”
Inthequietlobby,Ianswerthecall.“Hey,Mom,”Isay,andthenIbracemyself.Youneverknowwhichsideofmymother’spersonalityyou’regoingtogetonanygivenday.ButI’manoldproatdealingwithhernow,alwayspreparedforwhateverattackshethrowsmyway.Sometimes,it’sinstantcriticism,orahuffydemandtoexplainwhyIcommittedoneperceivedcrimeoranother.Othertimesshestartsoffsweet,complimentaryeven,encouragingyoutoloweryourguard,andthenbang!Goesinforthekill.
ButI’mnotana?velittlegirlanymore.Iknowallmymother’stricksandwhattacticisrequiredtodealwitheachone.
Sowhenshesays,“I’mhurt,sweetie!WhyhasitbeenthreedayssinceI’veheardyourlovelyvoice?”inthatlight,teasingtone,Iknowit’satrap.She’snothurt,she’spissed.Andshe’snotteasing,whichmeansIcan’tcounterwithajokingresponse.
“I’msorry,”Itellher,withjusttheproperamountofgrovelinmyvoice.Tooapologeticandshebecomessuspicious.“You’reright.Ishouldhavecalledsooner.It’sbeenchaotichere.”
Mystrategyworks.Nothingelatesmymothermorethanhearingthosetwowords:You’reright
“Isupposeyourgrandmotheriskeepingyouverybusy,”shesays,whichisherwayof“forgiving”meformysin.
Andalthoughit’sclearlyanopeningtoshifttheblamefrommetoherownmother,I’mnotgoingtothrowGrandmaunderthebus.
“Notreally.Wewentshoppingontheweekend,butmostlyI’vebeencatchingupwithJoy.How’sBoston?”
“Thewholecity?Whatkindofquestionisthat?”
Ismotherasighandquicklyswitchtacks,lettingoutafakelaugh.“Ha,ha,you’reright,thatwasastupidquestion.I’msodumbsometimes.Ijustmeant,howareyoudoing?Areyouenjoyingthecityorareyoulookingforwardtocomingdown—”
Abort!
Iruethequestiontheseconditslipsout.Shit,maybeI’moffmygame.
Sometimesit’ssohardtoforgetyou’renotdealingwithanormalhuman.Narcissistsareawholeotherbreed.
Herbitternesspracticallypermeatestheline.“ThereisnothingI’dliketodolessthanspendtimeinthattown.”Shesnortshumorlessly.“Butweoweadutytoourfamily.”
Itinfuriatesherthatshecan’tbackout,Iknowthat.ButmytwounclesandmyauntcommittedtomakingthetriptosaygoodbyetotheBeacon,andifthere’sonethingmymothercan’tallow,it’slookinglikethebadguy.
Theingratitude,though,iskindofincredible.TheBeaconbelongedtoourfamilyfordecades.It’sthereasonforallthatwealthmymothersureenjoystakingadvantageof.Theleastshecandoisgiveitaproperfarewell.It’stheTannerfamily’sfinalhurrah.Likegivingawayatreasuredshipandwatchingthenewownerschristenitwithachampagnebottlebeforetheysailawayforever.
“I’mactuallyatthehotelrightnow,”Isay,hopingtomollifyherwithoneofherfavoritetopics:money.“Thenewownerpouredbucketsofmoneyintoit,andithasabsolutelypaidoff.It’sgorgeous.Iswear,you’regoingtoloveit.Wejustfinishedthetourofthespa—alltheproductstherewerecustom-madeinItaly.AnexclusivebrandjustfortheBeacon.”
Thatpiquesherinterest.“Well,thatsoundspromising!”
“Right?”Then,althoughI’drathergnawmyowntongueoffthanspeakthewords,Iknowthescriptandforcemyselftospeakit.“Weshoulddoamother/daughterspaday,”Isuggest,injectingasmuchfakeenthusiasmintomyvoiceaspossible.
Thesilverliningwhentalkingtonarcissistsistheyassumeeveryoneadoresthemandisdyingtospendtimewiththem,whichmeanstheyrarelystoptowonderifyou’rebeingdisingenuous.Intheirminds,ofcoursewewanttohangoutwiththem.Becausethey’reperfectandremarkableandacredittoallofhumanity.
Theworstpartis,mostpeopledon’tseethroughtheirbullshit.Atleastnotatfirst.Ican’tevencounthowmanytimesovertheyearsI’dbeentoldhowwonderfulmymotheris.Oraccusedofbeing“toosensitive.”Ofreadingtoomuchintoherveiled—andsometimesnotatallveiled—barbs.Oh,thatCassie,soinsecurethatsheimaginesdisparagingsubtextwitheveryword.
Eventually,though,mostpeopleseethelight.IstillrememberthefirsttimePeytonhadherepiphanyaftermymothertookusouttodinnerduringasleepover.Wewerethirteenand,wide-eyedandshakingherhead,sheannounced,“Ijustrealized—yourmomisarealbitch.”
Thereisnothingmoreliberatingthanhavingyourtraumaticexperiencesvalidatedlikethat.
“Whatalovelyidea!”Momsaysinresponsetomysuggestion.“Also,Ijustthoughtofit,butwhileyou’rethereyoushouldaskforatourofthefitnesscentertoo.”
Myjawtightens.Iknowwherethisisgoing.
“Yeah,wepeekedintoit,”Ianswercarefully.“It’sattachedtothespa,butit’sclosedoffbecausenoneoftheequipmenthasbeendeliveredyet.”
“Youshouldusethegymattheclub,then.IsawonJoy’sInstagramthatshe’sbeengoingthereeverymorning.She’slookingveryfitthesedays.”
Ismotheraninwardscream.IhatethatMomfollowsmyfriendsonsocialmedia.Joyevenhasaprivateaccount,butsheconfessedshewould’vefeltlikeanassholeifshehadn’tacceptedmymother’srequest.
“Maybeshecangiveyousomefitnesstips,”Momadds,becausenoconversationwithmymotheriscompletewithoutheradvisingmeonallthewaysIcanbettermyself.
“Yeah,I’llaskher,”Isayobediently.
“Oh,andspeakingofInstagram,Iwasonyourpagethismorningtooandsawthepictureyouposted.Theoneofyouinthepinktopanddenimshorts?Thoseshortswereadorable!”
Iwaitforthenextsniper’sbullet.
“Butthetop…youknowImeanwellwhenIsaythis,butmaybeyoushouldconsidertakingthephotodown.Thatcroppedstyleisn’tthemostflatteringonyou,Cass.Withyourproportions,youknow.Oh!WeshouldalsogoshoppingwhenI’mhere,howdoesthatsound?MaybedriveintoCharleston?”
“Soundsgreat!I’dlovethat,actually.Ialwaysappreciateyouropinion.”
There’sashortbeat,andIknowthatinherjudgmental,self-absorbedbrain,she’swondering,wasthatsarcasm?
Butthatwouldbetoodetrimentaltoherego,soratherthanquestionme,shedoeshertrademarksubjectswitcheroo.“Haveyouseenyourfatheryet?Andhisnurse?”
Iholdthephoneawayfrommyearforasecondandscreamsilentobscenitiesatit,makingfacesatthescreen.
Asismyluck,apassingmaninworkbootsandatoolbeltentersthelobbyatthatmoment.Helooksstartledbymyanticsatfirst,thenbarksoutalaughbeforewalkingon.
Ibringthephonebacktomyear.“Notyet.I’mseeingthemtomorrowfordinner.”
“He’swaitedanentireweektoseehischild?”shesaysindignantly.“That’sselfish,evenforClayton.”
Youwrotethebookonselfish,lady.
Althoughforonce,she’snotentirelywrong.I’vebeenthinkingthesamethingsinceIarrivedinAvalonBay.SowhatifthetwinsgotodaycampandDadandNiahavework?Theystilleatdinnertogethereveryweeknight,dotheynot?Isitthatdifficulttoinvitemetojointhem?
Ontheotherhand,whenherhusband’sbitterex-wifereferstoherashisnurse,maybeit’sunderstandableNiadoesn’twantthatbitterwoman’sdaughteraroundherhouse.Thenursecommentsgrateonmetoo,especiallysinceit’stotalnonsense.NiawasneverDad’snurse.ShewashisphysicaltherapistafterhegotinacaraccidentnotlongafterhisandMom’sdivorce.Herequiredsurgeryforatornbicep,andNiawasinchargeofhisrehab.That’showtheymetandfellinlove.
“Mom,Igottago,”Isay,donewiththisentireconversation.“Grandma’swaitingformetodriveherhome.”Inreality,Grandma’sdeepinconversationwithMackenzie,thetwoofthemleaningforward,animatedaboutwhateverthey’rediscussing.
“Allright,sweetie.I’llseeyounextmonth.”
“Can’twait.”
I’mexhaustedwhenIreturntothetable.TalkingtoMomreallydoesfeellikeI’vejustfoughtawar.Grandmaeyesmewithaflickerofconcern.“Iseverythingallright?”
“Allgood,”Ilie.Becausethat’swhatIdo.Iplasteronsunnysmilesandpretendtheattacksonmyappearance,myfather,myentirelifehavezeroeffectonme.
“Iwasjusttellingyourgrandmotherthere’sabonfiretonightatmyplace,”Mackenziesays,givingmeawarmsmile.“Havingafewfriendsover.Ifyou’dliketojoin?”
MyfirstinstinctistobegoffandsaythankyoubutI’mbusy.I’msoawkwardaroundstrangers.ButthenitoccurstomethatMackenzie’sboyfriendisfriendswithTate.WhichmeansTatemightbethere.WhichmeansmaybeIcanworkupthenerveto…towhat?
Askhimout,Iguess.
Propositionhim.
Ripmyclothesoffandorderhimtorockmyworld.
Okay,maybenotthelastone.ButI’vebeenbackintownforaweeknow,andTateistheonlyguyI’vemetwhomakesmyheartpound.IfeellikeI’dregretitifIdidn’tatleasttrytostopbabblingandaskhimtohangout.AndIsupposethere’snobettertimethantonight.CHAPTER7
CASSIE
TheHartleytwinsliveinaLowCountry–stylebeachhousewithahugefrontporchandnotaneighborinsight.Itisn’tatalllikemygrandparents’house,whichwasbuiltinthelastcoupledecadesandhasamoremodernfeel.Thisisahousethat’sbeeninsomeone’sfamilyforahundredyears.Old,rambling,andoozingcharm,atestamenttotimeandtheelements.Therooflooksnew,however,andthecoveredporchhasclearlybeenpaintedrecently,hintingthattheresidentsareintheprocessofupgrading.
ThefrontdoorcreaksloudlywhenMackenzieopensittoletmein.“Hey!”Shelooksdelightedtoseeme.“Youmadeit!”
“Thanksforhavingme.”Iawkwardlyfiddlewiththebeltloopsofmydenimshorts.Despitemymother’sneggingearlier,I’mwearingacroppedT-shirtthatshowsasliverofmidriff,andblackflip-flopsthatMackenzietellsmetoleaveon.
“We’regoingoutback,”shesays,leadingmethroughthelivingroomandcountry-stylekitchentowardasetofglassslidingdoors.
Outbackisamassivedeckthatoverlookstheocean,withawinding,woodenstaircasethatgoesdowntothesand.Theviewaloneisworthamilliondollars,andmyeyebrowssoaraswestepontothedeck.
“Whoa,”Iremark.“Thatviewissick.I’msurpriseddevelopershaven’ttriedtosnatchthisplaceup.Buildalittlecondocommunityorsomething.”
“Oh,they’vetried,butwe’reneverselling,”CooperHartleysays,appearingbehindus.Hestepsoutofthekitchen,shirtless,barefoot,andcladinredswimtrunks.He’ssportingtwofullsleevesoftattoosandrock-hardabs,andIgetalittlestarry-eyedjustlookingathim.
ThenIblinkandasecondCooperappearstomyleftfromthericketystairs.Alsoshirtless,exceptthisCooperiswet,asifhe’djustcomefromtheocean.Histall,muscularbodydripsseawateralloverthedeckfloorashestridesup.
“Ohwow.”IglanceatCooper,thenhistwin.“Youguysreallyareidentical.”
“Nah,”thetwinsays.“I’mwaybetterlooking.”
“Bullshit,”Cooperargues.
Rollinghereyes,MackenzieintroducesmetoEvan,Cooper’stwin,whoflashesasexygrinbeforedisappearingintothehouse.
“Comeon,”shesays,touchingmyarm.“Everyone’salreadyonthebeach.”
Weheaddowntothesand,whereseveralloungersandAdirondackchairsarearrangedinahaphazardcirclearoundthefirepit.Thefire’snotyetlitsincethesunhasn’tset,andit’sstillsohotoutthatabonfirefeelsalmostredundant.
Ononeoftheloungers,aplatinumblondesitsinthelapofaguywho,evensittingdown,looksmassive.Six-fiveatleast,withhugemusculararmsthatcouldprobablybench-presseveryonehere.Agorgeousbrunetteinablackstringbikiniissprawledontheneighboringlounger,scrollingonherphone,whileanothergirlwithahighponytailandduskycomplexionstandsataplastictableladenwithdrinks,pouringliquorintoatallplasticcup.
Mackenziequicklyrunsthroughsomemoreintroductions.TablegirlisSteph.ThecoupleonthechairareHeidiandherboyfriend,Jay.ThebrunetteisJay’ssister,Genevieve,whoalsohappenstobeEvanHartley’sfiancée.
Thatstartlesme.“Youguysareengaged?”
“Sureare,”Genevieveanswers.Shenarrowshereyesatmeinachallenge.“Anddon’tgivemethatyou’retooyoungBS.Ihearitfrommybrothersonadailybasis.”
“You’retooyoung,”herbrothergrumblesasifoncue.
“Iwasn’tgoingtosaythat,”Iassureher.“It’sjustsoraretofindpeoplewhowanttogetmarriedintheirearlytwenties.”
“Well,Imean,wegottatiethatknotASAPifwe’regoingtostartpumpingoutkids.We’vedecidedwewantatleastsix.Isn’tthatright,Hartley?”shecallsupatthedeck.
Evanappearsattherailingaboveus.“Seven,”hecallsback.“That’smyluckynumber.”
“Doyouwantadrink?”Mackenzieheadsovertothetable,whereIgreetStephwithatentativesmile.
“Here,letmemakeyouwhatI’mhaving,”Stephsays,reachingforanotherplasticcup.“I’mexperimentingwithanewrecipe.Ipickedupsomeofthatvanilla-flavoredvodkaandI’mmixingitwithraspberrylemonade.It’seithergoingtobevomit-inducinglysweetorthemostdeliciousthingyou’veevertasted.”
“Can’twaittofindout,”Isaywithasnicker.
AsIwaitforhertomixthedrink,Iglancetowardthedeck,wherethetwinsarelaughingaboutsomethingattherailing.IguessTateisn’there.Neitheristheredheadfromthepartylastweek,Inote.Alana.Forsomereasonthattriggersatinyprickleofjealousy.Whatifthey’rebothgonebecausethey’rehookingupagain?
IignorethetightknotinmybellyandacceptthedrinkStephhandsme.I’mthirsty,soItakeabiggulpanditisn’tuntilafterI’veswallowedthatIrealizewhatI’minfor.Theliquidburnsafierypathtomystomachandinducesaboutofcoughing.
“Toosweet?”shefrets.
Igapeather.MyeyeswaterasIletoutafinalcough.“Icanbarelytastethelemonade,”Isquawk.“Thisis,like,ninetypercentvodka.”
Stephgrins.“So?”
“SoIwasn’texpectingthat.Jeez.Warnagirlnexttime.”
Werejointheothersaroundtheunlitfirepit.Stephsettlesinoneofthechairs,whileMackenzieandIsharealounger.Itakeateenysipofmypotentcocktail.ThistimeIanticipatethevodkaburnandmakeaconsciousdecisiontopacemyself.Onecupofthisstuffisliabletogetmesloppydrunk.
Mackenzieandherfriendsaren’tmucholderthanme,yetforsomereasonIfeellikeakidnexttothem.Maybeit’sbecausethey’reallsogorgeous.Genevieveisbasicallyasupermodel—longlegs,tonedbodyslickwithtanningoil,sunglassesrestingonherpertnose.Besideme,Mackenzielookslikeshesteppedoffayacht,astripedT-shirthangingoffonetannedshoulderanddarkhairlooseandcascadingdownherback.
MackenzieglancesatGenevieve.“Gen,soCassieisLydiaTanner’sgranddaughter.”
“Oh,areyou?”Genexclaims.“IwasobsessedwithyourgrandmotherwhenIwasateenager.”
“Really?”Ilaugh.
“Ohyeah.Iusedtoseeheraroundtownallthetimeinthosebigsunglassesandsilkscarves.Shealwaysworeascarf,eveninthesummer.”
“Shestilldoes.It’shertrademark.”
“ShewasthemostelegantwomanI’deverseeninmylife,”Gensayswistfully.“IwantedtobeherwhenIgrewup,anditwasmydreamtoworkforherattheBeacononeday.Joke’sonme.NowI’mstuckworkingforthisone.”ShejerksathumbatMackenzie,buthersparklingeyestellmeshe’sjoking.
“YouworkattheBeacon?”Iask.
“IwillbewhenweopeninSeptember.I’mgoingtobethegeneralmanager.”
“Wow.That’salotofresponsibility,”Itellher.“Irememberouroldmanager,thisBritishguy.JamesDeVries.GrandmaflewhiminfromLondon,afterpoachinghimfromsomefive-starhotelnearBuckinghamPalace.Healwaysworethisnavy-blueblazerwithagold—”
“—bowtie,”Genevievefinishes,snickeringloudly.“Oh,Iremembertheman.Rememberhim,Heidi?Mr.DeVries?”
“OhmyGod.Yes.”Heidi’slaughisabitevil.“Weusedtohopthefenceintothepoolareaandtrytostealpeople’scabanas,andDeVrieswouldappearoutoffuckingnowhere.”
“Andeverytime,”Genpicksupthestory,“everydamntimehe’dgreetuswiththisblandsmileandpolitelyaskifwewereguestsofhisfineestablishment,eventhoughheclearlyknewwewereabunchofdelinquentteenagersbreakingtherules.”
“Heneverchasedusout,though,”Stephpipesup.“Dudewasclassy.He’descortusoutthroughthefrontdoors,thenwatchusleavewhilegivingoneofthosestiffQueenofEnglandwaves,alldistinguishedlike.”
Ilaugh,totallypicturingwhatthey’redescribing.Jameswastheepitomeofawell-manneredBrit.
“Meanwhile,”Genevievesaystome,snortinginamusement,“youwereprobablytherelegally,sunbathingpoolsideandwatchingusbeingmarchedpastyourloungechair.”
“Actually,weneverstayedatthehotel,”Iadmit.“Beforemyparentsgotdivorced,welivedinahouseonSycamore.Andafterthat,westayedatGrandma’shousewheneverwewereintownforavisit.Iwould’vekilledtospendanentiresummerattheBeacon.”
“Well,you’reinluck,”Mackenziesayscheerfully,“becauseyounowhavearoomthereforlife.Freeofcharge.”
“Noway,”Iprotest.“Icouldneveracceptthatoffer.”
“Seriously?Ican,”Genevievedeclares.“Itotallywantthefreeroom.”Sheshoutsupatthedeckagain.“Hey,Evan,wehaveapermanentsuiteatthehotel.”
“Nice,”heshoutsback.
“Oh,”Mackenziesayssuddenly,glancingatme.“Iforgot,Iwantedtoaskyousomething.”
“Yeah?”Ishiftself-consciouslyandtakeanothersipofmyvodkalemonade,akavodkaandateaspoonoflemonade.I’malreadyfeelingthealcohol,mybloodbuzzingfromit.
“BeachGamesisnextmonth,”shesays.“You’veheardofit,right?”
“Yeah,ofcourse.It’satradition.”
BeachGamesisanannualeventinAvalonBay,whereteamsrepresentinglocalbusinessescompetein,well,beachgames.It’satwo-dayaffair,andIthinkthere’regiftcertificatesandtrophiesinitforthewinners,butmostofthecompetitorsdoitfortheglory.ThehonorofbeingdubbedBestBusinessontheBay
LasttimeIattendedaBeachGamescelebrationwasafewyearsago,rightbeforefreshmanyearofcollege.Iwentwithmydad,andwehadablastwatchingthevariousactivities.Thetug-of-wareventthatyeargotrealugly.Iremembertheoldladiesfromthebakerybrutallyhecklingthedudesfromthemechanicshop.IbelievethephraseYou’regoingdown,motherfuckerswasutteredmorethanonce.Afterward,DadandIgoticecreamandwalkedalongtheboardwalk.Itwasnice.Maybehe’llwanttogoagainthisyear.
“Wemissedoutlastyear,”Mackenziesays,“butnowthattheBeaconisbackinbusinessweneedtoputtogetherateam.YourgrandmotherandIweretalkingaboutitthismorningandshementionednobodyinyourfamilyevercompetedintheGames.ShethoughtyoumightlikejoiningusonTeamBeacon.”
“Me?”Isay,startled.
Shenods.“You’dbeourfourth.Rightnowit’sme,Gen,andouractivitiesdirector,Zale.”
“I’msorry—Zale?”Genevieve’sbrotherguffaws.“That’sgottabeafakename.”
“It’snot,”Gensayswithagrin.“Iquestionedittoo,soheshowedmehisbirthcertificate.”
“Thosecanbeforged,”Jayinsists.
“Zaleishilarious,”Mackenzietellsme.“You’lllovehim.”
I’mstilltryingtowrapmyheadaroundtheoffer.“Youreallywantmetobeyourfourth?Didmygrandmotherforceyouintothis?”Iasksuspiciously.
“Notatall.LikeIsaid,shejustmentionedit’ssomethingyoumightenjoy.”
ApparentlyGrandma’sgoingtofoistafriendgrouponmecomehellorhighwater.It’sbaffling.Imean,seriously.WhydoesshebelieveI’manantisocialloser?Idon’tknowwhatsignalsI’mgivingofftomakeherthinkI’msometragicshut-in,butImightneedtohaveatalkwiththelady.
“Allright.Then,sure,”Irelent,becauseevenifitwasmygrandmother’sidea,itdoessoundlikefun.“I’mdownforBeachGames.”
“Howareyoursandcastle-buildingskills?”Gendemands.
Imullitover.“Abovepar?”
Shenods,pleased.“I’lltakeit.MacandIhavealittlewagergoingwiththetwins.”
“Youmeanthewinners,”comesEvan’ssmugvoice,andhe’sprojectingsomeseriousswaggerashedescendsthedecksteps.Scamperingathisfeetisaneagergoldenretrieverwithabrightorangeballinitsmouth.
Evanhurlstheballdownthebeachandthedogtakesofflikearocket,pawskickingupsand.
“Youhaven’twonadamnthingyet,”Genretorts.
“Butwewill.”Heoffersabroadsmile.“Akayouwilllose.Badly,andwithnomercyfromus.”
Laughing,Iglancebetweenthem.“Whatarethestakes?”
“Well,I’mgladyouasked,Cassie,”Evansayssolemnly.“Whenwewin,mybeautifulfiancéehere,alongwithmybrother’sokay-lookinggirlfriend—”
Mackenziegiveshimthefinger.
“—willbeservingusahome-cookeddinner…”
“That’snotsobad,”Itellthegirls.
ButEvanisn’tfinished.“…inFrenchmaiduniforms.”
Ibitebackalaugh.Theothersdonotdisplaysuchtact.Jay,Heidi,andStepharedoubledover,practicallyhowling
“Nah,”Genargues.“Whenwewin,mysmartassfiancéhere,alongwithhisobnoxiousbrother,willproudlybeholdingupsignsadvertisingtheBeaconHotelontheboardwalk…”
“That’snotbad,”IsaytoEvan.
“…inneon-pinkG-strings.”
Isigh.
“Yeah,no.Nevergonnahappen,”Cooperannouncesashejoinsthegroup.He’sputonashirtandisholdingabeer.
Someoneelsefollowshimdownthesteps,andmyheartskipswhenIrealizeit’sTate.He’swearingawhiteT-shirt,khakishorts,andapairofaviatorsunglasses.Forsomereasonhishairalwayslooksalittlewindblown,pushedawayfromhisfacetoemphasizehischeekbones.He’ssogood-lookingitmakesmythroatrundry.Itrytoremedythatbygulpingmydrink,rememberingonlyatthelastsecondthatit’sbasicallypurevodka.
MycoughingdrawsTate’sattention.Aneasysmilecurveshislips.“Ginger,”hedrawls.“Ididn’tknowyouweregoingtobeheretonight.”
Irespondwithaself-consciousshrug.“Uh,yeah.Mackenzieinvitedme.Andstopcallingmeginger.”
“Iwillwhenyourhairisnolongerginger.”
“It’scopper,”Igrowl.
“Youtwoknoweachother?”Mac’swarygreeneyesshiftfrommetoTate.
“We’reneighbors,”Iexplain.
“Justforthesummer,”Tateadds.HegrabsoneoftheAdirondackchairsanddragsitclosertoourlounger.
“Ohright.You’rehousesittingfortheJacksons,”Evanpipesup.“Fuck,Ilovethathouse.Remembertheragerwethrewthereacouplesummersago?”
Tatemakesasardonicnoise.“Oh,youmeanthenightyoudidbodyshotsoffGen’sassonthecustom-madehand-carvedcoffeetableShirleyJacksonhadspeciallyshippedfromDenmark?”
Evan’seyesglimmerashewinksathisfiancée.“Thatwasagoodnight.”
Genevieve’seyesareequallyablaze.“Suchagoodnight,”sheechoes,andthetwoexchangeasultrylookloadedwithsomuchheatIhavetoturnaway.Theymightaswellbehavingsexinfrontofeverybody—that’showpotenttheirchemistryis.
“Yeah,well,therewon’tbeanyrepeatperformancesofthat,”Tatewarnshisfriends.“Ihadtopayforanarmyofcleanerstocomedealwiththemessyouguysleftbehind.Neveragain.”Hesipshisbeer,watchingmeoverthelipofthebottle.“HasMacgivenyouatourofthehotelyet?”
“Didthattoday,”Iconfirm.
“AndCassiejustagreedtojoinourteamforBeachGames,”Gentellshim.
“Ohyeah?”Hecockshisheadatme.“Thatofficiallymakesusarchenemies,then.”
“You’recompeting?”Idemand.
“Ofcourse.Someone’sgottorepresenttheyachtclub.Plus,thisisthetwins’firstyearcompeting,andInevermissanopportunitytokicktheirassesatsomething.”
“Isyourunclegoingtobeonyourteam?”StephaskstheHartleys.“BecauseI’dpaytoseethat.”
“Weaskedhim,buthesaidnowayinhell,”Coopersays.“Sowe’reusingourforeman,Alex,andthisguySpencerwho’sonthecrew.”Fromhischairacrossthepitfromus,heflashesacockysmileathisgirlfriend.“Bepreparedtogetmurdered,princess.”
Shepressesonehandtoherheart.“You’resoromantic.”
Cooperjustchuckles.
Therestoftheeveningfliesby,muchtomysurprise.ButtheconversationislivelyandthevariouspersonalitiesaresoentertainingthatthreehourspassbeforeIknowit.I’mhavingagreattime.Mac’scool.Gen’shilarious.Heidi’skindofbitchy,butafterawhileyougetusedtoit.AtsomepointStephplantsafreshcupofvodkalemonadeinmyhand,whileEvanandCooper,whoareliterallyidenticalfromheadtotoe,startarguingaboutwhichoneofthemisbetterlooking.Andtheentiretime,I’mshootingsidelonglooksatTateandwonderinghowit’spossibleforsomeonetobesohot.Like,criminallyhot.Everynowandthenmygazeflickstowardhisabdomen,becausewheneverherunsahandthroughhishair,thebottomofhisshirtshiftsupwardandIcatchaflashofhisabs.
God,Ijustwanttolickhim.
Annndthesecondvodkalemonadehasofficiallygonetomyhead.
Infact,mykneesareabitwobblyasIstandupandheadforthedrinkstable.Irummagearoundinoneoftheminicoolersinsearchofwater.Ineedtohydrate.MymindistoofoggywiththoughtsofTate’sabs.
“Hey,neighbor.”
Ijumpatthesoundofhisdeepvoice.Ididn’tevennoticehimcomeupbesideme,buthereheis,lessthantwofeetaway,ahintofasmileonhisface.
“Sorry,didn’tmeantostartleyou,”hesays.Hebringshisbeertohislips,takingalongswig.“Youhavingagoodtime?”
BeforeIcananswer,Stephshouts,“Theresheis!”
“Finally!Bitch,where’veyoubeen?”Heidinow.
Iturntocheckoutthenewcomer,falteringwhenIrealizeit’sAlana.Shesauntersuptothegroup,brightredhairloosearoundhershoulders,eyesgleamingfromthelightofthefirethatCooperlitaboutanhourago.Idon’tmissthewayhergazeflickstowardmeandTatebeforefocusingonherfriends.
Gulpingdownsomewater,Imoveawayfromthetable.Tatefollowsalongbesideme.
“ShouldIgointroducemyself?”Iask,givingadiscreetnodinAlana’sdirection.IfeellikeIshould,butshe’schattingwithherfriendsand,what,I’mgoingtointerruptthemjusttosay,Hello,mynameisCassandra,what’syourname,likesomeawkwardfool?
“Nah,”Tatesaystomyrelief.“She’llmakeherwayoverhereeventually.”
“Orshe’llavoidyoubecauseshethinksyou’repiningoverher.”
Herollshiseyes.“I’mnotpining.Andsheknowsmebetterthanthat.”
“Soyou’reoverit?”
“I’moverit,”heconfirms.
“Comeon,youmuststillbealittleintoit,”Ipush,sneakinganotherpeekatAlana.“She’sgorgeous.”
“Theview’snotbad,”heagrees,nodding.“Butneitheristhisview.”Heslowlyrakeshisgazedownmybody.Noteventryingtohidethefactthathe’scheckingmeout.
Apartofmeisnowlike,fuck,becauseI’ddebatedthiscroptopearlierandnowI’mdoingitagain.Notonlydoesitclingtomyboobs,butitshowsalotmoreskinthanI’musedto.
Butanotherpartofmereally,reallyenjoyshavingthoseappreciativeblueeyesonme.
“You’restaring,”Iaccuse.
“Yes.”Hetakesanothersipofhisbeer.Iwonderifhe’sdrunk.Hiseyeshaveahazyshinetothemthattellsmehemightbe.Buthe’snotslurringorstumbling.
Still,Isay,“You’redrunk.”
“No.Justbuzzed.”Heshrugs,alazysmiletuggingonthecornersofhismouth.“Ifeelgood.Youlookgood.Life’sgoodrightnow,Cass.”
Ilaugh.Andthen,becausethey’vegonedryallofasudden,Ilickmylips.
Hedoesn’tmissthat.“Fuck.”Hegroanssoftly.
Myforeheadcreases.“What?”
“Youlickedyourlips.”
“Yeah,and?Theyweredry.SoIlickedthemandnowthey’remoist—ohmyGod,whatahorribleword.Moist.Isn’tithorrible?”Ishakemyheadindismay.“I’msorryIsaidthewordmoist.”
Tatechokesoutanoise.Acrossbetweenalaughandasigh.“Man,Iswear,it’slikeyougooutofyourwaytokillamood.”
“Whatmood?”Iask,andmylipsaresuddenlybone-dryagain.“Wasthereamood?”
Hisshouldersquakewithlaughter.“Yes,Cassie,therewasamood.Wewerehavingamoment.”
Iblink.“Wewere?”
“Well,Ithoughtso.”Nowhesoundsexasperated.“Incaseyoudidn’tnotice,Iwasabouttokissyou.”CHAPTER8
TATE
“Seriously?”Cassiestaresatmewithnarrowedeyes,asifshecan’tpossiblyfathomwhyIwouldbeinterestedinkissingher.
“Seriously,”Isay,fightingalaugh.Thischickissuchaconfusingpuzzletome.Shemustknowshe’sgorgeous,right?Unlessshe’slivedherentirelifewithoutlookinginamirrororseeingherselfnaked,Ican’timagineshe’sunawareofherappeal.
“Yousaidyouwereaboutto…Doesthatmeannowyou’renotgoingto?”Thegrooveinherforeheaddeepens.
“That’suptoyou.”Iliftabrow.“Doyouwantmeto?”
Shehesitates,andonceagainI’mthrownforaloop.HerfriendJoyseemedrealconfidentlastweekendwhenshecorneredmeonthestreetandinformedmethatCassiewasdownforasummerhookup.IfIhadn’tbeenswampedatwork,Iwould’vecalledCassieearlierintheweek.Tonightwasmyfirstopportunitytobesocial.Infact,Iwasplanningonaskinghertohangoutthisweekend,butthatwasbeforeshehesitatedatthethoughtofkissingme.
Maybeherfriendwasjustfuckingwithme.
Mygazerestsonherlips.Goddamn,she’slickingthemagain.Shehasnoideawhatthatdoestome.
“Ordoyouwanttokeepdissectingthewordmoist?”Iprompt.
Shegivesaweaklaugh.“No.I’msorry.I’mjust…I’mnotgoodatthisstuff.Like,I’mstandingherewiththehottestguyI’veeverseenandhejusttoldmehewantstokissme,andmyfirstinstinctistointerrogatehimbecauseI’msoawkwardwhenitcomesto—”Shecutsherselfoff,asI’mnoticingshe’spronetodowhenshecatchesherselfbabbling.
Thensheshocksthehelloutofme.Onanimpatientgroan,shemumbles,“Screwit,”andthenextthingIknow,hersoftlipsarepressedagainstmine.
Christ.Yes
Mysurprisequicklyturnstohunger,ajoltofheatgoingrighttomydickwhenCassie’stonguefindsmineandshemakesatinywhimperingsound.Nothinggetsmeharderthanareallygoodkiss.Sure,Ilovethefeelofawoman’smouthonmycock.Thesensationofslidinginandoutofahot,tightpussy.Butnothingbeatsakiss.Especiallyoneof
CassiemoanswhenIsqueezeherassoverhershorts.Herlowerbodyshiftscloser,strainingagainstmygroin.Shetasteslikevodkaandraspberriesandfeelslikeabsoluteheaven.Idrivethekissdeeper,groaningagainstherlips,completelyforgettingmysurroundingsuntilavoiceshoutsmyname.
“Tate!”
CassieandIjerkapart.IglanceovermyshouldertofindMackenziewavingatmefromthedeck.There’snomistakingherslightfrown.
“Ineedyourhelpcarryingsomebeercases,”shecallsout.
Bullshit.Tenfeetaway,she’sgotJayWest,adudewhocanliftamountain,nottomentionherownboyfriendwhoworksconstruction.Andshe’stargetingmeforhelp-me-carry-somethingduty?
Cabot’scockblockingmeandit’sintentional.
ButregardlessofMac’smotives,she’ssucceededinruiningthemoment.Cassieishastilytakingastepback,shovingerrantstrandsofhairbehindherear.Hercheeksareflushed.Amomentago,thatwasbecauseshewasturnedon.Nowit’sfromhervisibleembarrassmentthatalleyesareonus.
“Uh.Yeah.”Myvoicesoundslikegravel.Iclearmythroat.“Holdthatthought.I’llbebackinaminute.”
AsIturnaway,Idosomediscreetrearrangingbeneathmyshorts.Damn,thatkissgotmerockhard.Mypulseisstillracing,too.Onmywaytothedeck,IcatchAlanawatchingme.Inodingreeting,andsherollshereyesasIwalkpasther.It’sfunny.Anyothergirlwouldprobablydisplayatleastatraceofjealousyatwatchingaformerflingmakeoutwithsomeoneelse,butAlana’sexpressioniswhollyindifferent.
Ididn’tkissCassietomakeAlanajealous,though.It’sbeenawhilesinceImetsomeonewhomakesmelaughasmuchasCassiedoes.Andshe’sgoddamnedible.Thatbodydoessomethingtome.Turnsmeonsomethingfierce.Alanawasthefurthestthingfrommymindjustnow.ThemomentCassie’sfriendtoldmeshewasinthemarketforasummerhookup,mydickgotonboardfasterthanyoucansayhellyeah
Onthedeck,Mackenziefixesabemusedlookonmebutdoesn’tspeakasshegesturesformetofollowher.
Annoyed,Itrailafterher.“Whatthefuckwasthat?”
“What?”Shesparesmeaglancebeforestalkingforwardagain,crossingthelivingroomtowardthefrontdoor.
“Whatdoyoumean,what?Iwasclearlyindisposed,”Igrouse.
“Yeah,Inoticed.”Hertoneisunapologetic,whichconfirmsmysuspicionshebrokeupthatkissonpurpose.YetI’mstillobliviousastowhy.
MacandIaren’tjoinedatthehiporanything,butIthoughtweweregoodfriends.AndI’vealwaysthoughtshewascool,especiallyforarichgirl.Aroundherewecallthemclones,butwhilethewomenIencounteratthecountryclubliterallycameoffacloneconveyerbelt,withtheirstuck-uppersonalitiesandyogainstructorsonretainer,itdidn’ttakelongtorealizeMackenzieCabotwasoneofakind.I’mstartingtowonderifuslocalsmightberushingtojudgmentwhenitcomestoclones,becauseCassiedoesn’tfitthatmoldeither.Herfamilyisloaded,butshe’soneofthemostdown-to-earthpeopleI’veevermet.
Itisn’tuntilwestepintothetwins’garagethatMacmakesherreasonsknown.“Whydoyouhavetomakeamoveoneverythingwithapulse?”sheaskswithasigh.
Iblink.Flabbergasted.“Idon’t,”Iprotest.
“Bullshit.Everytimeanewgirlcomesaround,ittakesalloffivesecondsbeforeyou’restickingyourtonguedownherthroat.”
Mysurprisegiveswaytoindignation.Idon’tknowwherethisiscomingfrom,andIdon’tlikeit.
“WereyoutryingtogetAlana’sattentionorsomething?”
“Notintheslightest,”Ireply,whichstartlesher.Irollmyeyesatherreaction.“Comeon,Mac.WebothknowAlanaandIwerejustkillingtime.Wewerejustbored.”Ishrug.“IlikeCassie,soIkissedher.Bigdeal.”
“IlikeCassietoo.Andwhatifitisabigdeal?”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Imean,she’sreallysweet.Idon’twanttoseehergethurt.”
Iswallowmyirritation.Whymustwomenalwaysjumpdirectlytotheworst-casescenario?Andwhydotheyalwaysassumeonemeaslykisswillleadtoatriptothealtar?Like,damn.Slowdown,ladies.Sometimeswekissbecauseitfeelsgood.
“Idon’tplanonhurtingher,”Ianswerwithafrown.“Ilikeher.Andallwedidwasmakeout.”
“Thenmaybeyoushouldleaveitatthat.Justbeherfriend.”
Ibristle.“Youinchargeofmydicknow,Mac?”
“No,but…”Shepauses,thenvoicesasheepishconfession.“ThismorningwhenhergrandmotherandIhadamomentaloneattheBeacon,Lydiaaskedmetowatchoutforher.Idon’tknow…IguessI’mabitworried.You’rethekingofhookups.Whichisfine,”sheaddshastily.“Nojudgment.That’sprobablywhyyourarrangementwithAlanaworkedsowell.Neitherofyouhaveeverbeeninterestedinrelationships.ButCassieisonehundredpercentgirlfriendmaterial—yougetthat,right?Sheseemsalotmoreseriousthanyourusualtype.”
Ifeeladeepgrooveforminmyforehead.She’snotentirelywrong.Cassieisdifferent.Sweeter,asMachadsaid.AndnotasconfidentoroutwardlyexperiencedaswomenI’vebeenwithinthepast.
“IjustfiguredI’dpointallthisoutbeforethingsouttheregot…un-take-back-able.”
Idrawatroubledbreath.ThemoreI’mthinkingwithmyupstairshead,themoreI’mrealizingMac’scockblockingmighthavebeenforthebest.
“Unlessyou’reinthemarketforagirlfriendnow,whichIdon’tthinkyouare.Imean,youjustspentmonthsseeingAlana,whowebothknowisthesafestchoiceforsomeoneactivelynotlookingtosettledown.She’dbethefirstpersontosayshe’snotinterestedinacommitment.She’sconstantlyreferringtoherselfasemotionallyunavailable.”
Igosilent.Inallhonesty,InevergavemuchthoughttowhyIspentsomuchtimewithAlana.ButmyguttellsmeMacisn’tcompletelyoff-base.ForaslongasI’veknownher,Alanahasbeenaloof,untouchable.Thewomanlocksheremotionsbehindasteelwall.Ineverhadanyillusionsaboutbreakingdownthatwall.
“Anyway,I’llstopmeddlingnow.ButImadeapromisetoLydia,andIjustwantedtomakesureyou’regoingintothiswithyoureyeswideopen.”
“Noted.”
“Okay,good.”Sheheadsforthedoor,addingoverhershoulder,“Oh,andIdoneedyoutobringoutacouplecasesofbeer.”
“Yes,Mom.”
I’mgrumblingundermybreathasIcrossthegaragetowardthedrinksfridge.Despitemylingeringaggravation,Ican’tquitebringmyselftohateonMacforinterrupting.Nowthatthebuzziswearingoffandmyheadisclearing,it’seasytoseethemistakeIalmostmade.
HookingupwithCassieisadisasterwaitingtohappen.Firstoff,we’reneighbors.Whatifwesleeptogetherandthingsgosouth?I’dstillhavetolivenextdoortoheruntilSeptember,andthatcouldgetmightyawkward.
Andthenthere’sthefactthatIlikeherahellofalot.She’sfuntotalkto,andIcanenvisionusbuildingagenuinefriendshipthissummer.Tosomepeoplethatmightseemmorelikeaperkthanadisadvantage,butIknowhowfragilemale/femalefriendshipscanbe.AfterCooperandHeidihookedupacoupleyearsago,theirfriendshipalmostdidn’trecover.Yes,Alanawasmyfriendwhenwestartedsleepingtogether,butlikeMacsaid,Alanaisn’tCassie.
I’mnotsurewhetherCassiecankeepthingscasual.Sure,oneconversationcouldclearallthatup—butthat’sbasedontheassumptionshe’sbeinghonestwithherself.Inmyexperience,plentyofwomensaythey’redownforno-stringssex.Andmaybetheymeanitinthemoment.Maybetheythinkthey’llbeokaykeepingitstrictlyphysical.Butmoreoftenthannot,thestringsformbeforeyoucanblink,andsuddenlyyou’reaccusedofbeingaselfishprick.It’safrequentoccurrenceformymorepromiscuousfriends,buttomeitonlyhappenedonce.
Lastyearofhighschool,Isleptwithacutegirlontheyearbookcommittee,notrealizingthatone—shewasavirgin,andtwo—she’dhadacrushonmeforyears.Lindseyassuredmeshejustwantedahookupbeforesheleftforcollege.NextthingIknow,Ihaveherentirefriendgroupscreamingatmeintheschoolcorridoraccusingmeofbreakingherheartandruiningherlife.Tothisday,Ifeelgoddamnawfulaboutit.InevermeanttohurtLindsey,butI’dmadeitclear
Well,Istilldon’twantthatrelationship,andIreallydon’twanttohurtCassieeither.
Sometimes,havingagoodfriendinyourlifeismorerewardingthanafewnightsofhot,sweatysex.
ExceptCassiehasotherideas.WhenIreturn,she’sstandingbythewater,herbacktothefire.Shehearsmyfootstepsandturnstowardme,asoftsmilecurvingherlips.
Man,she’spretty.Shetookherhairoutofitsponytail,andthecopper-coloredstrandsareloosearoundhershoulders,onceagainappearingbrightorangeinthefirelight.
“Hey,”shesays.
“Hey.Sorryaboutthat.”
“Noworries.”
“So…”Istepcloserbutmaintainafewfeetofdistance.
Shenotices,becausehereyesdroptothegapingspacebetweenus.“So…”shemimics.Shebitesherbottomlipandstudiesmeforamoment.
Damnit.Idon’tknowifIshouldbringupthekissandletherknowitcan’thappenagain,orjustpretenditneverhappened.Ishovemyhandsinmypockets,shiftingindiscomfort.I’mstilltryingtodecidewhattosaywhenCassiebeatsmetoit.
“Willyouflingme?”sheblurtsout.
Iblink.“Sorry,what?”Iblinkagain.“Youwantmetothrowyou?Like,intothewater?”
Atthat,sheburstsoutlaughing.“No!WhywouldIwantyoutothrowmeintothewater?”
Isnicker.“Idon’tknow!It’sacrazyrequest.That’swhyIclarified.”
Stillgiggling,sheoffersherownclarification.“I’maskingifyouwanttohaveaflingwithme.Asummerfling.”
Shit.
Shewentthere.
AndhereherpalJoythoughtCassiewouldneverhavetheballstoaskme.
Isortofwishshehadn’tfoundthecourage.BecauseI’mabouttolooklikeatotalassholebysayingnotoahookuptenminutesafterImadeamoveonher.Ifthat’snotliabletogiveawomanwhiplash,Idon’tknowwhatwill.
“Uh.Cass.”Iscrubahandovermyforeheadthendragitthroughmyhair.I’mstalling.ButthatmeansI’malsoprolongingtheagonyandthat’sevenworse.Iletoutabreathandsay,“So,listen,IwasactuallyjustthinkingthatI…well,thatIwassortofgladfortheinterruption.”
“Oh.”Hereyesinstantlygoshuttered,butnotbeforeIcatchaflashofhurt.
“It’sgoodwegotinterruptedbeforethingswentanyfurther,youknow?Ilikeyou,andIthinkyou’reawesome,butI’mnotsureit’sagoodideaforustogetinvolved.Like,sexually.”Christ,thisistorture.“It’sbetterifwekeepthingsplatonic.”
“Okay.”Shestudiesmeforamoment,herexpressionunreadable.“CanIaskwhy?”
Ishruglamely.“Ijustdon’tthinkit’sagoodidea,especiallywithyoubeingnextdoor.I’mgoingtobebusythissummer.Iworktwojobs,youknow?Iwon’thavealotoffreetimetospendwithyou,andevenifweagreedtonoexpectations,thatneveractuallypansout.Thiskindofarrangementalwaysleadstoconflict,and,honestly,Ilikeyoutoomuchtoscrewupthisfriendshipthingwe’vegotgoing—”
“Allright,Igetit,”shecutsin.“It’scool.”
“Areyousure?”Istillcan’tgaugeherexpression.
“Yeah,it’sfine.Thistownisfullofsuitablecandidatesforafling,right?”
“Right,”Isay,noddinginrelief.“Andyou’resmokinghot.You’llhavenotroublefindingsomeone.Icanhelpyouscopeoutpotentialcandidatesifyouwant.”
Seriously?!shoutstheincredulousvoiceinmyhead
Iwishyoucouldun-saywordsthewaysomeplatformsletyouun-sendmessages,butnope.IsaidwhatIsaidandthere’snotakingitback.
Man.Ibasicallyfriend-zonedherandnowI’mofferingtobeherwingman?Waytotwisttheknifeindeeper.I’mafuckingasshole.
Clearly,sheagrees,becausesheeyesmeindisbeliefbeforelettingoutasarcasticlaugh.“Um,yeah…Idon’tknowaboutthat.”Rollinghereyes,shestepsawayfromthewater’sedge.“Comeon,friend,let’sgobacktotheparty.Idesperatelyneedanotherdrink.”CHAPTER9
CASSIE
Freshmanyearofcollege,Iwasplaguedbyarecurringanxietydream.Thedamnthingtorturedmysleepingbrainatleastonceaweekanditalwayswentthesameway.I’mstaringatasmallsuitcase;behindit,there’sanentirewallwithstacksandstacksoftestanswerbooklets.Thosethin,linednotebookstheprofshandoutwhenyouwriteexams.
Andsomehow,bysomemiracle,Imanagetojamallthebookletsintothesuitcase.Theanxietywouldthenlift,mysubconsciousbreathingasighofrelief,andI’dthink,ThankGod,I’vedoneit
Allgood,right?
No.IthencartthesuitcaseintomyEnglishLitlecturehall,whereIneedtogiveapresentationonaBront?book.NotonewrittenbyCharlotteorEmily,butAnne.Thelesser-knownBront?.Ihaven’treadthebook—andyetthat’snotwhatI’mstressedabout?Gofigure.Despitethat,Inailthepresentation
Allgood,right?
No.NowI’msupposedtohandthesuitcasetomyprofessor.Ipickitupandcarryittowardhim,andjustasIreachthecenteroftheroom,theoverstuffedcaseburstsopenanditscontentsspillout.Except,forsomeinexplicablereason,allthenotebooksaregone.
They’vebeenreplacedwithnakedpicturesofme.
Nowtheentirefloorofthelecturehalliscoveredineight-by-tenphotographsofmybareboobsandassandladybits.Aseaofnudes.
AndthenIwakeup.
Idon’tknowwhatthatsaysaboutmypsyche—orwhatIwaswatchingonTVthefirsttimeIdreamedit—butthatnightmarebecameimbeddedinmysubconsciousnesslikearustynail.Icouldexpectiteveryweeklikeclockwork,andI’dwakeupeverytimefeelingtheburnofhumiliationandapotentrushofinsecurity.
IcanhonestlysaythatwhatIfeltlastnightwasahundredtimesworse.
Ihaveneverpropositionedaguyinmylife.
AndIneverintendtodoitagain.
Becauserejectionisabitch.It’ssoul-sucking.Confidence-crushing.IcannoterasefrommymindthatuneasylookonTate’sface.TheflickerofpanicinhiseyeswhenIsuggestedafling.Thewayhefidgetedwhenhetoldmehejustwantstobefriends.
Brutal.
Fuckingbrutal.
IfI’dhadashovelonme,Iwould’vedugahugeholeintheground,gottenintoit,andburiedmyselfalive.Knowingmyluck,though,theafterlifewouldendupbeingthatnightmarelecturehallfullofmynudes.
Now,I’mforcedtorepeatthewholestorytoPeyton,whosevoiceblaresoutofthecarspeakersasIdriveovertomydad’shousefordinner.
“There’snowayitwasthekiss,”Peytoninsists.
She’srespondingtothesuspicionI’djustvoiced:thatTatehadkissedme,almostthrewupinhismouth,andpromptlydecidedhecouldneverdoitagain.
“Whatotherexplanationisthere?”Icounter.“Oneminutewe’remakingout.Thenheleavesforafewminutesandwhenhecomesback,hetellsmehewantstobeplatonic.Thatabsolutelymeanshehatedthekiss.”
“Notnecessarily.”Shepauses.“Butifweweretoplaythattheoryout…werethereanysignshedidn’tlikeit?Didhetrytopullawayatanypoint?”
“No,”Igroan.“Ifanything,hejustcamecloser!AndIswearhewashard.Ifelthimagainstmyleg.”
“Hmmm.Okay?”Shemullsitover.“Maybehewasdrunkerthanyouthought?”
“Gee,thanks,Peyton.Sowhatyou’resayingis,amanneedstobecompletelywastedtokissme?”
“That’snotwhatI’msaying!But.Maybehewasdrunkwhenhekissedyou,andwebothknowpeopledoimpulsivethingswhenthey’redrinking,right?Sohookingupcould’veseemedlikeagoodideatohiminthemoment,butthenhesoberedupabitandeverythinghesaidafterwardwasn’tsomeelaborateexcuse.Hereallydoeswanttodohisownthingthissummerandnothookupwithanyone.Andhereallydoesthinkyou’reawesome,isattractedtoyou,butdoesn’twanttodoanythingtojeopardizethefriendship.Allofthosethingscanbetrueatonce.”
She’sright.Butthebottomlineremainsthesame:IpropositionedTateBartlettandhesaidno.
“Honestly,it’sprobablyforthebetter.Remembermysilverlining?Don’tspoilallsubsequentprospectsbyflingingwithaguythat’stooattractive.Ishouldn’thaveletmyselfforgetthat.”Ipursemylips.“WhatIneedtodoisfindmyself,like,aseven.Maybeasix.”
“Youarenotflingingwithasix.”Sheisutterlyaghast.“Overmydeadbody.I’mwillingtocompromiseandsettlehalfwaybetweenasixandaten—Tate’saten,right?”
“Ohyeah,”Isaymiserably.
“Fine,thenwe’reaimingforaneight.GooutwithJoytomorrowtotrytomeetsomeoneelseandsendpicssoIcanverifyhiseight-ness.”
“We’llsee.Imightneedtonursethisrejectionforalittlewhilefirst.”IturnontoSycamoreWayandslowdown.“Anyway,justgottomydad’s.I’lltextyoulater.”
“Allright.Loveyou,babe,”shechirpsbeforedisconnecting.
It’ssostrangereturningtomychildhoodhomewhenIdon’tevenhavemyownbedroomthereanymore.Thetwinsusurpeditbecauseit’slargerthantheotheroption,whichDadandNiauseasaguestroomnow.That’swhereIsleepwhenIcometovisit,ensuringmyoldhouseneverquitefeelslikehomeanymore.Also,Niaredecoratedtheentireplacenotlongaftershemovedin.Wheremymom’sdesigneyelendsitselftograys,creams,andwhitesandmodernfurnishings,Niaisallaboutbrightcolors.Shelovesmismatchedfurniture,piecesthatofferacozyratherthanmuseum-likefeel.Ican’tdenyIlikeNia’sdécorbetter.
Ialsocan’tdenyitstingsthatDad’snewdaughterssleepinmyroom.
Excitedshrieksgreetmeinthefronthall.Twodark-hairedtornadoesspiraltowardme,andthentwosetsofarmscurlaroundmylegslikegreedytentacles.
“Cassie!”
They’rebothscreamingmynameasiftheydidn’tjustseemeinthespring.Honestly,it’sgreatformyego.Igivethemanenthusiasticbearhug,butMoniqueishoppingaround,soexcitedtoseeme,thatshelosesherfootingandendsupteeteringoutofthethree-wayhug,fallingtothefloorontoherbutt.HersisterRoxannestartshootingwithlaughter.
ItugMotoherfeet.“Hey,squirts,”Isay.“How’slife?”
“Life.Is.Awful,”announcesRoxy,theringleaderofthetwo.Bothmysisterspossesssweet,lovabletemperaments,butRoxanneisdefinitelybossier,alwaysspeakinginamoreauthoritativetone.She’stheelderbytwominutesandtakesthatroleveryseriously.Evenifshedidn’thavethattinybirthmarkonherleftcheekbonethatallowsmetotellthemapart,I’dknowRoxyjustbasedonhertoneofvoice.
“Andwhyisitawful?”Iask,fightingasmile.
“Youtellher,”Mosays,asifRoxywasn’tgoingtodoitanyway.
“Mamawon’tgetusaturtle.”
Istareatthem.“Aturtle?”
“Yes!”Roxyhuffsloudly.“Theypromisedwecouldhaveaturtlewhenweturnedsixandnowwe’returningsixandthere’snoturtle.”
“There’snoturtle!”Moniqueechoes.
They’rewearingidenticallooksofoutrage,andsincetheirfeaturesareidenticaltobeginwith,theirthunderousexpressionsgiveoffsomeseriousredrumvibes,alaTheShining
“Like,apetturtle?”I’mstillperplexed.“Waitasecond.Youguysarecampaigningforapetandyouchoseaturtle?Man,Iwould’vekilledforadoggrowingup.”
“Wedon’tcarefordogs,”Roxysays,sniffing.“They’rewaaaytoomuchwork.”
“Andwe’dhavetopickuppoo,”Moadds.“Thatissogross.”
“Sogross.”Roxypeersupatme,herbrowneyestwinklingimpishly.“DidyouknowtheFrenchwordforpooismerde?”
Ismotheralaugh.I’mprettysurethecorrecttranslationisshit.Eitherwaythere’ssomethinghilariousabouthearingthewordmerdeexitthemouthofasix-year-old.
Themostdelicioussmellsfloatoutofthekitchen,soIwandertowarditwiththetwinsscamperingatmyheels.NeitherDadnorNiaisanywheretobefound,butInoticethere’ssomethingbakingintheoven,andseveralpotsandpanssimmeringonthestove.
Thebig,airykitchenwasthefirstroomNiarenovatedwhenshemovedin,changingthetiledfloortohardwood,paintingthewhitecabinetsabrighteggshellblue.Shereplacedthemarbleislandforacedarone,claimingshedidn’tlikethewaymarblefeelsbeneathherhands.ShetoldDadthecounterswerecoldandunfeelingandmadehersad.Ididn’tknowcounterscouldhavethatmuchofanimpactonaperson,butIsupposeshe’snotwrong.Mom’saestheticdidleantowardcoldandunfeeling.
Beyondthekitchenisthesunroom,whichalsodoublesasthediningroom,itsentirewallofwindowsoverlookingthespaciousbackyard.Ipeerintoit,butit’sempty.
“Wherearethefolks?”Iask,justasfootstepsthudbehindus.
“There’smygirl!”Dadappearsinthekitchendoorway,wearingkhakisandaflannelshirt.“Allmygirls!”headds,noticingthetwinswhoarestillbouncingaroundme.“C’mere,Cass.Giveyouroldmanahug.”
Igooverandlethimenvelopmewithhisarms.Dad’snotatallman,buthe’sstockyandhassomebulk,sohishugsalwaysmakeyoufeelsafeandwarm.
Hiseyesshinebehindhiswire-rimmedglasseswhenhereleasesme.“SorryIdidn’tgettoseeyouthisweek.Justbeenbusyaroundhere.”
“Noworries.YouknowIlovespendingtimewithGrandma.”
“Well,I’mgladyou’reheretonight.AndIknowyou’reexcitedtospendthesummerwithLydia,butwewerehopingyou’dcomestayheretoo.”
“Yes!”Roxysayshappily,throwingherarmsaroundmylegsagain.“Thenyoucantellusbedtimestorieseverynight.”
“Everysinglenight!”Mogivesanenthusiasticnod.
“Iwantonenow,”Roxybegs.“IwannaknowwhathappenstoKit!”
“Metoo!”
Therequestmakesmesmile.It’sbecomesortofatraditionthatIreadthegirlsabedtimestorywheneverI’mhere,buttheselastcoupleyearsI’vebeenentertainingthemwithanongoingoriginaltale.Ipulleditoutofmyassonetimewhenwecouldn’tpickabooktheybothagreedon,andbeforeIknewitI’dcreatedanentireimaginaryworldforthem,inwhichalittlegirlnamedMcKennafindsadragonegginherbackyardandproceedstoraiseapetdragonshenamesKit,withoutanyoneinherfamilycatchingon.
“Whatdoyousay?”Dadpresses.“Canyouswingalongervisitthissummer?Stayforaweek?Ormaybeaweekendhereandthere?”hetrailsoff,abituncertain.
“Definitely,”Iassurehim.“Nia’sokaywiththat?”
“Ofcoursesheis.Sheloveshavingyouhere.”
Doubtful.ButInevervoicemysuspicionsaboutNia’slevelofenthusiasmtowardme,especiallynottoDad.Peyton’spsychiatristmotherwouldcallitacopingmechanism,andIsupposeitis.WhetherI’mtalkingtomymomormydad,Ialwaysputonthatbright,sunnyshow.It’snotjustbecauseIhateconflict—I’vebeenburnedtoomanytimesinthepastwithDadshuttingdown.Thebruntofithappenedrightafterthedivorce,wheneverItriedtalkingtohimaboutmyfeelings.Hedidn’tevenfightforjointcustodyofme,forPete’ssake.HeletMomhaveitall.AndInevergotanswersforthat,onlyuncomfortablesilencesandstiltedsmilesashechangedthesubject.
AsthememoriessurfacebeforeIcanstopthem,Iswallowthelumpcloggingmythroatandthentakeabreath,firmlybanishingtheresentmenttothatplaceinsideofmewhereallthedarkthoughtsgo.
Myfatherisagoodguy,hetrulyis.Iknowhelovesme.Butsometimesitfeelslikehewantedtowashhishandsofeverythingafterthedivorce.Hewantedzeroremindersofmymother,and,unfortunately,Iwasthebiggestreminderofall.Hence,Ibecamecollateraldamage.
AndtoNia,I’mareminderofherhusband’sbitchyex-wife,whichiswhyhersmileseemsforcedandherhuglackswarmthwhenshegreetsmeafewminuteslater.
“Cassandra,”shesays,herdarkeyesguarded.“It’ssogoodtoseeyou.”
“Goodtoseeyoutoo.CanIhelpwithdinner?”
“Non,non.”ShestillhasanoticeableFrenchaccentdespiteallheryearslivingintheUS.“Whydon’tyougositatthetableandcatchupwithyourfatherandsisters?Ihaveithandled.”
“Areyousure?”
“Yes.”
She’spracticallyshovingmeoutofthekitchen.Notexactlytheactionsofawomanwho’sdesperatetospendtimewithherstepdaughter.
Inthesunroom,DadandIsettleatthediningtablewhilethetwinswanderaroundus,runningtheirlittlefingersoverthebacksofallthechairs.Thosetwocan’tsitstilltosavetheirlives.
“WetoldCassieabouttheturtle,”RoxyinformsDad.
He’sclearlyfightingasmile.“Oh,didyounow?WhyamInotsurprised?”Heglancesatme.“Thegirlshavealertedeverysinglehumanthey’veencounteredthispastmonthtotheirdesperateneedforaturtle.”
“Becauseweneedaturtle!”Roxycomplains.
“Andit’snotfair,”Mochimesin.
IarchabrowatDad.“Justoutofcuriosity,whyareweanti-turtle?”
“We’renot,”heanswers,shrugging.“Butpetsarealotofwork.We’renotconvincedthegirlsaregrownupenoughtohandlealltheresponsibilitythatcomeswithit.”
“Yes,weare!”theybothshriek,andstomptheirfeet,basicallyprovingthepointhe’stryingtomake.
DadandIwince.“Indoorvoices,”hechides.“Andwe’regoingtotablethisturtlediscussionfornow,allright?YourmamaandIsaidnoturtle.Wecanrevisititnextyear.”
Theirfacescollapse.
Knowingthattearsareimminent,Dadsnapsintoaction.HeglancesaroundthetablewithanexaggeratedlookofdismayandproceedstodothatthingI’veseenhimdoathousandtimesbefore,wherehepretendsthere’sacriticaltaskthatneedsundertaking.Usuallyit’saprettyimpressivetrick,buttonighthe’sreaching.
“Ohno!”heexclaims.“Weonlyputouttherednapkins.Wealsoneedthewhiteones!”
“Oh,dowe?”Isayinnocently.
Heshootsmealook.“Yes,Cassandra.Youknowthis.Wemustalwaysdinewithbothredandwhite,”hesayspoetically,layingitonthick.“Togowiththewine.”
Ichokedownalaugh.“Right.HowcouldIforgetthat.”
“We’llgetthem!”Roxyoffers,justasDadhadintendedforhertodo.Thegirlsareinthatphasewheretheymustbeinvolvedinallhouseholdmatters.
“I’llhelp!”Mochimesin.
“Ohwonderful.Thanks,girls.”Histoneoozesgratitude,asifhedidn’tjustconthemintodoinghisbidding.
Themomenttheslidingdoorcloses,Istareatmyfather.“One:Thatwasreallysmooth.”
“Thankyou.”
“Two:Yourealizenexttoagoldfish,aturtleistheeasiestpetyoucanhave,right?Andthosethingsneverdie,sothere’snoriskofyouflushingitdownthetoiletandreplacingitwithathousandothergoldfishlikeyoudidwithmine.”
Dadchortles.“Man,youwereacluelesskid,Cass.IthinkwewereonRockyFifteenbeforeyoufigureditout?”
“Whywouldmychildbraineverimmediatelygotomyfishdied,somyparentsdrownedhiscorpseandkeepreplacinghimwithimpostors?”Iglareinaccusation.“Parentswhodothataresociopaths.”
“Sure,cometalktomewhenyouhavekidsandyourhamsteraccidentallygetseatenbyared-tailedhawk.Wouldyouratheryourchildliveinignoranceandloveanimpostorhamster,ordoyouplanonsharingallthegorydetails?AndI’mtalkinggory.”
“OhmyGod,Dad,didthathappentoyou?Didahawkeatyourhamster?”
“Yes.”Hesoundsglum.“AndGrandpaLousatmedownandgavemeaplay-by-playofhisdeath.I’msureifhe’dtakenpicturesofthecarnage,hewould’veshowedthemtome.”
Ibustoutlaughing.Ohman.Dad’sfatherwasthegreatest.IthonestlysucksthatIlostbothmygrandfatherswithinacoupleyearsofeachother.Butatleastmygrandmothersarestillaliveandkicking.
“CanItellyouasecret?”Dadsays.Hisgazeflickstowardthekitchen.“Iwouldn’tmindgettingaturtle.Ithinkthey’recool.ButNiaisn’thavingit.Sheinsiststhey’realotmoreworkthanwethink.”
“Maybethere’sacertainbreedthat’seasiertoownthanothers,”Ipointout.“Didyouevenresearchit?”
“No.”
“DidNia?”
“Idon’tthinkso.Shejustshotdowntheideapoint-blank.Toldthegirlswe’lltalkaboutitnextyear.”Dadpurseshislipsforamoment.Mulling.“YouthinkIshouldgetthemone?”
“Notnecessarily.ButIdon’tthinkithurtsresearchingtheprosandcons.”Crap.Thisisn’tgoingtoendearmeinNia’seyes.Shealreadydoesn’tlikeme.ButIfeellikeIoweittomysisterstoadvocatefortheirdreamsofturtleownership.“Imean,itcan’thurt,right?Theleastyoucandoisgotoapetstoreandtalktosomeoneaboutit.”
“Yeah.Isupposewecoulddothat.”Onecornerofhismouthquirksup,andthenhiseyesstarttwinkling.“Whatchadoingtomorrowmorning?”
“Um.”Iofferapointedlook.“Potentialturtleshopping?”
“Damnright.”
Webothsnicker,exchangingsecretivesmileswhenNiaandthetwinsreturnandweallsettlearoundthetablefordinner.Itmakesmefeellikealittlekidagain,sharingasecretwithmyfather.It’sraretohavethesebondingopportunitieswithhim,wherewe’retrulyconnectingwithouttheheavypallofmymotherorNiahangingoverus.Thoseraretimeswhenit’sjustus,meandhim.ThewayitusedtobewhenIwasachildandhewasmydad.Whenhedidn’thavetwootherkids,ortwodifferentwiveswhobothcan’tstandtobearoundme.
Iclingtothosemoments,becausethey’resofewandfarbetween.CHAPTER10
CASSIE
“Ican’tbelievewe’redoingthis,”Dadwhispersthenextmorning.
“Ican’tbelieveyou’rewearingadisguise,”Irespondinanormalspeakingvolume,forthereisabsolutelynoreasonforustobewhispering.
“Itoldyou,Nia’sfriendworksatthebakeryoverthere,”Dadprotests,noddingtowardastorefrontontheotherendofthestripmall.Heglowers.“Chandra.OneofthenosyPTAmoms.Idon’twanthertonoticeme.”
“Dad.You’rewearingahot-pinkadventurehatwithapurplestring.Sheisabsolutelygoingtonoticeyou.Infact,youhadabetterchanceofhernotcaringwhatyourfacelookslikewithoutthehat.Nowshe’sgoingtowanttoseeyourfaceinordertounderstandwhatsortofpersonwouldeverchoosetowearthathat.”
“AllI’mhearingis,youlovemyhat.”
“That’snotwhatI’msayingatall.”
Hejustgrins.We’reafewfeetfromtheentranceofthepetstorewhenhesays,“Thegirlslovedseeingyoulastnight,bytheway.Theyweregoingonandonoverbreakfastaboutthatbedtimestoryyoutoldthem,theoneaboutthepurpledragon?Youneedtostartwritingsomeofthosedown,Cass.Ibetifyoucompiledallthestoriesinonefile,
Isuddenlygasp.
“What?Whatisit?”hedemands,lookingaroundinapanic.“Havewebeencompromised?”
“OhmyGod,no.Dad,thebakerladydoesn’tgiveashitaboutyou.”I’mpracticallybouncingwithglee.“Butyoujustgavemethebestideaforthegirls’birthdaypresent.IcantakeoneoftheKit’nMcKennastoriesandcreateachildren’sbookforthem.I’msureIcouldfindaplacetoprintahardcoverversionofit.”Ipause.“IjustwishIcoulddraw.Itwouldbecooltohaveillustrationstogowiththestory.”
Mymindsnapsintotroubleshootingmode,scanningthrougheverypersonI’veevermetinmylifewhileItrytorecalliftheypossessanyartistictalent.
Robb!Irememberintriumph.RobbSheffieldwasmystepbrotherforfiveyearsduringMom’smarriagetohisdad,Stuart.HewasalwaysdoodlinginhissketchpadwhenwewatchedTVtogether,mostlydrawingfantasy-typestuff,likefreaky-lookingmonstersandwarriorswithdeadlyweapons.Heworksinvideo-gamedesignnow,creatingthekindofimagerythat’salotgrislierthanataleofalittlegirlandapurpledragon,butmaybehe’dbewillingtodomethisfavor.
“That’saterrificidea,”Dadtellsme.“Thegirlswouldlovethat.Andifthefinalproductturnsoutwell,youshouldtrytosellit.”
“Whatdoyoumean?Like,self-publishachildren’sbook?”
“Orsubmitittoapublishinghouse.”
Mybrowfurrows.“Really?”
“Sure.Whynot?Aren’tyoumajoringinliterature?”heteases.
“Yes,but…Imean,Ineverreallythoughtaboutgoingintoacreativefield.IonlypickedEnglishLitbecauseIcouldn’tthinkofanythingbettertomajorin.”
Truthbetold,Ihavenocluewhatcareerpathtotakeaftergraduation.Somanypeoplejustknow.Theyhavethatoneskill,thatonefieldthey’vealwaysbeenpassionateabout.I’mnotoneofthosepeople.Iwashopingbythetimegraduationrolledaround,I’dhavelandedonsomething,anything,butI’mgoingintomysenioryearandremaincompletelystumpedastowhatjobI’llendupin.
“CouldIevenmakeacareeroutofthat?”Iask,chewingonmylip.“It’sjustabunchofsillybedtimestoriesformysisters.It’snotlikeI’vebeenwritingforever.”
“Doyouneedtohavebeenwritingforevertostartdoingitnow?”
“Iguessnot.”Iglareathim.“Ugh.You’vegivenmeabunchofstufftothinkaboutnow.”
“Godforbidmydaughterthinks!”Snorting,hereachesforthedoorhandle.“Readytoturtledown?”
“Pleasedon’teversaythat.”
Whenweenterthestore,Dadpushesthepinkhatoffhisheadsoit’sdanglingathisbackbyitspurplestring.Helookslikealostadventurerwhostoppedtoaskfordirections.Wefindourselvessurroundedbyrowsandrowsoftanks,eachhousingvariousaquaticcreatures.
Iapproachafishtankfulloffatorangegoldfishandraiseabrow.“Ihadnoideagoldfishcouldgetthisbig.Ifyoutriedtoflushoneoftheseguys,you’dclogthetoilet.”
“WelcometoAquaPets,”aboredvoicesaysfrombehindus.“CanIhelpyoufindsomething?Youlookingforagoldfish?”
Ateenagerinastoreuniformsidlesuptous.HisnametagreadsJOEL,andhe’sgotshoulder-lengthblackhair,acne-riddledskin,andhereeksofpot.Theskunkyodorpracticallyradiatesfromhispores.
“We’reconsideringbuyingaturtleformysix-year-olddaughters,”Dadexplains.“Butwe’rehopingforsomemoreinformationbeforewecommit.”
“Yeah,yeah,that’scool,”Joelsays.Thekidisclearlystoned.“Icanhelpyouwiththat.I’vegotthreeloggerheadsathome.Thoselittledudesarerad.”
“Loggerheads?”Iecho.
“Loggerheadmuskturtle,”hesaysbriskly,and,stonedornot,wediscoverthekidknowshisstuff.Forthenexttwentyminutes,hedumpsanobsceneamountofinformationonus,usheringusfromtanktotankwhilespittingoutreptilianfacts.
“Theseguys?Smallestspeciesofturtleyou’reallowedtokeepincaptivity.Soifyougotlimitedspace,thisisyourdude.Andthey’resocute,man.Like,look.”Leaningclosertotheglass,heproceedstomakecooingnoisesatthespottedturtle.“Youdoingokayinthere,Marshall?InamedhimMarshall.AfterEminem.”
Ipressmylipstogether.“Cool.”
“Theproblemis,Marshallcan’tswimtoogood.See?That’swhyhiswaterisn’tverydeep.Andlet’sbehonest—he’skindofadick.Thespottedonesgetcrankysometimes.Youwantasocialone,I’llshowyoumymanJay-Z.He’swhatwecallaReeve’sturtle.Come.You’lllovehim.”
DadandIexchangealookthatlooselytranslatestowhyisthishappeningtous?
Butwe’recommittednow,sowefollowJoeltheTurtleWhisperertoseehismanJay-Z.
“Bestthingaboutthisbreedistheylikebeingstroked,”hetellsus,soanimatedI’mhavingahardtimereconcilinghimwiththepotheadwhogreetedusatthedoor.“Mostturtlesdon’tenjoybeinghandled.It’sstressfulforthem,youknow?Butifyou’repatientwithhim,Jay-Zmightletyouholdhimsometimes.”
Hestareslonginglyatthetank.“Thedownsideis,”hesays,andhisexpressioncollapses,“they’vegotashorterlifeexpectancy.Fifteenyears,maybetwenty?Ifyou’relookingforalittledudewho’lllivelonger,I’dgowiththecommonmusk.We’retalkingaripeoldageoffiftyyears.Justdon’thandlethemroughly.They’refeisty,man.Iftheyfeelthreatened,theyskunkyouout.”
“Skunkyouout?”Dadechoesblankly.HelooksasoverwhelmedasIfeel.Whoknewturtleownershipwassointensive?
“Yeah,like,theyreleaseafoulodor.Itstinks.”Joelguffaws.“Wecall’emstinkpots.”
Idon’taskwhoweis,butI’mdefinitelycurious.
“They’renotstrongswimmerseither,”headds.“Butthey’vegotprettybasiccarerequirementscomparedtootherbreeds.”
“Wow,”Isay.“Thisisalotofinformation.”
Somuch,infact,thateventuallyDadandIbegoffandtellJoelweneedtothinkaboutit.Thenwemakeourescapeandstepoutside,breathinginthenon-marijuana-infusedair.
DadsagsagainsttheconcretewallseparatingAquaPetsfromthepoolequipmentshopnextdoor.Heheavesamassivesighofrelief.“Thatwas…”
“Intense,”Isupply.
“Very.”HepullshisglassesoffandcleansthemwiththehemofhisT-shirtbeforepoppingthembackonhisface.“Thoughts?”
Ijoinhimatthewall,shovingmyhandsinthepocketsofmydenimshorts.“ThatKeanuReevesturtlesoundedpromising.”
Dadsnickers.“Really?I’mleaningtowardthemusk.”
“ButKeanuReeveshasashorterlifeexpectancy,”Iargue.“Doyouseriouslywantapetthatlivesforfiftyyears?”
“WhatdoIcare?I’llprobablybedead.”
“Don’tsaythat.”
“Comeon,there’snowayI’llbealivetoexperiencethatturtle’sentirelife.”
“Butthemusksdon’tlikeitwhenyoutouchthem.Theylosetheirshitandskunkyouout,remember?Meanwhile,weweretoldonthegoodauthorityofJoelthePotheadthatKeanuReevesenjoysbeingstroked.”
“Ahem.”
DadandIjumpinsurprise.Ourheadsswivelinthedirectionofthethroatclearing,andatthispointI’mnotevensurprisedwhenIlayeyesonTate.SinceIarrivedinAvalonBay,itseemslikeeverywhereIgo,TateBartlettisthere.
“Hi,”hesaysinamusement,givinganonchalantwave.
“Youknow,”Isaysolemnly,“IlongforthedaysofyorewhenIturnedmyheadanddidn’talwaysfindyoustandingthereinfrontofme.”It’smeanttobeajoke,butitthenoccurstomethatafterlastnight’smortifyingexchange,hemightthinkI’mbeingserious.SoIquicklyadd,“Kidding.Butreally,whyareyouhere?”
Hegesturestowardastorefrontontheothersideoftheparkinglot.“Iworkattheboatdealership.Sawyoufromthewindowandcameovertosayhi—adecisionIdeeplyregretbecauseI’mnotsureIwanttoknowwhyyou’rediscussingKeanuReeves’sloveofhandjobsandhowyoustumbleduponthatinformation.”
Ican’tstopthelaughthatpopsout.“Youknowwhat,notevengoingtoexplainit.I’mgoingtoletithauntyouforever.”Inoticemyfathersportingaquestioningexpression,andgesturetowardTate.“Dad,thisisTate.He’shousesittingtheplacenextdoortoGrandma’s.”
Tateextendsahand.“Nicetomeetyou,Mr.Tanner.”
Dadblanches.
“Ohno,no,”Ihastilyintervene.“He’snotaTanner.Mymom’ssideistheTanners.”
“ClaytonSoul,”Dadcorrects,steppingforwardtoshakeTate’shand.
“Soul?”Tateturnstomeinsurprise.“YournameisCassieSoul?”
“Yeah.”Ifrown.“Isthatbad?”
“Bad?Trybad-ass.That’sasolidname.”
“Iguess?Ineverreallythoughtthatmuchaboutit.It’sjustmyname.”
There’salongbeatduringwhichwebothstartfidgetingwithrandomsectionsofourclothing.Itoywiththehemofmytanktop.Tatepretendstopickatsomelintonhisshirtsleeve.Damnit.Thingsareawkwardbetweenusnow.Iknewthiswouldhappen.
“Turtles!”Iblurtout.
Tatestartles.“What?”
“Um,mysistersdemandedapetturtlefortheirbirthday.That’swhywe’rehere.Doingsomeresearch.Butitsoundsliketurtlesarekindofjerks.”
“Nah,”hedisagrees.“They’retheeasiestofpets.IhadonewhenIwasakidandallitdidwaslazearoundinhistankallday.Theyprettymuchentertainthemselves.”Heshrugs.“Mydogs,ontheotherhand…needyasfuck.Dogsrequireattentionprettymuchtwenty-four-seven.”
Dadchuckles.“You’remakingagoodcaseforturtles.”
“I’mtellingyou,they’regreat.”
Anothersilencefalls.
Tatefiddleswithhisothersleeve.Iplaywithafrayedthreadonmyshorts.It’sunbearable.Thisiswhatrejectiondoestopeople.
“Bye!”Iblurtout.
Tateblinksatthesuddendismissal.“Oh.Allright.Bye.”
“Imean,wehavetogonow,”Iamendlamely.“So,ah,goodbye.Seeyouaround.”
“Sure.”Hisforeheadcreases.“Seeyouaround.”
IpracticallydragDadtothecar,whereIhurlmyselfintothepassengerseatandpretendnottoseeTatewalkingpastthewindshieldonhiswaybacktowork.
“So,”Dadsayscheerfully,“dowehaveacrushonthatboy,oristhishowyouinteractwithallyourpeers?BecauseIrememberyouusedtobealotless…weird.”
“Thatwasweird,wasn’tit?”Imoan.“Doyouthinkhenoticed?”
“Yes.”
“Damnit.”Myfaceisonfire,andIrefusetolookinthesidemirrorbecauseI’mcertainI’mredderthanalobster.“HeandIarejustfriends.”Ipause.“Ithink.”Pauseagain.“It’scomplicated.”
“Italwaysis.”Dadsuddenlyjoltsinhisseatbeforereachingintohispockettoretrievehisbuzzingphone.Hechecksthescreenandbalks.“Sonofabitch.”
“Whatisit?”Iaskimmediately,concernwashingoverme.
Withoutaword,hehandsoverthephonetoshowmethetextfromNia.
Nia:Chandrasaidshejustsawyouatapetstore.Explainyourself!
Myeyebrowsgreetmyhairline.“Wow.Fuckin’Chandradidusdirty.”
“DidInottellyou?”Dadgrumbles.Sighing,hestartstheengineandputsthecarindrive.“Timetogohomeandfacethemusic.”
Laterthatnight,Iwalkuptomywindowjustasafamiliarfigureentersmylineofvision.It’sbecomingroutinenow.Grabbingsomethingfrommyroom?Tate’sdoingthesame.Gettingreadyforbed?Tate’sdoingthesame.Thistime,we’rebothreachingtoclosethecurtains,almostinperfectsync.Westop,lookateachother,thenstarttolaugh.Hedisappearsforamomentandreturnsholdinghisphone.
Amessagepopsuponmine.
Tate:Arewegood?
Istifleasigh.IguessIknewthatwascoming.Imeethiseyesbriefly,thentypearesponse.
Me:Yeah,we’refine.
Tate:Yousure?BecauseyouwerebabblingmorethanusualwhenIsawyouthismorning.
Idon’thaveanexcuseforthat,soIjustrepeatmyself.
Me:We’refine.
Tate:IknowlastnightwaskindofawkwardandI’msorryaboutthat.Ireallydidn’twanttoembarrassyouoranything.ButIdothinkwe’rebetterasfriends.
Me:OMGyou’reembarrassingmeNOWbytalkingaboutit.We’recool,Ipromise.Andwearefriends,okay?
Tate:Yeah?
Me:Yeah.
Tate:Good.
Ratherthanendtheconversationthere,heremainsatthewindow,stilltyping,andIdomybestnottostareathisbarechest.Hisabslookliketheywerechiseledoutofstoneandhispecsarestupidlydefinedand—damnit.I’mfailingatnotstaring.Iswear,woulditkillhimtothrowonashirt?Herarelywearsshirtswhenhe’sinsidethehouse.Doesn’theevergetcold?Here,we’vealwaysgottheACblasting.I’mwearingasweaterrightnow,forPete’ssake.
Tate:I’mstillwaitingfordeetsonthatKeanuReeveshandjob…
Igrinatthephone.Really?That’swhattookhimsolongtotype?Iwonderhowmanymessageshedeletedbeforehesettledonthatone.
Me:I’mtakingittothegrave.
Tate:You’reacruelwoman,ginger.
Me:Copper!
Tate:It’sreallycuteyouactuallybelievethat.Whatareyouuptothisweekend?
Me:I’mspendingthedayattheclubtomorrowwithJoy.We’regoingguyshopping.
Tate:Yourealizeifanymansaidsomethinglikethathe’dbelabeledasthebiggestdouchebagintheBay?
Me:Doublestandards,yougottalovethem!
Tate:Suredon’t!
Me:Whatareyourplansthisweekend?
Tate:Working,working,andworking.TomorrowI’mattheclubtoo.Teachingabeginnerdinghiesclassforkids.IfIrunintoyou,I’llmakesuretosayhi.Youknow,justtomakeitawkwardagain.
Me:Perfect.I’llpencilyouin.
Atleastwecanjokeaboutit.CHAPTER11
CASSIE
“Okay,don’tkillme.ButIlikehim.He’sfunny.”Joyreachesacrossherloungerandhandsmebackmyphone.Ishowedherlastnight’stextexchangewithTatewiththegoalofhighlightinghowembarrassingitwas.Instead,shegoesanddeclaresherlovefortheguywhorejectedme.
NotthatIdisagreewithherassessment
“Heisfunny,”Isigh.“AndIlikehimtoo.”
Asthememoryofhisrejectionpricksatmyskin,Iordermyselftoconductasilver-liningcheck.Shockingly,Ilandonsomethinggenuine.
“Youknowwhat,though?Maybeit’sagoodthingheturnedmedown.Icanseemyselfcatchingfeelings,”Iadmit.
Joygivesmeasomberlook.“Ohboy.Yeah.That’snogood.Youcan’tfallforyoursummerfling.Well,unlessyouplanonmovingtoAvalonBayandlivinghappilyeverafterwithalocal.”
Imuseonthatforamoment.“Idon’tknowifIcouldlivehere.Ienjoytheenergyofthecity.TheBayisnicetovisit,butIthinkIpreferafasterpace.”
“Exactly.Iwouldn’tliveherefull-timeeither,”Joysays,leaningbackinherchair.Shereadjustshersunglassesandgazesupatthecloudlesssky.It’saperfectdayforsunbathing.“AndfromwhatI’veseen,thetowniesdon’ttendtoleavethisplace.Ifyoufellfortheguy,you’dbestuckhereforever.”
“Thereyougo,”Isaywryly.“Onemoreiteminthepluscolumnforgettingfriend-zoned.”
Joysmiles.“Forwhatit’sworth,itsoundslikehereallydoeslikeyouandwanttohangoutwithyou.Maybebeingfriend-zonedisn’ttheendoftheworld.”
“Maybenot,”Iagree,andwhileIhalfmeanitthistime,itdoesn’texactlychangemycurrentsituation.I’mstillleftinthesamefling-lesspredicament.
Iwantmyfling,damnit.Iwasgenuinelylookingforwardtofindingsomeonetospendthenextcoupleofmonthswith.FinallyexperiencingthatsummerromanceI’vealwaysenviedmyfriendsfor.I’dhopedtogointomyfinalyearofcollegewithafreshdoseofconfidenceandsomeexperienceundermybelt.MyentirecollegiatedatingexperienceconsistsofthesixmonthsIspentwithaguyinjunioryear,Mike.Hewasfunnyandinteresting,butwedidn’tsleeptogetherbecauseIwasn’tready,andeventuallyhegotboredofthirdbaseandbailed.ThisyearIwantarelationshipthatactuallylasts,onethat’schock-fullofpassionandchemistry.I’mcravingpassion.
“Weshouldpickyouupsomeoneatthebachelorauction,”Joysuggestswhileapplyingsomemoisturizinglipbalm.Shealwayscomplainsthatthesundriesoutherlips.
“Aretheyseriouslystilldoingthat?”
“Ohyeah.Youshouldgocheckouttheeventsdesk.IpeekedatthecalendarwhenIgotheretoseewhat’scomingupthissummer,andIsweartherearesomanyevents.”
“Likewhat?”Fromthetablesandwichedbetweenourchairs,Igrabtheaerosolcanofsunscreenandspraysomeonmylegs.Eithermysunglassesarewarpingthecolorsaroundme,orI’mstartingtoburnalittle.Iliftmyshadesandwince.Yup,burning.IcanpracticallyhearGrandma’svoiceinmyheadlecturingmefornotconsistentlyreapplyingmysunscreen.
“Wejustmissedtheregatta—thatwaslastweek.Nextweekendisthecharitygala,whichfeaturesthebachelorauction.FirstweekofAugustisthegolftournament.BeachGamesattheendofthemonth.”
“DidItellyouI’mcompetingthisyear?MackenzieCabotaskedmetojoinTeamBeacon.”
“Thatsoundslikemyworstnightmare,”Joyinformsme.I’mnotsurprised,seeingashowshe’stheleastathleticpersonIknow.
“Nah,it’llbefun.AndthenthegrandreopeningoftheBeaconistheweekendafterthat,”Iremindher.That’stheonlyeventI’mtrulyexcitedabout,althoughIknowit’llbebittersweet.“GrandmaandIwillbeatthecharitythingthisweekend.Shelikesbiddinginthesilentauction.She’sgivingmesomecashtobidwithsinceit’sforagoodcause,butIdoubtI’llattendthebachelorevent.It’salwaysabunchofolddudeswithverynoticeablehairplugs.”
Shelaughs.“Nuh-uh,lastyearthereweresomeyoung’unsinthemix.”Shewaggleshereyebrowsatme.“IncludingyourbestfriendTate.”
“Really?”Iignorethewaymyheartskipsabeat.“Youthinkhesignedupagain?”
“Noidea.ButIvotewecheckitoutregardless.Maybewe’llfindyouacuteguytoflingwith.”
“Wasn’tthattoday’sgoal?”
“Well,yeah,butIhaven’tseenanysuitablecandidatesyet.Haveyou?”
“No,”Isayglumly.
Sheslidesupinherchair,readjustinghersunglasses.“Let’stakeanotherlook.”
WeekendsattheManorarealwaysbusy,sothepoolareaispacked,everysingleloungeroccupied.Wehadtoreserveoursinadvance,andJoyhadgrumbledupastormwhenshewasinformedtherewerenoavailablecabanastobookfortheday.Herfamilyusuallyreservesoneforthreefullmonths,butthisyearherparentsoptedoutbecausehermomgotapromotionatworkandwillbespendingthebulkofthesummerinManhattan.
“Oooh,”shesuddenlysays.“Igotone.Eleveno’clock,endofthebar.”
Ipopmysunglassesbackontomakeitlessobviousthatwe’restaring.Theguyshe’shomedinondoeslookpromising.Averageheight,darkhair,chiseledprofile.He’sdeckedoutinshorts,agreenpolo,andbrownSperrys.Whenheturnsslightly,anglingawayfromus,mygazelowerstohisbutt,becauseapparentlyI’mabuttgirlnow.It’sdecent.Andhe’satleastaneight,whichoughttosatisfyPeyton.
“Isurecouldusearefillofthispi?acolada,”Joysays.Withagrin,shewavesheremptyglassaround.
“You’rereallygoingtomakemegoupthere?Haven’tweestablishedI’mterribleataskingguysout?”
“Who’saskinghimout?Justgoandtalktohim.Seeifyoulikehim.Thenyoucandecideifyouevenwanttoaskhimout.Youalwaysmakeyourselfneedlesslyanxiousbyassumingtheoutcome.”
Goodpoint.Idotendtojumpthegunalot,assumingeverycuteguyIspeaktoismypotentialboyfriendwhenreallyit’sjustapersontosayhelloto.
“Fine.”Withabrisknod,Islideoffthestripedtoweldrapedovermychairandgettomyfeet.Idon’tbotherwithmyshorts,justslipintomyflip-flopsandsaunteracrossthepooldeck.Therearewomenherewalkingaroundinstringbikinis;myone-pieceishardlyscandalous.It’shigh-cutanddoesshowquitealotofthigh,butitsupportsmyboobswell,ararefeatforaCassieSoulbathingsuit.
WhenIapproach,theguyissittingonastoollaughingatsomethingthebartenderjustsaid.Thesecondbartender,acurly-hairedwomanwithadeeptan,greetsmewithasmile.“WhatcanIdoyoufor?”
“Twopi?acoladas,please.Virgin.”Iblushattheword,butitsoundslessdorkythannonalcoholic.JoyandIdecidedagainstdaydrinkingtoday,eventhoughI’dprobablybeservedhere.Mostofthebarsinthecountryclubturntheotherwaywhenitcomestounderageclientele,providedtheirfamiliesarerichenough.Andmyfamilypassesthewealthtest,apparently.
Thesoundofmyvoicecatchestheguy’sattention.Hegivesmeasidelonglook.
Icrackahalfsmile,oneofthoseteenyquirksofthelipsthatsaysIacknowledgehispresence.
Hesmilesback.
Andasalways,hiseyesdroptomychest.ThecurseofowningdoubleDs.
Hisgazelingers,andnowIfeelself-consciousstandingthereinnothingbutabathingsuitandpinkflip-flops.There’snowhereformetohide.Noclothingtoburrowunder.Hisperusaldoesn’tfeeloverlycreepy,onlyaglimmerofappreciation,butI’mstillrelievedwhenheraiseshiseyes.
“Hey,”hesayseasily.“I’mBen.”
“Cassie.”
“Areyounewhere?”Heflashesanothersmile,atadbashful.“Youmustbe,’causeIthoughtIknewalltheprettymembersinthisclub.”
“Uh,no.I’mnotnew.I’mherealot.Imean,Idon’tvisitforthewholesummeroften,butIhavebeenherebefore.”
Thebartenderapproacheswithanapologeticlook.“It’lljustbeafewmoreminutes.Weranoutofcoconutmilk.Someone’srunningovertograbafreshcasefromtherestaurantbar.”
“That’sfine.Icanwait.”IglanceovermyshouldertofindJoywatchingusintently.Grinningimpishly,shegivesalittlewave.
“Sit,”Benurges,gesturingtothestoolbesidehim.“Takealoadoff.”
Wechatforawhile,thecoconutmilktakinglongerthanafewminutestoarrive.Bentellsmehe’soriginallyfromNewYorkbutgoestoYale.He’sinhisfirstyearoflawschoolandlovingit.HisfamilyrecentlyboughtavacationhomeintheBayandthisishissecondsummerhere.WhenItellhimmygrandparentswerethepreviousownersoftheBeaconHotelandbuiltitfromthegroundup,he’ssuitablyimpressed.He’sgotablandsortofhumorbuttheconversationflowseasily,andwhentwopi?acoladasarefinallyslidinfrontofme,IdecideIdon’twanttheconversationtoendyet.
Ileantowardanapproachingwaitressandask,“Doyouminddroppingthisdrinkofftomyfriend?Idon’twantittogetallmelty.”IpointacrossthepooldeckatJoy’slounger.“She’stheoneintheredbikini.”
“Noproblem,”theblondechirps,takingthetallglass,whichisalreadydrippingwithcondensation.Beforeshestepsaway,shegivesmeawarninglook.OratleastIthinkit’sawarning?I’mnotentirelysure.
WhenIwrinklemyforehead,herheadmoves,almostimperceptibly,towardmycompanion,who’scheckingsomethingonhisphone.IsshewarningmeawayfromBen?Imustbemisreadingthelook,butshehurriesoffbeforeIcanfigureitout.
Afewminuteslater,Ifigureitout.
“Youwanttogetoutofhere?”hesuggestswithadevilishgleaminhiseyes,twistinghisbodysothatourkneesarenowtouching.
Ishiftinmyseat,easingmykneeaway.“Andgowhere?”Iaskuneasily.
“Myfamilybookedacabanahereforthesummer.Wecanhangoutthere.Lotsofprivacy…”Heraisesanenticingbrow.
“Oh.No,it’sfine.Let’sjuststayouthere.”Iliftmydrinkandtakeasip.“I’mgood.”
“Really?’CauseIthinkyou’dfeelalotbetterifwehadsomeprivacy.”
It’sfunnyhowfasttheytransformfromcoolguyI’mtalkingto,torun,girl,run
“Yeah,no.LikeIsaid,I’mgood.Butmyfriend’sprobablygettingboredsittingthereallalone.IthinkI’llheadback.”Istarttoslideoffthestool.
Benstopsmebyreachingoutandplacingahandonmybarethigh.
Instantly,mycheeksarescorchingandmypalmsfeeldamp.Thisstupidbathingsuit.Whydidn’tIputmyshortson?
Clenchingmyteeth,Ishovehishandoffandsay,“Don’t.”
“What?”heprotests.“Ithoughtweweregettingalong.”Whenhenoticesmydarkexpression,heleanscloser.Lowershisvoice.“Look,I’mgoingtobehonest.Ithinkyou’rehot.Fromthesecondyouwalkeduphere,I’vebeenfantasizingaboutpullingthatbathingsuitoffyouandfeastingmyeyesonthosetits.They’regorgeous.”
Myeyesbecomehot,stingingwildly,whichisstupidbecausethere’snoreasonformetocry.I’vebeenobjectifiedbefore,andI’llbeobjectifiedagain.That’sjusttherealityofit.Andyetshameclampsaroundmythroat,squeezingmywindpipesotightIhaveahardtimechokingoutwords.
Luckily,someoneelsedoesitforme.
“Shesaidno.”
Tateappearsbehindus.He’swearinghisclubuniform,khakishortsandawhitepolowiththenameoftheclubembroideredingold,Tate’snamestitchedbeneathit.Hishairistousled,probablyfrombeingoutonthewaterallmorning.
RelieftricklesthroughmeasImeetTate’shardblueeyes.
“Uh,yeah,getlost,Bartlett,”Bensayssnidely,whichtellsmethetwoofthemarealreadyacquainted.“Thisisaprivateconversation.”
“Idon’tthinkI’mtheoneCassiewouldliketoseego.”Tatetipshisheadtowardme.“Isn’tthatright,Cass?”
Ifinallyfindmyvoice.“That’sright.”
AscowldarkensBen’sface.“Areyoufuckingseriousrightnow?You’retheonewhocameoverhere,smiledatme,satdownbesideme.AndI’mthebadguy?Clearlyyoustartedthis.”
“AndI’mabouttofinishitifyoudon’tleave,”Tatesnaps.“Seriously,dude.I’mgettingsickofhavingtopryyouoffwomenwhoclearlydon’twantyouaround.”
“Fuckoff.”Buthedoesgetup.Benthrowsahundred-dollarbillonthebarandthenstalksoffwithoutabackwardlook.Asshole.
“Thanks,”ItellTate,lettingoutthebreathI’dbeenholding.
“Youokay?”
“I’mfine.Hedidn’tdoanything,really.Justputhishandonmylegandtoldmehowmuchhelovesmyboobs.”Ishrug,mytoneflat.“Theyalwayslovemyboobs.”
“Don’tdothat,”Tatesayssoftly.
“Dowhat?”
“Trytomakelightofit.Look,yes,menenjoyanicerack.Butthatdoesn’tgivethemtherighttoobjectifyyouormakeyoufeeluncomfortable.Ortolayafuckinghandonyou.”
Ichewtheinsideofmycheek.Thetruthis,Ihaveaverycomplicatedrelationshipwithmybreasts.WhenIwasyounger,theymademesoself-conscious,whichledtosomeseriouslybadposturethankstomyattemptstomakethemappearsmallerbyhunching.EventuallyIgrewtoacceptmychest,althoughI’mstillnotentirelycomfortablethatittendstobethefirstthingmostpeoplenoticeaboutme.It’sembarrassing.Imean,Igetit—humansarevisualcreatures.It’shardnottostarewhensomeonehashugetits.SometimesIevenlikeshowingmineoff,wearingatighttoporasexydress.ButTateisright.Beingobjectifiedisn’tajoke.Ishouldn’tmakelightofit,nomatterhowimmuneI’vegottenovertheyears
“You’reright.Thatwasn’tokay.”Ireleaseanotherbreath.“Heseemedreallycoolatthebeginning.”
“Iknow.I’veseenhimpulltheMr.Charmingactallsummer.Usuallyhekeepsitgoingforatleastafewdates,though.Ithinkyoucaughthimwhenhewasdrunkerthanusual.Theloweredinhibitionsmakeithardertohidethesleaze.”
“Hedidn’tseemthatdrunk,”Istart,butthenrememberthewaitress’swarninglook.She’dprobablybeenservinghimallafternoon.Bothbartendershadseemedwellacquaintedwithhimtoo.Ipickupmydrinkandchugtherestofit.“Ohwell.Anotherflingbitesthedust.”
“Nah,ginger,youdon’twantthatloser.Thereareamillionbettercandidates.”
Irollmyeyes.“Isthisthepartwhereyouoffertobemywingmanagain?”
“Youknowwhat?Yes.Let’sdothisshit.”Heflashesthatdimpledsmile.
“Dowhat?”Ifindmyselflaughing.It’samazinghowfasthe’sabletocheermeup.I’mnoteventhinkingaboutcreepyBenanymore.
“Let’sgoouttomorrownight,”Tateurges.“I’mdoneatthedealershipatfiveandthenhavingdinnerwithmymom,butIcancomegrabyouafterward.We’llhitJoe’sBeachBar.It’sgotabalancedcombooflocalsandyourcrowd.”
“Mycrowd?”
“Yeah,theclones.Therichfolks.There’llbeagoodvarietyatJoe’s.I’llhelpyouscopeoutthecandidates.Iknowpracticallyeveryoneintown,soIcantellyouwhichonestostayawayfrom.”
“Really.You’regoingtohelpmefindafling.”Iremainreluctant.“Idon’tknow.”
“Comeon,whatdoyouhavetolose?”
Mydignity.
Myself-esteem.
“Idon’tknow,”Isayagain.
“C’mon.
“Ugh…”
“C’mon.”
“AreyoujustgoingtokeeppesteringmeuntilIagree?”
“Prettymuch.”Hisdimplesmakeanotherappearance.“C’mon.”
“OhmyGod.Fine.”
Andthat’showthefollowingnightIfindmyselfwaitingoutsideJoe’sBeachBarwhileTatesearchesforaparkingspot.Theboardwalkispacked,evenonaMondaynight.AndJoe’sissituatedinaprimelocation,itsbeachfrontpatioamajordrawforthetouristcrowd.Sixstepsoffthepatioandliterallyyou’reonthesand.I’vealwayslikedthisplace.Thefoodisgreat.Superlaid-backatmosphere.
“Ready?”Tatesauntersupthesidewalktowardme.
“Howfarawaydidyouhavetopark?”
“Nottoobad.BeachaccesslotneartheSoapery.”
Westeptothedoorasagroupofloud,drunkyoungmenareexiting,oneofthemstumblingintousbeforeofferingaslurredapology.Tatereachesouttosteadyme,whichplaceshishandatthesmallofmyback.AndsinceI’mwearingacroppedtee,hispalmmeetsmybareskin.
Ahotshiverrunsthroughme.
“Youokay?”hesays.
“Good.”Iswallow.Wishingmypulsestilldidn’tcareenwheneverweaccidentallytouch.
ButTatemadeitclearhe’snotinterestedinflingingwithme,andsinceI’dreallyliketofindacuteguytospendthesummerwith,IcaneithermopearoundduringmyremainingsixweeksintheBayandmoonoverTateBartlett—orIcantrytomeetsomeonewho’sequallycool.
Asawomanwho’strainedherselftoforeverfocusonthepositive,IdowhatIalwaysdoandpasteonacheerfulsmile.“Allright,Bartlett.Thegame’safoot.”
“Thegameisgonnaendinspectaculardefeatifyoukeepusingphraseslikethegame’safoot.”Herollshiseyes.“Let’sgetussomedrinks,Sherlock.”
Weorderacoupleofbeersandmigratetowardastandingtableagainstthewall,whichoffersaviewoftheentirebar,includingthepatio.Sippingmybeer,Iscopeouttheroom.Tate’sdoingthesame.
“Howabouthim?”hesuggests.Givesadiscreetnodtoourright.
Ifollowhisgazetoadark-hairedguywithaleanframeandanattractiveface.Sadly,hisgoodlooksareeclipsedbyhisunfortunatechoiceofarmink.
“Absolutelynot,”Iretort.
“Isitthetattoo?”
“Ofcourseit’sthetattoo.I’mnotsureIwanttodatesomeonewholovestacossomuchtheypermanentlyetchoneintotheirflesh.Imaginehowoftenwe’dhavetoeattacosfordinner?”Ishakemyhead.“Noway.”
Tatestaresatme.
“What?”
Hislipstwitchwithunrestrainedlaughter.“Cassie.Baby.Sweetie.I’mprettysurethat’snotthekindoftacohe’slookingtocommemorate.”
“Whatdoyoumean?Whatelse—”Igasp.“Oh.Ew.No.”Iglareathim.“Really?Andyouthinkhe’saviableoption?”
“Whynot?Meanshedoesoral…”
“Thankyou,next.”
“Sopicky.Won’tevenconsideramanwhowantstoworshipyourtaco.”
Iburstoutlaughing.Hedoublesoverhalfasecondlaterandthenwe’rebothinhysterics.Damnit,whydoIhavesuchagoodtimewiththisguy?Youwouldn’texpectTatetobesofunny.Withhisperpetuallytousledhairandlazysmiles,thattraceofaGeorgiaaccentthrownintothemix,hegivesoffaslacker,surfer-boyvibe,whenhe’sthetotaloppositeofthat.Tateisintelligent,hard-working.AndIthinkitspeaksvolumesthateverysinglepersonwhoknowshimgenuinelylikeshim.Notmanypeoplecansaythat.
“Howabouthim?”Inodtowardacuteguybythedartboards.
Thebarfeaturesanentirewallexclusivelyfordarts.It’sbasicallyahugewoodenboardriddledwithsomanydents,holes,andpuncturemarksit’sclearmanyaprojectilehasbeenhurledatitbyintoxicatedhands.TheguyIpointoutisintheprocessofaiming.Hegripshisdart,foreheadlinedwithintensity,whenhisfriendsidlesuptohimandbreakshisconcentration.Theguyswivelshisheadandsnapssomething.Thefriend,takenaback,holdsupbothhandsandbacksawaylikehejustconfrontedaterritoriallion.
“Areyoukiddingme?”Tatesays.“Mr.Angryoverthere?”
“Hewasn’tangrywhenIfirstnoticedhim,”Iprotest.
“Well,heisnowandthat’saredflag.It’sfuckingdarts.Nobodygetsthatinvestedindarts.”
He’sright.Ican’tdatesomeonewho’ssopassionateaboutdartstheynearlybitesomeone’sheadoffforinterrupting.
Oristhattoopicky?
“AmIbeingtoopicky?”Iaskindismay.
“No.Imean,yes.Musthatedartsispicky.ButIalsoknowthoseovercompetitiveblowhardtypes.They’renotfuntobearound.”Heshrugs.“Andtheytendtobeselfishinbed.”
“Really?Hadsexwithalotofovercompetitivemen,haveya?”
“No,butI’mfriendswithalotofgirls.Theyspillthetea.”
“Icannotbelieveyoujustusedthatexpression.”
“Why?It’slegit.”
Iribhimwithmyelbow.“Maybeyou’retheonewhoneedspickuphelpifthat’sthekindoflingoyou’redroppingaroundtheladies.”
“Trustme,Idojustfine.”
Ihavenodoubt.
Wespendthenextlittlewhilepeople-watchingandjokingaround.DespitehisassurancethatJoe’sdrawsadiversecrowd,therearen’tmanyprospectshereforme.Mostlydrunktouristsorcouples.Tategoestograbusanotherroundofbeers,andItaketheopportunitytocheckmyphone.MymessagethreadwithPeytoncontainshercustomaryone-line
Peyton:How’sitgoing?
Peyton:Isyourwingmananygood?
Peyton:Didwefindsomebody?
Peyton:Theybetternotbeasix.
Peyton:Well?
Woulditkillhertosendoneparagraph?IhaveanimpossibletimetryingtolocatethesilverlininginPeyton’saggravatingtextingstyle.
AlongwithPeyton’smessages,Ifindaresponsefrommyformerstepbrothertomyillustrationrequest.
Robb:Sorryforthedelay!WastryingtofigureoutifIcouldsqueezeitin.Ijustwrappedupaprojectatworkaheadofschedule,soI’min!SendmethestoryandIcancomeupwithsomeconceptsthisweek.
Yes!Thechildren’sbookisago.Igiveamentalfistpump.Mysistersaregoingtolovemeforever.
BeforeIcanreplytoRobb,ashadowfallsoverthetable.Ilookup…andthenup…andup.Becausetheguywho’swanderedupisaliteralgiant.Hemustbesix-six,maybeeventaller.
Ahesitantsmiletoucheshislips.He’sgotasweet-lookingface.“Hey,”hesays.“Aprettygirllikeyoushouldn’tbesittingallalone.”Thenhewinces.“Shit.I’msorry.That’saterribleline.”
Ican’thelpbutlaugh.“Imean,it’snotthemostoriginal,butitdoesthejob.”
“MindifIjoinyou?Myfriendkindofditchedme.”Hegesturestowardaboothacrosstheroom,whereayoungcoupleiseatingeachother’sfacesoff.AndI’mprettysureshehasherhanddownhispants.They’reeithergoingtobekickedoutanysecond,orsoontheentirebarwillwitnessanenthusiasticboutofpublicsex.
“Wow,”Iremark.“They’rereallygoingatit.”
“Yeah.Iknow.Hedoesthiseveryweekend.”Thegiantmakesaface.“He’stheworstpersontogooutwith.”
“Andyetyoukeepdoingiteveryweekend…”
“MaybeI’mhopingonedayI’llfindacutegirltokeepmecompany.”
“Nice.Thatlinewasmuchbetter.”
“ThankGod.”Hegivesatentativesmileandrestsoneforearmonthetable.“I’mLandon.”
“Cassie.”
“It’snicetomeetyou,Cassie.”
Hisshynessisslowlymeltingaway,soofcoursemywingmanchoosespreciselythatmomenttoreturnwithourbeers.
LandontakesonelookatTateandinstantlygoesonguard.“Oh.I’msorry.Ididn’tknowyouwerewithsomeone.”
“No,no,we’renottogether,”Isay.“ThisismyfriendTate.”
“I’mherwingman,”Tatesupplies.
Landonlaughs,butthesoundislacedwithdiscomfort.“That’s,um,cool.”
Tateflicksupaneyebrow.“I’malsohergatekeeper.”
“Youarenot.”IturntoreassureLandon.“He’snot,Iswear.”
“OfcourseIam.I’mnotlettingmyfriendleaveherewithanyoneunlessIknowtheirintentions.”Tatecrosseshisarmsinsomemachoposturingmovethatmakesmerollmyeyes.“So.”HepinsLandonwithasternstare-down.“Pleasestateyourintentions.”
“OhmyGod,”Igroan.“Justignorehim.”
“I’mserious.Intentions.State’em.I’mwaiting.”
Landonshiftsawkwardly,andhe’ssobigthathecan’thelpjarringthetable.I’msurprisedtheliquidinourbottlesdoesn’tstartripplinglikeinJurassicParkwhentheT.rexwalksup.Withanuncertainexpression,hefinallypiecestogetheraresponse.
“Um.Idon’tknow.IthoughtI’dbuyheradrink.Isthatokay?Ithinkshe’scute,and,um…”Idon’tknowifit’sthewordcutethatcauseshimtolowerhiseyestomyboobs,orifhe’ssimplytryingtoavoidTate’sdeathglareandit’spurecoincidencewherehisgazelands.
Eitherway,itearnshimawarninggrowlfromTate.“Eyesonme.”Hepointstwofingersathisowneyesasiftopunctuatethat.
“I’msorry.”Landon’spanicking.“I…”Hetakesastepaway.“Youknowwhat?Ithinkmyfriend’scallingme.”
Nobodyiscallinghim,butmypoorsweetgianthasapparentlydecidedthatwatchinghisfriendgropesomechickisbetterthanbeingsubjectedtoTate’soutrageousinterrogation.
“Cockblock,”Iaccuse,scowlingatmywingman.
“Nah.Trustme,that’snotourguy.”
“Whynot?”
“Hekeptapologizingforeverything.Andhewastoonervous.”
Iobjecttothelatter.“Nervouscanbeendearing.”
Tateisquicktodisagree.“Heaskedifitwasokaytobuyyouadrink.Isthatreallywhatwewant?No.Wewantsomeonewho’sproactive.Someonewithconfidence.Dudeoverthereisthekindofguywhoasksforpermissiontoholdyourhand.”Hepauses.“Ifyouwereonlyallowedtouseonewordtodescribewhatyouwantfromyourflingthissummer,whatwoulditbe?”
“Passion,”Ianswerwithoutthinking,andimmediatelyregretthatdecision.
Theairbetweenusshifts,growingthicker,headier.Ormaybeit’sonlyhappeningonmyend.MaybeI’monlyimaginingthathislipsareslightlyparted,thathisblueeyessuddenlyappeardarker,loadedwithheat.There’snowaythoseeyesaresmolderingatmerightnow
“Passion,”heechoes,hisvoiceabitraspy.IswearIseehimgulp.Thenheclearshisthroatandshrugs.“Areyoutellingmeyouthinkthatguyactuallyfitsthepassionbill?”
“No,”Iadmit.
“ThenI’vedonemywingmanduty.”
Wefinishoursecondbeersandorderathirdround,eventuallydriftingovertothedartboardwalltoplayacoupleofgames.AfterTatebeatsmeforasecondtime,theguysnexttous,apairofbrothersvisitingfromNewYork,challengeustoagame.Twoontwo.I’mdownrightterrible,butluckilymycounterpartisequallyatrocious.Tateandhiscounterpartarestupidlygood,hittingbullseyeafterbullseyewhiletheotherguyandIglumlywatchourteammatesoutshootus.Atthispoint,we’recompletelyinconsequentialtotheoutcomeofthegame.Thosetwoarebasicallybattlingitoutalone.
“Wesuck,”theguyinformsme.Theyintroducedthemselvesearlier.Ican’trememberhisbrother’sname,buthisnameisAaron.He’stallandlean,withbrightbrowneyes,agreatsmile,andnotasinglepinktacotattoo.
“Oh,bigtime,”Iagree.
Tatescoresanotherbullseye,promptingAaron’sbrothertorubhisforeheadandmarvel,“Damn,bro.You’relikesomedartswhizkid.Howoftendoyouplay?”
“Hardlyever,”Taterepliesproudly.“Iwasbornwiththisgift.”
Isnickerfromourspotonthesidelines,promptingTatetoturnandflashmeagrin.
“Howlonghaveyoutwobeentogether?”Aaronasks.
“Oh,we’renottogether,”Ireply,andIdon’tmisstheflickerofinterestinhiseyes.Hereallyiscute.AndI’mdefinitelypickinguponsomechemistrybetweenuswhilewe’vebeenchatting.
OnceheknowsTateandIaren’tacouple,Aarongetsevenflirtier.Afterthreebeers,I’mfeelinglooseandrelaxed,andfindmyselfflirtingbackwithveryminimalnervousbabbling.It’sgoingwell,atleastuntilAaron’sbrothertakesabathroombreakandTatecomesoverandinterruptsus.HelooksAaronupanddown,thenshiftshisgazetomeandliftsabrow,asiftoask,Dowelikethisguy?
Inodslightly,thencursemyselfforitbecauseTateviewsthataspermissiontointerrogate.
“Allright,”hesayscheerfully,plantinghimselfinfrontofAaron.“Let’shearit.Whatareyourintentionswithmyfriend?”
AfaintgrinappearsonAaron’sface.Hedonsathoughtfullook.Goesquietforseveralseconds.“Hmmm.Alright.Toughquestion.Atthemoment,I’mtornbetweeninvitinghertoaccompanymetothecarnivaltomorrownight—or,andhearmeout,askinghertopartnerupforadartstournament,exceptinsteadofplayingtoseewho’sbest,we’dbevyingforthetitleofAmerica’sWorst.”
Tatenodshisapproval.“Twosolidoptions.Okay.Permissiongranted.Carryon.”HeclapsAaronontheshoulderandwandersoff.
“Well?”Aaronsays,directingthatappealingsmilemyway.“You,me,andacarnival?Tomorrownight?”
“Sure,”Isayshyly.“I’dloveto.”CHAPTER12
TATE
TuesdayisaslowdayatBartlettMarine,soDadandIspendhalfthemorninglookingatboatporn.He’shopingtoreplaceourancientthirty-seven-footHatteraswithanewermodel,maybeonewithbuilt-inGPSandafewmorebellsandwhistles.ButwhileIkeeptryingtosteerhimtowardmorepracticaloptions,Dadkeepsclickingonshitthatinnowaymeetsourcriteria.
“Dude,”Ichastise.“Wedon’tneedahigh-performancespeedboat.”
“Everyoneneedsahigh-performancespeedboat.”
“Well,yeah.”Isigh.“Butwe’relookingforsomethingsuitablefordeep-seafishing,remember?”
“Iknow,but…”Dadgroanshappily.“Lookatthisone,kid.CheckoutthedesignofherV-bottomhull…aw,man,she’ssosexyIcan’ttakeit.”
Adrylaughechoesfromthedoor.WebothlookuptoseeMomstandingthere.Weweresoengrossedwiththecomputerscreenwedidn’tevenhearhercomein.
“What’shermodelnumber?”Momasks.
Isnicker.Mostpeoplewouldhearshe’ssosexyIcan’ttakeitandassumewe’reoglingphotosofwomen.“Whatmakesyouthinkwe’renotlookingathumanporn?”Ichallenge.
“BecauseIknowyouboysbetterthanthat.”Shestridestowardus,anoversizedwickertoteslungoverhershoulder.Withheryellowdress,flip-flops,andblondhairinaponytail,shecouldeasilypassforoneofthecollegegirlswho’llbeswarmingtheBayinSeptember.
“Hi,sweetie.”Sheplantsakissonmycheek.
“Hey,Mom.”
SheturnstogreetDad,exceptwhenherlipsnearhischeekhepullsaslyswitcherooandplantshismouthonhersinstead.Iglimpseaslipoftongue,andcringe.
“Youguysarerepulsive,”Isay,pretendingtogag.
Idon’treallymeanit,though.BecauseallthatstuffMackenziesaidlastweekaboutmenevershowingmuchinterestingirlfriends?Isuspectmyparents’relationshiphasalottodowiththat.Whenyougrowupwitnessingthatsortoflove,youstarttobelievethat’showallrelationshipsaresupposedtofeel.Andthenyouwait.Youholdoutforthatfeeling.It’sobscure,impossibletodescribe,butyouknowitexists.IknowitexistsbecauseIseeitwithmyfolks.
I’vebeenwithmanywomen,fuckedalotofthem,datedafew,butI’veyettoexperienceadeepconnectionwithanyone.ItmightbecheesyandembarrassingandI’dneversayitoutloud,butIthinkI’mwaitingforthatfeeling.AndunlessIfeelit,there’snopointfallingintoarelationshipwithanyone
DadsaysheknewMomwastheonethemomenthemether.Shetellsitalittledifferently,alwaysteasinghimthattechnicallytheymetinhighschoolandclearlyhehadnoclueshewastheone,otherwisetheywould’vebeendatingbackthen.Dadwasabigbaseballstar,datedcheerleadersanddidn’tknowMomexisted,accordingtoher.Aftergraduation,heleftGeorgiaforSt.Louistoplayintheminors,whileMomstayedinSt.Simon’sandstarteddatinganaccountantnamedBrad.Ayearintohisballcareer,Dadgotinjuredandreturnedtotheisland,wherehequicklyreconnectedwithanoldcheerleaderflame.Whichmeanstheywerebothotherwiseinvolvedwhentheybumpedintoeachotherinthegrocerystoreoneafternoon.Despitethat,Dadclaimshetookonelookatherandknewhewasgoingtomarryher.
MomditchedBrad,Dadditchedthecheerleader,andthey’vebeenblissfullymarriedfortwenty-fiveyears.
Dadcallsittheiroriginstory.Hegetsakickoutoftellingit.ButMom…it’sweird.Sometimeswhenshetalksaboutit,shestillwearsthisoddexpressionofdisbelief.Asifshecan’tfathomhowGavinBartlettcouldhavechosenher,GemmaMcCleary,oversomecheerleaderhedatedinhighschool.Idon’tgetwhyshe’ssostumped.Ofcoursehechoseher.Mom’sthecoolestpersonIknow.
Withacuriousexpression,shepeerscloseratthecomputerscreen,thenliftsherheadtonarrowhereyesatDad.“Youcan’tfishinthat,Gavin.”
“Butisn’tshebeautiful?”
“Canyoufishinher?”
“Well,no,but—”
“Thenshe’sugly,”Momdeclares.“Utterlyhideous.”
Dadpouts.“Spoilsport.”Heleansbackinhisrollingchair.“Whatbringsyouhere,darlin’?”
“Itookahalfdayatworktoday,soIdecidedtodropoffsomelunchformyboys.”
Shereachesintoherbagandpullsoutapairofsandwicheswrappedinfoil.They’reman-sized,asshecallsit.Meaningeachsandwichisaboutthesizeofashoebox.
“Thevegetablegardenisgrowingoutofcontrol,soI’mtryingtouseeverythingIcanfromit.Pickedsomefreshtomatoes,lettuce,peppers.AndIgrabbedsomeofthatdelimeatfromthebutcherintown.Theroasthamyoulike.”
Dad’seyeslightup.“Ohman,yes.Thanks,Gem.”
“Howaremychildren?”IaskMom.“You’renotsendingmeenoughpicsofthem.”
“BecauseIhavemorepressingmatterstoattendtothantakingpicturesofyourdogs,sweetheart.Youknow,likegotoworkeveryday?”
“Thekidsaregreat,”Dadassuresme.“Pollykilledarabbitlastweekandbroughtusitsseveredheadasatokenofherlove.”
Iguffaw.
“AndFudgegotintothepantryyesterdayandatehalfaboxofcookies,sohewasfartingallnight.Aroundtenhewasinadeadsleepandrippedoneoutsoloudhewokehimselfup.Gotsofreakedouthewasbarkingforasolidfiveminutes.”
NowIcan’tstoplaughing.“Shit,Ican’tbelieveImissedthat.”
Leaningagainstthesideofthedesk,MomglancesatDadandnodstowardme.“Didyouaskhimyet?”
Ieyethemboth.“Askmewhat?”
“No,Ididn’tgetachancetoyet,”hetellsher.“Gotdistractedlookingatboatpics.”Hespinsaroundinhischair,handsproppedbehindhisneck.“It’sabigask,butwewerehopingyoucoulddousafavor,kid.Youknowhowweplannedtotakeatripinthefall?”
Inod.“AweekinCalifornia.”
“Right.Well,we’rehopingtobegonealittlelongerthanaweek.Wefiguredifwe’realreadyonthewestcoast,weshouldmakearealholidayoutofit.AddHawaiitotheitinerary.”
“Hawaii!”Momclapsexcitedly.
Irisefrommychairandheadforthewatercoolertopourmyselfacup.“Sohowlongwouldyoubegone?”
“Ifyou’reonboard,it’dbeamonth,”Dadsays.“YourcontractwiththeclubisdoneinSeptember,right?”
“Yeah.”Idon’tteachsailingduringtheoffseason,workingonlyfromApriltoSeptember.Afterthat,Iswitchovertofull-timeshiftsatthedealership.ButI’veneverruntheplaceonmyownbefore.It’salwaysDadandme,sotheresponsibilitiesaresplitfairlyevenly.Workingsoloforamonthmeansmuchlongerhours.
Ontheotherhand,italsomeansmuchbiggerpaychecks.Icouldputallthatextramoneytowardbuyingmyownsailboat.
“IthinkIcouldmanageit,”Isayslowly.
“Thanks,sweetie.”Momcomesupandgivesmeaquickhug,restingherchinonmyshoulder.“Wereallyappreciateit.”
“Toldyouwecouldcountonhim,”Dadsayswithapleasedsmile.“Familyalwaystakescareoffamily,right,kid?”
“Yup.”
TherestoftheworkdayfliesbyafterMomleaves.Aroundoneo’clockwedealwitharushoftouristscomingintoinquireaboutboatrentals,whichwealsoprovide.DadandIaresobusywedon’tevenhaveachancetoeatoursandwiches.IscarfminedownintheJeeponthewayhomelater.
Asalways,IconductaquickvisualsweepoftheJacksonhousewhenIwalkin,justtomakesurenothingbadhappenedwhenIwasatwork.Nowildanimalsfindingtheirwayin,orgreedyhooligansgettingthebrightideatorobus.Allisgood,andIheadupstairstochangeintosweats.
MyplanforthenightislazingonthecouchandwatchingmindlessTV,becausetomorrow’sgoingtobebusy.WorkingwithDadtillfour,thenspeedingovertotheyachtclubtoteachafiveo’clocksafetyclasstoagroupofteenagerswho’rehopingtogetthecertificationrequiredforthemtocompeteinsingle-handeddinghyracing.IlovethattheManorsponsorsjuniorprogramsforyoungsailors—IfoundthemsovaluablewhenIwastheirage.Idowishweofferedclubracestopreparekidsfornationalevents,butatleastthey’reabletocompeteatoursisterclubinCharleston.
I’vejustpulledapairofgraysweatpantsupmyhipswhenIglimpseaflashofmovementnextdoor.It’smessedup,thisstrangesynchronizationCassieandIhavegoingon.Asshepassesherwindow,Inarrowmyeyes,frown,thengrabmyphonetotexther.
Me:You’rewearingpinktoyourcarnivaldate?No.
Cassie:Whynot??
Me:Becauseyou’llgetlostinaseaofcottoncandy.Youwon’tstandout.
Cassie:ButIlookcuteinpink.
Ican’targuewiththat.Asithappens,shelookscuteineverything,butIkeepthatobservationtomyself.IinsistedIonlywantedtobefriends.Tellingherhowhotsheiswouldonlysendmixedsignalsandconfuseusboth.Andtobehonest,I’menjoyingthehelloutofthisfriendship.HangingoutwithCassiefeelssodamnnatural.Wehavefun
Atthewindow,Cassietoyswiththeedgeofhersidebraid,clearlymullingitover.Shetypesanothermessage.
Cassie:Okay.Standby.
Thecurtainsshut.ButIdon’tthinksherealizesthey’rekindofsheer,especiallywhenthebedroomlightison.Thegauzywhitematerialdoesverylittletoconcealthesilhouetteofthepinupgirlnextdoor.
Don’tlook.
Toolate.
Heatstreaksthroughmybloodstreamandsettlesinmyballs,drawingthemuptight.Ohfuck.Ineverknewasilhouettecouldturnmeonsomuch.MythroatisdryerthansawdustasIwatchCassie’sdelectableshapemovearoundtheroom.Shedisappearsforamoment.Inthewalk-incloset,Ithink.Thenshe’sbackandmydickweepswithjoy.I’msemi-hardandunabletostopmyselffromstaring.She’sinprofilenow.Herarmsraiseassheslipsagarmentoverherhead.Themovemakesherchestjutout,offeringaperfectside-boobview.
SweetJesus.
She’sincredible.
Gulpingrapidly,Iwrestmypervyeyesawayfromherandmakeamentalnotetojerkoffnexttimebeforeeventhinkingaboutsteppingfootinmybedroom.ItappearsIneedtocurballtemptationbeforeindulginginfuturewindowtime.
Thedrapespart,andshereappears,cladinawhitesundress.Insteadofabra,she’swearingabikinitop,oratleastIthinkthat’swhatthosethinstrapsbelongto.Thepinkstringspeekoutofherbodice,climbinguphercollarbonetowindaroundherneck.Thedressitselfisknee-length,withaskirtthatfluttersaroundasshegivesalittletwirlbeforetextingme.
Cassie:Nowhearmeout.Yes,Ithrewinasplashofpinkwiththebikinitop.Butthat’sbecauseIthinkit’ssmarttocolor-coordinatewiththecottoncandy.We’llcomplementeachother.
Me:I’llallowit.
Cassie:Dowelike?
ShedoesanothertwirlandIpretendtheglimpseofbarethighdoesn’tdoallsortsofthingstomybody.
Igiveherathumbs-up,thentype,Goget’em,tiger.
Aroundmidnight,IfinallyadmitdefeatandacceptIcan’tsleep.IthasnothingtodowiththefactthatIhaven’theardacarenginenextdoorornoticedherbedroomlightflickon.She’sstilloutwiththatAarondude,clearly.Goodforher.Shedeservestohavefun.MyinabilitytofallintoslumberisnotCassie-relatedatall.Like,atall.
Imakemywaydowntothedockandsitattheveryendofit,danglingmybarefeetovertheedge.Butlet’ssayCassieisthereasonI’mstillup.Obviously,thisjustmeansI’magoodfriend.Afriendwhoworriesaboutthewell-beingofanotherfriend.Imean,IknownothingaboutthisAaronkid.ButIdoknowforafactthecarnivalshutsdownateleven.So,really,sheshould’vebeenhomebynow.
Unlessshewentbacktohisplace.
Myshouldersstiffen.Hisbrothersaidtheywerestayinginarentalonthenorthend,rightonthewater.Theremindermakesmefrown.Ihopehedoesn’tconvincehertotakealate-nightdip.Thewatersuptherearechoppier.It’swhereweusuallygotosurf.SweartoGod,iffuckin’AaronallowsCassietogetsuckedintotheseabyafreakmidnightriptide…
I’msuddenlycravingacigarette.IonlysmokeifI’mdrinking,andthenmaybeoneortwomax,butrightnowIcouldusesomehelpeasingthejitterysensationsinsideme.Mysmokesareinthehouse,though,soIdebategoingforaswiminstead.Iallowthetoesofonefoottoskimthewater,findingitmuchwarmerthanexpected.I’mabouttostripoffmyshirtanddiveinwhenmyphonelightsup.
Cassie:Youup?
Ilaughsoftly.Swimplaninstantlyabandoned,Ireachforthephone.
Me:Isthisabootycalloradebriefing?
Cassie:Debriefing.IneedmywingmanASAP.
Me:I’monthedock.
Cassie:Bethereintwo.
Theheavinessinmychestliftsasifsomeoneflickedaswitch.Itrynottoquestionittoohard.It’scrucialtothisfriendshipthatIdon’t.
Thetallgrassatthebaseofthesloperustles,andIturntoseeCassieemergefromtheshadows.Herhairisnolongerarrangedinasidebraidbutfallingaroundhershoulders.Withherwhitedress,barefeet,andloosecopperwaves,shehasanalmostetherealqualityabouther.Practicallyfloatingdownthedocktowardme.
Sheplopsbesideme,legsovertheedge,andreleasesamoanofunhappiness.“Hi.”
Igrin.“Thatbad?”
“No.Notbadatall.Westayedoutpastmidnight,soobviouslytherewerelotsofchecksinthepluscolumn.”Yetshe’svisiblydistressed.
“Okay,let’shear’em.Givemetheplaybyplay.”
“He’ssuperfunny.He’ssmart.Hedidn’tmonopolizetheconversation.Askedmelotsofquestions,butitdidn’tfeellikeaninterrogation.Itwasjust,youknow,agoodconversation.Flowedeasily.”
“Allplusessofar.”
“Heheldmyhandanddidn’taskbeforehandifhecould.Ifiguredyou’dviewtheconfidenthandgrabasaplus.”
Isnicker.“Oh,absolutely.Whatelse?”
“He’sscaredofheights,butstillrodetheFerriswheelafterIsaidhowmuchIloveseeingthetownfromabove.Thatwasanotherplus.”
“Agreed.”
“Thecarnivalgroundscloseateleven,soweleftandgotslushiesafterward.Wesatintheparkinglotandtalked,and…”Shepauses,andInoticeablushrisingonhercheeks.“Weweredefinitelyfeelingeachother.”
“Thisisallgoodsofar,”Ipointout,ignoringtheweirdclenchinmychest.“Howdidhemanagetofuckthisup?Whatweretheminuses?”
“Justoneminus.”Sheturnstomewithalookofdefeat.“Thekissing.OhmyGod,Tate.”
“Aw,shit.OurboyAaroncan’tbringithome?Whatwastheissue?Saliva?Becausethatmightnotbehisfault.MyfriendChasedatedaguyoncewhohadsomethingcalledhypersalivationand—”
“Itwasn’tthesaliva,”sheinterjects.“Itwasthetongue.”
“Toomuchofit?”
“Toomuchisanunderstatement.Anditwasrightfromtheget-go.I’mtalkingevenbeforeourmouthsactuallytouched.Hecameatmetonguefirst,eyesclosed.Wantmetodemonstrate?”
“No,IthinkIget—”
Cassieignoresmyobjectionanddemonstratesanyway.“Itwaslikethis.”Shesqueezeshereyesshut,stickshertonguestraightout,andcomesbarrelingtowardmyface.
It’ssounsettlingIinstinctivelyrearback.
“Holyshit.Hedidn’t.”
“Hedid.Itwasterrible.”
Itrytocontrolthelaughterbubblinginmythroat,butit’sdifficult.“Okay,”Isaycarefully.“Thatsounds…unpleasant.Butoncethelipsmadecontact,diditgetbetter?”
“Itdidnot,”shegroans.“Itwasjusttoomuch.Hewastryingsohardtobepassionate,Iguess,butitwasn’tworkingintheslightest.WhenitfinallyendedIfeltlikeI’drunamarathon.Orworse.Like…likeI’djustchangedaduvetcover.”
“Didyouaskhimtoslowdownatanypoint?”
“No.”
Irollmyeyes.“Whythehellnot?”
“Idon’tknow.”Sheoffersaself-consciousshrug,herfingerstoyingwiththehemofherdress.“I’mnotthatperson.”
“You’renotthepersonwhoasksadudenottoshovehistonguehalfwaydownyourthroatandpretendyou’resword-fightingduringamake-outsession?”
“I’mnotthepersonwhotellssomeonethey’reabadkisser,”shecorrects.
“Requestingtogoslowerisn’ttellinghimhe’sabadkisser,”Iargue.“You’rejustvocalizingyourneeds.”
“Vocalizingmyneeds?Whatareyou,aself-helpguru?”
“Apparentlyyouneedone,”Isayinaccusation,flashingasmilesosheknowsI’mhalfkidding.
“Why,becauseI’mtoopolitetotellaguyhe’sdoingitallwrong?”
“Wouldyouratherbepolite,orwouldyouratherenjoyakiss?Andanyway,youdon’tgoaboutitthatway,likehe’sdoingsomethingwrong.Youmakeitaboutyou.Youpullawayandsaysomethinglike…”Iponder.“Ilikeitslow.Andmakesuretosoundallbreathy,evenapologetic,asifit’sayouproblem.KnowwhatImean?”
Warinessflickersthroughherexpression.
“Oryoucouldpullbackandwhispersomethinglike,Ilikebeingteased.Thenflutteryoureyelashesandgivehimthathot-girllookandorderhimtoteaseyouforabit.”
Nowshelooksfascinated.“Okay,you’renotbadatthis.”
“Iknow,”Isaysmugly.
“Butit’seasiersaidthandone.It’seasytoimaginemyselfsayinganddoingallthosethingsafterthefact.Inthemoment,though,IknowI’llfreeze.Peoplearesovulnerablewhenthey’rekissing.It’slikethissuperprecariousstateofbeing.Whenhe’skissingme,hisself-esteemhangsinthebalance.Onenegativewordfromme,andit’sanembarrassmenthe’llcarrywithhimforever.”Sheheavesasigh.“PlusIdon’tlikeconflict.”
“One,you’regivingyourselfwaytoomuchimportanceinthisdude’slifeifyoubelieveyourcriticismwillhaunthimforever.Eitherthat,oryouhangontoembarrassingshitalotlongerthanmostpeople,whichisawholeotherconversationaltogether.Andtwo,I’mprettysurenearlyeveryoneisconflictaverse.Conflictfuckingsucks.”Icockmyhead.“Doyouwanttopracticeonme?”
“Practicewhat?”Shewrinklesherforehead.
“Beingassertive.”IanglemyselfsoI’mfacingher.She’sblushingagain,adeep,noticeablered.“C’mon,Ithinkthis’llbegoodforyou.I’llcomeatyoutonguefirstandlet’sseehowyouhandleit.”
Cassiespitsoutanunequivocal,“No!”
“Nah,thisisanexcellentidea.It’llbeanexerciseinself-assertionandconflictmitigation.”Irollmyneckaroundmyshoulders,stretchingitout.WhenCassiesighsatme,Iliftabrow.“What?Ineedtobelimberforthis.Ready?”
“No.”
“Great.HereIcome!”
Ishootforwardwithmyeyesclosedandtonguespearingtheair.
Cassieshrieksandpushesmychest,nearlyknockingmeoffthedock.Shedoublesoverinlaughter,whichmakesmechuckleasIregainmybalance.Herspiritsarelifting,sothat’sgood,atleast.
“OhmyGod.Areyousureyou’retwenty-threeandnotanovergrownchild?”
“I’vebeeninformedbymymotherthatallmenareovergrownchildrenuntiltheageofthirty.”Isnort.“Orinmydad’scase,stillachildinhismidforties.”
“Sothat’swhereyougetitfrom.”
“Mydashinggoodlooks?Yes.”
“Imeantyourantics.”
“Antics?I’mtryingtohelpyouhere,ginger.Youneedtolearntospeakup.Vocalizeyourneeds.Don’ttellmeyou’renotsittingherewishingyouhandledtonightdifferently.”Imeethersuddenlytroubledeyes.“Youregretnotsayingsomething,don’tyou?”
“Yes,”sheconfesses.“IwishIsaidsomething.”
“Good.ThenI’mserious—practiceonme.Let’stryagain.”
Sheeyesmesuspiciously.“Areyougoingtolaunchyourselfatmewithyourtongueagain?”
“Nah.”Iwink.“Butgetreadyfortheworstkissofyourlife.”CHAPTER13
TATE
Afewhoursago,Iwasorderingmyselftosustainaplatonicfriendshipatallcosts.Iguessthatplanwentbythewaysidebecause,andIcouldbewrong,Idon’tthinkkissingfallsundertheplatoniccategory.
Inmydefense,thiscan’tbeclassifiedaskissing.Atleastnotenjoyableoracceptablekissing.Whenourmouthscollide,it’spuredisaster.NothinglikethehotkisswesharedattheHartleyhouse,whenthefeelofCassie’ssoft,warmlipsgotmesohardIhadtroublewalkingafterward.Thiskissisoverbearingandsloppy.We’rebothhavingtroublebreathingandnotinasexyway.Mytongueislikeanactionstar,kickingandpunchingaroundinhermouthasifwe’reduelingfordominance.It’sactuallyexhausting
Heroutragedsquealvibratesagainstmylips.“Ahhh,stop!Thisisawful!”Sheshovesme.
Ilaugh,wipingtheexcesssalivaoffmychin.“Nope.Webothknowyou’dneveractuallysaythattohim.Tryagain.Redirectthenegativeintoapositiverequest.Makeitayouissue,remember?”
She’sinstantlyshamefaced.“Right.Iforgot.”Herlipspresstogetherinhumor.“SorryIpushedyou.”
“Allgood.”Idrawadeepbreathtostockuponoxygen,thendiveinforroundtwo.
Thistime,whenmytonguepillagesitswaythroughherpartedlips,Ifeelafirmtouchonthecenterofmychest.Thensheawkwardlyeaseshermouthawayandorders,“Slow!”
Inarrowmyeyes.
Shesoftenshertone.“Imean,Ilikeitslower.”Then,asifstruckbyinspiration,anaughtysmiletugsonherlips.“Ilovebeingteased.Slowkissingissuchaturn-onforme…”
Ohman.Thosewordsdosomethingtome.Mysweatpantssuddenlyfeeltootight.
“Excellentad-libbing,”Itellher,myvoicecomingoutabithusky.
Shebrightens.“Thankyou.Whatnow?”
“Okay.”Iclearmythroat.“Ithinkwepracticeanevenmoreproactiveapproach—thisonedealswiththeaggressiveentry.Whenhecomesatyoutonguefirst,thisiswhatyoudo.Youtouchhischeektostophim,stareathim,andgivehimacompliment.”
“Aboutwhat?”
“Anything.Hiseyes.Hisdimples.Anythingonhisface.JustslowitdownbeforeheevengetsthechancetoHulk-smashhismouthagainstyours.Nowyou’reinthepositiontogetthekissgoing,andthatmeansyoupickthepace.”
“Genius.”
“Iknow.Ready?”
Herthroatdipsassheswallows.Whenshelicksherlipsinpreparation,Ialmostgroanoutloud.Lip-lickingismygoddamnkryptonite.Ican’tseeawomandothat,especiallythisone,andnotwanttoripherclothesoff.
Platonic,Iremindmyself.You’rejusthelpingherout.
Withagulpofmyown,Iadoptmyridiculouspose—eyelidsshut,mouthgapingopenlikeatrout’s—andmovemyheadtowardhers.
Aproatfollowingorders,Cassieinterceptsthetrajectoryofmytonguebytouchingmycheek.Mypulsekicksupanotchfromthefeelofhersoftfingertipsstrokingthestubbleonmyjaw.
Hereyesslowlymeetmine.Thosebottomlessbrowndepthsglimmerwithdesire.Ourfacesareinchesapart,hersweetbreathticklingmychin.
“Youhavethesexiestlips,”shewhispers,brushingthepadofherthumbovermybottomlip.“I’mobsessedwiththem.”
Ourgazesremainlocked.Thislateatnight,thebreezetravelingalongthewatertendstobecooler,butI’mburningup.Mydickishardandmyskinisonfire.Hertouchfeelslikeheavenalongmyflesh,andIinstinctivelysagintoit,forgettingI’msupposedtobeplayacting.ThatI’msimplyhelpinghershoreupherboundariessothey’reniceandfirmthenexttimesheseesthatAaronkid.Thenexttimeshemakesoutwithsomeoneelse.
Iabruptlystraightenout.“Thatwassmooth.Nicejob.”
HeransweringsmileissorelaxedandcarelessIhavetowonderifIimaginedwhatjusthappened.IfIwastheonlyonetofeelthesurgeofrawneedthattraveledbetweenus.
“Whenareyouseeinghimagain?”Iasklightly.
“Saturdaynight.Iwould’veinvitedhimtobemydateforthatcharitygalaonFriday,butI’malreadygoingwithJoyandmygrandmother.Thisyear’scharityisHabitatforHumanity,Grandma’spetcause,soshe’sgivingmefivegrandtospendontheauctions.Canyoubelievethat?Fivegrand.”
“Ohshit,”Isay,feelingmyfacegopale.“Iforgotthatwasthisweekend.I’mintheauction.”
Shegrinsatme.“Ofcourseyouare.”
“Notbychoice,”Igrowl.“It’sajobrequirement.Mybossattheclubforcesallthesailingguystovolunteer.Ifuckinghateit.”
“Uh-huh.I’msureit’ssuchachoretostandonastagewhilewomenliterallythrowmoneyatyourfeetforachancetodateyou.”
Anideastrikes.Ilookoverhopefully.“Willyoubidonme?”
“I’drathernot,”sherepliesinamusement.
“Please?Ican’tgoonadatewithanothercougar,Cass.Ijustcan’t.”
Shesnickers.“Howmanyyearshaveyoudoneit?”
“Thiswillbemythird.LastyearIwentonasunsetcruisewithafifty-something-year-oldbroadwhoofferedmemyownboatandaweeklyallowanceifIcameovereverySundaywhenherhusbandwasplayinggolf.”
“Youturneddownasugarmama?Oh,Tate.”
Iglowerather.“I’mnotforsale.”
“You’reliterallyputtingyourselfupforsaleinanauction!”
“AndI’mtryingtorigitbyaskingmyfriendtobidonme.”Igivehermybestpuppy-dogeyes.“Comeon,youjustsaidyourgrandmotherisgivingyoumoneytobid.”
“Yeah,andIwantedtobidontheCharlestonSanctuarypackageformeandJoy,”Cassiewhines.“It’sliterallythebestspainthecountry.”
“What’smoreimportant?Thespaormydignity?”
“Thespa.”
Iflipupmymiddlefinger.“Asshole.Comeon,domeasolid.IthinklastyearIonlywentforacouplegrand.”
Hermouthfallsopen.“You’reaskingmetospendtwothousanddollarsonyou?Onthis?”Shevaguelywavesahandatmybody
“Likeyoudon’twanttobeallupinthisbusiness.”
“FortwograndIdon’t.”
“YouthinkIcouldtwistLydia’sarmintobiddingonme?”
“Doubtful.She’stooclassytoparticipateinwhat’sbasicallytheequivalentofMagicMikeforrichpeople.”
“Hey,isyourdadgoingtobetheretoothisweekend?Bothmyfolksarecoming.”
Cassieshakesherhead.“Idon’tthinkso.ThecountryclubisaTannerfamilything.TheSoulsaremuchmorelaid-back.”
“Hedoesseemlikeasuperlaid-backdude,”Iremark,rememberingClaytonSoul’srelaxeddemeanorandquicklaughter.“Youtwoareclose?”
“Sometimes.”
Ichuckle.“Whatdoesthatmean?”
“Idon’tknow.Ijustdon’tseeortalktohimasoftenasI’dlike.”Shegazesupatthedarksky,andherhairfallsdownherbackinwaves.“Itsucks,becausewewerepracticallyinseparablewhenIwasakid.Iwasmuchclosertohimthanmymother.”
“How’dthathappenanyway?Yourparents,Imean.Yourmom’sacloneandyourdad’salocal—how’dtheygettogetherinthefirstplace?”Ileanbackonmyelbowsandmakemyselfcomfortable.Despitethefactit’snearly1A.M.,itdoesn’tseemlikeCassie’sinanyhurrytoheadinside.NeitheramI.Thestarsareoutandthewater’scalm.AndIliketalkingtoher.Alot.
Shebringsherlegsupandsitscross-legged,arrangingherdresssoitcoversherthighs.“TheymetwhenMomwasajuniorincollege.BeforemygrandparentsdecidedtoliveintheBayyear-round,they’dsplittheirtimebetweenhereandBoston,butsummerswerealwaysspentintheBay,noexceptions.Momwasvisitingandtheymetataparty,Ithink.Somehowtheyfellinlove,despitebeingsodifferentineveryconceivableway.”Sheshrugs.“Oppositesreallydoattract,Iguess.Andshehadtohavelovedhim,right?Becauseshecametoliveherefull-timeaftercollege,whichwould’vebeenamajorsacrificeforher.”
“Yousoundlikeyou’retryingtoconvinceyourselfofthat.”
“MaybeIam.Imean,Iknowwhatmydadsawinher.She’sgorgeous,obviously.Andshe’sverycharmingwhenshewantstobe.Funny,sociable.Whensheputsonheract,she’sthemostlovablepersonyou’llevermeet.She’llbecomingtotownmid-August,soI’msureyou’llexperiencetheactforyourself.”
Iwrinklemybrow.“Whatmakesyouthinkit’sanact?”
“BecauseI’veseenthepersonbehindthemask.She’smanipulative.Entitled.Hypercritical.Shegetsakickoutofputtingyoudown,thenplaysthevictimwhenyoucallheroutonit.Anddon’tgetmestartedonthetotallackofempathy.Thereisn’tanempatheticboneinherbody.She’sthemostself-centeredpersonI’veeverknown.”
“Man,that’srough.Hasshealwaysbeenlikethat?”
“Ithinkso.ForaslongasIcanremember,anyway.Andalthoughmygrandmotherwouldneversayabadwordaboutherownchildren,Icantellshe’sdisappointedwithMom’sbehavior.Especiallywhenitcomestoallthepassive-aggressivebullshit,thescathingcriticism.Shewasn’ttooawfultomewhenIwaslittle,butshewasconstantlysnappingatDad.Irememberthinkinghehadthepatienceofasaint.Itwasn’tuntilafterthedivorce,oncesheandIwerealoneallthetime,thatsheturnedmostofhervitrioltowardme.Suddenlyshealwayshadsomethingtobitchabout,someelementofmyappearancetodisparage,someimmoralbehaviortocallout.”Cassieoffersaweaklaugh.“Luckyme.”
Istudyherface,myheartsqueezingatthethoughtofayoungCassiehavingtoendurehermother’svilebullshit.Butherexpressionremainsdetached,acceptingeven,asifanypast—orpresent—traumaisnobigdeal.
“Youalwaysdothat,”Itellher.
“Dowhat?”Herteethdigintoherlowerlip.Finallyrevealingatraceofemotion.
“Downplayalltheshitthathurtsyou.”
“BecauseI’manoptimist.”Shetucksasectionofreddishhairbehindherear,hereyesshininginthemoonlight.“Nosituationisentirelybad.There’salwaysasilverlining.Always.Youjusthavetolookforit.”
“Really?Sothere’sasilverlininginhavingyourmothertreatyoulikecrap?”Isaydubiously.“Oryourparentsgettingdivorced?”
“Ifitweren’tforthedivorce,Iwouldn’thavemylittlesisters,”Cassiepointsout.“AndI’mquitehappythatmysistersexist.”
“Youcanbehappytheyexistandstillwishthedivorcehadn’thappened.”
“True.Buthonestly,itwasprobablyforthebest.NothingDaddidcouldevermakeherhappy.He’sdefinitelybetteroffwithouther.”Cassiepushesmorehairoutofhereyes.It’sgettingbreezierout,causingthoselong,wavystrandstoflyintoherface.“Letmeguess—yourparentsarehappilymarried?”
“Yeah,it’sdisgusting.”
Webothlaugh.
“They’vealwaysbeengreatrolemodels,”Iadmit,albeitgrudgingly.“That’swhyIhatedisappointingthem.Iswear,I’mtheonlykidwhowouldwillinglygroundhimselfordemandextrachoresaftergettingintrouble.Thisonetimeinhighschool,Istayedoutallnightwiththetwins.Myparentswereuptilldawn,wearingholesinthecarpetfromfearIwasdeadinanalleysomewhere.Thenextmorning,Iwalkedin,hungoverasfuck,satonthesofainfrontofthem,andwaslike,Ithinkyoushouldgroundmefortwoweeksandputmeonpermanentdog-poopduty.”
Cassiepealsoutalaugh.“Youaresuchaloser.”
“Firstofall—Igotlaidthatnight.Losersdon’tgetlaid.Second—don’ttellmeyouwouldn’thavedonetheexactsamething,Ms.IAvoidConflict.”
“Fair.But,”sheaddssmugly,“Inevergotintrouble.Ever.”
“Idon’tknowifthat’ssomethingtobragabout.”
Shestartstoanswer,thenbreaksoffinawideyawn.“Ohman.I’mtired.”Sheblinksafewtimes.“Thatjusthitmeoutofnowhere.”Sheyawnsagain.“Ithinkit’stimeforbed.”
Whensheunfoldsherlegsandgetstoherfeet,Ican’tstopapangofdisappointment.I’mworkingtwodifferentjobstomorrowandyetIwantnothingmorethantostayupallnighttalking.
Asfriends,ofcourse.
Butshe’salreadypullingmetomyfeet.“Comeon,walkmeupthepathsoIdon’ttriponarockorsomethingandcrackmyheadopen.”
Ioffermyarm,thenyankitawaybeforeshecantakeit.Herjawdrops,andIcockabrow.“Ononecondition—youbidonmethisweekend.”
“Nope.”
“You’rereallygoingtothrowmetothewolveslikethat?Thecougarwolves?”
“OhmyGod,dramaqueen.Allright,”sherelents.“Howaboutthis?I’llbid—onlyifIseethecougarsmakingtheirmove.”
“Thankyou.You’rethebest.”
Cassiegrabsmyarmandlinkshersthroughit.“Nopromises,”shewarns.CHAPTER14
CASSIE
“Thatdressissohot.”Joy’sapprovinggazetravelsovermyknee-lengthpalegreenminidress.“Honestly,Ishouldbecomeastylist.I’msogoodatthis.”
“Ilikehownotonceinthatseriesofcomplimentsdidyoumentionme.Thedressisniceandyou’reagreatstylist.”
“IassumedtheCassiepartoftheequationwasagiven.Youalwayslookhot.”Shelinksherarmthroughmineasweglidetowardthenexttable.
We’repartofthecrowdbythefarwalloftheManor’sgrandballroom,browsingthetablesthatmakeupthesilentauction,whilecannedpianomusicblaresoutofthePAsystem.Muchtomychagrin,Ihaven’tfoundtheCharlestonSanctuarypackageyet.Theyfuckingbetternothavedecidedtoskiptheeventthisyear.Ilovethatplace,andthey’realwaysbookedsolid.It’simpossibletogetanappointment.OnetimeIevendemeanedmyselfbyname-droppingmygrandmotherandstillcouldn’tgetaslot.
“Ooh,howaboutthis?”Joysuggests,pickingupthesheetofcrispivory-coloredcardstock.“Sixgolflessonswith…drumroll,please…Lorenzo!”ShedonsanItalianaccentwhensayinghisname.
Lorenzohasbeenworkingasagolfcoachattheclubforaboutahundredyears.IfyoutoldmehewasaghosttrappedbetweenworldsandforcedtoroamtheManorforallofeternity,I’dhavenotroublebelievingit.Therearehonest-to-Godpicturesofmymotherholdingmeasaninfantattheclub,withLorenzolurkinginthebackgroundsportingthesamelongponytailandleatheryskinashehasnow.Themandoesn’tage.Healsohasnoconceptofpersonalspace,alwaysleaninginwaytooclosewhenhe’stalkingtoyou.Asteenagers,JoyandIusedtohidewheneverwesawhimstrollingourway.
Iblanchatthelisting.“I’drathereatmyownhair.Nojoke.”
Shehowlsbeforeclappingahandoverhermouthtostifletheoutburst,whichhasdrawnthedisapprovingstaresoftheoldercountry-clubsetmillingaroundus.Damn,andwe’renotevendrunkyet.Thesefolksaregoingtodespiseusbytheendofthenight.
Iapproachtheadjacenttable,wheremygrandmotherisbentover,usingablackfelt-tippentoscribbleanamountonasmallwhitecard.She’sbiddingonajumbogiftbasketdonatedbytheSoapery,oneofthelocalartisanshopsintown.
“OhmyGod.No.Mrs.Tanner.”JoypeeksatGrandma’sbid.“Youjustbidtwograndonabasketofsoap.Soap!”Sheshakesherheadindisbelief.
“It’sverygoodsoap,”Grandmasaysprimly,thenslidesthecardintotheslotofthecardboardboxonthetable.“Haveyoufoundanythingtobidon?”Thequestionisdirectedatme.
“Ihaven’tseenthespapackageyet.That’stheonlythingIwant.”Isetmyjawindetermination.“AndI’llmurderanyonewhooutbidsme.Iswear,Ifantasizeabouttheirhotstonemassageonadailybasis.”
“Don’tblowallyourcashonit,”Joyremindsme,darkeyestwinklingimpishly.“GottamakesureyouhaveenoughleftovertobidonyourfriendTateinthebachelorauction.”
Grandmalooksamused.“You’rebiddingonMr.Bartlett?”
“Maybe,”Isaygrudgingly.“Heaskedmetorescuehimifthecougarcrowdgetsoverzealous.”
“Ilikethatboy.”Grandmachucklessoftly.
SodoI.
It’sbecomingarealproblem,infact.Particularlyafterwhathappenedbetweenustheothernight.Joymaintainsitwasn’tabigdeal.EvenPeytonsortofdismisseditsimportancewhenItoldheraboutit.Butthey’rebothdeadwrong.
Whenyoureturnhomeafterreal-kissingoneguyandproceedtopretend-kissanotherone,that’saproblem.
Andwhentheguyyou’repretend-kissingistheoneyouwishyouwerereal-kissing,exceptyoucan’tbecausehe’snotintoyoulikethat…thisisalsoaproblem.
BeforeIcandwellonmythornypredicament,myphonebeepswithatextfrom,ironically,thepersonwhoisintome.
Aaron:How’sitgoingatthecharitything?
Me:Mygrandmotherjustbid2Konsoap.
Aaron:Boldmove.
Me:Right?
Aaron:Arewestillonfordinnertomorrownight?
Me:Yup.Lookingforwardtoit.
ItuckthephonebackintomysilverclutchwhileassuringmyselfIamlookingforwardtoseeingAaronagain.And,hey,maybeinthedayssincethecarnivalhe’sbeenhoninghiskissingskills.Practicingonapilloworsomething.Agirlcanhope,right?Becausethememoryofhisforcefultonguerepeatedlyplungingintomymouthlikeitwasminingfortonsiltreasurealmostmakesmegag.It’sashame,becausehe’ssuchacoolguyotherwise.He’sbeentextingmeeverydaysincewemet.Memes,randomthoughts.He’shilarious.
But…
Idon’tknowifAaronistheone.
Don’tgetmewrong,Icertainlyhaven’tbeensavingmyvirginityformyonetruelove.I’mnotsittingathomewaitingforPrinceCharmingtosweepmeoffmyfeet.Butattheveryleast,I’dliketobewildlyattractedtotheman.Iwanttobeunabletocontainmyselfwhenhe’saround.IwanttowanthimsobadlythatIcan’twaittoriphisclothesoff.Iwantthatlevelofchemistry.
Still,onedateisn’tenoughtoassessthefullscopeofchemistry.Atleastthat’swhatPeytonalwaysinsists.Accordingtomybestfriend,adateintroducesyoutothepotential,thespark.Andifthesparkisthere,howeversmallitmaybe,youneedtogiveitachance,kindleittodiscoverhowhotthefirecanburn.ThesparkwastherewithAaron,Ican’tdenythat,soIsupposeit’stimetoseeifitdevelopsintoaninferno.
“Here’sthespapackage!”Iexclaim,spottingitatthenexttable.
Ipracticallybulldozemygrandmotherovertogrababidcardandagreengolfpencilfromthebasket.IwishIcouldseewhatotherpeoplehavealreadybid,buttheformatofthisauctionisasinine.It’sasilent,secretauction.Thebidsgointothebox,someoneflipsthroughthemtofindthehighestnumber,andthat’sthewinner.
“Thisisn’trocketscience,”Joysays,grinningatmyindecision.
“ThenextavailableappointmentatthisspaisnextJuly.July,Joy!They’rebookingayearinadvance.Thisismyoneshot.Myoneopportunity.”
“Youhaveissues.”
Whileshetapsherfootwithimpatience,ImentallycalculatewhatIthinkthepackageisworth,thendoubleit.ThenIcrossoutthatamountandtripleitinstead.
“Prayforme,”Ideclare.Islipthecardintothebox.
“Ineednewfriends,”JoytellsGrandma.
“Laaaadiesandgentleeeemen,”amalevoiceboomsfromthestageatthefrontoftheroom.“Ifwecouldhaveyourattentionoverhere!”
Thenoisyballroomquiets,butonlyslightly.Mostoftheformal-wear-cladcrowdcontinueswhatevertheyweredoingandignoresourhosts.Thegalahastwoemceesthisyear—aformerrunningbackforthePantherswhosenameIdidn’tcatch,andanewsanchorfromthelocalnetworkwhosenameIalsodidn’tcatch.JoyandIhavejustbeencallingthemBigandBlonde,becausehe’sbigandshe’sblonde.
“Thesilentauctionisnowclosed,”Bigannounces.“Ourwonderfulstaffwillstarttallyingthebids,andwinnerswillbeannouncedafterthebachelorauction.Untilthen—eat,drink,andbemerry!”
Blondteetersupbesidehimondangerouslyhighheelstoshoutintothemicrophone.“Let’sgetourgalaon!”Ashershrillvoicereverberatesthroughthecavernousballroom,Idon’tmissthewayGrandmawinces.
“Areyouallright?”Iask,touchingherarm.
“Abittired,”sheadmits.“And,ifI’mbeingfrank,Idon’tthinkmyeardrumswillsurvivelisteningtothatwomanforanotherhour.”
“Doyouwanttoleave?”
Afterabeat,shenods.“Ithinkso,yes.Areyouallrighttakingacarservicehome?”
“Yeah,that’snoproblem.Butareyousure?It’sonlyeighto’clock.”
Grandmagivesthatprimsmileofhers,theonethatalwaysholdsatraceofmischief.“Imademyappearance,dear.NobodywillnoticeifIslipaway.”
“I’llwalkyouout,then.”IglanceatJoy.“Meetyoubackatthetable.”
“’Night,Mrs.Tanner,”Joysays,leaningdowntokissmygrandmother’scheek.
“Goodnight,dear.”
AfterI’veseenGrandmaoff,Ireturntotheballroom,weavingmywaythroughtables.Thecenterpiecesthisyeararemassive—fancycrystalmonstrositieswithtallfeathersandsprigsofbaby’sbreath.Ithinkthey’resupposedtolooklikeswans.Orhorses.It’sreallyatoss-up.Theriserextendingoutfromthestageismeanttoserveastherunwayforthebachelorauction,andasIpassitIsmotheralaugh.PoorTate.Ihaven’tspottedhimyettonight,soIassumehe’scoweringinacornersomewhere.
Orhe’schattingwithJoy,whichiswhatIfindwhenIreachthetableGrandmasponsored.
He’swearingadarkgraysuit,thewooljacketstretchingdeliciouslyacrosshisbroadshoulders.Hehasawhitedressshirtunderneath,notie,toptwobuttonsundone.Withhishandsomefaceclean-shavenandhisgoldenhairstyled,helookslikeoneofthosepreppyboyshelikestocallclones
“Someonebustedoutthehairproducts,”Itease.
“Damnright.”Thoseblueeyessweepovermydress.“That’sagreatcoloronyou.”
“Thanks,”Joysays.“Ipickeditout.”
Isnort.“Yes.Joydeservesallcredit.Youreadyforyourbigmoment?”IaskTate.
Henodsbriskly.“I’vecoveredallmybases.LinedupaplanAandaplanB.”
Inarrowmyeyesathim.“WhichoneamI?”
“A,definitely.Imean,nomanwantstowinadatewithhismother.”
Thatmakesmelaugh.“Yourmom’shere?”
“HerandDadaresittingoverthere.”Hepointstoatabletotherightofthestage.“Shepromisedshe’dsavethedayifyoubailedonme.Hey,youknowwhat,comemeetthem.”
“What?”Ishiftindiscomfort,theheelsofmypointynudepumpssinkingintotheburgundycarpet.“Ah,that’snotnecessary.”
“No,come.They’dlovetomeetyou.Iwastellingthemaboutyouearlier.”
Hewas?
InoticeJoygivingmealookthatsayshe’stalkingyouuptohisparents?
WhenIrespondwithapanickylookthatsayshelp,shethrowsmeintothedeependasusual.“I’llstayhere,”shechirps,snaggingafluteofchampagnefromoneofthewaiters.Shetakesasip,smilingimpishlyaroundtheedgeofherglass.“Gomeethisparents,Cass.”
Traitor.
“What,isthisweird?”Tateasksashelooselyholdsmyarmtoescortmethroughthecrowd.
“No,”Ilie.“Whywoulditbeweird?”
“Joy’sactinglikemeetingmyparentsisabigdealorsomething.”Heoffersaflippantshrug.“It’sjustmyfolks.They’renothingspecial.”
He’swrong.ThemomentImeettheBartletts,Ibecomeabitstarry-eyed.I’mnottheonlyoneeither.Thecoupleholdscourtinthemiddleofalargegroup,clearlythecenterofattention.Tate’sdad,tall,blond,andgregarious,isregalingeveryonewithatalethat’smakingthemyowlwithlaughter.Agray-hairedmanwipestearsofmirthfromhiseyes,declaring,“JesusChrist,Gavin,that’sthecraziestthingI’veeverheard.”
WhentheynoticeTateapproaching,theBartlettsbreakawayfromtheirfriends,greetinguswithbroadsmiles.Tatehaddescribedhisparentsasbeingdisgustinglyinlove,andIpickuponitinstantly.Theyemitadistinctiveaurathatsurroundsthem,andeveryonearoundthem,inalovingcocoonoftenderness.
Andthey’realwaystouchingeachotherinsomeway.EvenwhileTate’sdadholdsoutahandtowardme,onearmremainswrappedaroundhiswife’sshoulder.“Gavin,”heintroduceshimself.“Nicetomeetyou.”
WhenTate’smomshakesmyhand,herotheroneremainsnestledinthecrookofGavin’sarm.“Gemma,”shesays.She’sapetite,curvywomanwithdirty-blondhairandwarmbrowneyes,appearingmuchyoungerthanherage.Awhitesheathdressfitsherbodylikeaglove.
“I’mCassie.”IreturnthehandshakebeforeglancingoveratTate.“Aw,man.Theyevenhavethesameinitials.GavinandGemma.Iloveit.”Igrinindelight.“YouguystotallymissedanopportunitytogoallKardashianandgiveTateaGname.”
“WeweredefinitelyconsideringGate,”Gavinrepliesearnestly,“butTatehadabetterringtoit.”
Isnortoutalaugh.“Hearthat,Gate?Youdodgedabullet.”
“Tatesaysyou’rehisauctionbackup?”Gemmaprompts,smilingatme.
“Idon’tknow…IthoughtIwas.Nowitsoundslikeit’sgoingtobeabiddingwarbetweenyouandI…”Itipmychininmockchallenge.
Gemmafeignsaglare.“Oh,it’son.”
“Ladies,please.Don’tfightoverme.”Tategrimaces.“Like,seriously,don’t.Ican’thavemymotherinvolvedinanycompetitionwhereI’mtheprize.”
Gavinboomswithlaughter.“Goodpoint,kid.”HeclapsTateontheshoulderbeforefocusinghisattentiononme.“Cassie,howareyouenjoyingthesummer?”
“It’sbeennice.I’vejustbeentakingiteasy.”
“TatesaysyougrewupintheBay?”
“Idid.Mydadandstepmomstilllivehere,withmytwohalfsisters,butI’minBostonnow.Igotocollegethere.”
“Didyoutellhermynews?”Gavinaskshisson.
Tateisflabbergasted.“Ofcoursenot.WhywouldIdothat?”
“Maybebecauseit’sthemostexcitingthingthat’severhappenedtoanybody?”hisfathershootsback.
Tatewasn’tkiddingabouthisdadbeinganovergrownchild.AndTateisthespittingimageofhisfather.ThetwoofthemaresosimilarinbothlooksandpersonalitythatIhavetosmilewatchingtheminteract.
“What’sthenews?”Iaskcuriously.
Gavin’sentirefacelightsup,prideinhiseyes.“Guesswho’sbeingfeaturedinthenewspaper.”
Tateglancesatme.“TheAvalonBeeisdoingawrite-uponDad,”heexplains.Hisvoicelowerstoastagewhisper.“Hethinksthismakeshimspecial,buttheyrunaprofileonalocalbusinessmaneverymonth.He’sliterallyoneofdozens.”
“Frontpage?”challengesGavin.
“Well,no,”Taterelents.“Buttheonlyreasonyou’rebeingfeaturedonthefrontpageisbecauseyougaveHarveyadealonthatspeedboat.Youbasicallybribedtheguy.”
“Me?YouthinkI’mcapableofbribingajournalist?”
“Yes,”TateandGemmaanswerinunison.
Ilaugh,thendutifullyoohandaahasGavinoffersmoredetailsaboutthearticle.Wechatforafewmoreminutes,untilBigandBlondereturntothestageandaskeveryonetotaketheirseats.Thebachelorauctionisabouttocommence.
“Killmenow,”Tatemoans.
“You’regoingtodogreat,”hismotherassureshim.“Everyonewillbidonyou,sweetie.”
“Mom,no.Youdon’tunderstandtheassignment.Wedon’twanteveryonetobidonme.JustCassie.”
Gavinwaggleshiseyebrowsatme.“Lookatyou,younglady.Youseemtohavecaptivatedourson.”
“Oh,we’rejustfriends,”I’mquicktoprotest.
“I’mjustteasing,”hesayswithaboisterouslaugh.
Ilaughawkwardlyinresponse.“Oh.Anyway,itwasnicemeetingyouguys.Ishouldgojoinmyfriend,though.”
“Wonderfultomeetyou,Cassie,”Gemmasayswarmly.
“They’resonormal,”IhissatTateasheescortsmebacktomytable.
“Iknow.Itoldyou.”
Tenminuteslater,thebachelorauctionisinfullswing.Fromtheshinypodiumattheheadofthestage,Bigclutchesastackofcuecardsandintroducesthefirstbachelor.
“Everyone,let’sgiveawarmwelcometoMorty!”
Atuxedo-cladmanwithglassesandaredbowtietakesthestage.He’spushingsixty,withaninfectioussmileheflashestotheentireroom.Hewavestothecrowdandstartsstrutting.
“Oh,he’sadorable,”Joyexclaims.
“Mortyissixty-twoyearsyoung,anaccountantwithaheadfornumbersandaloveofpickles.Andnotjusteatingpickles!Creatingthem!Inhissparetime,Mortypicklesanythinghecangethishandson.Beets,peppers,tomatoes,peaches,squash,rhubarb—Farrah,didyouknowyoucanpicklerhubarb?Ididn’t!”
Right.Blonde’snameisFarrah.
“Soundsyummy!”shechirpsintohermicrophone.
“Sohowaboutit,folks?WhofanciesadatewithMorty?Bidhighandmaybehe’llpicklesomethingforyou!I’mtoldhisentiregaragefeaturesrowsandrowsofjars,allfullofpickleddelights…”
“Ichangedmymind,”Joywhispers.“Ithinkhemightbeaserialkiller.”
“Thejars,right?”
“Ohyeah.”
“We’llstartthebiddingatfiftydollars.”
Threehandsshootup.“Fifty!”
“Ahundred.”
“Ahundredandfifty!”
Beforeweknowit,MortythePicklergoesforsixhundreddollars.
“That’saboutfivehundredandfiftymoredollarsthanIthoughthe’dgofor,”Joywhisperstome,andwenearlykeeloverinlaughter.Thechampagneatthiseventhasbeenfree-flowing,andalthoughI’monlyonmyfirstglass,I’malreadyfeelingabuzz.
Thenextbachelorisasilverfoxwhocausesamurmurtoripplethroughthecrowdwhenheemergesfrombehindtheblackvelvetcurtains.
“Hotdamn.Hello,Daddy,”Joycoos.
“Ohgross.Don’tsaythat.”
“Comeon,don’ttellmeyouwouldn’thitthat.”
Istudyhim.He’swearingawhitelinenshirt,fine-pressedgraytrousers,anddeckshoes.Sportingadeepsummertan.He’stall,handsome,andwhenit’srevealedthatherunsahedgefund,theladiesareclamoringtobid.
FarrahtheBlondebarelygetsouthisjobtitlebeforeawomanshouts,“Fivehundred!”
“Six!”
“Seven!”
“Eightfifty!”
Joylooksover.“CanIborrowsomeofGrandma’smoney?”
Ielbowher.“Absolutelynot.YouliterallyjustgotbacktogetherwithIsaiah.”
“Ohright.Fuck.Iforgot.”
AfterSilverFoxistakenforfifteenhundredsmackeroos,severalmorebachelorsgracethestage.TheowneroftheGoodBoybrewery.Adogtrainer.Twowaitersfromtheclubrestaurant,thenoneofthegolfinstructors.Luckily,notLorenzo.
WhenTate’sfriendDannyisup,thewinningbidfortheattractivegingerisastaggering$2,300.Doesn’tbodewellforTateifthat’sthegoingpriceforhotsailinginstructors.
Danny’ssmileseemsforcedashewalksoffthestagetogreethisdate.Thepairisn’trequiredtogoouttonight,butit’scustomarytosayhellotothepersonwho“wins”you.Instantly,thewoman’sfingerscurlaroundDanny’sbicepsandshepeersupathimeagerly.NowIseewhyTatewassoworried.Therearealotofhungrywomeninthisballroomtonight.
“OurnextbachelorisTate!”Farrahannounces.
“Herewego,”Isay.
Tateappearsonthestage,handslooselyrestingonhisbeltloops.Hislongstrideeatsuptherunway,fairhairgleaminginthespotlightaimedathim.
“Tateisanavidsailor,splittinghisworkdaysbetweentheyachtclubandBartlettMarine,ournumber-oneboatretailerinAvalonBay.”
“Yeahhhhh!”cheersaloudvoiceIrecognizeasGavinBartlett’s.
“Helovesbeingoutonthewater,anywayhecan.Whenhe’snotonaboat,you’llfindhimonasurfboard.”
Tatereachestheendoftherunwayandstopstostrikeacheesypose.Heseeksoutmyfaceinthecrowdandwinksbeforeturningback.
“Thisgoldenboyisaromanticatheart.Heenjoyslongwalksonthebeachandstargazingwiththatspecialsomeone.”
It’sphysicallyimpossibleformyeyestorollanyharder.Iwonderifhewrotethishimself.
FarrahsighsdreamilyasTatereturnstostandbesideheratthepodium.“Oh,honeybear,I’llstargazewithyouanyday.”
“Farrah,”Bighissesintohismictosnapheroutofit.
Sheblinks.“Right.We’llstartthebiddingat—”
“Fivehundred,”someoneshoutsinstantly.
JoysnatchesthefluteoutofmyhandbeforeIcandrink.“Focus.It’syourtimetoshine.”
Iswipethefluteback.“I’mwaitingitout.Can’tseemtooeager.”Igrinoveragulpofchampagne.“Plus,Iwanttomakehimsweat.”
“Evilbitch.”
“Sixhundred!”
“Eight!”
“Ninefifty!”
Fromthestage,Tate’seyesimploreme.Hisoutwardsmiledoesnothingtoconcealhisagony.Itipmyglassathimandtakeanotherdaintysip.
“Onethousanddollars!”
“Elevenhundred!”
“Cassie,”Joywarns.
“I’vegotastrategy,”Iinsist.“Letthemtirethemselvesout.That’swhatIdowithmysisterswhenthey’reonasugarhigh.”
“Twelvehundred!”bidsanasallyvoice.
“Fifteenhundred.”Thisvoiceisthroaty.
Uh-oh.Iturntoscopeoutthecompetitionandraiseaneyebrow.Allright.Interesting.Thecurrenthighbidderisagorgeousbrunettewhodoesn’tseemasthirstyastheothers.She’sclearlyinherlateforties,though.SonowI’mtorn.TateorderedmetonotletanyMILFswin.ButmaybethisisthekindofMILFhewouldlike?She’sastunnerandisn’tgivingoffanypredatoryvibes.
“Goingonce—”
ButIdidmakehimapromise.
“Goingtwice—”
“Cassie,”Joyhisses.
Shit.
Caughtoffguard,IendupblurtingthefirstnumberthatpopsintomyheadbecauseIwasn’tpayingattention.
“Threethousand!”
Myfriendgapesatme.“Dude.Itwasatfifteen.Youjustdoubledit.”
“Threethousand,”Bigcrows.“Highestbidofthenight!Someonesurewantstogostargazing!”
Farrahtakesover.“Goingonce…goingtwice…”
Thehotbrunetteontheothersideoftheroomremainssilent.
“Soldforthreethousanddollarstotheredheadinthegreendress!”
Onthestage,Tatebeamsatme.
Ismotherasigh.Whatever.Atleastit’sforagoodcause.CHAPTER15
CASSIE
“DoesthismeanIgettoorderyouaroundnow?”Iasklater.“Likefortherestofthesummer?”
Tatesnortsatthequestion.WewalkdowntothedockoftheJacksonhouse,wherethewaterlapsquietlyagainstthewoodenpylonsandthedroneofinsectsbuzzesintheair.It’seleventhirtyandthenightiscalmandstill.I’minmyminidressbutabandonedtheheelsuponthelawn.He’stakenoffhissuitjacketandrolleduphisshirtsleeves.
“Fortherestofthesummer?Dreamon.”
“Ijustdroppedthreegrandonyou.Showmesomerespect,youungratefulbrat.”
“Threegrandofyourgrandmother’smoney.”
“WhichIstandtoinheritoneday.Well,alongwithmycousins,butstill,”Igrumbleundermybreath.“Sothat’sit?Idon’tgetanythingoutofthisdeal?Attheveryleastyoushouldbemypoolboyontheweekendsorsomething.Youknow,wearatinySpeedoandservemedrinkspoolside.”
“Youdonatedmoneytoagoodcause.Isn’tthatenough?”
“No!”
Herollshiseyes.“Fine.I’lltellyouwhat.I’llletyouordermearoundfortherestoftonight.”
“ButI’llbegoingtobedin,like,anhour,”Icomplain.
“Thenyouhaveonehourtocalltheshots.”
Iplantmyhandsonmyhips.“Fine.Gogetussomedrinks.”Ugh.Except,orderingsomeonearoundisn’tinmynature,soIquicklyadd,“Please?”
Hethrowshisheadbackandlaughs.“You’reterribleatthis.Butyou’reinluck—I’malreadyontopofthedrinksituation.Gotasurpriseforyou.”
Thatpiquesmyinterest.
“Getcomfortable.I’llberightback.”
Isinkontooneoftheloungersfacingthewater,twistingaroundtoadjustthebackrest.Theweatherisperfecttonight.Feelslikeroomtemperatureoutside,andIstretchmylegsoutinfrontofmeandclosemyeyes,justsavoringthenight.MyeyelidspopopenatthesoundofTate’sfootstepsonthewoodslatsofthedock.Hereappearsholdingtwobottlesofchampagne.
Igasp.Irecognizethegoldlabel.TheseweretheexpensivebottlesofbubblytheywereservingattheManortonight
“Didyoustealthosefromtheclub?”Idemand.
“Oh,Idid.”
“OhGod,you’reathief.”
“Trustme,theyowemeforallthosesafetyclassestheykeepropingmeintodoingwithoutpayingmeovertime.”
“Ican’tdrinkstolencontraband.”
“Youcanandyouwill.”
Hesetsthebottlesonthesmalltablebetweenourloungers,thenpullstwoskinnyglassesfromhispocket,whichhemusthavegrabbedfromGilJackson’skitchen.Pickingupabottle,hepeelsoffthegoldfoilpackagingaroundthelip.
Justashe’sabouttopopthecork,Ibalk,screechingloudly.“Don’taimitatthewater!”
“Icouldaimitatyourface,”heoffers.
Igivehimthefinger.“Pointitatthegrassoverthere.Butnotthewater.Whatifthecorklandsinthebayandafisheatsitandchokestodeath?Oraturtle?OhmyGod,whatifthere’saKeanuReevesturtlelivingunderyourdockandhethinkswe’refeedinghimandthenhedies—”
“Thebabblingneverendswithyou,doesit,ginger?”
“Don’tcallmeginger,Gate.”
Hejabstheairwithhisfinger.“No.Absolutelynot.Thatisnotbecomingathing.”
“What’sthematter,Gate?”Iasksweetly.“Didsomeonegiveyouanicknameyoudon’tenjoy?”
“CallmethatagainandI’llmurderaturtlerightinfrontofyou.”
“Youwouldn’tdare.”Igrinathim.“Oh!Speakingofturtles.Mydadmessagedearlier,andguesswhat—mystepmotheragreedtotheturtle.They’replanningtogiveittothegirlsaftertheirbirthdaypartyinacoupleweeks.Thetwinsaregoingtodieofexcitement.”
“Isn’tyourbirthdaycomingupsoontoo?”
Herememberedthat?
Myheartskipsabeat,butIpretendtobeunaffected.“Alsoinacoupleweeks,”Iconfirm.“MysistersandIshareabirthday.”
“Damn.Letmeguess—somehowyou’vemanagedtofindasilverliningforthattoo?”
“Yup.”Inodathishands.“Yougonnaopenthatbottle,Gate?”
“Gateisnotbecomingathing,”hegrowls,beforeturninginasafedirectiontopopthecork.Amomentlater,hepoursthebubblyliquidintoourflutes,handsmeone,andsettlesinthechairbesideme.
Aswesipourchampagne,Itrytoignorethepoundingofmyheart.Thedampnessofmypalms.Thisfeelslikeadate,eventhoughIknowit’snot.
Tohammerithometomysilly,smittenbrainthatsuchthoughtsarecounterintuitive,Iforcemyselftosay,“I’mgoingoutwithAaronagaintomorrow.”
“Ah,right.”Tatechucklesquietly.“Tonguebattlesparttwo.”
“God,Ihopenot.”
“Wepracticedforthis.Ifithappensagain,you’resayingsomething,”hewarns.
“Iwill,”Ipromise.
“Andlet’sjusthopekissingisn’ttheonlyactivityhe’sbadat.”
Istraightenupinalarm.“Ohno.Ohno.Iwasplanningtolethimgotosecondbase.Nobodycanbebadatsecondbase,canthey?”
Tatedrinkssomemorechampagne,mullingitover.“Hecouldbeanaggressivetitsqueezer.”
Iblanch.“Ifheis,I’llhavenochoicebuttosaysomething,becausethat’llearnhimaninvoluntaryscreamofpain.Thegirlsaresensitive.”
Tate’seyesbrieflyflickmyway.“Arethey?”hedrawls.
“Yes.Very.”Mythroatissuddenlydry.
Hismustbetoo,becausehechugstherestofhisglassandthenpourshimselfanotherone.
“Easy,partner,”Icaution.
“Don’tworry.Lookhowtinytheseglassesare.It’lltakealotofrefillstogetmeevenclosetodrunk.”
Hehasapoint.SoIholdoutmyowntinyglass,andhetopsitoffwiththatplayfulsmileI’mbeginningtocraveonadailybasis.Whileweliethereonthedock,mygazedriftsuptothesky,sweepingoverthetwinklingcarpetoflights.
“It’sincrediblehowcleartheskyisouthere,”Iremark.“InBoston,theskyisdifferent.Allthepollutionintheair,Iguess.Youhardlyeverseeanystars.”
“Iloveit.Especiallywhenyou’reontheopenocean.Nolandanywherearoundyou,thishugeskyaboveyou.Thatcouldfreakanyoneout,lookingaroundandseeingnothingbutwater.Butthestars,right?They’realwaysthere.They’refixed.Youcan’tgetlostwhenyoucanseethestars.Can’tloseyourself.”
“Holyshit,”Iaccuse.“You’reactuallyintostargazing?Iassumedthatbiotheyreadattheauctionwasbogus.”Isnicker.“He’saromanticatheartandenjoyslongwalksonthebeach.”
“Nah,thatpartwasBS.Whoeverwrotetheintrodecidedtoimprovise.”Heshrugs.“Ilistedfourinterestsonthequestionnairetheyemailed,andallofthemstartedwithanS.Maybetheydidn’tlikethat.”
“FourS’s…”Istarttolistthem.“Sailing.Surfing.Stargazing.Wait—whatwasthefourth?”
“Theydidn’treadit.”
Ieyehimcuriously.“Why?Whatwasit?”
“Sex.”Hewinks.
Myfacealmostburstsintoflames,whichisn’tafavorablethingbecauseIwasalreadyburningupfromthealcohol.Idon’tevenwanttoknowwhatcolormycheeksarerightnow.
Betweenthetwoofus,we’veofficiallypolishedoffanentirebottleofchampagne.He’singestedmore,butmytoleranceisshitandthechampagneloosensmytongue.
“Yeah…Idon’thavemuchexperiencewiththat,”Iconfess.
Tateisalreadyremovingthefoilfromthesecondbottle.Hestopsforasecondandmeetsmyeyes.“You’reavirgin.”
“Man,youdropitlikeastatementoffact,”Isaydryly.“Notevenaquestion,huh?What,isitwrittenonmyforeheadorsomething?”
“Nah.Justaneducatedguess.”
Istickoutmyglassforanothertop-up.“Well,theanswertothenon-questionisyes,I’mavirgin.I’vedoneotherthings,though.”
“Isthatright?”Eyesdancing,hecockshisheadatme.
“Don’tyoudaretellmetospillthetea.”
“C’mon,let’shearit,ginger.Whatchadone?”WhenIremainquiet,hechugsnearlyhalfhisfreshglass.“Allright,then.I’mgoingtostartguessing.Okay.So.Iknowyou’vemadeout.”
Irollmyeyes.“Yes.”
“Handjobs,”heguesses.
“Yes.”
“Blowjobs?”
“Yes.”Iturntowardhim.“AndIevenswallowed.”
Tate,whowasmid-sip,spitoutshisdrinkatmyproudresponse.Laughing,hepourshimselfmorechampagne.“Youwildthing,”hesaysinamusement.
“Anyway.That’sit.SexytimesbyCassieSoul.HJsandBJs.Theend.”
“Nuh-uh,”Tateargues.“That’swhathegotoutofit.Whataboutyou?Didhegodownonyou?”
“Thisisnotproperfriendtalk.”
“Sureitis.Italkaboutsexwithmyfriendsallthetime.”
“Yourgirlfriends?”
“Sure.YoushouldhearsomeofSteph’sstories.Andshe’sbi,soit’s,like,twicethedirty.Sometimesshetalksaboutpussy,othertimesit’sdick.Excitingtimes.”
Ilaugh.“Soundslikeit.”
Heeyesmeovertherimofhisglass.“Youeverhadanorgasm?”
OhmyGod.
“Yes,”Igrumble.“Bothsoloandwithapartner,beforeyouask.”
“Idon’tthinkI’veeverseenanyone’scheeksturnthatshadeofredbefore.”
“Itoldyou,thisisn’tappropriatesubjectmatter.”
“Why,isitturningyouon?”
Yes!
“No,”Ilie.
Hejustgrins.“Sowhyhaven’tyouhadsex?WaitingforMr.Right?”
“No.”Isigh.“I’dsettleforsomeoneI’mmadlyattractedto,butIrarelycomeacrossthat.Iswear,myfriendswalkouttheirfrontdoorsand,bam,they’rehookingupwithsomeonetheycan’tkeeptheirhandsoffof.Meanwhile,I’matotaldisasterwhenitcomestomeetingmen.Ibabble—haveyounoticedIbabble?AndifIdomanagetoovercomemynervesandactuallyinteractwithsomeoneI’mattractedto,theyendupnotbeingattractedtome.AndthentheonesIdon’twantarealloverme.”
“That’showitusuallygoes.”
“Iwasdatingsomeonelastyear,”Iadmit.“Lastedaboutsixmonths,andtherewaschemistry,forsure.Butsomethingjustdidn’tfullyclick.Didn’tfeelright.Iwasn’tentirelycomfortablewithhim,Iguess.AndIcouldn’tpullthetrigger.”
“Ifyoucouldn’tpullthetriggerwithaguyyouweredatingforsixmonths,howdoyouexpecttodoitinonesummer?July’salmostover,”Tateremindsme.“Doesn’tleaveyouwithmuchtimetoexecuteyourflingplan.”
“Imean,inmydefense,Itriedpullingthetriggerthreeweeksago.”Acaseofthegigglessuddenlyhitsme.“YourealizeyouwereliterallythefirstguyIspoketothissummer?Whataretheodds?InevermeetguysI’mattractedto,andImeetonethefirstnightIgoout.”Idoubleoverlaughing.“Andyoufriend-zonedme.”
“Doingokayoverthere,Soul?”
“I’mgreat,”Icroakbetweenwheezylaughs.“Thisishilarious.I’vebeenintownalmostamonthandlookwhatI’veaccomplished.FirstIgoonadatewithadudewholearnedtokissinabarnyard.AndnowI’mlyingherestargazingwithahotguyandneitherofusisnakedbecausehe’snotintoit.”
“IneversaidIwasn’tintoit,”heprotests.
“Let’snotrehashthis,”Isay,reachingovertopathisknee.“Don’tworry,I’mnotmadoranything.Juststatinghowabsurdthiswholesituationis.”
Clearlyflustered,Tategoestopouranotherglass.Onlyafewdropstrickleoutofthebottle.
“Shit.”Hesoundsamazed.“Wejustkilledtwobottlesofchampagne,Cassie.Inanhour.We’refuckingbarbarians.”
“Ithinkthat’sourcuetosaygoodnight,then.”MykneesarewobblyasIrisefromthechair.Iscoopuptheemptybottles.“Comeon,Gate.WalkmehomesoIdon’ttripinthedarkandbreakmyneck.”
“Gateain’thappening,ginger.”
“Oh,itsois.”
Taterestshispalmonmylowerbacktoguideme,keepingmesteadyaswewalk.I’mcertainIfeelhisfingertipsmoveinalightcaress.Butit’sprobablyanaccident,aresultofthefactthatwe’restumblingupthepath,bothalittledrunk.Still,there’ssomethingveryintimateaboutthefeelofhishandatmyback.
Iwantitonotherpartsonme.
Hewasn’twrong.Iamturnedon.Painfullyso.I’mpracticallysqueezingmythighstogether,desperatetogoinside,aswestopandsaygoodbyeonthestretchofmanicuredgrassbetweenourtwohouses.Iwantnothingmorethantolockmyselfinmyroom,slidemyfingersinmypanties,andbringmyselftoorgasmthinkingabouthim.
Inside,ImakesureallthelightsareoffbecauseGrandmaisforgetfulsometimes.ThenIenablethealarmandsprintupstairsasquietlyasIcan.Thethrobbingbetweenmylegshasbecomeunbearable.I’malreadyunzippingmydresswhileIhurrydownthehall.Ientermyroomandthrowmyphoneonthebed,handstuggingmybodicedown.IletmydressdroptothefloorabouthalfasecondbeforerememberingIhaven’tshutthecurtainsyet.
Tateisathiswindow.
Myheartjumpstomythroat.I’mwearingnothingbutskimpypantiesandastraplessbra.Andhenotices.Ofcoursehenotices.Hiseyesrakeovermybody,admiring,lingering,thenmovinguptomyface.Iexpecthimtoreachforhisphoneandtextasmart-assremark.
Instead,hestartsunbuttoninghisshirt.
Mybreathhitches.
It’simpossibletolookaway.I’veseenhisbarechestbefore,buttheactofundressing…it’salmostmoreintimatethannudityitself.Icanscarcelybreathe.Slowly,hepartsthefrontofthewhitedressshirtandeasesitoffhisshoulders.Hisgazeneverleavesmineashetossestheshirtaway.
Isteptowardthewindow,butIdon’tdrawthecurtains.Notevenaguntomyheadcouldcompelmetoclosethesecurtainsrightnow.Iswallow,tryingtobringmoisturetomythroat.Itremainsbone-dry.
Tateunzipshispants.
Imoanoutloud,andeventhoughhe’stwentyfeetaway,IswearIseethecornersofhismouthquirkup.
Hepusheshisgraytrousersdownhislegs.Kicksthemaway.Mygazeinvoluntarilylowerstohisgroin.There’snomistakingthelongridgeofarousalstrainingagainsthiswhiteboxerbriefs.Thematerialisstretchedtautoverhiserection,leavingverylittletotheimagination.I’mmesmerized.
Thisisdangerousterritory.We’reontheedgeofacliffhere.Hejuststrippeddowntohisunderwearandnowit’smymove.Icanshutthedrapesandpretendthisneverhappened.
Or…
Ihearabuzzingfromthebed.Ilookover,expectinganincomingtext.Butit’sacall.Gulping,Igrabthephonewithashakyhand.Iswipetoanswerit.
“I’mnotnotintoit.”Hisraspyvoiceticklesmyear.
“W-what?”MymouthissodryIcanbarelygetthatonewordout.
“YousaidIfriend-zonedyoubecauseI’mnotintoyou.That’snottrue.”Hehuffsoutabreath.“Iknowitsoundedlikeabunchofexcuses,butImeantitwhenIsaidit’seasiertokeepthingsplatonic.Butthat’snottosayIwasn’tattractedtoyou.Iwas.Istillam.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”There’sabeat.“Youhavenoideawhatyoudotome.”
“Showme.”
TherequestslipsoutbeforeIcanstopit.
Forgetthecliff.It’slonggone.I’vesailedovertheedgeandambasicallyfreefalling.Myheartbeatssohardandsofastthatmyribsaresore.Everymuscleinmybodyistense,kneesquakingasImoveclosertothewindow.
Tate’sgotthephonetohisear.He’swatchingme.Buthestillhasn’tresponded.
Andthenhislowvoiceslidesintomyear.
“Areyoucallingtheshots?”
Thistimethere’snomistakingthenaughtycurveofhislips.AndIrealizethisistheoutwebothrequire.Awaytodistanceourselvesfromthemistakewe’reprobablyabouttomake.HesaidIcouldorderhimaroundjustfortonight.Sowhynot.Let’streatitlikeagame.Afunlittlegamewithoutanyconsequences.
“Yeah.”Myvoiceissoft.“I’mcallingtheshots.”Itakeabreath.“Showmehowmuchyouwantme.”
AsIwatch,hetapshisphoneandthensetsitonthewindowledge.He’sputmeonspeaker.Threesecondslater,he’snaked.Nakedandgorgeousandgloriouslyturnedon.Longandhard,andbiggerthanIexpected.
Mymouthturnstosawdustagain,andIgulprapidly.Tatedriftsahanddownhisbarechest.Slow,leisurely.Hewrapsitaroundthethickshaftandgivesaslowstroke.Ibitebackanothermoan.
“I’mdrunk,”Itellhim.
“Metoo.”
Ican’ttakemyeyesoffhishand.Thoselongfingerscurledaroundhiserection.“We’refriends.”
“Weare,”heagrees.
“Friendsshouldn’tdothis.”
“Probablynot.”Hepauses.“Seethis?”Anotherlong,deliberatestroke.“Thisishowhardyoumakeme.LatelyI’vestartedjerkingoffbeforeIknowI’mgoingtoseeyou,justtocurbthetemptation.”
Thefilthypicturehepaintsmakesmynipplestingle.“Areyouserious?”
“Mmm-hmm.AndI’mgoingtogetmyselfoffthemomentyouclosethosecurtains.”
MyhandtremblessowildlyInearlydropthephone.“WhosaysI’mgoingtoclosethem?”
Fromacrosstheway,Iglimpsethefaintmovementofhistongue,swipingacrosshisbottomliptomoistenthecornerofhismouth.
“Youhavenoideahowgoodyoulookrightnow,”hesaysroughly.
Clutchingthephonetomyear,Ibringmyotherhandbehindmyback,searchingfortheclaspofmybra.It’saneasyonetoundosingle-handed.Iflickitopenandthebraflutterstothefloor.
Themomentmybreastsareexposed,Tatemakesatorturedsound.Huskyanddeep
“Howaboutnow?HowdoIlook?”
OhmyGod,whoisthiswoman?Whatarethesewordsleavingmymouth?Whosethroatyvoiceisthat?I’mondisplayforhim,andyetI’mnotatallself-conscious.
“Youlookgoddamnedible.”
Asmileflitsovermylips,butdipsintoaslightfrownwhenIrealizehishandhasgonestill.“You’renottouchingyourselfanymore.”
“I’mwaitingforyourorders,”isthegravellyresponse.“Tellmewhatyouwant.”
Irealizethen,despitethebravadoIjustexhibited,I’mcompletelyoutofmydepthhere.Idon’tknowhowtodirectanencounterlikethis.Idon’tknowwhattoaskfor.Howtoaskit.AllIknowisthatmyclitisthrobbingandmynippleshaveneverbeenharder.
“Iwantyoutohelpme,”Iorder.“Iwantyoutotakecontrolandhelpme…”Itrailoff.
Astrangledgroanfillsmyear.“Helpyouwhat?Helpyoucome?”
“Yes.”
“Allright.ThenIwantyoutoslideyourhandinsidethosepantiesforme.Iwantyoutorubthathotpussyuntilyou’recomingforme.Canyoudothatforme?”
Awaveoflustnearlyknocksmeoffmyfeet.SweetLord.
“Idon’tknowifIcan,”Iconfess.“Standingup,Imean.”I’mcertainmyfaceisredderthanit’severbeen.
“Movecloser.”Hisvoiceishypnotic.It’salureandI’mdrawninlikeafish,glidingbeneaththesurfacetowardit.
“Putmeonspeaker,”hesayswhenI’mafootfromthewindow.“Leaveyourphoneonthewindowsill.”
Mypulseisthudding,arapid,rhythmicbeatthrumminginmyblood.He’stouchinghimselfagain.Alazystrokehereandthere.Norushatall.Iadmirethedefinedridgesofhisabdomen,thesexyVofhisobliquemuscles.He’sincredible.Iwishhewerehereinmybedroomwithme,thathiswarm,tannedfleshwerepressedupagainstme.
Iputhimonspeakerphone,gratefulforthefactthatmygrandmotherisn’talightsleeper.
“Goodgirl,”heencourageswhenIsetthephonedown.“Nowtakeyourlefthandandholdontotheledge.Holdyourselfsteady.”
Ifollowhisinstructions.
“Iwanttoseeyourotherhandinsideyourpanties.”
Islipthefingersofmyrighthandundermywaistband,andthemomenttheycollidewithmyclit,Ialmostkeelover.“Fuck,”Ichokeout,gratefultobeholdingontosomething.
Hechuckles.“Feelgood?”
“Uh-huh.”
Wecontinuetowatcheachother.He’sstrokingalittlefasternow.Irubalittlefaster.
Hisgazeisfixedonme.Idon’tknowifhe’sfocusedonmybreastsorthemotionsofmyhand,buteitherwayhisbreathingisquickening.Icanhearitoverthespeakerphone.
I’mstartingtomakebreathysoundstoo.Igrindtheheelofmypalmovermycore,rockingagainstit.Pinpricksofpleasuredancealongmyskin.Mynipplesaretight.Breaststender.
Iexhaleslowly.“Iwishyouwereherewithme.”
“Metoo.”
Andyetneitherofustakethatthoughttoitslogicalconclusion.Idon’taskhimtocomeover.Hedoesn’toffer.Instead,wecontinuetopleasureourselves.Oureyesremainlocked.Myentirebodyisalivewire,desperatelywaitingforasparktosetitoff.
“Doyouwishmydickwasinsideyourightnow?”
Asoftmoanslipsout.“Idon’tknow,”Ianswertruthfully.“I’veneverhadadickinsidemebefore.”
Thatsummonsalowgroanfromhim.“Christ.WhyisthatthehottestthingI’veeverheard?”
WhenIseehisfisttightenaroundhiserection,Irockfasteragainstmyhand.Thetensionisagonizing.Iapplymorepressureontheswollennubthat’shurtingforrelease,andashudderrunsthroughme.
“I’mclose.”Ibarelyhearmyownvoiceoverthepersistenthammeringofmyheart.
“Yeah?Letmeseeit.”
Ibitemylip.Mybodyfeelsheavyandweak,asifmylimbsareabouttogiveoutonme.Igriptheledge,diggingmyfingernailsintothewhitepaintedwood.Isagforwardandleanmyforeheadagainstthewindow.Myerraticbreathsfoguptheglass.Awhimperescapesmylipsasthepleasuremounts,gatheringinmycore.God.Thisisthemosteroticexperienceofmylife.
“Cass.Yes.You’regonnamakemecome.”
Thosehuskywordsprovidethespark.Mybodydetonates.Theorgasmsurfacesinaflashoflight,asurgeofheat.Arushofblissthatsweepsmeaway,coursingthroughmeinsweet,pulsingwaves.WhenTategrunts,myeyelidsflutteropen.Iwatchhimclimax,listeningtothequietnoiseshemakeswhileheloseshimselftorelease.Finally,hishandslows.Hischestrisesandfallswitheachshallowbreathhesucksin.
“Holyhell,”hecurses,bitinghislipashemeetsmyeyes.
Holyhell,indeed.CHAPTER16
CASSIE
Theneedtobelongisdeeplyingrainedinus.Ithinkit’sbecausethere’snoworsefeelingintheworldthanbeingontheoutsidelookingin.Watchingagroupoffriendslaughingtogetherinschoolandwishingyouwereinonthejoke.Seeingyourcoworkersgatheredaroundatthewatercoolerandlongingtobepartoftheconversation.Or,inmycase,desperatelywantingtobelonginmyownfamily.FromthemomentDadmarriedNia,Ifeltpushedaside.Andthen,whenthetwinswereborntwoyearslater,Iwasmorethanpushedaside—Iwaspushedout.Atleastthat’swhatitfeelslike.Nianeverwarmeduptome,andI’mconstantlywalkingoneggshellswithDad,whichinturnmakesmeallthemoredesperatefortheirapproval.
That’sprobablywhy,whenDadcallsthirtyminutesbeforeI’msupposedtomeetAaronfordinnerandasksifIcanbabysit,Iansweryeswithouthesitation
“IthoughtNia’sfriend’sdaughterwasthebestbabysitterontheblock,”Ijoke,unabletostopfromdroppingapassive-aggressivejabundertheguiseofteasing.OnpastvisitsIofferedtobabysitnumeroustimessoDadandNiacouldgoontheirmonthlydatenights,butthey’vealwaysdismissedtheoffer,optinginsteadforsometeenagerontheirstreet.
Dadchuckles.“Kendra’sgreat.Butshe’snomatchfortheirbigsister.Anyway,shesprainedheranklethisafternoon,soshehadtocancel.WehatetobugyouonSaturdaynight,though.Youdidn’talreadyhaveplans?”
“Well,Idid.ButI’mfinerescheduling.Unless…anychanceIcaninviteafriendover?Wehadplansfordinnerandamovie.MaybeIcantalkhimintocomingbyandwatchingDisneymoviesinstead.”
“Isthisthefriendfromthefishstore?”
“No,somebodyelse.”
“Ms.Popularityoverhere!Sure,thatwon’tbeaproblem.Goaheadandinviteyourfriend.Andthanks,Cass.Ioweyouone.Wereallydidn’twanttocanceldatenight—there’saCCRtributebandplayingintheparktonight.I’mstoked.”
“Noworries.I’vehardlyseenthegirlsthismonth,soit’llbenicetospendsometimewiththem.”
Afterwehangup,ItextAaron.
Me:IamSOsorrytodothis,butthere’sbeenalast-minutechangeofplans.Mydad’sinabindandneedsmetobabysitmysisters.Anychanceyouwanttocomebyandkeepmecompany?Theirbedtimeisnine,sowe’llstillhavealonetime.AND…there’saDisneymovieinitforyou…
Aaron:MakeitFrozen2andyou’vegotyourselfadeal.
Me:I’mafraidyou’llhavetonegotiatewithtwosix-year-oldgirlsonthat.Theyruntheshow.
Aaron:Challengeaccepted.
Me:I’lltextyoutheaddress.
Anhourlater,Niaopensthefrontdoortoletmeintomychildhoodhome,herreluctantexpressiontellingmehowlittleshe’senjoyingthischangeofplans.
“Thankyouforbabysitting,Cassandra.”Hersmileisabitstiff.“I’msureyouhavebetterthingstodoonaSaturdaynight.”
“It’sfine.I’vebarelyseenthegirlsthissummer.”
It’snotmeantasanaccusation,butIseeaflickerofguiltinhereyes.
Beforeshecansayanything,Ichangethesubject.“AnythingIneedtoknowfortonight?AnynewallergiessincethelasttimeIwashere?OrstilljustcoconutforRoxy?”
“Justthecoconut.”Nialeadsmeintothekitchen.“Theyalreadyhadtheirdinner,andtheyjustfinishedtheirbath.Claytonisdressingthem.”Whenthefaintsoundofgirlishshrieksringsoutfromupstairs,shegazesattheceilingwithamusement.“Oratleastheshouldbe.Yourfatheralwaysturnsthesimplesttaskintoagame.”
Igrin.“He’salwaysbeenlikethat.”
Shestopsatthecounter.“Wewentgroceryshoppingtoday,sothereareplentyofsnacksanddrinks.Butdon’tletthemdrinkanysoda.Notevenadrop.”
“Iwon’t,”Ipromise.
“Letmegoupstairsandspeedthemup.”
AsNiaducksoutofthekitchen,Itakeoffmyjeanjacketanddrapeitoverthebackofabreakfaststool.Settingmypurseonthecounter,IreachinsideitformyphoneandfindamessagefromTate.
Tate:I’veprayedtothekissinggodsonyourbehalf.Goodfortunebewithyou.
I’vebeenwaitingforhimtotextallday.Ihadn’twantedtodoitfirst,andthelongertodaydraggedonwithoutawordfromhim,themoreIworriedjusthowbadlylastnighthadscrewedthingsupbetweenus.I’dpassedoutlikealightafterourmutualpleasuresession,thenwokeupthismorningwonderingwhatthehellI’ddone.Alinehadundeniablybeencrossed,butIdidn’tknowhowtoaddressit.Ifiguredwhenhegotintouchandbroughtitup,Icouldblameitonallthechampagne.
Butthis?ThisisthemessageIget?
We’rejustgoingtopretenditneverhappened?ThatIdon’tknowwhathisfacelookslikewhenheejaculates?
Awarmflushspreadsacrossmyskinatthefilthymemory.I’mnevergoingtobeabletoerasethatimagefrommymind.Histeethbitingintohislip.Handclenchedaroundhiscock.Thehuskynoisehemade.WatchingTateBartlettshudderinorgasmwasthehottestthingI’veeverwitnessedinmylife.
Butokay.Iguesswe’renotgoingtotalkaboutit.
Me:LOLthanks.Mightbehardtogetsomekissingin,though.Igotropedintobabysitting,soAaron’sgoingtokeepmecompany.
Tate:Lame.
Me:Iknow.Maybewe’llgooutafterwardifthefolksdon’tgetbacktoolate.
Tate:Allright.Havefun.
Sighing,Ilaythephonedown.Hell,maybeit’sbetterwedon’ttalkaboutit.Justforgetiteverhappened.
Only,aswithmostimpossibletasks,forgettinglastnightis…well…impossible.
“Bedtimeisnine,”Niaissayingtenminuteslater,assheandDadslipintotheirshoesinthefronthall.“Theycanwatchonemovie.Onlyone.”
Iwatchasshesecurestheanklestrapofonegoldsandal.Shelooksbeautifultonight.Herhairisloose,tightblackcurlsframingherfaceandmakingherappearsofter;usuallyit’spulledbackinalowbun,givingheramoreseverelook.Hermakeupislight,justthesweepofgoldeyeshadowandatouchofmascara.She’scladinaflowybluedresswithauniquepatternonit,pairedwiththosestrappygoldsandals.
“Youlookgorgeous,”Itellher,thecomplimentpoppingoutbeforeIcanstopit.ExperiencehastaughtmethatNiaisterribleatreceivingcompliments.Oratleastonesthatcomefromme.Shetypicallydismissesthemwithastiffwaveofherhand.
Tonight,shesurprisesme.“Thankyou.”Shesmoothsthefrontofherdress.“Mymothersentmethisdresslastyear,butthisismyfirstopportunitytowearit.”
“CarepackagefromHaiti,huh?That’scool.”
Niasmiles.“It’salwaysawonderfulsurprise.Makesmeveryhomesick.”
I’mprettysurethisisthefirsttimeshe’ssharedsomethingthispersonalwithme.Holyshit.Arewebonding?
Dadruinsthemomentbypeeringpastmyshoulderintothelivingroom,wheremysistersareonthecouchbabblingtoeachotherinFrench.
“Aurevoir,mespetiteschéries,”hecallsout.
“Aurevoir,Daddy!”
“Don’tgiveyoursistertoomuchtrouble,”hewarns.
“Wewon’t,”Roxypromises.
Dadkissesmycheekandducksoutthedoor.Nialingers,herexpressiontakingonaglintofpanic.
“Nosoda,”sheremindsme.“Iftheywantasnack,therearericecakesonthetopshelfofthecabinet.Moniquelovesthem,especiallyifyouspreadsomepeanutbutteronthem.Oh,andbesuretokeepacloseeyeonher.Shelikestoclimbthefurniture.”
“We’llbefine,”Iassureher.“I’llcallyouifIneedanything.Gooutandenjoytheconcert.”
“Thankyou,Cassandra.”EveryoneelsecallsmeCassieorCass,butintheeightyearsI’veknownher,Nia’snevercalledmeanythingbutCassandra.
Iclosethedoorbehindthem,lockit,andproceedtodanceintothelivingroomlikeagameshowcontestantwhojustgotchosentogoonstage.“Allright,theadultsaregone!”Ishout.“Let’sparty!”
Thetwinsburstintogiggles.Iflopdownonthecouchbetweenthemandthrowanarmaroundeachgirl.
“So,Ishouldwarnyou,”Isay,“Iinvitedafriendtohangoutwithustonight.”
Roxysqueals.“What’shername?Howdoyouknowher?”
“Well,firstly,it’sahim—”
“Ewwwww,”Mosays,makingaface.
“What’shisname?Howdoyouknowhim?”Roxydemands.
“HisnameisAaron.You’lllikehim.He’sreallyfunny.Itoldhimhecanwatchamoviewithus.”
“Idon’twantamovie.Iwantastory,”Moniquewhines.“IwantKit’nMcKenna!”
“Wecandoboth,”Itellher.“Movienow,andastoryatbedtime.”
Atthereminderoftheirfavoritebedtimestory,IsuddenlyrealizeIhaven’theardfromRobbinafewdays.IgavehimthestorylineforourKit’nMcKennabooklastweek,buthestillhasn’tsentbackanyconceptsfortheartwork.SincetheprinterIfoundtakesaboutsevendaystoprintthebook,RobbandIneedtofinalizetheillustrationsbytheendofnextweekifIwantittobereadyintimeforthegirls’party.
AsRoxycontinuestointerrogatemeaboutAaron,amessagefromhimpopsup,informingmehe’llbehereinfortyminutesorso.WhenItoldhimwewouldn’tbeeatingtogether,heendedupdrivingtoCharlestonwithhisbrotherfordinner,andthey’reontheirwaybacknow.
Me:Thegirlsarefeelingverynosytoday,soexpectsomegrillingwhenyougethere.
Aaron:Ha!I’mnotworried.Allkidsloveme.
He’snotlying.Anhourlater,we’rewatchingMoana,andthetwinsarelaughingtheirbuttsoffwhileAaronstandsinfrontoftheTVandbeltsouttheentirenumberthatTheRocksingsinthemovie.Heknowseveryword,andwhenIdemandanexplanationafterward,heoffersasheepishsmileandsays,“Myoldersisterhasafour-year-olddaughter.Wewatchalotofmoviestogether.”
Halfwaythroughthefilm,thegirlsdeclarethey’reboredandwouldratherplayagame,soMobringsoutaridiculouscardgamethatRoxytriesvaliantlytoexplain.Itinvolvesmonstersandseveredbodypartsandrequiresustofighteachotherinweirdcardbattles.Idon’tunderstandwhatthehellisgoingon,butAaronpicksitupfast,andthenextthingIknowheandRoxyarecompetinginafiercemonsterbattlerifewithdarkglaresandverybadtrashtalk.
“Oh,you’regoingdown,”hewarnsmysister.
“Nuh-uh.Youare.”
“No,youare.”
“No,YOUARE!”Roxystickshertongueoutathim.
Aaronstickshistongueoutrightbackather.
Istareathim.“I’mdatingasix-year-old.”
“Dating,huh?”Hiseyessparkle.
Smiling,Iarchabrow.“Imean,yeah,isn’tthisadate?”
“Ewwww!”Moniquecries.
“Cassiehasaboyfriend!”Roxyyells.
Irollmyeyes.“YouguysareSOimmature,”Isayhaughtily,andAaronsnickers.
Eventually,Icheckthetimeandnoticeit’salmosteightthirty,soIencourageeveryonetowrapupthegame.Roxywins,butIthinkAaronletsher,whichisanothercheckinhispluscolumn.Notbattinganeyeaboutourchangeofdatevenueisanotherone.Hereallyisadecentguy
“YouokaystayingdownherewhileIputthemtobed?”Iaskhim.
He’salreadyreachingfortheTVremote.“I’mgood,”heassuresme.“Preseasongameison.GottaseehowtheBillsarelookingsofar.”
Ikeepforgettinghe’sfromNewYork.NotthatfarfromBoston,alittlevoiceinmyheadpointsout.
Isupposethat’ssuperconvenient.Ifwekeepdating,thatis.Rightnow,though,whileI’mhavingfunwithhim,itstillfeelsveryplatonic.Ourinitialsparkdoesn’tseemtobecatchingfire.Idon’tfeelasenseofeagernesstokisshim,butI’mnotsureifthelackofheatandpassionisbecauseofwhathappenedlasttimewekissed,orifit’ssimplyjustnottherewithus.
IknowI’mcapableoffeelingit.Ifeltitlastnight.I’msuresomeofthathadtodowiththealcoholwe’dconsumed,butmostofithadtodowithTate.
Upstairs,Ituckthegirlsinandswitchonthelittlelampatopthenighttablebetweentheirbeds.WhenIturnoffthemainlight,thelampcastsayellowglowovertheroomandprojectsglowingmermaidsonthewalls.It’sthecoolestthing.IwishI’dhadoneofthosegrowingup.
Idragawhite-paintedrockingchairclosertotheirbeds.It’saremnantfromwhentheywerebabies,andIsuddenlyhaveamemoryofNiasittinginthischair,rockingmytinyinfantsisterstosleep.
“Okay,”Isaycheerfully.“ArewereadytofindoutwhathappenswhenMcKenna’solderbrotherfindsKithidinginthegarage?”
“Thanksforwaiting.”Icomedownstairsaboutthirtyminuteslater.Aaron’smadehimselfcomfortableinthelivingroom.Feetuponthecoffeetable,leaningbackagainstthecouchcushionswithonearmproppedbehindhishead.
Helookskindofsexyinthatposition…
Thisispromising.
Whenhisheadturnstowardthedoorwayandhiseyessmolderatthesightofme,Ifeelaflutteringbetweenmylegs.
Promising,indeed.
“Thegirlsasleep?”heasks.
Isettlebesidehimonthecouch.“Roxy’soutlikealight,butMowilltakeabitlonger.ShewasdriftingoffwhenIleft,though.”
“They’recoolkids.Halfsisters,right?”
“Yeah.TheirmomisDad’ssecondwife.Nia.”
“Andyoudon’thaveanyothersiblings?”
“Nope.IwasanonlychilduntilIwasfifteen,andthenthetwinscamealong.”
Wetalkaboutfamiliesforawhile,butIhavetoadmitI’mnotpayingtoomuchattentiontowhatwe’resaying.Aaron’sarmisaroundmenow,andhisfingertipsarebrushingmybareshoulder.Strokinglightly.Itfeelsnice.I’mpleasantlysurprisedtofindheatgatheringinmybelly.Myheartbeatingfaster.Okay,Icanworkwiththis.
“Cassie.”
Ilookovertoseehimpeeringatmethroughheavy-liddedeyes.
“Yeah?”Iswallow.
“Ireallywanttokissyou.”
Iswallowagain.“Good.Sokissme.”
ForallofTate’sadviceabouthowtowardoffthe“aggressiveentry,”ithappenssofastIbarelyhaveachancetoblink,letalonetouchhisfaceandcomplimenthim.Thespeedwithwhichhislipslatchontomineandhistongueisthrustinginsideisalmostremarkable.He’sperfectedtheartofpersistentpassionwithzerobuildup.Infact,I’venevermetanyonewho’sthisskilledatkissingthisbad.Onceagain,I’mcaughtinthesamepredicament,ahelplessparticipantinakissthatmakesmyheadspin,andnotinagoodway.
Tellhimtoslowdown.
IhearTate’svoiceinmyhead.
ButIfeeltooawkwardaskinghimtochangegears.Notwhenhe’smoaningasifhe’sthoroughlyenjoyingthis.Hisfingersarethreadedthroughmyhair.Onehandstrokesmythighovermyyogapants.Fortunately,I’mgrantedareprievewhenhecomesupforair.Isuckinasmuchoxygenasmylungswillallow,whileAaronmumbles,“You’resofuckingpretty,”andabruptlystarts“kissing”meagain.Atthispoint,Idon’tthinkitqualifiesasactualkissing,somuchasfacebanging.
Saysomething.
Isaynothing.
Yup,Ichickenout.Ilethimkeepdoingwhathethinksofassexykissingforanothersolidminute.Until,tomysheerrelief,alittlevoiceinterruptsus
“Cassie?”Moniquewhinesfromthestairs.
AaronandIbreakapart.“Holdthatthought,”Itellhim,wheninsideI’mlike,please,forgetthatthought.
IstepintothehallandfindMowobblingdownthestairsinherPJs,wideawake.
“Hey,squirt.”Ifrown.“Whyaren’tyouinbed?”
“Ican’tsleep.”
“Aww.Well,that’snotgood.Howcanwefixthat?”
“Canyoutellmeanotherstory?”
Iglanceattheclockhangingonthewallattheentrancetothekitchen.It’sfivepastten.Anhourpastherbedtime.AndNiaandmydadshouldbehomeinthenexthourorso.Ibitemycheek.Ican’thaveMoniqueupandaboutwhentheygetbackorNiawillneverleavemealonewiththegirlsagain.
“Allright.”Iletoutasigh.“Gouptobedandwe’lldoanotherstory.JustgivemeasectosaygoodbyetoAaron.”
“I’llwaithere.”Withastubbornjutofherchin,sheplantsherbuttonthebottomstep.
“Okay.Butdon’tmove.”
WhenIreenterthelivingroom,Aaronisalreadyup,phoneinhand.Heswipeshiskeysoffthecoffeetable.
“Youheardthat?”Isaywryly.
“Yeah.”
“I’msorry.Ineedtogobackupstairsandputhertosleep,andIfeelbadmakingyousitandwaitagain.”Monique’sinsomniaalsohappenstobetheescapehatchI’dbeenprayingfor,butIkeepthatthoughttomyself.
“It’snoproblem,”hesayseasily.“Whydon’twemeetagainduringtheweek?Iheardthere’sareallygoodminigolfcourseonthesouthendoftheboardwalk.”
“Sure.Soundsgood.”
Iwalkhimtothedoor,whereheleansintokissmegoodbye.Luckily,justakissonthecheek,histongueremainingfirmlyinhisownmouth.
“Goodnight,sexy,”hesayshuskily,andIcan’tlie—itdoesnothingforme.
Iclosethedoorafterhimandlockit.ThenIstandthereforamoment,exhalingalong,tiredbreathwhenIhearhiscardrivingaway.Idon’tthinkthisAaronthingisgoingtowork.Afriendship,maybe,butIhonestlycan’tenvisionanythingmorethanthat.Whichmeans—
Aresoundingcrashjoltsmefrommythoughts.
Itsoundedlikeitcamefromthekitchen.
Awaveoffearslamsintome,propellingmeforward.“Monique?”Ishout,runningthroughthehouse.
IflyintothekitchenandmyheartstopswhenIspothersmallbodysprawledbythetallcabinetwherewekeepthesnacks.Thebottomshelfhasbrokenoff,thesplinteredplanknowlyingonthefloor.It’sclearshetriedtoclimbit,anditdidn’tholdherweight.Randomitemsarestrewnaroundherfeet—bagsofchips,acanofpeanuts,anarrayofbakingsupplies.Onthetopshelf,anothertinofnutsteetersontheedgebeforecrashingdownandmissingMonique’sheadbymereinches.Shescreechesinsurprise.
Idiveontothefloorandhelpherintoasittingposition.“OhmyGod.Sweetheart.Areyouokay?Whereareyouhurt?”
Isnapintoemergencymodeandsearchherforinjuries,thefrigidchillofpanicicingmyveinswhenInoticethecutonherjaw.It’snotbleeding,justafewreddots,butwhateverhitherdidbreaktheskinandleaveasmallindentation.
TearsstreamdownMonique’sface.“Thethingfellonmyface.Thatone.”Shepoints.
Ifollowherfingertoapeanutcanthat’srollingtowardthefridge.Okay.ThankGod.It’saplasticcontainer.Notglass.AlthougheitherwayNiaisgoingtokillme.
“Itbrokemyface,”Mosobs.“Ijustwantedthericecakes.”
“Comehere,baby.”Ipickherup.Shewrapsherarmsandlegsaroundmeandclingstight.Herwailsbegintoquiet,transformingintohiccups.
“Let’sgetyouaBand-Aid.”
“Idon’twantaBand-Aid,”shecries,thenhiccupsagain.
“Tough.I’mgoingtoputyoudownnow,okay?”Isetheronthechairatthekitchentable.“Don’tyoumoveamuscle,youhearme?Notonemuscle,Mo.”
Iduckintothehallbathroom,whereIknowDadkeepsaminifirstaidkitunderthesink.Igrabitandhoofitbacktothekitchen,wherethistimeMolistenedanddidn’tmovefromherchair.
Sinkingtomykneesinfrontofher,Itearopenanantisepticwipe.“Thisisgoingtostingjustalittle,”Iwarnher.“Ready?”
Shenodsweakly.
WhenIswipeitoverthetinycut,herfacescrunchesup.“Idon’tlikethat!”
“Iknow,butit’sover.See?It’sover.Alldone.”Icheckthewipe,gratifiedtofindnobloodonit.Shemighthaveaweebruise,butthat’sit.
OncetheBand-Aidison,Iscoopherupagainandsearchherface.“Areyouokay?Doesitstillhurt?”
Sheshakesherhead.“No.”
“Good.Comeon,let’sgetyoubacktobed.”
Wereachthestairsasthefrontdooropens.
Shit.
IhearNiaandDad’svoices.SodoesMo,becausesheexclaims,“Mama!Daddy!Ibrokemyface!Comesee!”
Iswallowagroan.“Monique,”Ichide
It’stoolate.Theadultsaregallopingin.NiapriesMoniquefrommyarms,whileDadbarks,“Whathappened?Iseverythingokay?”
“It’sfine,”Ireassurethem.“Ipromise.There’sabrokenshelfinthekitchen,butMoisfine.”
Eyesnowcompletelydry,MoshowsoffherBand-Aid.“Look!MaybeI’llhaveascar.”
“Ascar?”Niaswivelsonmeinreproach.“Whathappened?”Hervoiceissharp.
“IwaswalkingAarontothedoor.Mocouldn’tsleepandwasaloneinthekitchen—whenshewassupposedtobewaitingformeinthehall.”Ifrownatmysister.
“I’msorry,”shesaysmeekly.
“Shetriedtoclimbthecabinettogetasnack—”
Nia’seyesblaze.“Itoldyounottoletherclimbanything,Cassandra.”
“Iknow.”Guiltjamsinmythroat.“IswearIonlyleftheraloneforthirtyseconds.Aaronwasjustleaving.”
“It’sokay,sweetheart,”Dadsaysgently.
“No,it’snot.”Nia’svoicerisesassheblastsMoniquewithareprimand.“You’renotsupposedtobeclimbingthefurniture!”DadtouchesNia’sarm,butshepusheshimaway.“No.I’mtakingMoniquetobed.Saygoodnighttoyourfatherandsister.”
“Goodnight,Daddy.Goodnight,Cassie.”Monique’sfaceisforlornaspeersatmeoverhermother’sshoulder.Sheknowsshegotmeintrouble.I’msorry,shemouths.
Iflashasmileofassurance.Loveyou,Imouthback.
Theydisappearatthetopofthestairs
Dadobservesmyexpressionandsighs.“Don’tworry.She’llbefine.Kidsareresilient.”
“Iknow,”Imoan.“It’sjust…Niaalreadydoesn’tlikeme.”
Hisfeaturessoften.“Whatareyoutalkingabout?That’snottrue.”
“Youknowitis.”
“It’snot,”heinsists.“Shethinksyou’rewonderful.Webothdo.”
Sure.Ifhesaysso.
HisfalseassurancesstillechoinmyheadasIdrivehometenminuteslater.It’seleveno’clockandI’mexhausted.Iwassupposedtogoonafundatetonight,whichsomehowturnedintomytryingtoprovetomystepmotherthatIcanbeagoodbigsister.Instead,Ionlyvalidatedheralreadylowopinionofme.AndIcouldn’tevenbeassertivewithAaron.Tooafraidtohurthisfeelingsbyaskinghimtoslowthingsdown.
God.Ifeellikeshit.Myself-esteemisinthetoilet,andforthelifeofmeIcan’tconjureupasilverliningfortonight.Isimplywanttogohomeandclimbintobedandsleeptherestofthisdisastrousweekendaway.
WhenIpullintothedrivewayofGrandma’shouse,I’mstartledtofindanothercarparkedthere.
AsilverMercedes.
Ohno.
No.
Please,don’tletitbeher.
Please
MystomachchurnsasIshutofftheengine.Mymother’sgo-torentalcarchoiceisaMercedes.ShehatesdrivingGrandma’sRangeRoverwhenshe’sintown.Claimsit’stooclunky.
Only,Momisn’tduetoarriveforanothertwoweeks.She’sscheduledtocomeonmybirthdayweekend,andthere’snowayshewouldshowupinAvalonBayearly.Notwillingly.Eversincethedivorce,thistownhasbecomeasourceofdeephostilityforher.
Inthefronthall,myworstfearsareconfirmedwhenIspyseveralLouisVuittoncasesstackedagainstthewall.Shealwaysleavesherbagsdownhere.WaitingforpoorAdelaidetocartthemupthestairsasifit’sourhousekeeper’sjobtoplaybellhop.
IkickoffmytennisshoesandswallowasighwhenInoticethelightoninthekitchen.Ireluctantlymakemywaytowardit.Steelingmyself.Becauseapparentlyonlybadthingshappeninkitchenstonight.
IentertoseeMomatthekitchentable,sippingaglassofwhitewine.
Yup.Onlybadthings.
“Hey!”Iexclaim,slappingonacheerfulsmile.It’sdifficult,though.Myspiritsarealreadydismallylow.Andifthere’sonethingIknowaboutmymother,it’sthatshehasthepowertodragmedownevenlower.“Whatareyoudoinghere?Youweren’tduefortwomoreweeks.”
“Idecidedtocomeearly,”shereplies.“Mothermentionedonthephonetheotherdaythatyoutwohaven’tevenstartedgoingthroughthehousetodecidewhatshe’llbeshippingtothecitynextmonth.ClearlymypresenceisneededheremorethaninBoston,which,frankly,hasbeenswelteringthissummer.Itwillbenicetospendamonthbytheocean.”Shetakesanothersip,thensetsdownthewineglassandrisesfromherchair.“Isthataproblem?”
“No,ofcoursenot!”Myvoicesoundshigh,squeaky.
“Wonderful.Thencomehereandgiveyourmotherahug.”
Iwalkoverandobedientlystepintoherembrace.
“Ah,it’ssogoodtoseeyou,”Momsays,plantingakissonthetopofmyhead.ThereceptionismoregenuinethanIexpect,herhuginfusedwithmorewarmththanI’maccustomedto.“Imissedyou,sweetie.”
“Oh.Imissedyoutoo.”Myguarddropsacoupleoffeet.Iseemtohavecaughtherinagoodmoodtonight.
Shesqueezesmetighter.“I’mhopingwegetachancetospendalotoftimetogetherthismonth.”
Herbrowneyesshinewithwhatseemslikesincerityasshereleasesme.Thentheyfixonmyyogapantsandtightwhitetank,flickingbrieflytotheblackbrastrapspeekingoutofmytop.
Afrowntwistsherlips.“Isthatwhatyouworeouttonight?”
Andsoitbegins.CHAPTER17
TATE
Idon’tknow…I’veneverhadadickinsidemebefore…
IthoughtIwascuredofspontaneousbonersyndromeonceIturnedfourteen.Turnsout,mydickstillhasamindofhisown.Only,thistime,I’mnotinfrontoftheclassdeliveringapresentationonthefoundingfatherswhenIpitchatent.I’matthebar,standinguptogreetEvan,whosegazedoesn’tmisswhat’shappeningdownbelow.
“Doyouhaveaboner?”hedemands.
“Sayitlouderforthepeopleintheback,”Igrumble.
Luckily,Ireverttoastateofnon-arousalthemomentI’mpresentedwithadistraction.BeforeEvanarrived,IwassittingalonewithfartoomuchtimeonmyhandstoruminateoverwhathappenedwithCassie.Sincethenightofthecharitygala,I’vebeenplayingitofflikeit’snobigdeal.FriendsalwaysmasturbateinfrontofwindowstogetherI’veneverhadadickinsidemebefore—Igetharderthangranite.
“Seriously.Isthatforme?”Evansoundsamused.
“Youwish.”IpushthebeerIorderedforhimacrossthebooth.“Here.”
“Thanks.”
It’sSundaynightandIdraggedEvanoutfordrinksbecausebothDannyandLukebailedonmeafterwork.Pleadingexhaustionafteralongdayonthewaterwithagroupofdisastrous,albeitenthusiastic,would-besailors.Me,Idesperatelyneedthediversion,soIpriedEvanoutofGen’sbed.Atleastthat’swhatIassumehewasdoingwhenIcalled
Evanraisesthepintglasstohislips.“Andyou’restillnotansweringthequestion.Cluemeinalready.Iwanttosolvethecase.Thecaseofthemysteriousboner.”
“Ihaveasexproblem,”Iconfess.
Hisamusementgrows.“Oh,Ican’twaittohearthis.Holdthatthought.”Hewavesatoneofthewaitresses,whosehipsswaydeliberatelyasshesauntersovertous.
HernameisNicole,andI’mprettysureEvanhookedupwithherduringGenevieve’syearinCharlestonwhenshewentradiosilentonhim.DudeattemptedtocurehisbrokenheartbysleepinghiswaythroughtheBay,hittingonanycutechickthatcrossedhispath.Fortunately,likeme,he’songoodtermswithmostofhishookups.
“Hi,boys,”Nicolechirps.Sheeyesme.“Youlook…flushed.”
Evansnickers.“CouldIgrabanorderofchickenwings?Hottestsauceyou’vegot.”Hewinksather.“Pleaseandthankyou.”
“Comingrightup.”
Onceshe’sgone,Evantakesanotherswigofhisbeer.“Okay,what’stheproblem?”
“IthinkmaybeIhaveavirginfetishIdidn’tknowabout.”
Healmostchokesonhisbeer.“I’msorry,what?”Hecoughsafewtimes.
“YouknowthatchickCassiewhowasatyourplaceacoupleweeksago?HergrandmotherusedtoowntheBeacon?”
“Yes…”Heshakeshishead,sighing.“Youstupidbastard.Youtookhervirginity?”
“No,no.Imean,shedidsortofpropositionme.AskedifIwasinterestedinasummerfling.ButIsaidno.”
Evanliftsabrow.“Sincewhendoyouturndownpropositionslikethat?”
“Mactalkedsomesenseintome,”Iadmit.“AndwhenItookastepbacktoreallythinkaboutit,Irealizeditwouldn’tbeasmartidea.Cassiedidn’tstrikemeasthetypewhocouldkeepthingsstrictlyphysical.Idon’twanttohurther.”
“Worriedshe’llfallinlovewithyou,huh?”
“Kindof,yeah.DoyourememberwhathappenedinhighschoolwithLindseyGerlach?”
“I’mprettysureourentiregraduatingclassremembers,”hesaysdryly.“Whatdidherfriendsspray-paintonyourlockeragain?Stupidasshole?”
“Selfishprick,”Icorrect.
“Eh.I’vebeencalledworse.”
Ireachformyglass.“Anyway,Ididn’twantCassiecatchingfeelings.Andnowwe’rebecominggoodfriends,andhonestly,IkindoflearnedmylessonthelasttimeIhookedupwithafriend.”
AlanaandIhaven’tevenspokensincesheendedit.Granted,ithasn’tmadeforanyawkwardgroupgatherings,butthat’sprobablybecauseIbarelyattendedanypartiesthisJuly.I’vebeentoobusywithwork.Still,theideaofscrewingupmyfriendshipwithCassiebumsmeout.Idon’twanttoloseher.Iwouldmisstalkingtoher.
“But—”Iadd.
Hechuckles.“There’salwaysabut.”
“Theothernight,wekindofhadamoment…”
“Ofcourseyoudid.What’dyoudo?Makeout?”
“Nah,itwasaphonesexthing.”Iomitthedetails,especiallythewindowelementofthescenario.Hedoesn’tneedtoknowallthat.“Butyeah…itcameupacoupleoftimesthatnight,thevirginitything,andnowIcan’tstopthinkingaboutit.”
“Aboutwhat?Poppinghercherry?”
“Yes,”Igroan,thenslugbacknearlyhalfmybeer.It’ssohardtoarticulate.Imean,I’vewatchedporn.I’msuresomeofthatpornfeaturedvirgins,buttheactualgenre—virginporn—isn’tmything.Ipreferexperiencedwomen.Ilikewomenwhoknowtheirwayaroundaman’sbody.
AndyettheideaofbeingthefirstguyinsideofCassiegetsmegoingsomethingfierce.Iwonderifthere’sananthropologicalreasonbehindit.Somerecessivecavemaninstinctinus,aprimalurgebackedbyscience.Exceptthisurgeneverexistedinmebefore.
Anotherpossibilityoccurstome.Maybeit’snotthefactshe’savirginthat’smakingmecraveheronsuchadeeplevel.Maybeit’sbecauseshe’sbeautifulandfunnyandsodamneasytobearound.
MaybeIjust…likeher.
Shit
“Iknowit’snotagoodidea,though.It’salotofpressure.Idon’tneedthatkindofpressure,right?”
“Christ,no.Youneverwanttobeawoman’sfirst.You’reliterallygoingtobesomeonesheremembersfortherestofherlife.Butwhat’syourlegacygonnabe?Best-casescenario,she’sgotyouuponapedestalbecauseyourockedherworld.Likelyscenario?She’llbenervous,which’llmakeyounervous,andthenyou’llfuckitupandruintheexperienceforherbecauseyou’rebothsouncomfortable.Eitherthat,oryoucometoofastbecauseshe’llbesotight—”Hebreaksoffabruptly.“Speakingoffast.”
Ourwaitressisback,holdingaplatterofwings.“DoIevenwanttoknow?”Nicoleaskspolitely.
Evanblinks.“Nope.”
Iofferaninnocentsmile.“Nothingtoseehere.”
“WhydoIgetthefeelingyou’reuptonogood?”Hernarrowedeyesshiftbetweenus.
“Who,us?We’rechoirboys,”Evansays.“Youknowthat.”
“Yeah,sure.”Snorting,sheplantshischickenwingsinfrontofhimandwandersoff.
Evanwastesnotimepullingtheplatecloserandsnatchingupasauce-drenchedwing.
“So,nowthatwe’vediscoveredyouhaveadefloweringkink,”hesaysbetweenbites.“Whatareyougoingtodoaboutit?”
“Nothing,”Isayglumly.
“Nothing?”heechoes.“Well,that’snofun.”Hewipeshischinwithanapkin,thenslidesoutofthebooth.“Berightback.Gottahitthehead.”
He’sonlygoneaminutebeforeNicolereturnstocheckonourbooth.SheeyesEvan’semptyside.“Where’sHartley?Heabandonyou?”
“Nah,he’llberightback.”
“Pity.I’malmostdonewithmyshift.”Oneeyebrowflicksup.“Iwould’vekeptyoucompany.”
Well.Thisisinteresting.NicoleandIhaven’tinteractedmuch,butI’veseenheraroundtheBay,andIcan’tdenyI’vealwaysenjoyedtheview.Tall.Curvy.Poutylipsandshoulder-lengthdarkhair.
“Guessweneedaraincheck,”Isaylightly.
“Yeah?HowaboutFriday?”
“Youaskingmeout,Nic?”
“Somethinglikethat.I’veseenyouaroundforyears.”Shepursesthosefull,redlips.“Maybeit’stimewegottoknoweachotherbetter.”
Afaintsmiletugsonmylips.Yeah.There’snomistakingherintentions.She’snotaskingmeonadate—she’slookingtohookup.AndthemoreIthinkonit,themoreIrealizeit’sexactlywhatIneedtoclearmyhead.Ihaven’tgottenlaidsinceImetCassie.IfIdon’tfindanoutletsoon,allthatpent-upsexualenergywillexplodeandpushmerightintoCassie’sbed.
So,whynot?Indulginginano-stringshookupisasurefirewaytostopmyselffromcorruptingCassieandblowingupourfriendship.Ican’tkeepjerkingoffbeforeseeingher.That’snotaviablelong-termsolution.Eventuallymydickisgoingtorequirealotmorethanmytiredhand.
“IworkuntilsevenonFriday,”Itellthesmirkingbrunette.“Whydon’tyoucomebyforadrinkaroundeight?I’mstayingattheJacksonplace.Housesittingforthesummer.”
“Really?Ipassthathouseonmydad’sboatallthetime.I’vealwayswantedtoseetheinside.”
“Isthatayes?”
“It’sayes.”Shelicksherlips.“Soundslikefun.”
“Great.Seeyouthen.”
EvanreturnsasNicole’ssashayingoffanddoesn’tmissthecoysmileshetossesmeoverhershoulder.“Man,youmovefast.”Heslidesbackintothebooth.“Nicisgoodpeople,though.”
“Yeah,she’scool.”Istealachickenwingoffhisplate.“She’scomingbyonFriday.”
“Igetit.”Henods.“Youneedthedistraction.”
Hedoesgetit.“Yup.”
DespitetheplansImadewithNicole,IstillhaveCassieonthebrainwhenIgethomeacouplehourslater.IparkmyJeepinthedrivewayandenterthehousetoconductmyusualsecuritycheck.Everythinglooksgood.Me,though,I’mstillonedge.Restless.Soafteraquickshower,IheaddownstairsandgrabthepackofsmokesIstashedinthekitchen,alongwithacheapplasticlighter.
Istepontothebackdeck,whereIfishoutacigaretteandpopitbetweenmylips.It’sninethirty,andalthoughthesunsetnottoolongago,themoonishighandshiningbright,castingstreaksofsilveroverthecalmwaterofthebay.IflickmygazetowardCassie’shouse.Thepatiolightison,butIdon’tseeanybodyoutthere.Iapproachtherailingthatoverlooksthedockbelowandlightmysmoke.Iinhaledeeply.Letthenicotinelodgeinmylungsuntiltheyfeellikethey’regoingtoexplode,andonlythendoIexhale,watchingthethickcloudofsmokefloatawayanddissipate.
Ilovethistown,Itrulydo.Butsometimesit’ssodamnoppressive.EspeciallywhenIlookoutatthewater,whenmygazerestsonthatstripoflandthatcurvesattheveryedgeofthebay.BecauseIknowbeyonditistheopenocean,andeverycellinmybodycriesoutformetogotoit.Iwanttobenavigatingtheoceanusingthestars.Iwanttoseenewplaces,meetnewpeople,experiencethingsIknowI’llneverexperienceinAvalonBay.Smalltownsarefamiliar.They’reacomfortingpairofarmsthatbringyoucloseandkeepyousafe.
Butthosesamearmsholdyouback.Keepyoulockedinplace.
I’mfeelingtoointrospectivetonight.Ishould’vestayedoutwithEvan,talkedhimintoanotherroundofbeers,agameortwoofpool.
Itakeanotherdrag.ExhaleagainasIlistentothesoundsofthenight.Insectshumming.Treesrustling.Ihearacardriveby.Aburstoflaughterfromthedockseveralhousesdown,whereitsoundslikethey’rehostingasmallgathering.Then,anothercarengine,thisonefromthevicinityoftheTannerhouse.Ihearadoorshut.Aflashofmovementcrossesmyperipheralvision,andIrealizethepatiowasn’tempty,afterall.There’sawomanonthedeck,drinkingaglassofwine.Itdoesn’tappeartobeCassie’sgrandmother.LydiaTannerhasdarkhair.Thiswomanhasredhair,severalshadesdarkerthanCassie’s.
Ifurrowmybrow.Isthathermother?IthoughtCassiehadsaidhermomwasn’tarrivinguntilmid-August.
Thebackdoorcreaksopenandanotherfigurestepsoutside.Thefoliageshieldsherfromview,butIrecognizeCassie’svoice.
“Hey,Mom.IjustgotbackfromdinnerwithJoy.Justwantedtosaygoodnight.”
Okay,soitishermother.Iwonderwhenshegotin.I’vebeenattheyachtcluballweekend,soIhaven’tpaidmuchattentiontothecomingsandgoingsnextdoor.That,andI’vebeendiligentlyavoidingCassiesincewindowsex.
“That’stheoutfityouworetodinner?”hermotherinquires.
“Yes.What’swrongwithit?”Cassie’stonesoundsstrangetomyears.Forced,asifshe’stryingtoremainneutralbutcan’tquitemasterit.“WewenttoJoe’sBeachBar.Dresscodeiscasualthere.”
“Ithoughtwetalkedaboutthecroptops,Cass.”
Icrushmycigaretteintheashtrayontherailing.Feelswrongeavesdropping.Idon’tmeanto,butit’salsohardnotto,especiallyatnightwhenthere’renoboatsonthewater.Noshriekingchildren.Nobirdsorseagullssquawking.Onlythesoftwhineofmosquitoes,theoccasionalcricket,andtheveryclearvoicesofCassieandhermother,whoisn’tlettingup.
“It’sreallynotaflatteringlookforyou,sweetheart.”
Mybodytensesup.Oh,screwthat.Cassielooksgoodineverything.AndasIrecall,shewaswearingacroptopthefirsttimewekissed.Ivividlyrememberthewayithuggedhertits.
AndnowIalsorememberwhatshetoldmeabouthermother.Thewayshedescribedthewoman.Highlycritical.Self-centered.Zeroempathy.
Checksoutsofar.
“Idon’tknow…Ikindoflikethem.”Cassie’sflippantnow,butthemerefactthatshe’sdefendingherfashionchoicesmakesmefrown.Shedoesn’thavetojustifyherselftoanyone.
“Ijustthinkit’ssomethingyoushouldleavetogirlslikeJoy,orPeyton.Girlswithabs,youknow?”Hermomgivesanairylaugh,asifthey’resharingsomelightheartedjoke.“Youneedtohaveaveryflat,tonedstomachtopulloffthatkindoftop.”
Myeyebrowssoar.
Fuckyou.That’swhatCassieoughttobesaying.Igetit,respectyourelders,obeyyourparentsandallthat.Butcomeon.
“Eh,absareoverrated.”IhavenocluehowCassieismanagingtoretainhercomposure.Somehowhervoiceremainscalmandunruffled,whenIsuspectthatinsideshe’sanythingbut.
“Sweetie.YouknowIwantyoutoalwayslookandfeelyourbest.Andit’snotonlyaboutshowingthemidriff.Withyourbreastsize?Youneedtochooseyourwardrobecarefully.Iunderstandatyourageyouwanttolooksexy,butonyourbodytype,mostsexyoutfitstendtohavetheoppositeeffect.There’slookingsexy,andthenthere’slookinglikeabimbo.”
Cassieremainssilent.
“Largebreastsareacurseandablessing.Trustme,Iknow.”Hermomlaughsagain,asifshehasn’tjustbulliedherdaughtertothepointofsilence.“Ithinkrightnowyou’reseeingthecurseaspectofit.”
Finally,Cassieletsoutanawkwardlaugh.“Well,Imean,it’snotlikeIcangetridofthesethings,so…”
“Ididit.There’snoreasonyoucan’teither.WecantalktoDr.Bowersaboutdoingareduction.”
“Idon’twantareduction.I’vealreadytoldyouthis.”
“Yousaidyouwerescaredoftheanesthesia,but—”
“It’snotonlythat.Ijustdon’twantit.”
“Cass—”
“I’mnotdoingareduction,”Cassierepeats.Forthefirsttimesinceshesteppedoutside,hertonebrooksnoargument.
There’sabeat.Thenhermother,totallyunbothered,says,“Youlooktired.Weprobablyshouldn’tbetalkingaboutthiswhenyou’reclearlyexhausted.Let’sdiscussitanothertime.Whydon’tyouheaduptobed?”
“You’reright.Iamexhausted.Bedsoundslikeawonderfulidea.”
“Goodnight,sweetheart.Loveyou.”
“Loveyou,too.”
Afterthatconversation,it’shardtobelievethere’sloveoneitherend.ParticularlyCassie’smother.Whatkindofparenttalkslikethattotheirkid?Hypercritical,Cassiesaid?Trydownrightcruel.
I’mstartledbythetorrentofangerthatfloodsmygut.Iremainonthedeckandpulloutanothersmoke,myfingersshakingwhenIflickthelighter.Ileanintotheflame,suckinghardonthecigarette.Thatdark,angrysensationinsidemeonlyheightens,formingaknotoftensionbetweenmyshoulderblades.
Alightturnson.AyellowglowradiatingfromthesecondflooroftheTannerhouse.Itipmyheadtowardit.Idon’thaveadirectviewofCassie’swindowfromdownhere,butIcatchablurofmotionandthenafleetingglimpseofherface.She’sscrubbingtwofistsoverhereyes.
Goddamnit.She’scrying.
Myjawtightenstothepointofpain.Iforcemyselftorelaxitandtakeanotherdeepdrag.
No.
Fuckthat.
Isnuffoutmycigaretteandheadnextdoor.CHAPTER18
CASSIE
Whenthewindowrattlesthefirsttime,Iassumeit’sthewind,thoughIwasjustoutsideanditwasn’twindyatall.Nonetheless,that’sthemostlogicalassumptiontoreachwhenyouhearyourwindowshakinginitsframe.Butthenithappensagain.Andagain.AndIrealizeI’mnothearingrattling.It’stapping.
God.Idonothavetheenergyforthis,whateverthisis,rightnow.
Sniffling,Iswipeatmyweteyesonmywaytothewindow.IknowI’mtoooldtobecryingovermymother’sveiledinsults,andyethereIam.Ithinkshejustcaughtmeoffguardtonight.
Ijumpwhenahandappearsontheglass.Heartracing,IquicklyliftthewindowopenandseeTate’sface.
“Whatthehellareyoudoing?”Iwhisper-shout.
He’sliterallyclingingtothelatticelikeamonkey.AndeitherI’mimaginingit,orthedelicatecrisscrossframeisbeginningtobendunderhisweight.Everythingaboutthissituationseemsextremelyunstable.
Tategroanssoftly.“CanIcomeinorareyougoingtoletmefalltomydeath?BecauseI’mprettysurethisthingisgoingtogiveoutanysecond.”
“Haveyoueverheardofadoor?Morespecifically,afrontdoor?We’vegotoneofthosedownstairs,andithasthislittlegizmoonitcalledadoorbellthatyouringandthensomeoneanswersand—”
“Thisisnotthetimeforyourbabbling,ginger.I’mabouttoplummettomydeath.”
Goodpoint.
Sighing,Ihelphimup,andamomentlaterhetumblesontomyfloor.Whenhe’sstanding,herunsbothhandsthroughhistousledblondhairtopushitawayfromhisface.HesmoothsouthisT-shirt,whichisrumpledfromhisclimb,thenfixesthewaistbandofhisgraysweatpants.Inoticehe’sbarefootandhopehedidn’tscratchhisfeetgoingupthatlattice.
“Toansweryourquestion,”hesays,visiblyfrazzled,“Ididn’tusethefrontdoorbecauseIwasafraidI’dhavetomeetyourmother,andI’mnotherbiggestfanrightnow.”
Ifreeze.“Whydoyousaythat?”
“Iwasoutsidehavingasmokewhenyougothomeand—”
“Yousmoke?”Idemand.“HowcomeIdidn’tknow—”Istopmyself,becausethatisnotthethingtofocusonrightnow.“Youheardus?”
Henods.
OhGod.
Myeyesstarttostingagain.AndnowIfeellikethrowinguptoo,becausethehottestguyintheworldheardmymotherdisparagemybody,insinuateI’maslut,andencouragemetogetabreastreduction.
Iblinkrapidly.Mortified.
Tatedoesn’tmissthewayIhastilyrubunderneathmyeyeswiththepadofmythumb.
“No,”hebegs.“Pleasedon’tcryagain.”
Again?
Hesawmecrying?
Imightactuallybesick.Itakeafewbreaths,attemptingtokeepthenauseaatbay.Mykneesgoweak,soIsinkontotheedgeofmybed,butbecauseI’mwearingmybimbocroptop,itcreatesaninevitablerollinmystomach.NormallyIwouldn’tcareaboutthat—everyonegetsitwhentheysitdown—butaftermymother’scallousassessmentofmyfigure,I’mnowfeelingextraself-conscious.
Ishootbackup.“Look,”Istart,thentrailoff.Idon’tevenknowwhattosay.Idrawanotherdeepbreathandoptforhonesty.“Ifeellikethrowingupknowingyouheardallthat.”
Hisjawticks,asifhe’sclenchingandunclenchinghisteeth.“Yourealizenoneofit’strue,right?Itwasallbullshit.Ialmoststormedoverthereandgaveherapieceofmymind.Doesshealwaystalktoyoulikethat?”
“Prettymuch.Butshetriestodisguiseitashelpfuladvice,somostofhercriticismfallsundertheIjustwantyoutolookyourbestumbrella.”Ishrug.“She’scalledmealotofthingsovertheyears,butabimbo?That’snew.It’salsoextremelyoutdated,butIsupposebimboishergeneration’sslut?AndIguessIpreferbimbotoslut.It’smorefuntosay.Bim-bo.”
“Stopit,Cass.It’snotajoke.”
Icrackahalfsmile.“Itiskindoffunny.”
Tateisn’tamused.“Haveyoutoldheryoudon’tlikeitwhenshesaysthatshit?”
“Iusedto,”Iadmit.“WhenIwasyounger.Butitdoesn’tregister.Peoplelikeheronlyhearwhattheywanttohear.LikeItoldyoubefore,Ieventuallyjustgaveupon…”
“Sayinghowyoufeel,”hefinishes,thenshakeshisheadindisapproval.“Youshouldneverstoptellingpeoplehowtheymakeyoufeel.”
“Doesn’tmakeadifference,Tate.She’llneveracceptshedidanythingwrong,andshe’llneverapologize.That’snotwhomymotheris.”Ismilesadly.
“Youdon’tdoitforanapology.Youdoitforyourself.Becausewhenyoudon’treleasethosedarkemotions,youendupbottlingthemup.Youletthemconsumeyoufromtheinsideoutuntilyou’rerunningupstairsintearsbelievingyou’reunworthyorunattractiveorwhateverotherfalseideassheplantedinyourmind—wheninreality,you’rethemostbeautifulwomanI’veeverfuckingmet.”
Mysmilefalters.“Okay,you’relayingitonthicktomakemefeelbetter.Iappreciateit,but—”
“Youare.Christ.Justlookatyou.”
Hegesturestowardme,hisearnestgazetakingintheoutfitI’dchosenformyboardwalkdinnerwithJoy.Awrapskirt,aburntorangecolor,thatswishesaroundmyknees.Thetightblacktopthatshowsoffmyabs-freebutstilldecent(orsoIthought)midriff.IleftthehousebelievingIlookednice,butnowallIhearismymother’svoiceinmyheadtalkingaboutgirlswithperfectabsandhowbigboobswillonlyeverlooktrashy.Neversexy.
“You’regoddamnperfect,Cassie.”
“Nowyou’rejustbullshitting.”Istarttoturnaway.
“I’mnot.”Hegrabsmyhand,tuggingmecloser.“Youdidn’tknowIwaslisteningearlier,right?Well,Icould’vegoneinsideandyouwould’vebeennonethewiser.Ididn’thavetoscaleatowertonightandstumbleinthroughyourwindowjusttotellyouhowhotyoulook.WhywouldIdothat,orsaythat,ifIdidn’tmeanit?”
Anothergoodpoint.But…Istillthinkhe’sbullshitting.
Henotesmyskepticismandchuckles.“Doyoureallynotseewhatyoudotome?”
Despitemyself,mygazelowerstohisgroin.Andyeah,theredoesappeartobesome…swelling…happeningbeneathhissweatpants.
Theevidenceofhisarousal,however,onlytriggersagustoffrustration.
“Whatthehell!”Iburstout.
Confusioncreaseshisforehead.“What?”
“Whatdoyoumean,what?You’rethekingofmixedsignals,Tate!Doyourealizethat?”Ibackawayfromhim,aggravationrisinginsideme.“Youcan’tdothisshit,okay?Itfuckingconfusesme.Andit’sfuckinginconsiderate.AndnowlookathowfuckingmuchI’mswearingbecausethat’showfuckingfrustratedIamwithyou!”
Hetakesastepforward.“Cass—”
“No.”Iwhipupmyhandtostophimfromcominganycloser.“You’reconfusing.Andinsensitive!Firstyoukissme—andthenyoutellmeyouwanttobeplatonic.Fine.Sonowwe’refriendsandsuddenlyyou’remywingman,andIfeellike,okay,thingsaremovinginaplatonicdirection—andthenyoujerkoffinfrontofme!Seriously,Tate.WhatamIsupposedtothinkhere?”
“Iknow.”Hereleasesanequallyfrustratedgroan.Hedragsbothhandsthoughhishair,messingitupevenmore.“I’msorry.”
“Yes,youshouldbe!Idon’tgetit.Ifyou’reattractedtomelikeyouinsistyouare,thenwhywouldn’tyoujustagreetobemysummerflingwhenIaskedinsteadoffeedingmeabunchofexcusesandplatitudes?”
Hisexpressiongrowstortured.“Ihonestlythoughtitwasthebestideaatthetime.IwasworriedImighthurtyouifwegotinvolved.Thatyoumightwantsomethingmore.AndIdon’thaveagreattrackrecordwithrelationships.I’msortofjustthehookupguy.”
“AndIwantedahookup!Iliterallyapproachedthehookupguyforahookup!”IrealizeI’mpracticallyshoutingathimandforcemyselftolowermyvoice.
“Iknow,butyousaidsoyourself,youdon’thavealotofexperienceinthisdepartment.You’veneverevenhadsexbefore.IfeltlikeI’dbetakingadvantageofyourinexperience.”
I’msohorrificallyembarrassedthatmyentirefaceisonfire.IwishIhadacoldglassofwatertohurlatmycheeks.“Myvirginityfreaksyououtthismuch?”
Hehesitates.“I’mnotfreakedout,notreally.It’s…thepressure,youknow?Beingyourfirstputsalotofpressureonmetomakeitgoodforyou.Tomakeitthebestyou’veeverfuckinghad.Well,Isupposeyouwouldn’tknowifitwasthebest,sinceyou’veneverdoneitbefore,butyouknowwhatImean.”
Killme.
Killmenow.
Thistime,Iallbutcollapseontheedgeofthebed.Idon’tevencarewhatmystomachdoes.Iburymyfaceinmyhandsandmoan.“Pleaseleave,Tate.I’vehadenoughhumiliationforonenight.”
“Cassie.”Ifeelthemattressdipundertheweightofhim.“Comeon,lookatme.”
“No,”Imumbleintomypalms.
“Lookatme.”
“No.”
“Don’tyouwanttoknowthesilverlininghere?”
“Thereisnone.Wefinallyfoundasituationwithoutahintoflining,silverorotherwise.It’sallblack.Justbig,blackthunderclouds.”
ItwitchwhenIfeelhisthumbonthesideofmyjaw.Hegentlypriesmyfaceoutofmyhandsandcupsmychin,forcingmetolookathim.
“Letmetellyouthesilverlining,”hesays.Gruffandsincere.
“Can’twaittohearit,”Igrumble.Andalthoughhe’stryingtoimposeeyecontactonme,Ikeepmygazedowncast.Focusingitonhisthumbnail.
“Thesilverliningis,ifIhadn’theardyourmothercallingyouabimboand—hey,you’reright,itisfuntosay.Bimbo.”
Ilaughfaintlyandaccidentallymeethiseyes,whicharetwinkling.
“Ifshehadn’tsaidthatshit,Iwouldn’tbesittinghererightnowtellingyouhowbeautifulyouare.”
Despitemyself,mypulsespeedsup.Becausehearingthosewordsspokeninhisdeep,earnestvoicedoessomethingtome.Hitsmeinadifferentway.Aaronhadcalledmebeautifultheothernight,butithadn’telicitedthiskindofresponse.Hadn’tmademyheartflutterormyhandsshakesowildlythatIhavetoplacethemonmykneestokeepthemstill.
“AndifIhadn’theardallthatshit,Iwouldn’tbesaying:CassieSoul,Iwouldliketoflingyou.”
Myjawdrops.“What?Ohno.Noway.Idon’tneedapityhookup.”Ipeelhisfingersoffmychin.
Hecapturesmyhandandbringsittohisgroin.
Igiveasharpintakeofbreathatthefeelofanunmistakableerectionbeneathmypalm.
“Thereiszeropityinvolvedhere,”hesays.“Notevenashredofit.Seriously.Feelhowhardyoumakeme.Iwantyousobadithurts.”
“Whataboutmyvirginstatus?”Ichallenge.
Hevisiblygulps.“Imean,Iwon’tlie.Thatpartiskindofscary.Thepressure—”
“Stop,”Iorderwithachokedlaugh.“There’snopressure.Ipromise.”
Tateseemsunconvinced.
“Imeanit.Idon’texpectrosepetalsanddeclarationsoflove.AndIcertainlydon’texpectacommitment.AllIwantoutofthisistohavefun.Andtogainsomeexperience,”Iadmit,suddenlyfeelingabitshy.“I’mheadingbacktoschoolafterLaborDayweekend.Iknowthiswon’tleadtoarelationship,andI’mfinewiththat.I’malsonotna?veenoughtothinkthatthefirsttime—oreventhefirstcoupleoftimes—isgoingtobeaperfect,magicalmomentofsexualdelights.But.”Ishrug.“Basedonourpreviousencounters,Isuspectwe’regoingtohavefun.”Ieyehim.Daringhimtocontradictthat.Hedoesn’t.“So,really,where’sthepressure?”
It’sonlyafterIconcludemyspeechthatitoccurstomemyhandisstillonhisdick.
Classy.
Noticingwheremygazewent,Tateflashesthoseplayfuldimples.“Well.Thisisawkward.”
“Idon’tknowaboutawkward.”BeforeIcanstopmyself,Imovemypalminafeatherlightcaress.
“Stopthat.ThatwasonlyintendedtoshowyouhowonboardIam.”Withafirmlook,hepriesmyhandawayfromhiscrotch.“ButIdidn’tcomehereforme.Icamehereforyou.”
Mypulsequickens.“Forme,”Iecho.
“Mmm-hmm.”Hisblueeyesgrowserious.“Butifwedothis,wetakeitslow.Thatmeans…”Heraisesabrow.“Nosex.Atleastnottonight.”
“Ugh,”Isayinmockdisgust.“Thenwhyareyouevenhere?Jeez.”
Heletsoutalaugh.“Slow,”herepeats.“Deal?”
“Slow,”Iagree,noddingmyassurance.Igivehimanexpectantlook.“Sothenwhathappenstonight?”
“Tonight…Iwanttomakeyoufeelgood.”Helickshislips,andIinstinctivelylickminetoo.“Iwanttomakeyoufeelbeautiful.”
Ourheadsmovecloser,asifdrawntogetherbyamagneticfield.Thenhekissesme.It’ssoftandgentleandalmosttoomuchofatease.Imakeananguishednoiseanddeepenthekiss,clutchingthebackofhisnecktokeephimclose.Whenourtonguesmeetwithateasingstroke,it’shisturntomakenoise,ahoarsegroanthatcomesfromdeepinhischestandvibratesagainstmylips.Thisiswhatapassionatekississupposedtobelike,Irealize.Youdon’tneedyourtonguestodoalltheheavylifting.Youdon’tneedloudgroansandgrabbyhands.Chemistry.That’sallyouneed.
Despitehismutteredobjection,myhandseeksouthiserectionagain.“Youknowwhatmakesmefeelbeautiful?”Itellhim.“This.KnowingIdidthistoyou.Knowingyou’resoturnedonyoucan’teventhinkstraight.”
“Missionaccomplished,”hesayswryly,thengroanswhenmyfingersdipbeneaththewaistbandofhissweatpants.
He’snotwearingunderwear,andIfindhimhardandreadyforme.Istrokehimforamoment,enjoyingthewayhislipspart,thewayhebreathesalittlefaster.ThenIdroptomykneesinfrontofhim.Irunmyfingersalongtheheavylengthofhim.He’srockhard.
“IwantyoutotellmehowgoodImakeyoufeel.”
Hiseyesaremolten.Purelust.“Youmeanyoucan’tliterallyfeelit?”Hethrustsintomyhand.
Mythumbfindsastreakofmoistureathistipandglidesoveritbeforemyfingerscurlaroundhimagain.WhenIstrokehim,firmerthistime,hisexpressionburnshotter,aflashofpleasureborderingonpain.Hewantsmesobadithurts,hesaid.Idon’tthinkhewaskidding.
HecontinuesgazingdownatmeasifI’mthemostbeautifulcreaturehe’severseen.Itdoeswondersformyego.Meltsawaythathorriblelumpofinadequacythatwasjammedinmythroatbefore
WhenIbringmylipstohistipandplaceasoftkissonit,hisentirebodyjerks.“Tease,”hegrowls.
Smiling,Iplantanotherkissonhim,thenswirlmytonguearoundthecrownofhiscock.Teasingagain.Hisexhalationsgetheavier.Eyelidsareheavytoo.Ipeerupathim,lovingthesightofhisfeaturesstretchedtautwithneed.Howhelookslikehe’shavingtroubleperformingeventhemostbasictask,likebreathing.
Mygazelockedwithhis,Itakehimfullyintomymouth.
“Jesus,”heswears,andIgetathrillknowingI’mresponsibleforthedesperategroanthatfliesoutofhismouth
It’ssuchasexysoundthatIproceedtodoeverythinginmypowertohearitagain,tokeepdrawingthosegroansfromhislips.Isuckhimdeep,usingmyhandandtonguetodrivehimwild.
“Feelssogood,”hemumbles.Yetatthesametime,he’ssuddenlytryingtoeaseawayfrommyhungrymouth.“Ididn’tcomehereforthis.”
Ireleasehim.“Well,thisiswhatyou’regetting,soarewereallygoingtocomplainaboutablowjob,Gate?”
Tateshuddersoutalaugh.“Itoldyou,thatisnotbecomingathing—”HehaltswhenItakehiminmymouthagain.“Holyhell.”Atorturedmoanescapeshisthroat.“Ilovethis,Ireallydo.I,ah—”Anothermoan.“Ineverwantyoutostop,but—ah,hell,that’sgood.”Hethrustsdeeper.“ButIwantustocometogether.”
Mynipplestightenatthelewdsuggestion.
“Like,I’mrighthere.Andyou’rerighthere.AndIneedyouonme.”He’sbasicallyfuckingmymouthnow,hishipsmovinginarestless,impatientrhythmashislongfingerstangleinmyhair.“Ineedtotouchyouandseeyourfaceandhearthatnoiseyoumakewhenyou’regettingclose.”
“Whatnoise?”Iliftmymouthoffhim,breathinghard.
“Ican’tdescribeit.It’sjusthot.Please,”hebegs.
Igivehimwhathewants.Hell,whatwebothwant.Becauseasfunasitistoteasehim,myentirebodyisscreamingforrelease.Iclimbontothebedandwefallbackonthemattress,hismouthinstantlyfindingmineinaravenouskiss.Hishandfumblestogetundermyskirt,wherehepushesasidethecrotchofmypanties.I’mwetandready,andheusesthatwetnesstostrokemyclit,todragafingerupanddownmyslit.
“Putyourhandonmeagain,”hewhispers.
“Wait,Ihaveanidea,”Isay.
HegruntsincomplaintwhenIrollover,butI’mnotgoingfar.JustreachingforthehandlotionI’dleftoutonthenightstandearlier.Isquirtsomeonmypalmandrollbacktowardhim.Thatfirstsmooth,wetglideofmyfistalonghisshaftmakeshiseyesglazeover.
“Ah.Keepdoingthat.”
Igrin.“Good?”
“Sogood.Don’tstop.”Hishipsstartrockingashethrustsintomyhand.
Hepropshimselfonhiselbowandliftsmyshirt,hurriedlyundoingthefrontclasp.Thenhismouthlatchesaroundonebeadednipple,whilehisfingersreturnbetweenmythighs,rubbing,teasing,strokingmyclittobringmecloserandclosertotheedge.
Whenhepushesonefingerinsideme,hisstartledcurseheatstheairbetweenus.“ThisisthetightestpussyI’veeverfuckingfelt.”He’spracticallymoaningthewords.
MybreathingbecomeslaboredasIstrainagainsthisskilledtouch.“I’mgettingclose.Areyou?”
“Iwasclosebeforeyoueventookoffmypants.”Heraiseshismouthfrommybreasttogrinatme.“Justsaywhen.”
“Kissme,”Iplead.
Hedoes,andthemomentourtonguesmeet,theorgasmbreaksthroughthesurface.Myinnermusclesclamparoundhisfinger,andTategroansandspillsintomyhand.We’rebothpanting,hipsmovingasweloseourselvesinourrespectivebliss.
Whenmyeyelidsfinallyopen,Tateiswatchingme.Pleased.“Youmadethatnoise.”Hesighshappily.“It’smyfavoritenoise.”
Ourforeheadsresttogether,slightlydampwithsweat.
“Thatwasreallygood,”Imumblewithasatisfiedsighofmyown.Itrytonestlecloserandrealizemyrangeofmotionisconstrictedbecausemytopistangledaroundmycollarbone.Withagiggle,Iattempttofreemyself.“I’mstuck.”
“Damn,ginger.Youneededitsobadyouforgottotakeyourclothesoff?”Chuckling,heleansintobrushhislipsovermine.“You’resuchabimbo.”
Thistimeawholeslewofgigglesshuddersthroughme.“Shutup,Gate.”CHAPTER19
CASSIE
IwantmymothertogobacktoBoston.No,evenbetter—lethergosouth.IwanthertodriveallthewaydowntoFlorida,findherwaytoCapeCanaveral,boardarocketship,getlaunchedintoouterspace,andmakeanewlifeforherselfonadistantplanetsomewhere.
Ugh.Allright.MaybeI’mbeingoverdramatic.
Actually,no.Youknowwhat?I’mbeingaperfectlyreasonableamountofdramatic.
Sinceshegothere,Momhasbeenutterlyinsufferable.Andmaybeifshewerebehavingpoorlytowardonlyme,I’dhaveaneasiertimelettingitslideoffmyshoulders.Butshe’sbeenbitchierthanusualtomygrandmother,andthatmakesmeseered.It’sinexcusableandGrandmadoesn’tdeserveit.Besidesthat,it’squiterepulsivewatchingawomaninherfortiesactlikeaspoiledbrat,whichiswhatMomisdoingwhenIenterthekitchenforbreakfast.
“Mother!”shesnaps.“Youhavetogiveaspeech.I’mnotlettingthisgo.”
“It’snolongerourestablishment,Victoria.Thenewowneristheonewhoshoulddeliverthespeech.”
“Thenewownerisachild,”Momretorts,liftinghernoseup.“Andshemadetheoffer.Sheaskedyoutodoit.”
“AndIdeclined.”
“Mother.”
“Victoria.”Grandma’slookingincreasinglyannoyed.“Ialreadydeclinedtheoffer.Thesubjectisclosed.”
“Thismakesourfamilylookbad.”Mom,asusual,refusestodropit.“TheTannersbuilttheBeacon,andaTannershouldbetheonetospeakatthereopening.Sayapropergoodbye.Ifwesaynothing,itlookslikewe’rejusthandingitover.”
“Wesoldit,dear.”Grandmagivesherapointedlook.“Primarilybecauseneitheryounoryoursiblingswantedtotakeontheresponsibilityofrenovatingit.So,please,letthenewownerreaptherewardsofhereffortsandenjoyhermomentinthesun.IhadnothingtodowiththisreopeningandIwouldn’tfeelcomfortabletakinganycreditforit.”
Ihideasmile.Go,Grandma
“Goodmorning,dear.”Grandmacatchessightofmeinthedoorway.“Adelaidestoppedbythebakeryintownthismorningandpickedupsomefreshcroissantsandpastries.”
“Oh,nice.”Ifeelmymother’seyesonmeasIgotothecountertoassessthegoodiesourhousekeeperbrought.
“Justtakeone,”Momwarns.“Wehaveadressfittingtodayandyoudon’twanttobebloatedforit.”
Iresisttheurgetorollmyeyes.“I’lltrymybestnottoeatthisentireplatter.”
Grandmachuckles.
“Yousleptin,”mymothersays.
Idon’tmissherfrownofreproach.Awesome.Nowmysleepinghabitsareanissue.Igenuinelycan’tdoanythingrightinhereyes.Well,unlesswe’reinpublictogether.ThensuddenlyI’mthemostwonderful,accomplished,thoughtfuldaughterintheworld.That’stheimageMomneedstoproject.Thatwe’rebestfriends.Thatmyachievements,fewastheyareatthiscurrenttimeinmylife,areallacredittoher
“Ihadalatenight.”Iduckmyheadandhopetheydon’tnoticemyblush,akathecurseoftheredhair.
Tatesnuckintomybedroomagainlastnight.Wehookedupagain,anditwasbetterthanthefirsttime.
Andthesecondtime.
Andthethird,fourth,fifth…
I’veseenhimeverynightthisweek.
Lastnight,though,wasoneforthebooks.Hewentdownonmeforalmostanhour,hismouthvoracious,onehandsqueezingandkneadingmybreastswhiletheotherpushedtwofingersinsideme.Iwasbitingmyliptostopfrombeingtooloud.Tateisverygoodatwhathedoes.
Truthfully,hisbreadthofexperienceisoverwhelmingsometimes.He’ssocomfortable,notjustwithhisownbody,butmine.There’snohesitationwhenhetouchesme,onlytheconfidenthandsofamanwhoknowswhathe’sdoing.
Theonethingherefusestodo,however,isfreakinghavesexwithme
What?Who’sbitter?
Okay,fine.I’mnotactuallybitter.I’mimpatient.Tatekeepsremindingmewe’retakingitslow,butpartofmewondersifhe’sstilltooscaredtobemyfirst.Notjustbecauseofthesupposedpressure,butforwhatitmaymeanforus.Peytonconcurredwiththatsuspicionwhenwetextedaboutitearlier.ShesaidmenareterrifiedwomenwillimmediatelyexpectpromiseringsandIloveyousoncetheyloseittoaguy.ItoldTateIwasn’texpectingarelationshipoutofthis,butIhaveafeelinghedoesn’ttrustthat.
“Yes.Itdidsoundlikealatenightforyou.”Grandma’svoiceinterruptsmythoughts.“Iheardyoutalkinglongpastmidnight.Youhadafriendover?”sheprompts,lookinglikeshe’sfightingasmile.
Shit.Ithoughtwewerebeingquiet,butevidentlynot.
“No,Ididn’thaveanyoneover,”Ilie.Andthere’snowayGrandmacould’veseenhimlastnight,sinceTatestillinsistsonclimbingthroughthewindowwhenhecomesover,claiminghedoesn’twanttobumpintomyfamily.Ithinkhejustenjoysthesneakyelementtoit.Theexcitement.WhatI’mlearningaboutTate,themoretimeIspendwithhim,ishowmuchhelovesleaningintohisplayfulnature.
“Iwasjustwatchingamovie,”Iadd.“Ididn’trealizeIhadthevolumeonsoloud.I’msorryifitwokeyou.”
Hereyessparkle.IknowsheknowsI’mlying.“Mymistake.Well,thenyoureallyoughttolowerthatvolume,dear.”
Mom,ofcourse,believesmylies.“Ofcourseshedidn’thaveanyoneover,Mother.Solateatnight?”
InMom’smind,there’snowayherdaughtercouldpossiblyhaveaguyover.WhichisironicsincesupposedlyIlooklikeabimbo,soooo,apropostoherlogic,thereshouldbealineoutsidemybedroomdoor.
Igrabaplateandacroissant,thenreachforthebutter.IexpectacommentfromMomaboutgoingeasyonthebutter,butitdoesn’tcome.She’sbusycheckingherphonenow.
Ijointhematthetable,myownphonecomingtolifethemomentIsitdown.Ipeeratit,anticipationdancingthroughmewhenInoticetheemailsubjectline.
“Ahh!Theprintersentmethedigitalproof!”ItellGrandma.
Momlooksupandasks,“Whatproof?”atwhichpointIrememberIhadn’ttoldheraboutmyforayintotheworldofchildren’sbookauthorship.Wasn’tplanningonit,either.
Butit’stoolatenow.
“Oh,it’snobigdeal,”Isay,downplayingtheproject.“IputtogetheralittleillustratedbookforRoxanneandMonique.Youknow,fortheirbirthday.”Ishrug.“It’scute.Iwrotethestory,andaskedRobbtodotheillustrations—”
Shit
Whatthehelliswrongwithme?I’mtwofortwonowwithboneheadedslipups.
“Robb?”Momisvisiblydispleased.“RobbSheffield?”
“Yeah.”Itearapieceoffmycroissantandshoveitintomymouth.MaybeifI’mchewingshe’llstopquestioningme.
“Ididn’trealizeyoutwokeptintouch.”
“Oh.Yes.Hereandthere.”
“Hereandthere,”sheechoes.
“Uh-huh.”Ichewextraslowly.“Weexchangetheoccasionalmessageonsocialmedia,justtosaywhat’sup.”
Herlipsflattenasshepicksuphercoffeecup.“YouknowhowIfeelaboutthat,Cassie.”
Well,toofrickin’bad.Youcan’tgivemeastepbrotherforfiveyearsandthenexpectmetoneverspeaktohimagainjustbecauseyougotanotherdivorce
Idon’tsaythatoutloud.
Honestly,though,IgenuinelylikedthemanMomremarried.StuartSheffield.Filthyrich,ofcourse.Imean,withanamelikethat,ofcoursehe’swealthy.Stuwasmoreseriousthanmydad,stricteraswell,buthewaskind.Sucksthathefellformymother’sMs.Congenialityact,butIdon’tblamehimforthat.She’sveryskilledatcharmingpeople.Andseeingashowtheworldrevolvesaroundher,themomentshedecidedStuandRobbdidn’texist,Iwasexpectedtofollowsuit.
“It’snotabigdeal,”Irepeat.“NotlikeRobbandIarevacationingtogetherintheHamptons.Ijustaskedhimtodoafewdrawingsforme.”
“Andwhat’sthis,you’rewritingachildren’sbooknow?”Shesoundsirritated.“That’swhatmybig,fancycollegetuitioncheckisgoingtoward?”
“It’sjustabirthdaypresent.ThetwinslovethebedtimestoriesImakeupforthem.DadsuggestedIputoneinabook.”
“Ofcoursehedid.”
Igritmyteeth,thenforcemyselftoreleasethetensioninmyjaw.
IttightensrightbackupwhenMomcoollyinquires,“Andwhatisyourfather’snurseplanningforthebirthdaycelebrations?”
“Victoria,”mygrandmothersnaps.
“What?”Sheflicksupaneyebrow.
“IthoughtIinstilledbettermannersinyouthanthat.”
“Seriously,Mother?You’residingwithClayton’strophywife?”
Iswallowalaugh,becauseNiaisthefurthestthingfromatrophywife.Niadoesn’tcareaboutimage,aboutmoney,aboutclothes,aboutstatus.She’severythingthatmymotherisn’t.
“There’sapartyforthetwinsduringtheday,”Isay,ignoringthejababoutNia.“Alltheirfriendswillbethere.Andafterwardwe’rehavingdinner,justthefiveofus.”Then,sinceIanticipateabitchycommentaboutbeingleftoutofherowndaughter’smomentoustwenty-firstbirthday,Iadd,“YouandIarestillgoingtoCharlestonthatweekend,right?SpendingallofSundaythere?I’msoexcitedforthat.”
Makingitaboutherhasthedesiredeffect.Shesmileswarmly.“I’mlookingforwardtoittoo.”Sherisesfromherchair.“Anyway.Wehavethefittinginanhour,andI’dliketogetthereabitearly.Willyoubereadytoleaveafteryoueat?”
“Yup.”
“Okay,great.Ineedtomakeaphonecallbeforewego.”Shesauntersoutofthekitchen.
Idon’tknowwhy,butIhaveafeelingshe’sofftocallmyformerstepfathertogripeaboutthefactthattheirkidsarestillincontact
Andspeakingofthat…Iquicklyclickontheemailandopentheattachment.
“Letmeseetoo,”Grandmaurges,soIdragmychairclosertohersandtogetherweoohandaahoverthefinalproduct.“Oh,Cassie,youdidatremendousjob.”
“Itwasateameffort.”I’mnotbeinghumble—itreallyhadbeen.Iwrotethestory.Robbdidthedrawings.AndPeyton,whoworksforagraphicdesignfirminBoston,puttogetherthelayoutthatIsenttotheprinter.
Ipinchthescreentozoominonanillustration.Robb’screativeinterpretationofKitthedragonisremarkable.Somehow,hefoundtheperfectbalancebetweenscaryandcutesy.HebroughtKittolife.
“Heissotalented,”Imarvel.“Theylooklikerealcharacters,don’tthey?”
“Theyarerealcharacters.Youcreatedthem,dear.”
“Iknow,butnowIcanseethem.Thisissocool.”Ifeelmyselfbeaming.
“There’sthatsmile.”Grandmaleansoverandtucksastrandofhairbehindmyear.“Cassandra…”Hervoicesoftens.“Iknowyourmotheris…difficult.Tosaytheleast.Ihopeyoudon’tholdsomeofthethingsshesaystooclosetoyourheart.AndIwantyoutoknowthatI’mproudofyou.I’mproudofthewomanyou’rebecomingandIthinkyouareabsolutelywonderful.”
Iblinkbacktears.Ididn’tknowit,butthat’sexactlywhatIneededtohearthismorning.CHAPTER20
TATE
“Thatwasincredible!”Rileyexclaims.Theteenager’sfaceisflushedwithexcitementashehelpsmetieofftheline.Wejustgotbackfromadouble-handedsailonthepracticedinghy.Itwaswindierthananticipatedtoday,sowecaughtsomemajorspeed.AlsoendedupinthebaymoretimesthanIwould’veliked,butyou’vegottobepreparedforthatincompetitiveracing.That’swhyIloveitsomuch.Alwaysguaranteedawildride.
“Ican’tbelievehowfastweweregoing,”thekidgushes.
“Thatwasawesome,”Iagree,hoppingontothepier.
“WhencanwetaketheOptimistout?”
Isnicker.“Yeah,holdyourhorses,kid.Notuntilyouhaveafewmorelessonsunderyourbelt.”Theboatweusedtodayisfareasiertohandle.She’sstableandbasicallyunsinkable,whereastheOptimistdinghycapsizeseasily.
“It’shardtorighttheOptimist,”Iremindhim.
Riley’squicktoprotest.“Icanhandleit.”
Istudyhimforamoment.Helooksbackhopefully,shovinghisblondshoulder-lengthsurfer-boyhairbehindhisear.
Ishakemyhead.“No.Youcan’t.Notyet.Butsoon.”
“I’mtellingEvan,”hethreatenswithanevilgrin.“I’llturnonthewaterworksandcryabouthowsadIamthatmyBigBrother’sbestfriendisdeprivingmeofmydreamofracingonanOptimist.”
Irespondwithaloudsnort.Thekid’sgotballs,I’llgivehimthat.Rileyistheproductofthesoul-searchingjourneyofreformationEvandecidedtoembarkonawhileago.Inotherwords,EvanneededtoprovetoGenevievehewaswillingtostopbeingaboozing,brawlingjackassandgrowthefuckup.OnewayhedidthatwasbyenrollinginthelocalBigBrotherprogram.HetotallyluckedoutwithRiley,who’sagreatkid
“Allright,”Itellhim.“Nextlesson,we’llpracticepositioningatdifferentangles,teachyousomeracingtactics.There’reacoupledifferentstrategiesyoucanusewhenroundingmarks.Andthenextraceyouenter,don’tpartnerwithEvan.He’slousy.”
Rileyhoots.“Noshit.”
“Ifyou’redoingadouble-handedraceandneedapartner,hitmeup.Imeanit—dropthezeroandgetwiththehero.”Iwinkathim.
Idon’toffermyselfuplikethattojustanyone,butIlikeRiley.Ilikehisenthusiasm.Alotofthesekidswhotakedinghylessonsjustwanttogofastonthewater.Theydon’twanttothinktoodeeplyabouttheinsandoutsofsailing.ButRiley’sdifferent.He’sthirstyforknowledge.
Iclaphimontheback.Myfavoritepartofthisjobisworkingwiththekids.Theteens.Adultsarefuntoo,buttheireyesdon’tlightupthesameway.
“I’llseeyounextweek.”
“Cool.Later,Tate.”
Hedashesoff,andIheadbackinthedirectionfromwhichwecametodouble-checktheboatissecurelymoored,asthewind’sstillblowinghard.Sometimesitsucksworkingonotherpeople’sboats;I’malwaysscaredI’llfucksomethingupandbeonthehookforit.
Intheyachtclub’semployeequarters,Istripoutofmydampuniformandchangeintomystreetclothes.Afewminuteslater,IcrosstheparkinglottowardmyJeep,checkingmyphonewhileIwalk.Ifindacouplemessagesfromthetwins.AndonefromCassie.
Cassie:You,me,abedcoveredinrosepetals,andmyvirginityonasilverplatter?
Ibustoutlaughing.Iswear,thischick…Sincethenightweagreedtothefling,she’sbeenpersistentlytryingtogetmetobangher.
Me:No.
Sheinstantlyreplies.
Cassie:You’remean.
Me:Justtakingitslow.Windowtimelater?
Cassie:Can’t.Youtooktoolongtoreplytomymessage,soImadeplanswithJoy.We’regoingtoseeabandattheRipTide.It’llprobablybepastyourbedtimewhenI’mback.
Me:Textmeanyway.MaybeI’llstillbeup.
Cassie:OnlyifyoutaketheV-card.
Me:Anyoneevertellyouyou’vegotaone-trackmind,ginger?
Cassie:Anyoneevertellyouyou’reatease?
Me:Who’steasing?I’mprettysureImadeyoucometwicelastnight.
Cassie:Iwasfakingit,Gate.
Igrinatthephoneandtossitonthepassengerseat,thenstartthecar.Ican’tbelieveI’mtheonedeprivingsomeoneofsex.Me,ofallpeople.ButdespiteCassie’sinsistencethatwedon’tneedtomakeabigdealoutofit,IfeellikeIshoulddosomethingforherfirsttime.Somethingspecial.Maybenotrosepetals,butcertainlynotaquickbangwhileherfamilyisrightdownthehall.Thatjustfeelswrong.It’sallIwould’vebeenabletoofferherthisweek,though.I’vehadearlymornings,apackedsailingschedule,andlateshiftsatthedealership.WhichmeansI’malwaysexhaustedbythetimeIscaleherwallandtumblethroughherwindowforanhourorsoofmutualorgasms.Exhaustionisnotconducivetogoodsex,andsinceI’mdeterminedtomakesureherfirsttimeisbeyondgood,I’vebeentryingtostallheruntiltheweekend.
UnbeknownsttoCassie,ItookSaturdayoff.I’mplanningtotakeheroutonthewaterfortheday.Anchoratmyfavoritecove.Spendthenight…
Myheartbeatsfaster,andmypalmssuddenlyfeelslickaroundthesteeringwheel.Jeez.You’dthinkIwasthevirginhere.
AttheJacksonhouse,Istartpreppingdinner.Ithrowacouplebakedpotatoesintheoven,thenpopoutsidetoturnonthebarbecue.I’mdoingshrimpskewersonthegrilltonight.It’stoobadCassie’soutwithJoy.Would’vebeennicetocookdinnerforher.
Ifalter,wonderingwherethatthoughtcamefrom.Cookdinnerforher?I’mprettysureI’venevermadedinnerforawomanotherthanmymother.Iforcemyselfnottooverthinkit,though.
Whilethebarbecue’sheatingup,Iheadtothedocktoensuretheboatsaresecurebecauseit’sstillsowindyout.ThenIwalkbackuptothehouse,reachingitjustasCassie’smotherappearsaroundthesideoftheirhouse.She’scladinalongsummerdresswithsunglassesatopherhead.
“Hi.”Iliftmyhandinawave.Honestly,I’msurprisedit’stakenthislongforourpathstocross.It’sbeendayssinceshearrivedintown,butitseemsshespendsmostofhertimeinsidethehouse.OrshoppinginCharleston,accordingtoCassie.
Shestartlesatthesightofme.Eyeswidening.
“Sorry,Ididn’tmeantoscareyou,”Icallout.“I’mTate.I’mhousesittingfortheJacksons.AndI’mfriendswithyourdaughter.”
Cassie’smomstillhasn’tspoken.Justkeepsstaringatme.InotetheresemblancebetweenherandCassie,intheirwide-setbrowneyesandredhair,butwhileCassiehasarounderface,hermother’sisnarrower,givingoffadifferentvibe.Colder.Ormaybethat’sherpersonality.
SheshakesherselfoutofhersurpriseandoffersasmilefarwarmerthanIexpect.“Ohhello.I’msorry.Iwasinmyhead.I’mVictoria.”Shestretchesoutanarm.“YoucancallmeTori.”
Istrideforwardtoshakeherhand.“Nicetomeetyou.”
“Howlongareyouhousesittingfor?”Toriasks,herappreciativegazestillfixedonme.
Yeah.She’stotallycheckingmeout.Whichisawkwardasfuck,consideringI’mhookingupwithherdaughter.“GilandShirleyreturnLaborDayweekend,soIstillhaveanothermonthhere.”
“Luckyyou.”
“Yeah,it’snotabadgig,”Iadmit.“It’smyfourthsummerdoingit.Ilookforwardtoiteveryyearnow.”
TheJacksonsdon’tpaymemuchwhileI’mhere—I’mresponsibleformyownfood,gas,alltheusualexpenses—butIdon’tdoitforthemoney.It’sworthittogetoutofmyparents’houseforacouplemonths.Livingathomeattheageoftwenty-threecrampsmystylesometimes,butatthemomentit’sconvenient,allowingmetosavemoremoney.SaveupenoughandeventuallyIcanfinanceaboatthatI’llprobablycallhome.
“Anyway,I’vegotdinnergoing,soIneedtocheckonit.Haveagoodevening,Mrs.Tanner.”
“Tori,”shecorrects.
“Tori,”Irepeatclumsily.
Shesmiles.“Itwasnicetomeetyou,Tate.Don’tbeastranger.”
Inside,IfindamissedcallfromGilJackson.Frowning,Iquicklydothemath,thenrealizeit’snotacauseforconcern.Withthetimedifference,he’ssixteenhoursaheadofme,makingit9A.M.inAuckland.
Icheckonthebakedpotatoes,thenreturnGil’scall.
“Hey,Gil,”Isayafterhepicksup.“SorryImissedyourcall.Iwasoutsidechattingwiththeneighbor.”
“Oh,howisLydia?”
“She’sgood.ButIwastalkingtoherdaughter.Tori?”
“YoumeanVictoriaTanner?”heasksinamusement.
“ShesaidtocallherTori.”
Hislaughter,adeepbaritone,soundsinmyear.“Ohboy.Ithinksomeonehasacrushonyou,”Giljokes.
“No,”Igroan.“Don’tevenkidaboutthat.Anyway,what’sup?Everythingokay?”
“Everything’sgreathere.Iwantedtocheckinandseehowthingsaregoingonyourend,discussacouplematters.Wehaven’ttouchedbaseinafewdays.”
“Allgoodheretoo,”Iassurehim.“Iwasjustdownatthedocksecuringtheboats.Thewindwasreallygustingonthebaytoday,andit’ssupposedtostormtonight.”
“Thankyou.HaveyoutakentheLightningoutyet?”
Mydickactuallytwitches.“What?Oh.No.Ihaven’teventouchedher.”
“Areyoucrazy?Takeheroutforaride!”
“Areyousure?”Igulp.“Imean,she’ssuperexpensive.”Alarminglyexpensive.Theideaofanythinghappeningtohermakesmenauseous.
“Tate.Son.YoucanhandleaboatbetterthananyoneIknow.Takeherout.Enjoyyourself.Ipromiseyou,it’sathrilllikenothingyou’veeverexperienced.”
Idon’tdoubtit.
“Infact,”hesays,“yoursailingexpertiseistheotherreasonIcalled.”
Icrinklemyforehead.“How’sthat?”
“ShirleyandIjustclosedonahousedownhere.”
“Youdid?Congratulations.”Mybrainisscramblingtoconnectthosetwodots.WhatmysailingabilityhastodowiththempurchasingahouseinNewZealand.“AreyouleavingtheBay?”
“No,no,butwewillbesplittingourtimegoingforward.HalftheyearinAuckland,theotherhalfinAvalonBay.Shirleylovesitdownhere,andthehousewefoundisbreathtaking.It’sonabluffoverlookingtheocean.Justmagnificent.Wewanttodosomesailingwhilewe’rehere.CrosstheTasmantoAustralia,exploretheGoldCoast,seetheGreatBarrierReef.WhichmeansIneedsomeonetobringtheSurelyPerfectover.”
I’mstartled.MygazeimmediatelytravelsbeyondtheFrenchdoorstothesailboatatthedockbeforeIremembershe’snottheboatinquestion.TheSurelyPerfectisattheyachtclub.Andhewantssomeonetosailher?
“Bringherover?”Iecho.“YoumeantoNewZealand?”
“Yes.Gottahiresomeonetosailher.ShirleyandIwerediscussingitlastnight,andshesays,whynotTate,hehashiscaptain’slicense.AndIthoughtaboutitandrealized,yes,whynot?Thatboycouldhandleasolovoyageinhissleep.”
Ifeelwinded.Iflopontoakitchenstool,shrimpskewersforgottenonthecounter.“Idon’tknowaboutinmysleep,”Isayslowly.“But…yeah,Icouldprobablymanageit.Howlongwouldajourneylikethattake?”I’mplayingitcool,butthiswouldbeamassiveundertaking.
“It’salongway,nodoubt.You’dbeleavingfromthePortofMiami,andaccordingtothefolksIconsulted,ifyou’reaveragingeighttotenknotsandtheweatherpermits,youcoulddoitintwomonths—Iwouldhelpyouchartoutacoursethatmakesthemostsenseforyou.ThewifeandIarereturningtotheBaynextmonthandwe’llbeherethroughtheholidays.PlanningtoreturntoAucklandinJanuary,”Gilcontinues,“whichmeanswe’dneedherdownherebyNewYear’s.So,realistically,youcouldsetsailinSeptemberifyouwanted.Takethreemonths.Four,even.It’sentirelyuptoyou.”
Ishakemyhead,dazed.“Areyouseriousrightnow?”Idemand.
Helaughs.“Quiteserious.And,ofcourse,you’llbepaidaccordingly.”Heproceedstonameasumthatmakesmyheadspin.It’senoughtoputadownpaymentonasailboatofmyown.NotaHallberg-Rassy,butdefinitelysomethinghigherend.
“You’llalsohaveacreditcardforexpenses,soifyouneedtorestockanysupplieswhenyoumakeport,it’llallbecovered.YouronlyconcernwillbegettingourgirlfrompointAtopointB.”
“CanIthinkaboutit?”Obviously,Iwantnothingmorethantoshoutoutyes!ButIcan’tjustdropmyentirelifeandsailtoNewZealand.Ihaveajob,responsibilities.Especiallytomyfamily.IhatelettingDaddown.AndIliterallyjustagreedtorunthedealershipalonesomyparentscantakeSeptemberoff.
“Takeyourtime,”Gilsays.“Youcanletmeknowtheweekendwegetback.Ifit’sano,thatstillleavesusplentyoftimetohiresomebodyelse.There’sacompanywecanusethathooksyouupwithacaptain.Butwe’dprefertoseeyoudoit.Iknowyou’vealwayswantedtodoamajorcrossing,and,selfishly,I’dratherpaysomeoneIlikeandtrustthanacompletestranger.”
“Wow.Thankyou,Gil.Imeanit.Ireallyappreciatetheopportunity.”
“Ofcourse,son.Anddon’tforgettotaketheLightningoutforaspin.”Hechuckles.“You’llthankmeforitlater.”CHAPTER21
CASSIE
Aaron:Heystranger.
Istareatthescreen,mystomachdropping.I’mparkedinfrontofthepostofficeandwasabouttogetoutoftheRoverwhenhismessagecamein.Aaron’sbeentryingtogettogetherallweek.Ikeepturninghimdown,claimingtobebusywithmymother.Whichisn’texactlyalie;sinceshegotin,she’smonopolizedallmytime.Still,Ican’tdenyit’sbeenarelieftohavealegitimateexcusetoavoidhangingoutwithhim.ThemomentTateandIstartedhookingup,IallbutforgotaboutAaron.Thatmakesmekindofajerk,Iknowthat.It’sjustsodifficulttotellhimI’mnolongerinterested.
ButIalsocan’tkeepputtinghimoff.He’sgoingbacktoNewYorknextweek.Idon’twanthimspendinghislastweeksittingaroundwaitingforme.
Unsurehowbesttophraseit,ItextPeytoninstead.
Me:IneedtotellAaronIdon’twanttoseehimanymore,butIneedtosayitinaniceway.Suggestions?
Shemustberightbyherphonebecauseherresponseisinstantaneous.Orrather,herresponses.Asusual,sixmessagespopupinquicksuccession.
Peyton:Allright,thisiswhatIalwayssay:
Peyton:Hey!I’vehadsomuchfunhangingoutwithyou,butIkindofseethisasmoreofafriendshipthing.
Peyton:I’mnotreallyfeelingaromanticspark.
Peyton:You’resoawesome,andIknowyou’regoingtofindsomeoneyoutotallyclickwith.
Peyton:Ijustdon’tthinkit’sme.
Me:Wow.Notbad.Thanks!
Idoabitoftweaking,copyandpaste,thentakeadeepbreathandhitsend.Instantly,Igetthatweakfeelinginmystomachandmyheartstartspounding.Theideaofanimpendingconfrontationmakesmequeasy,butatthesametimeIexperienceapangofpride.ImaynotbeabletotellAaronhe’saterriblekisser,ortellmymotherhowmuchIhatehersometimes,butatleastIwasabletoaccomplishthisoneteeny,tinything.There’sthesilverlining,Iguess.
Itrytofocusonthatfeelingofpride,butthenervousenergydoesn’tabate.ItcontinuestowreakhavoconmygutasIapproachthepickupcounteratthepostoffice.
“Hi,”Igreettheelderlyclerk.“IneedtopickupapackageforCassieSoul?Igotanoticeonmydoorsayingtheydroppeditoffherebecausenobodywashometosign.”Ihandhimthenotice.
“Letmegocheck.”Thegray-hairedmanshufflesintothebackroom.
WhileIwait,myphonebuzzesinmyhand.Aaron’snameappearsonthelockscreen.Thenauseareturns.AllIcanseefromthenotificationpreviewis:Thanksforbeinghonest.Ireally—
Thenitcutsoff.
OhGod.Ireallywhat?Optimismeludesmeasmybrainfillsintheblankswithalltheworst-casescenarios.
Ireallyhateyou.
Ireallythinkyou’reabitch.
Ireallyhatethatyouwastedmytime.
Iclickthenotification.
Aaron:Thanksforbeinghonest.Ireallyappreciateit.Somanypeoplejustghostthesedays.Thanksforbeingsocool
Reliefflittersthroughme.Wow.Okay.Thatwentwaybetterthanexpected.
Me:Thanksforunderstanding.You’rereallycooltoo.
Aaron:Enjoytherestofyoursummer,Cassie
Me:Youtoo.
Justlikethat,IhandledtheconfrontationwithsucheaseIalmostwanttocallTateandbrag.ThenIrealizehowweirdthatwouldbe,consideringIhaven’tbroughtupAaronsinceTateandIgottogether.AndIdon’twanthimtothinkI’mstillseeingotherguys.
“Hereyouare!”Thepostalclerkreturnswithathincardboardbox.“Signhere,please.”
MyentirebodyvibrateswithexcitementasIgetbackintothecar,whereItearopenthepackage.Ireachinside.ThenextthingIknow,I’mholdingthephysicalmanifestationofKit’nMcKenna.It’sahardcover,thefrontimagefeaturingthetitularcharacters,anditlooksandfeelsincredible.Evenmoreastonishingisthebylineatthetop.
WRITTENBYCASSANDRASOUL
Atthebottomisasecondlisting:
ILLUSTRATEDBYROBBSHEFFIELD
Squealingoutloud,Iquicklysnapapictureandtextittomyformerstepbrother.
Me:LOOK!!!!
Robb:Holyshit!
Me:Ihadasecondcopyprintedandshippedtothepenthouse.Youshouldreceiveitendofdaytomorrow.
Robb:Thisissocool.Thanksforincludingme.Imaginethistakesoff??
Me:Whatdoyoumean?We’renotactuallysellingitlol
Robb:Whythehellnot?
Me:It’sjustapresentformysisters.
Robb:Umm…Okay,weneedtogetonacalltodiscussit.Thiscouldbeamissedopportunity,Cass.
Robb:I’mawaythisweekend,headingtotheMontaukhouse,buthowaboutMonday?Youfreetochat?
Me:Sure.Soundsgood.
Myheadisspinninglikeacarouselnow.Ididn’tplanonsellingthisbookatall.Dadmadethatthrowawaycommentaboutself-publishingorsubmittingittoapublisher,butI’dbrusheditoff.Becomingachildren’sbookauthorwasneveratthetopofmycareerchoicelist.ButnowI’vegotahardbackcopyofKit’nMcKennainmyhands,anditlooksreal.Sharp,professional.Thisprinterdidanexceptionaljob.Thepagesareglossy,andtheinteriorillustrationsaregorgeous.AsIflipthroughandreadlinesfromthestory,Ifindmyselfgrinninglikeasillyschoolgirl.Thisisgood.It’sreally,reallygood.
Sowhynot?Whynottrytomakesomethinghappen?Turnthisprojectintosomethingotherchildrencanenjoy,notjustmysisters.Isupposenextweekend’sbirthdayunveilingwillbetherealtest.IfRoxyandMolovethebook,thatbodeswellfortheprospectivesuccessofthisventure.
MyphonebuzzesagainwhileI’mreading.
Joy:IsthatyousittingintheRangeRovergigglingtoyourselflikeanescapedmentalpatient?
Ilookupandspotherbythesmoothieshop.Shegivesanonchalantwave.
Rollingmyeyes,IhopoutoftheRoveranddartovertomyfriend.“Checkthisout!”Ishovethehardcoverintoherhand.
“Oooh!”Hereyeslightup.“Thisisamazing!”
“Doyouthinkthegirlswilllikeit?”Iaskanxiously.
“Areyoukidding?They’regoingtoloveit.Ithinkalotofkidswouldloveit,actually.”Sheflipsthroughit,thenstopsononepageinparticular.ShegigglesandtwistsitaroundtoshowmethevisualofMcKennatryingtojamhersecretdragonintoatoo-smallcupboard.Inthenextpanel,thedoorsbustopenandKitburstsoutinaflurryofpurplescales.“Thisisgreat.Iwouldreadthistomylittlecousins.”
“Robbwantstotalkaboutpublishingitproperly—”
“Doit!”Joysaysimmediately.
Ibitemylipastinyripplesofexcitementdanceinmystomach.“I’llhavetothinkaboutit.”
“What’stheretothinkabout?”
“Alot.I’mabouttostartsenioryearofcollege.Idon’thavetimetothinkaboutpublishingchildren’sbooksontheside.”Ishrug.“Anyway,whatareyouuptonow?Wanttograblunch?”
“Thisislunch.”Sheholdsuphergross-lookinggreenjuice.“ButI’llcomeandwatchyoueat.”Shewaggleshereyebrows.“Soundshot.”
Isnicker.“That’ssomethingTatewouldsay.”Ituckthebookundermyarmandnodatthesmoothieplace.“I’lljustgrabasmoothietoo.Treatme?Ileftmypurseinthecar.”
“Jeez.Sodemanding.”
Wegoin,andamomentlaterwe’reattheendofthecounter,waitingformyordertobeprepared.
“DidyouseeTatewhenyougotbacklastnight?”sheasks.
“Yes,”Ianswer,thinkingaboutthebriefencounter.JoyandIlefttheRipTidearoundmidnight,anddespiteneedingtowakeupearly,Tatestillsnuckinthroughmywindow…tokissmegoodnight.Yup,justakiss.Iswear,he’sthebiggestteaseI’veevermet.
“Ican’tbelieveyoustillhaven’tbeenfullynakedtogether,”Joysays,marvelingoverwhatItoldherlastnightattheshow.
“It’sweird,right?It’slikehethinksifwehaveallourclothesoff,hispeniswillaccidentlyfallintomyvagina.”
Shehoots.“Maybehe’savirgintoo.”
“Definitelynot.Honestly,Ithinkhe’sscaredtodeflowerme.He’smovingatasnail’space.It’smaddening.”
“Thenlet’sgivehimanudge.”
“Whatkindofnudge?”
“Um.Seducetheguy,Cass.”
“How?”
“Whatdoyoumean,how?”Shelooksamusedbymytotallackofseductionproficiency.“Therearesomanyoptions.”
“Nameone,”Ichallenge.“Becauseitsoundslikeyoudon’tactuallyknow—”
“Sneakintohishouseandbenakedinhisbedwhenhecomesbackfromwork.”Joyoffersaself-satisfiedsmile.“There.That’sonesuggestion.”
“Ican’tsneakintothehouse,”Iprotest.Istepuptothecountertotakemybanana-strawberrysmoothie,courtesyoftheteenageemployeewhojustplaceditonthecounter.“There’sanalarm.”
“Really,that’swhatyou’refocusedon?”shesaysaswestepbackontothesidewalk.“Youcanfindwaysaroundit.Texthimandsay,hey,where’syoursparekey?Ineedtopopovertoyourplacetoborrowsomesugar.”Shetiltsherhead.“That’saneighborthing,right?Theyalwaysneedsugar.”
Isnort.“Okay,I’llplay.SoItexthim,tellhimIneedsomethingfromhishouse.Andthen?”
“Yougetnaked.Youlieonhisbed.Insteadofflowers,youcoveryourselfinaseaofcondoms—”
“OhmyGod.”Istarttolaugh.“No.”
“Fine,nocondomdécor.ButIstandbytherest.Trustme,ifhewalksintohisbedroomandfindsyoulyingtherenaked?Hewon’tberesistingyouanymore.”
Imullovertheidea.Honestly,itdoessoundkindofhot.Exciting.Andit’llbehotandexcitingevenifwedon’tenduphavingsex.
“Idon’tknowifIcanbenaked,”Iadmit,liftingmystrawtomylips.Itakealongsipoffruitygoodness.“Butmaybelingerie?”
“Yes!Evenbetter!Weneedsomethingpositivelyslutty!Okay.Gogetyourpurse.”Joyhassnappedintodictatormode.“We’regoingshopping.”
Laterthatnight,GrandmaandMomembarkonarareoutingtogether,headingtoCharlestonfordinner.IthinkitwasGrandma’sidea,herattemptatgivingmeareprieve.
Mom’sbeenonmycaseallweek,ropingmeintonumerousshoppingexcursions,painfullunches,andconstantcriticismMostlydirectedatmyfashionchoices,butshe’salsobeenthrowingincomplaintsaboutDad,Nia,andmyfriendshipwithRobb,justtokeepmeonmytoes.Themainreasonshe’sbentoutofshape,though,isbecauseIrefusedtogoalongwithherdresssuggestionfortheBeacon’sreopening.Ivetoedthefloor-lengthgoldgownonsight,which,inhindsight,mayhavebeenamistakeseeingashowitledtoseveralmoreshoppingtripstofindanotherdress.
Withmyfamilygonethehouseiscompletelyempty,sothere’snoreasonTatecan’tcomeoverhere,buttheideaofhimfindingmeinhisownbedisalotmoreappealing.Moreofasexyshockforhim.He’sdoneworkingatseventoday.Hehadtostaylatesohisdadcouldtrainhiminsomepayrollmatters,butsaidhe’dbehomebyseventhirty.ItoldhimI’dcookhimdinner.
Whathedoesn’tknowisthatwe’rehavingdessertfirst.
Me:Hey.What’sthekeypadcodetogetinthroughyourbackdoor?Ineedtostealsomespices.Canyoubelieveweranoutofbothsaltandredpepper?
Tate:IfItellyouthecode,youcannevershareitwithanyone.
Me:Ofcoursenot.IwasonlyplanningtopostitonTwitter,notanyofmyothersocialmediaaccounts.Keepitexclusive,youknow?
Tate:Perfect.25591.I’monmywayhomenow.GrabbingaquickshowerandthenI’llheadovertoyou.
Excellent.
I’mallreadytogo.Ishavedmyentirebody,soit’ssmootherandsofterthanababy’sbottom.IchosethecolorwhiteforthelacybraandmatchingthongIpickedupintownearlier.Accordingtothesaleswoman,theofficialshadeofitishonest-to-Godcalledvirginalwhite.OnceIheardthat,Iwould’veboughtthelingeriesetforthecomedyappealalone.Thankfully,Ilookgreatinwhite.WhenIsteppedoutofthedressingroom,Joyandthesaleswomanassuredmenomanwouldbeabletokeephishandsoffme.
There’sreallyonlyonemanIcareabouttonight.
Igivemyreflectiononelastinspectioninthehallmirror.I’vestraightenedmyhairandamwearingitloose.Nomakeup,saveforsomelipglossandlightmascara.Definitelynoblush,becauseI’llbedoingthatnaturallyanyway.It’smycrosstobear.Idon’tevenkeepblushinmymakeupcase.
SinceIcan’tstrutnextdoorinmyunderwear,Ithrowaloosetankdressovermyheadandslipmyfeetintoapairofflip-flops.IwalkthepathatthesideofourhousestowardtheJacksons’backdeck,whereIpunchinthecodeonthedoor,andthelockreleases.
Tate’sbeenkeepingtheplacesuperclean.Ilikethat.Iheadforthewidespiralstaircaseinthefronthallthat’spaintedanauticalblueandfeatureswhitewainscoting.Atthetopofthestairs,Igetanidea.Idartbacktothehallandkickoneflip-flopoff,leavingitonthehardwoodfloor.Ileavetheotherflip-floponthefirststep.Mydresshalfwayupthestairs.GrinningatthelittletrailI’vecreated,IheadfortheguestroomwhereTate’sbeenstaying.
Hisbedismadeandtheduvetsmellsgood,likefabricsoftenerandTate’sunique,masculinescent,whichalwaysmakesmethinkoftheocean.I’mnotsurprisedeverythingissoneatandtidy.HetoldmehepickedupthehabitatScouts’camp.BecauseofcoursehewasaBoyScout.Apparentlyhisdadwashistroopleader,whichalsodoesn’tsurpriseme.GavinBartlettistheepitomeoffundad.
SpeakingofGavin,Tatesaidhisparentshadinvitedmeoverfordinner.Sofar,I’vebeenputtingitoff.Dinnerwithhisparentswouldmakeitfeellikewe’reseriouslydating,andI’mtryingtokeepaproperdistancethere.Iknowthisisjustafling.I’mreturningtoBostonattheendofthesummer,andit’snotlikelong-distancerelationshipseverwork.Besides,IalreadytoldhimIdon’twantarelationship,andTatedoesn’twantoneeither.He’ssimplyhavingfun.Webothare.
MyheartratespikeswhenIfinallyhearthefrontdooropen.Thealarmbeepsafewtimes,thenstopsonceTatearmsit.
Hismuffledvoicesays,“Whatthe…”andIsmotheragrin.Someone’sspottedmyabandonedflip-flopsanddress.
“Cassie?”hecallswarily.
Footstepsapproachthestairs.
“Uphere!”Itellhim.
“Oh,thankGod.”Hisvoicegetslouder.“IwasworriedIwasgoingtofindyoumurderedupthere.”
Ichokeoutalaugh.“Whywouldamurderertakethetimetoarrangemyclothinginatrail?”
Ihearhimapproachingthebedroomdoor.“Idon’tknow.Tofuckwithmyheadand—”Tatehaltsinthedoorway.HisAdam’sapplebobswhenhespotsme.Eyesinstantlyblazing.“Holyhell.”Heshakeshishead.“Wow.”
“What?”Iaskinnocently.
“Don’twhatme.Youlook…”Heswallowsagain.“So…fucking…good.”
Hishungryeyesdevourmybody,whichI’veposedpinupstylejustforhim.Onekneepropped.Headrestingonhispillowsandbackarched,apositionthatmakesmyboobsjutoutenticingly.It’srareformetoputthegirlsondisplaylikethis,butIlovethewayhe’slookingatthemrightnow.
Acheekysmilespringsfree.“Areyoujustgoingtostandthereandstare,orareyougoingtotakeyourclothesoff?”Iinquire.
Withoutaword,Tatereachesforthehemofhisshirt.
“Goodchoice.”
Chuckling,hepullshisshirtoff,revealingthattanned,muscularchest.“WhatdidIdotodeservethis?”heasks,andIdon’tknowifit’sarhetoricalquestion.
“Doyoulike?”Itoywiththetinylacebowonmybra,flashingacoysmile.
“Ilove.”
Heundoeshispants,shovingthematerialdown.Boxersdisappearnext.Nowhe’snaked,hiserectionoutandproud.
Hetakesastepforward.
“Stillwanttotakeitslow?”Itaunt
“Don’tknowifthat’spossible,”hegrowls,andthenhe’sonthebed,coveringmybodywithhis.
Ourlipsmeet,anditgetshotanddirtyrealfast.Greedykissingandimpatienthandsrunningovereachother’sbodies.Tatemakesnoefforttoremovemylingerie.Heliftshishead,breathinghard,thenkissesmybreastovermybra
“Thisissosexy,”hegroans.Hisfingertipsslimoverthelacyedge.“Solidchoicewithwhite.”
I’mpleasedheapproves.
Slowly,hishandglidesalongmystomachtowardthedelicatestrapsofmythong.“Goddamn,”hecroaks.“Idon’tevenwanttotaketheseoffyou.Thebratoo.Iwanttofuckyouwhileyou’rewearingthem.”Hestrokesmyclitoverthepanties,andarushofpleasureskittersthroughme.
Hiserectionisheavyagainstmythigh,aneroticreminderofwhatI’mabouttoexperience.Ican’twait.Swallowingthroughmydrythroat,Ireachforhim,circlinghisshaftwithmyfingersand—
Thedoorbellrings.
Webothjumpinsurprise.“Areyouexpectingsomeone?”Iaskhim.
“No,notthatI—”Hecutsoff.Hisface,whichonlyasecondagowasflushed,suddenlypales.
Thenhisphonechimes.
“Shit,”Tatecurses.Hepracticallydivesoffthebedandgrabsthephonefromhispantspocket.Heletsoutanotherexpletivewhenhereadsthetext.
“What’sgoingon?”Isitup.Forsomereason,Iinstinctivelyloweronearmtocovermybreasts,whicharenearlyoverflowingfrommyskimpybracups.
Thedoorbellringsagain.
“Whoisthat?”Idemand.
Heraiseshisheadfromhisphone,featurespained.“Mydate.”CHAPTER22
TATE
BeforeIcanblink,Cassieisoffthebedandsprintingtothedoor.
“Cass,wait.”
“Areyoufuckingkiddingme?”sheshoutsbackwithoutturningaround.
Igrabmydiscardedboxersandhurriedlypullthemon.Ireachthedoorwayjustasshemakesittothetopofthestaircase.Christ,herasslooksphenomenalinthosecheekypanties.Hertitsarepracticallyspillingoutofthatbra,moresonowthatshe’sbreathingsohard.Amomentago,Iwasabouttodevourher.NowI’mchasingafterhertokeepherfromleaving.
Shepicksupthedressthat’slyingonthestairs,slippingitoverherheadasshedescends.Ihurryafterher.
Thedoorbellringsagain,makingmewince.
ItotallyforgotaboutNicole.I’manasshole,Iknow.ButImadethedatelastSundaywhileIwastryingnottothinkaboutCassieandthenforgottocallitoffbecauseI’vehadabusyweek.
“Icannotbelieveyouhaveanotherwomancomingovertonight!”Cassie’smurderousgazeevisceratesme.“Whatwastheplan,exactly?Youweregoingtomeetherfirst,andmerightafter?OrgobackandforthbetweenthehouseslikeHannahfuckingMontanapretendingtobeintwoplacesatonce?DidIspoilyourlittleplotbycomingoverhereinstead?”
“No,notatall,”Isay,reachingthebottomofthestaircase.
Sheputsonherflip-flopsandmarchestothefrontdoor.
“Cassie,comeon,wait.CanIpleaseexplain?”
“No,”shebarks,thenflingsthedooropentorevealthestartledfaceofNicole.
“Oh,I’msorry,”Nicolehedgesin.“AmIinterrupting…?”
“Nope,”Cassierepliesasshestormspast.“He’sallyours,”shecallsoverhershoulder.
Incompletelymisery,Iwatchhergo.
“Fuck!”Igroan,scrubbingmyhandsovermyface.Ibrieflyclosemyeyes,suckinginafrustratedbreath.Thenmyeyesopen,onlytobeconfrontedwiththecloudofdispleasuredarkeningNicole’sface.
“Uh,yeah,it’sprettyobviousIdidinterruptsomething.Whatthehell,Tate?”
“I’msorry.”Iexhaleaheavybreath.“Iforgotyouwerecomingover.”
“Areyoufuckingserious?”
“I’msorry.”Shamenowpoursoffmebythebucketload.“Istartedseeingsomeonethisweek—”
“Clearly,”Nicoleinterrupts,jawtightening.
“SheandIwerejustfriendswhenIaskedyouout,butthenitturnedintosomethingmoreandIforgottocancelwithyou.I’msorry.I’msuchanasshole.Honestly,Ineedyoutohitmerightnow.Justclockmeinthejaw.Please.”Igroanagain.“YouknowIdon’tdothis.Ineverplayaroundwithwomen.Ever.I’mso,sosorry.”
Shemustrecognizemysincerity—andimmenseremorse—becauseherfacesoftens.“Dude.Dialitdown.It’snotlikewejustgotmarriedandyoucheatedonmeonourhoneymoon.”
Ispitoutaweaklaugh.“No,butthisisadickmove.”
“Itis.Iwon’tdenythat.”Sherunsahandthroughherdarkhair.“Can’tsayI’mnotdisappointed,either.Iwaslookingforwardtothisallweek.”
“I’msorry,”Irepeatthroughalumpofguilt.
“You’reluckyyouhavearepforbeingagoodguy.Iknowyoudon’tpullthisshitwithwomen.”
“Idon’t,”Imoan.“Idon’tthinkI’veeverfeltthisbadinmylife.Ican’tapologizeenough.”
Nicolefiddleswiththesleeveofhertighttop.“I’mreallyembarrassed,”sheadmits.
“Pleasedon’tbe.Thisisallonme.”
“Well,obviously.Butthatdoesn’tchangethefactthatIjustwalkedinon—youknowwhat,it’sfine.Let’sjustforgetit.”
Isearchherexpression.“Arewegood?”
“Yeah,we’regood.”Sighing,shestepscloserandgivesmealittlepatontheshoulder.“ButIthinkyouoweheranapologytoo.AndIshouldprobablyletyougettothat.”
IstillfeellikeshitasIwalkNicoletohercar.Onceshedrivesoff,IglancetowardCassie’sfrontporch.Idon’twanttogoandringthedoorbellbecauseI’mnotsureifhermomandgrandmotherarehome.ButIalsodon’twanttoclimbuptoherwindowforfearshe’llpushmetomydeath.
Dismissingbothoptions,Igobackinsidetogetmyphone.
Me:Meetmeoutbacksowecantalk?Please?
Partofmeexpectsradiosilence,butCassieresponds.
Cassie:Date#2isoveralready?Doessomeonehaveastaminaproblem?
Andpeoplesayyoucan’tdiscerntoneovertext.
Me:It’sreallynotwhatyouthink.Please.Justcomeoutside?
Cassie:Fine.
Shemeetsmeonthedock.Armscrossed,eyesapoplectic.She’swearingherdress,andnowthatIknowwhat’sunderneathitIwanttokickmyselfharderforforgettingtocancelwithNicole,becausethere’snowayI’mseeingasinglethreadofthatlingerieagaintonight.Evenifwedomakeup,themomenthaspassed.
“ImadethedatewithheronSunday,”Iexplain.“AfteryouandI…youknow.Windowsex.”
Cassienods,mouthflattening.“Ithinkthatmightmakeitworse.”
“Iwastryingtoavoidtemptation.IthoughtmaybeifIfoundadistraction,I’dbeabletoseeyouagainwithoutbeingtemptedtoblowupourfriendship.SowhenNicoleaskedmeout,Isaidyes.AndthenIgothomethatnightandoverheardyouandyourmom,and,well,youknowwhatthatledto.”Ignawontheinsideofmycheek.“Iscrewedup.YouandIhavebeenhookingupallweek,andI’vebeenswampedwithwork,andIhonestlyjustforgottoletherknowthedatewasoff.”
“Thatissuchadickmove.Especiallytoher.”
“Trustme,Iknow.Ijustspentthepasttenminutesbeggingherforgiveness.AndnowI’mbeggingyours.”ImeetCassie’seyes.Iknowshehearstheheartfeltnoteinmyvoice.“Idon’tjugglewomen.Imightsleepwithalotofthem,butneveratthesametime.Askanyonewhoknowsme—Idon’tplaygames.That’snotwhoIam.Youknowthat’snotwhoIam,Cassie.I’maBoyScout.I’mtheonewhoaskedtogetgrounded.Myparentsraisedmetotreatwomenwithrespect.That’swhyIwasafraidI’dbetakingadvantageofyourinexperience.”
Shebitesherlipinhesitation.“Ifyoudidn’twanttobeexclusive,youcould’vejusttoldme.”
“That’snotitatall.”Ifrown.“Itdidn’tevencrossmymindtonotbeexclusive.Iassumedwewere.”
“Really?”
“Itoldyou,Idon’tdatemorethanoneperson.”
“Arewedating?”
“Flinging.Hookingup.Whateveryouwanttocallit.”
Mybodyistightwithfrustration,becauseIcan’tquiteexplainhowanyofthismakesmefeel.AllIknowisthesheerpanic,thehelplessnessthatwassqueezingmythroatwhenCassiestormedoutandIthoughtImightneverseeheragain.
“Ilikeyou,”Isaygruffly.“Ihaveagreattimewithyou.I’mwildlyattractedtoyou.AndIdon’twanttoeverdoanythingthatmakesyoulookatmelikethatagain.LikeIwastotalslime.”
Shedrawsabreath.“WhenIthoughtyouhadanotherdate…anothergirllinedup,ormaybeevenawholerosterofthem…itupsetme.”
“Iknow.I’msorry.IpromiseI’mnotseeinganyonebutyou.”Idragahandthroughmyhair,offeringaruefulsmile.“Ihadawholethingplannedfortomorrow.Foryou,Imean.”
“Youdid?”Herforeheadcreases.“Younevermentionedanything.”
“Iwasplanningonaskingyoutonight.YouknowhowGiltoldmeIcanusetheLightning?Ithought…”Ishiftawkwardly.Idon’tthinkI’veeverbeensotongue-tiedaroundachickbefore.“Ithoughtwecouldgooutontheboat.MaybeanchoratKearny’sCove.Youwouldn’tthinkit,butthere’saroomycabinbelowdeck.It’scozy.Wecoulddoanovernight…?”
Theimplicationhangsintheair.
Cassievisiblyswallows.Webothknowwhatwillhappenifwespendthenightalonetogetherinonebed.
“Thatsoundsnice,”shefinallysays,asoftsmiletuggingonherlips.“I’min.”
Ialmostsagoverinrelief.“Perfect.Soit’sadate.”
“Justonedate,Tate.Youronlydateoftheevening.”Thehumordancinginhereyestellsmewe’regoodagain.
“Myonlydate.Scout’shonor.”
“Youready?”Iaskthefollowingday,jumpingonboardtheLightning.IholdmyhandouttoCassie.It’slateafternoonandwe’resupposedtobeleavingforourovernight,butsheremainsstandingonthedock.HergazeisfocusedonthegrayandblacklifevestsIsetdownonthecopilot’sseat.
“Doweneedtowearthosethewholetime?”sheaskswarily.
“Onlywhenshe’smoving.Andit’sonlyaprecaution.”
“Okay,nowI’mkindofscared.Justhowfastdoyouplantogo?”
“Fast.”I’mpracticallyshakingwithexcitement.“Gilsaysshecando125,130milesperhour.”Ishudderhappily.“I’mgonnacomeinmypants,ginger.”
“ShouldIbejealous?Oftheboat,Imean?”
“Probably.”
Thatgetsmealaugh.“Fine.Let’sgo.”
Igripherhandtohelpherin.Whileshedonsherlifevest,Istashthecoolerbelowdeck,butgrabtwobottlesofwateroutofittothrowintothecupholders.Oncewe’reseated,Igentlysteerusawayfromthedock.Don’twanttogoallspeeddemonrightfromthejump.Abitfartherout,Igivehermorejuice.Theboatcomestolife.AnticipationcoilsinmygutasIeasethestickforward.WhentheLightning’sbowrises,Cassiejumpsinalarm.
“It’sfine,”Iassureher,andthebowsettles.Ohman.Thisisnuts.Onlycruisingspeed,andshe’sstillgoingfasterthananyspeedboatI’veeverbeenon.
“Whyarewegoingoutsofar?”CassielooksworriedthemoremilesIputbetweenusandland.
“Thisisano-wakezone.Weneedtogojustpastthere,beyondthespeedrestrictions.”Isliceforward,cuttingaroundthebendinthebay.Oncewe’refarenough,Islowtoacrawl,thenidleforaminute.TheLightninggentlybobsonthewaves.Idoaquickassessment.Windislight,providingnoresistanceatall.Wavesaredecent,nottoochoppy.
IturntoCassiewithagrin.“Allright.I’mgonnagiveitallI’vegot.Allshe’sgot.Youready?”
Cassietakesabreath.“Okay.DoitbeforeIchangemymind.”
IaccelerateandtheLightningtakesoff.
Cassieyelps,holdingonfordearlife.Andwe’renotevengoingthatfastyet.Maybeeighty,ninetymilesperhour.It’sincrediblehowmuchtheLightningstillhasleftinher.AdrenalinesurgesthroughmybloodasIspeedup.Thewindrushespastourfaces,slickingmyhairback.Cassie’sponytailhoversintheairlikethetailofakite,stickingstraightout.YettheLightningisstable.Sostableyou’dneverguesshowfastweweregoing.
Likealittlekid,Iletoutaloudwhoop,andturntoseeCassiegrinningatme.Thenshethrowsherhandsupandwhoopstoo,andwesurrendertothespeed,theexhilaration.We’reaboutahundredmilesanhournow,butIwantmore.Justalittlebitmore.Iadjustthetrim,playwiththethrottle,andthenwe’reflying.Onehundredandtwentymilesanhour,andI’monanotherplaneofexistence.Webarelyfeelthechop.We’refuckingsoaring,sofastitfeelslikeslowmotion.It’sunbelievable.
Iletherflyforseveralmoremilesbeforeslowing.Myheartbeattakesawhiletoregulate.IlookoverandCassie’sstillsmiling.Herfaceisred,cheeksslightlywindburned.ThehullrocksasIbringustoanot-so-ass-puckeringspeed.
“Thatwasincredible,”Isay,stillbreathinghard.
“Youlooklikeyoujusthadanorgasm.”
“IfeellikeIdid.I’veneverpilotedanythinglikeher.”She’sadreamtohandle.Tightturns,responsive.
“Youshouldbuyone.”
Ibarkoutalaugh.“Um,no.Thisisamillion-dollarspeedboat.AndGilgotitused.”
“Holyshit.”
“Exactly.I’msavingupforasailboat,anyway.Thatcomesfirst.Powerboatsareplaythingsforlaterinlife.”
“You’reaplaythingforlaterinlife,”shecracks.
“Nice.”
AswecruisetowardKearny’sCove,shefixesherponytail,whichgotmessedupduringthewildride.Islowusalmosttoacrawlandgrabmywaterbottle.Igulpdownamuch-neededswig,thenofferittoCassie,whoshakesherhead.She’sbusyexaminingthecockpit,runningahandoverthesleekvinylupholstery.
Sheglancesaroundthedeck.“Howisthereacabindownthere?Doesn’tseemlikethere’dbeanyroomonthisthing.”
“Firstofall,don’tcallmygirlfriendathing.”
Shesnorts.
“Andthecabinisshockinglyspacious.Seriously,you’regoingtoloveit.”
“AmInow?”
Aheatedlookpassesbetweenus.Myheart’sbeatingfastagain.ThistimeithasnothingtodowiththeLightningandeverythingtodowithCassieSoul.I’mdyingtogetinsideher.I’vebeenthinkingaboutitallgoddamnday.
WearriveatKearny’sCove,agorgeousprivatespotthat’sshelteredbyarockwallsothewindbarelytouchesthispartofthebay.There’sabeach,albeitatinyone.Anarrowstripofsand,situatedbetweentherockfaceandthereeds.
“Thisissuchaprettyspot!Isthiswherewe’rehavingdinner?”Cassieasks.
“Yup.”
Sheeyesme.“Howmanyotherwomenhaveyoubroughthere?”
“None,”Ianswertruthfully.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Whynot?”
Ishrug.“IguessI’venevermetanyoneIlikedenoughtobringonaromanticovernight.”
“Oooooh,Gate’stryingtoberomantic,huh?”
“Notanymore,”Igrumble.
“Youdidn’tdothiskindofstuffwithAlana?”
“Nope.Weonlyeverhungoutatherhouse.Neverevenwentouttodinner.”
Ianchorusandgrabthecoolerfrombelow.ThenIkickoffmydeckshoesandhopintothewater.Itsplashesaroundmyknees,soakingthebottomofmyshorts.Idepositthecooleronthebeach,thenreturntohelpCassieofftheboat
Dinnerconsistsofgrilledchicken,Greeksalad,fruitfordessert,andabottleofchampagnethatmakesCassiesnickerwhenIpullitout.“Stolethatfromtheclubagain?”
“Suredid.”
Ipourheraglass.We’reontheblanketIlaidoutonthesand,lazilyeatingourdinnerwhilethesunbeginsitsdescenttowardthehorizonlight.
“Okay,thisisromantic,”sherelents,admiringthecolorsstreakingacrossthesky.Brilliantpinks,reds,andoranges.Thesunsetisalmostasprettyassheis.
Afterdinner,westickourtrashinthecoolerandtalkoverchampagneaboutnothinginparticular.Cassie’sbirthdayisnextweekend.Ioffertotakehertodinner,butshehasplansbothdays;dadonSaturday,momonSunday.Sheseemsmoreenthusedabouttheformer,butIgetthesensesheandherstepmotherhaveanawkwardrelationship,whichputsadamperonmostfamilyoccasions.
Cassieconfirmsthatbyadding,“Honestly,Idon’tthinkNialikesmeverymuch.I’mjustareminderofmymother.Aka,herhusband’snastyex-wife.”
“Wheredidyousayshewasfromagain?TheDominican?”
“Haiti.”
“Ohcool.DoesthatmeanshespeaksFrench?Wait,orisitCreole?”
“French,butaccordingtoNiathere’saperceivabledifferencebetweenHaitianFrenchandFrenchFrench.Shesaysit’sintheintonation.NotthatIwouldeverhearthedifference.She’sreallynice,”Cassieadmits.“Dadfoundhimselfagoodone.”
Eventually,darknessfallsoverus,sowewadebacktotheboat.WekickoffourshoesandgobelowdeckwhereCassie’seyeswiden.
“See,”Isaysmugly.“It’shuge.”
Thecabinismorethanjustroomy—itoffersplentyofamenitiesforanovernightinthecove.Built-inclosetsforstorage,apull-outrefrigerator,aportablehead.Thecentertableconvertsintoabed,whichI’dalreadysetupbeforeweleftthedock.
“Itevenhasairconditioning?”Shegapes.
“Yup.Toldyou,thisgalain’tcheap.”
Cassieflopscross-leggedinthecenterofthebed.“Doyouthinkyou’llacceptGilJackson’soffer?TosailtoNewZealand?”
I’dmentioneditoverdinnerbutdidn’tlingertoolongonthesubject.It’sbeengnawingatthebackofmybrainsinceGil’sphonecall.“Idon’tknow.I’mstillthinkingaboutit.”
“That’snutsthathehasalltheseboats.Hisownfleet.Orisitanarmada?Whatdoyoucallabunchofboats?”Shewrinkleshernose.“Abushel?”
“Yes,baby,abushelofboats.Younailedit.”
“Isensesarcasm.”
“Yousenseright.”
Herindignantexpressiondissolvesintoasmile.“Iwillforgivethatbecauseyoucalledmebabyandthatkindofturnedmeon.”
“Oh,didit?”
Justlikethat,we’reeye-fuckingeachother.Andsuddenlymyentirebodyclenchesinanticipationattheknowledgethatitwon’tbelongbeforewe’rerealfucking.
“Comehere.”Hervoiceisthroaty.
Ijoinheronthebed.Trytositatfirst,butshepromptlypushesmeontomyback.Ilandwithathump,smilingupather.Shelookssogoodrightnow.Eyesshining.Cheeksred.Windblownhair—copper,notginger,althoughIwon’tgiveherthesatisfactionoflettingherknowshe’srightaboutthat.Inherseatedposition,hershortshaveriddenupherthighs.Ireachout,unabletostopmyselffromstrokinghersmoothflesh.
Shebitesherlip.“Areyoustartingsomethinghere,Gate?”
“Idon’tknow…youwantmeto?”
Ratherthananswer,shebendsdowntokissme.
Ikissherback,slidingmyfingersthroughherhair,givingagentletugtopullhercloser.She’sontopofmenow,thosedelectabletitscrushedagainstmychest,nipplespuckeredtight.Ireachbetweenusandgiveherleftnippleateasingpinch,knowinghowsensitiveherbreastsare.Asifoncue,sheletsoutamoan,andIsmile.Iloveeverysinglesoundshemakeswhenwe’refoolingaround.Nonemorethanthatsoft,breathywhimperrightbeforeshe’sabouttocome.Butwe’renotthereyet,notevenclosetohearingthatparticularwhimper.AndI’mnotbothered.It’snotalwaysaboutthedestination.Sometimesit’sallaboutthejourney.
Rollingusover,Istartoffslow,kissingherneckandenjoyingthewaysheshivers.Herhandsidlyrunupanddownbetweenmyshoulderblades,strokethebackofmyhead,tangleinmyhair.It’sfuckingglorious.Igripthebottomofhertanktopanddragitupward,mylipsfollowingthetrailofexposedskinuntiltheyreachhercollarboneandcollidewiththefabricofhertop.Itugonit.
“Off,”Iorder.
Laughing,sherisesoffthebedtopulltheshirtoff,alongwithherbikinitop.
Itouchhershortsthengivethesideofherassalittlesmack.“Up,”Igrowl.
“Iloveyourmonosyllabiccavemantalk.”
“Damnrightyoudo.”
SheliftsherassandIyankonhershortsandunderwear,tossingthemaway.ItsuddenlyoccurstomethisisthefirsttimeI’veseenherfullynaked.Ican’tevenbelievethat.Ipropupononeelbowtoadmireher,myhandglidingoverherperfect,nakedflesh.Asidefromherchest,she’skindofsmalleverywhereelse.Iskimherribcage,feelingtheprotrusionsbeneathmyfingertips.Thesharpjutofherhipbone.
She’swatchingmeasItouchher.“You’reteasing.”
“No.Justenjoying.”Myfingersdanceoveronekneebeforeslidingtowardthejunctureofherthighs.Lickingmylips,Idragmyknucklesoverherslit.
Herbreathcatches.“Thatfeelssogood.”
“I’vebarelygottenstarted.”Grinning,Itakeoffmyshirt,butkeepmyshortson.Idon’tneedthattemptationyet.ThenIgripheranklesandstartdragginghertothefootofthebed.Thereisn’talotofspaceupthere,soIkneelonthegroundinfrontofher,bringherasstotheendofthemattress,andlowermyfacebetweenherlegs.
Webothmoanwhenmytonguemakescontact.Thisismyfavoritethingintheworld.Idon’tthinkCassiebelievedmewhenItoldherthat,butit’sthetruth.Nothinggetsmeharderthangoingdownonawoman.Makinghermoanandsquirm.Hergaspsforair.Herthighssqueezingaroundmyhead,desperatetokeepmerightwheresheneedsme.It’sthepinnacleofsexualexcitement.Sofuckinggood.
Asmyerectionstrainsagainstmyzipper,Iworkherwithmytongue,myfingers,untilfinallyIhearit—myfavoritenoise.Igroanhappily,andknowshefeelsthatlow,huskyresponseonherclit.Herhipsstartmoving.Shegrindsherselfagainstmyface,takingallthepleasureIhavetooffer,andit’snotuntilshegoescompletelystillthatI
ShewelcomesmykissandIlovethat.Doesn’tcarethathertasteisstillonmytongue.Shepracticallyeatsmyfaceoff,hernailsdiggingintomyshouldersasonehandfumblesformyzipper.
“Whyarethesestillon?”shedemands.“Thisvexesme.”
“Oh,itvexesyou?”
“Yes,itvexesme.I’veveryvexed.”
Iletherrollmeontomyback.She’sclawingatmyshorts,wrenchingthemdownmyhips.Mydickspringsout,hardandeager.
Cassiegivesanamusedlook.“Somebody’sexcited.”
“DamnrightIam.”Isuckabreathinwhenshetakesmeinherhandandstartstolowerherhead.OhChrist.“No,”Isay,pullingheroffme.
Shelooksoffended.“Whatdoyoumeanno?”
“Noblowjobs.”
“Ever?”
“No,notever.Justnow.Iwanttobeabletolastmorethanthreestrokes.”
Hereyestwinkle.“Youshouldhavejerkedoffbeforeweleft.Ireadsomeguysdothattotaketheedgeoff.”
“Ididjerkoffbeforeweleft,”Igrowl,andsheburstsoutlaughing.
“Andyou’restillthatclosetoruiningthisexperienceforme?Jeez.”
Iknowshe’sjoking,yetIcan’tfightaself-consciouspang.“Damn,Cass.Don’tsaythat.NowI’mgoingtohavethatinthebackofmymindthewholetime.”
“No,don’t.”Shelaunchesherselfatmeagain,ournakedbodiescolliding.Cuppingmyface,shelooksintomyeyes.“There’snothingtoruin.Evenifwedon’thavesexrightnow,thisisstilloneofthebestdaysofmylife.Honestly.”
“Minetoo,”Iconfess.MyfirstrideonaFountainLightningandIhadCassiebymyside?Whateverhappensbetweenusinthefuture,I’llneverforgetthatmoment.AndI’llneverforgetthis.Isqueezeonefull,perfectbreast.Sweepmythumboverherbeadednipple.WhenIbringmyhandbetweenherlegsIfindherwetandreadyforme.
Yeah.Iwon’tforgetanythingabouttonight.
She’stryingtoreachformeagain,andonceagainIinterceptherfingers.“Holdthatthought,”Isayandbendoverthebedfortheovernightbag.IunzipthesidepocketforthecondomsIstashedthere.
OnceI’msuitedup,Ieasemybodyontopofhers.Lightlytouchherhipandlowermylipstokisshernipple.ThenIraisemyheadandmeethereyes.“Yougood?”
“I’mgreat,”shesaysandguidesmebetweenherlegs.
Ionlymakeitaboutaninchbeforewe’rebothsweating.Thesensationofherclampedsotightlyaroundmeshort-circuitsmybrain.Iforgethowtofuck.Like,Iactuallydo.Ijustliethere,mytiplodgedinside,anditisn’tuntilshegroansimpatientlythatIsnapoutofit.
“Ready?”Iwhisper.
“Mmm-hmm.”
Ipushmyselfinsideher,pasttheresistance,kissinghertoswallowthesoftyelpofpain.“Youokay?”Imurmuragainstherlips.
“Uh-huh.Justgivemeonesecond.”
Igostillagain,surroundedbyhersnug,warmheat.It’sthegreatestfeelingintheworld.Eversoslowly,shestartstomove.Cantingherhips.Digginghernailsintomyshoulder.It’storture.AndIdon’tknowifshe’sdoingitonpurpose,butherpussyisripplingaroundme,squeezingtight,releasing,thensqueezingmeinagain.IclenchmyasscheeksbecauseI’mscaredifImoveI’mgoingtostartpoundingintoher.
Shesqueezesmeagain,andmyhipssnapforward,hardanddeep,summoningastartledsoundfromCassie.Ichokeoutacurse.I’mnotgoingtosurvivethis.
“Allright,”Imumble.“Here’swhat’sgoingtohappen.”
Asmiledancesacrossherlips.“Yes,pleaseshare.”
“I’mrollingusoverandyou’regoingtorideme.You’regoingtosetthepace,okay?I’mtryingsodamnhardtogoslowrightnow,butmybodyisn’tgoingtoletmeinthisposition.”
Amomentlatershe’sastrideme.Ishoveapillowundermyheadandsoakinthesightofher.Flushedcheeks.Lust-drenchedeyes.Shehesitates,lookingabituncertain.
“Takewhatyouneed,”Isaysoftly.Igazeupather,completelyathermercy.“Everypartofmeisyours.”
Cassiesmiles.Slowly,shebeginstorideme.Herpalmsflattenonmychest.Herlipspart.Sheleansforwardandherhairfallsoveruslikeacurtain,ticklingmypecs.Shekissesme,thenmakesabreathysound.
“Oh,Ilikethat.”
“What?”Iaskthickly.
“Kissingyouwhileyou’reinsideme.”Herbreathingquickens.Sodoesthetempo,sendingaboltofpleasurethroughmybody.
Myballstingle.Assclenchesagain.Irealizemyfingersarecurledoverherhip,diggingintoherflesh.Iloosenthem.Forcemyselftorelax.
Shestopsagain.Dismayed.“WhatifIcan’tfinishthisway?”
“ThenI’llgodownonyouagain.”Isighhappily.“Allnight,preferably.”
“Youreallywouldn’tcare?”
“Ireallywouldn’tcare.WhyshouldI,aslongasthisfeelsgoodforyou?”
“Itdoes,”sheassuresme,leaningintokissmeagain.
Itughersothatshe’sdrapedovermychest.ThenIliftmyhipsinateasing,upwardthrustatthesametimeIslidemytongueinhermouth.
Hereyespopopenandshegasps.
“Whatisit?”Iask,freezing.
“Oh.Thisposition,”shesays,hervoicedreamy.“It’srubbingtherightspot.”Sherotatesherhips,movingherlowerbodyovermine.“Thisistheone.”
Suddenlyshe’sgrindingherclitagainstmewhileI’mburiedinsideher,andIknowshe’sfoundherrhythm.Herspot.ThenIhearit,thetelltalewhimper,andmybodyfailsme.Withhernipplesscrapingmypecs,herassfillingmyhands,herbodygrippingmetight,Ican’tfightitanylonger.
“Cass,I’mgonnacome.Ican’tstopit.”
Shemumbles,“It’sokay,”andIgoofflikearocket.ThepleasureisjuststartingtoabatewhenCassiereachestheplacesheneedstobe.Herorgasmelicitsanotherrushofheatinmybody,liketheaftershocksfollowinganearthquake,tinyripplesaftertheinitialblast.
Onceourbreathingisbacktonormal,shesettlesatmyside,herheadrestingonmyshoulder.
“So?”Isayhoarsely.“DidIruinitforyou?”
“Definitely,”shewhispers.“Itwassobad.”
“Sobad.”
Shegiggles,hersoftbreathticklingmyflesh.Silencefallsoverus.Asweliethereinthedark,asensationofpureserenitywashesoverme.
“I’msleepy,”shemurmurs.
“Thencloseyoureyes.”Icloseminetoo.Listeningtothewindwhistlingbeyondthecabin.Feelingtherockingofthehullonthecalmwater.ThewarmthofCassie’snakedbodyagainstmine.
Ican’tthinkofabetterwaytofallasleep.CHAPTER23
CASSIE
August
Onlythirtyminutesintothetwins’birthdayparty,andI’msecond-guessingmydesiretohavechildren.Ithoughttwosix-year-oldswereloud.Fifteenofthem?It’soneendlessshriekthatdoesn’tletup.Thekindofunceasingnoisethatwormsitswayintoyoursoul.
DadandNiarentedabouncycastlethattakesupnearlyhalfthebackyardandcurrentlycontainseightlittlegirlswhoarejumpingupanddownscreamingatthetopsoftheirlungs.Itsoundslikethey’regettingmurderedinthere,butIthinkthey’rehavingfun?Theremainingsevengirlsareseatedaroundthecraftstable,whereoneofthecounselorsfromthetwins’daycamphelpseveryoneconstructtheirownsparklytiaras.Dadhiredtheteenagerfortheafternoon,andshe’sabighitsofar.
SpeakingofDad,thisisthefourthtimehe’shurriedinsideto“getsomething.”Tookmeawhile,butI’mstartingtothinkhe’snotactuallygettingsomething,becausehekeepsreturningempty-handed.Ontohim,Isneakawayfromthepartyandfollowhiminside.Sureenough,he’sleaningagainstthekitchencounter,scrollingthroughhisphone.
“You’renotgettinganything,”Iaccuse.
Helooksup,eyesdancingbehindhisglasses.“SureIam.I’mgettingpeaceandquiet.”
Iwandertowardtheothersideofthecounterandadmirethegirls’birthdaycake,courtesyofNia’sbakerybuddyChandra,whorattedoutDadthedaywewereturtlebrowsing.ChandraandherdaughterSavaareheretoday,theformerchattingoutsidewithNia,thelatteroneofthekidsgettingmurderedinthebouncycastle.
“Doyouthinkthetwinssuspect?”Iaskhim.“Abouttheturtle.”
“Notintheslightest,”hereplies.“LastnightRoxywascomplainingagainabouthavingtowaittillnextyearforapet.”
“Iseverythingallsetup?Thetank?Thewater?The—whatdidthatJoelkidcallit?UVlight?”
“UVB,”Dadcorrects.“Andit’salldone.Evendecoratedthelittledude’snewdigswiththiswaterloggedcypresstreedecoration.Ithasallthesebrancheshecanperchon.Igottaadmit,he’scute.”
“Uh-huh.AndwhatdoesNiathinkaboutyournewroommate?”
“She’sstillnotthrilledaboutit,butshe’sjustgladit’snotadog.Asfaraspetsgo,thisoneislowmaintenanceifyouignorethefactthatitlivesforathousandyears.”
Isnort.
“I’mgladyou’rehere,”Dadadds.“AndIknowI’vealreadysaiditabunchoftimestoday,buthappybirthday.”
Hecomesuptowraphisarmsaroundmeinawarmhug.It’sraretoreceiveanyphysicalaffectionfrommyfather,andIleanintohistouch.ImightnotseehimasoftenasI’dlike,butwhenIdo,I’mhappytobearoundhim.It’ssomucheasierwithhimthanMom.Withherit’saminefield;IneverknowwhenI’llsetoffthenextverbalattack
Asifreadingmymind,Dadreleasesmewithalight,“How’sitbeenwithyourmomintown?Youtwogettingalong?”
“Youknow,theusual.”Andthen,alsoasperusual,Ichangethesubject.“IwishIhadn’twrappedtheKit’nMcKennabookalready.I’mdyingtoshowyouhowitturnedout.”Ihesitate,feelingmyselfblush.“Andyou’llbehappytoknowIspoketoRobbabouttryingtopublishit.”
Dad’seyeslightup.“Youdid?Excellent.”
“Hisbossatthedesignstudiohassomecontactsintheagentworld.Talentagents,literary,thatkindofthing.He’sgoingtogiveRobbafewnamesofpeoplewhomightwanttorepus.”Ishrug.“Whoknows—maybethisisthecareerpathI’llendupon.”WhenDadbrightensagain,Iraisemyhandinwarning.“Don’tgetyourhopesup.Publishersmighthatetheconcept.”
“Theywon’t,”hesaysconfidently.“AndIcan’twaittoseeit.Idon’tknowwhatthegirlsaregoingtolovemore—theturtleoryourbook.”
“Theturtle,Dad.”Irollmyeyes.
Acouplehourslater,afterallthebirthdaycakehasbeendevouredandallthehorribleshriekingchildrenaregone,theremainingfiveofusgatherinthelivingroomforthegrandunveiling.Wedecidedtowaituntiltheirfriendsweregone,becauseasJoelthePotheadTurtleWhispererhadwarned,turtlesarehighlysensitive.Wedidn’twanttogivethepoorthingaheartattackwhenheswamoutofhiscypresstreeandfoundfifteenscreaminggirlsinhisface.
Athirty-gallontanknowresidesagainstthebackwallofthelivingroom,hiddenbytheblacktableclothDadtemporarilydrapedoverit.
“What’shappening?”Roxydemands,perpetuallymistrustful.“Whatisthat?”
“Whydon’tyougoandlook?”Dadbeamsather.EvenNialookslikeshe’sfightingasmile.
Wearingidenticalexpressionsofsuspicion,thetwinsapproachthecoveredtank.
“Pullthetableclothoff,”Dadencourages.
Surprisingly,Roxyhesitates,andsoit’sMowhoendsuptuggingontheclothtorevealtheturtletankbeneath.
Evenmoresurprising,thegirlsstaydeathlysilent.Notashriektobeheard.
“Girls?”Dadprompts.
Theyturntowardtheirparents,wide-eyed.
“Is…isitforus?”Moniquewhispers.
“Hesureis.”Nia’ssmilebreaksfree.It’shardnottosmilewhenthegirlsaretremblingwithquietexcitement.
“Come,”Dadsays,urgingthemcloser.“Comeseehim.”
Istepforwardtoo.Ialsowanttoseethelittledude.Ipeeratthetankandsearchtheartificialrocks,branches,andlittlelogthatservesasabaskingspot.That’swhereIfindhim.Dad’sright—he’skindofcute.Small,maybefourinchesmax,withamottledblackshellanddistinctstripesonhishead.
“What’shisname?”Roxywhispers.
“Hedoesn’thaveoneyet,”Dadsays.
Notentirelytrue.IthinkthisonewasLLCoolJ.ButIdon’tblameDadforwantingtorenamehim.
“Iwasthinking,though…maybewecanletyourmamanamehim?”Dadtipshisheadasheawaitsananswer.
Nialooksstartled.“Me?”
Hewinksathiswife.“You.WeallknowMamahadherdoubtsabouthim,butshefellinlovewithhimthemomentshemethim.SoIthinksheshouldnamehim.”
“Namehim,Mama,”Mopleads.
Niaeyestheturtleforseverallongbeats.Thenshesays,“Pierre.”
Iswallowalaugh.“Excellentchoice.”
“Pierre,”Roxyechoessolemnly,pressinghernosetothetank.
“Iwilllovehimforever,”Mobreathes.She’sgotbothhandsontheglassandisstaringathiminadoration.
“CanIholdhim?”Roxybegs.
“No,mefirst!”
Dadshakeshishead.“We’regoingtogoeasyontheholdingthing.Atleastforalittlewhile.Pierre’sexperiencingarealcultureshockrightnow.”
“And,”Niaadds,donningasternlook,“weneedtohaveaserioustalkabouthowtotakecareofPierre,andwhatyourresponsibilitieswillbe.Oui?”
“Oui,”thetwinspromise.
“We’lldothattomorrow.Tonight,westillhaveabirthdaydinnertoeat,”Dadsayscheerfully.“Andyoursisterhasapresentforyoutoo…”hetrailsoffenticingly.
Mysistersspintowardme.“Whatisit?”Roxydemands.
Igiveheraninnocentsmile.“Idon’tknow…”IwalkintothehalltograbthewrappedpresentIleftonthecredenza,thenreturntoofferittoRoxanne.“Whydon’tyoutwositonthecouchandopenit?”
UnliketheawedsilencePierrereceived,mygiftgarnersactualshrieks.
“It’sKit!”Moshouts,tryingtograbthehardcoveroutofhersister’shands.“Letmelook!”
“We’relookingtogether!”Roxyflipstothefirstpageandstaresatthedrawing.“Thisisarealstorybook!”
“Itis,”Iconfirm.
Shescrunchesupherforehead.“Butit’syourstory.”
“Itismystory,”Iagree.“AndIwroteitdownandputitinabookforyou.And…”Ijointhemonthecouch,settlinginbetweenthem.“Look.”Iflipbacktotheintropage.“Canyoureadthatforme?”
ThetwinsaregoingintothefirstgradeinSeptember,butthey’vebeenatanadvancedreadinglevelforawhilenow.Theysquintatthepage,eyeswideningwhentheyrecognizetheirnames.
“ToRoxanne…and…Monique,”Roxyreadsinstiltedpauses.“Thebest…sisters…intheword.Imean,world.”Shegazesatme,mouthgapingopen.Thenshescreecheswithjoy.“I’minthebook!”sheshouts.“Momo,you’reinthebooktoo!”
“We’reinthebook!”Mojumpsupandstartsbouncingonthecushions.
“Monique,”Niachides,instantlypluckingheroffthecouchandsettingheronthefloor.“Wedon’tclimbonthefurniture,remember?”
GuiltpricksintomeasI’mremindedofthelasttimeshescaledthefurniture.Undermywatch,whenacabinetalmostfeltonherheadandcrushedmysistertodeath.AtleastNiadoesn’tseemtobeholdingagrudgeaboutit.
“Canyoureadittous?”Roxyasks,huggingmyarm.
“Please?”Molaunchesherselfatme,tryingtoclimbintomylap.
“Whydon’tyougirlsdothatnowwhileyourmamaandIstartfixingdinner?”Dadsuggests.He’swearingasoftsmileashesweepshisgazeoverthethreeofus.
HeandNiadisappearintothekitchen,andIsettleintoreadmysistersastory.
Overdinner,Dadpoursaglassofchampagneandhandsittome.WhenIraiseaneyebrow,heraisesoneback.“You’relegalnow,”hesays.“AndI’mgoingtopretendthisisyourfirstglassofchampagne.”
“Itis,”Isayinnocently.“Neverdrankasingledropuntilthisverymoment.”
ThatdrawsagenuinelaughfromNia.
Dadclinkshisglasswithmine.“Happybirthday,Cass.”
“Happybirthday,Cassie,”mysistersecho.
“Happybirthday,Cassandra,”Niaaddsin.
Dinneristasty,asitalwaysiswhenNiacooks.Afterward,Dadhandsmeanenvelopethatservesasmybirthdaypresent.Insideisagiftcard,whichisprettymuchwhatIexpected.It’salwaysagiftcard.
“Figuredthiswayyoucouldgoandpicksomethingoutforyourself,”Dadtellsme.Whichiswhathesayseveryyear
“It’sperfect.Thankyou.”Butit’shardtoignorethepangofunhappinessthattugsatmyinsides.Iknowit’sfareasiertopleasefirst-gradersthanyourcollege-seniordaughter,butsometimesitwouldbeniceifDadmadeanactualeffort.
Thegirlsbegmetospendthenight,andalthoughIhadn’tbeenplanningonit,Ican’tsaynotothosefaces.ItextTatetolethimknowIwon’tbecomingbylater.
Tate:Nobirthdaysex??!!
Me:Sadlynot.Mysistersdon’twantmetoleave.
Tate:I’llallowit,butI’mnothappy.
Iknowhe’skidding,whichisconfirmedwhenhesendsafollow-up.
Tate:Havefun.Seeyoutomorrow?
Me:Forsure.
Hell,nowI’malmostregrettingagreeingtospendthenighthere,becausejustseeinghisnameonmyphonegetsmegoing.Sexually.Becausethat’swhatmyworldhasbeenreducedto.Sex.Andsex.Andthenmoresex.I’mvoraciousaboutitnow.Icraveitallthedamntime.
Ifreakinglovesex.
Ormaybeit’sTate.
Ofcourseit’sTate.You’refallingforhim
Wait,what?Wherethehelldidthatcomefrom?Ichidemymindforevensuggestingsuchblasphemy.Ican’t,underanycircumstances,allowmyselftofallinlovewiththeguy.I’mleavinginthreeweeks.He’sstayingbehind.Notonlythat,butweagreedtoafling.Weevendiscussedtheterms.Therefore,I’mnotallowedtoengagemyheartinthis.Onlymybody.
Luckily,mybodyisverymuchinlovewithTate’s.
“Letmehelpyouwiththose,”IsaywhenIspotNiacarryinginplatesfromthediningroom.
“Non,non.It’sfine.”
“Youcookeddinnerforme,”Iprotest.“TheleastIcandoishelpwiththecleanup.”
Niaonceagaindismissesme.“Gospendtimewiththegirls.Theirbedtimeissoon.”
Ipressmylipstogether,fightingawaveofirritation.Despitemybesteffort,thewordsbitingatmytonguecannotbereinedin.
“Whydon’tyoulikeme?”
Herexpressionturnstoshock.“What?”
“Whydon’tyoulikeme?”Irepeat.
“Cassandra…”Sheplacesthedirtydishesinthesinkandslowlystepstowardme.Sherubsthebridgeofhernose.Uneasy.“I—”
“Cass!”Dadcallsfromthelivingroom.“Comecheckthisout!”
“Pierreisswimming!”yellsRoxy.
Reliefsweepsthroughme.I’mimmenselygratefulfortheinterruption,becausevoicingthequestionmademerealizeIdon’twanttoknowtheanswer.
Whydowedothat,anyway?Askquestionswithglaringlyobviousanswers.Painfulanswers.Iguesshumanbeingsreallyaregluttonsforpunishment.It’slikePeyton,whenevershegetsghostedbyaguy.Shealwayswantstoknowthereason.Wantstoknowwhy.AndIalwayscounterwith,Whydoesitmatter?Eitherwayhe’snotinterestedinyou.Butstillshepersists,Yes,butIwanttoknowWHY
Niadoesn’tlikeme.Thatmuchisclear.
So,really,thewhydoesn’tmatter.
Tate:Makesurenottothrowoutthenewspapertoday.
ThemessagecomesinasI’mpullingintoGrandma’sdrivewaythenextmorning.Okay.Intriguing.
IhopoutoftheRoverandheadintothehousetohavealook.Grandmawakesupungodlyearlyinthemornings,andifshe’dalreadygoneouttograbthenewspaper,shewould’vetossedtheAvalonBeeonthehalltableandonlybroughtherpaperofchoice—TheWallStreetJournal—intothekitchenwithher.
Sureenough,inthehallIfindtheabandonedSaturdayeditionoftheBee.Curious,Iunfoldit,thenburstoutlaughing.OhmyGod.Thisisincredible
“Cassie?”comesmymother’svoice.
Stillgigglingoverthepaper,Icarryitintothekitchen,whereMomisdrinkinghercoffeeatthetable.
Shegivesmeawrysmile.“What’ssofunny?”
“This.”Iholdupthenewspapertoshowherthefrontpage,whichfeaturesahalf-pagephotographoftheBartlettfamily.Gavin,Gemma,andTate(missedopportunityforGate)poseinfrontofBartlettMarine,withGavininthemiddle,hisbroadgrinflyingoffthepage.Tate’sdadisdefinitelylargerthanlife,andtheheadlinereflectsthis:
MR.CONGENIALITYOFTHEBAY
Momleansforwardtostudythearticle,hereyesinstantlynarrowing.“What’sthis?”
“Tate’sdad.”Anothergigglepopsout.“TheBeedidaprofileonhim.ItwasallhecouldtalkaboutthefirsttimeImethim.He’ssoproudofit.”
Myphonebuzzesinmyotherhand.
Tate:HealreadyhasTWOframedcopies.Oneforthedealership,oneforhishomeoffice.Hethinkshe’sacelebritynow.Hejustcalledmeaskingifheshouldscheduleapressconference.
Me:Letthemanhavehismomentinthesun,Gate!
Laughing,Ileavemyphoneonthecounterandheadforthefridge.Atthetable,Momisscanningthearticle,stilllookingdispleased.Well,ofcourse.Someoneotherthanherisgettingattention.Thenerve!
“Yourgrandmothertriedtoconvincemetheotherdaythatyouweredatingthatboy,butIdidn’tbelieveher.”Raisingoneeyebrow,Mompushesthenewspaperawayandpicksuphercoffeecup.“ItappearsIwaswrong.”
“TateandIaren’tdating.”Istickmyheadinthefridgehopingthechillmightcooldownmysuddenlywarmcheeks
“No?Becausealsoaccordingtoyourgrandmother,thelandscapersaysitlookslikesomeone’sbeentramplingtherosegardenbeneaththelatticeatthesideofthehouse.Theonethatleadsrighttoyourwindow.”
Damnit.Ipokemyheadout,myhandemergingwithacontainerofyogurt.“It’snotabigdeal,”Isay,goingtogrababowl.“We’rejusthangingout.”
Momshakesherheadinamusement.“It’snotlikeIdon’tknowexactlywhatthatmeans,sweetie.”
Ishrug.“It’sjustacasualthing.We’repartingwaysattheendofthesummer,soit’snotgoingtoleadtoanything.”
“Isee.Well,Isupposesolongasyou’rehavingfun.”
“Weare.”
“Andsolongasyou’retakingprecautions.”Momoffersapointedlook.
Mycheeksarescorchingagain.“Weare.”
“ThenIguessIdon’thaveanythingtoworryabout,”shefinishes.
I’mconfusedastowhyshewasworriedinthefirstplace.Mom’sneverpaidmuchattentiontomylovelife,otherthantocriticizemefornothavingone.
Shechangesthesubject,watchingmeasshesipshercoffee.“Howisyourfather?”
Ibracemyself.Waitingforthe…andhisnurse?
Butitdoesn’tcome.
“He’sgood.Wehadanicetime.Thegirlslovedtheirgift.”
“Speakingofgifts.”Momfinisheshercoffeeandwalkstothecounter,andit’sthenthatInoticetheneatlywrappedgiftneartheknifeblock.Acrisplavenderenvelopesitsatopit.“IdecidedI’dwaituntiltodaytogiveyouthis,sinceyouweresobusyyesterday.”
Hertonelacksbite,butthathadtobesarcasm,right?Somekindofresentfulsubtext,like,Youweresobusyyesterday…becauseyourfatherandhisnursekeptyouawayfrommealldaylong.
Only,Iseenoneofthatonherface.Notanounceofhostility.
“Yesterdaywassuperbusy,”Iagree.
Iopentheenvelopefirstandpulloutacardwithadelicatepurpleflowerpressedontothefront.Inside,thecardisblanksaveformymother’suber-concisehandwrittenmessage:Happybirthday,Cassie.Love,Mom.Andthere’sacheckforfivethousanddollars.
“Somespendingmoneyforyoursenioryear,”sheexplains.
“Thanks.”Giftcard.Check.Bothmyparentsenjoytakingtheeasywayout,apparently.
“Nowhere’syourrealpresent,”shesays,slidingthegiftboxtowardme.Hertoneislight,jokingeven,butit’sbeliedbytheanxietyinhereyes.
Okay.Thisisweird.Whydoesshelooksoanxiousformetoopenthis?
Istudythenarrowbox,whichisaroundthesizeofasheetofpaperandnottoothick.Clothing,Irealize,whenIliftthelidandglimpsefabricbeneaththewhitetissuepaper.Ipartthepaper.
It’sacroptop.
Isteelmyself.Thismustbesomekindofattack,right?
“IhadJoypickitout,”Momsays.Anervouslookdartsacrossherface.
Holyshit,thisisnotajoke.Irepeat,thisisnotajoke.
It’sasinceregesture.
“Oh,”Isayinsurprise.
Irunmyfingersovertheribbedmaterial.IsawthistopinoneoftheboutiquesonthestripwhenJoyandIwereshoppingafewweeksago.I’dpickeditup,admiringit,askingJoyifemeraldgreenwasmycolor.Ididn’tendupbuyingit,onlybecauseIdidn’tfeellikedroppingtwohundreddollarsonastripoffabric.
“IknowIwasoutofline,”Momstarts.
Theshocksjustkeepcoming.
“Lastweekwhenwespokeonthepatio,”sheclarifies.“You’djustreturnedfromdinnerandIremarkedonyouroutfit.Imayhavebeenatadrudeaboutit.”
Mayhave?Atad?
“Justatad,”Isaylightly.
“I’msorry.Iwasinaverybadmoodthatnight,andI’mafraidItookitoutonyou.”Shelaughs,anditsoundsgenuinelysheepish.“Idon’tthinkyou’reabimbo.ObviouslyIdon’tthinkthat.LikeIsaid,Iwasinabadmood.Iapologize.”
Ican’tgetoverthefeelingthatsomehow,someway,thisisaninexplicableruse.AtrickwithanendgameIdon’tknowyet.It’sdifficulttotrustmymother.Youcan’ttrustapersonwho’sspentyearsmakingyoufeelunworthy.
Momisn’tdone.“IspokewithyourgrandmotheraboutitwhenwewereinCharleston,andshepointedoutthatwhenIwasyourage,Iwasalsoinsecureaboutmylooks.Andthoseinsecuritiesaren’thelpedbysomeonesharingtheirnegativeopinionaboutyourwardrobechoices.Also,ifyoudochoosetohaveabreastreduction—”
Ibracemyselfagain.
“—Iwillhappilyaccompanyyoutotheconsultation.Butifyouchoosenotto,thatisalsookay.”Shereachesoutandtouchesthesoftmaterialofthecroptop.“Eitherway,I’msureyou’regoingtolookwonderfulinthis.Whydon’tyouwearittoday?Pairitwiththatlongskirtweboughtlastweek,thekhakionewiththegoldflowers?ThatmightbeaniceoutfitforourdayinCharleston.”Mompauses.“That’sstilltheplan,right?BirthdaySundayinthecity?”
“Forsure.IjustneedtoshowerandchangeandthenI’mreadytogo.”Iclutchthetopalittletighter,surprisedbythelumpofemotionthatformsinmythroat.“Thankyouforthis.Iloveit.”
Foronce,I’mnotlying.CHAPTER24
CASSIE
Afewdaysaftermybirthday,MomtakesmeandTateouttodinnerontheboardwalk.Thatinitselfisashockingdevelopment,butshecontinuestosurprisemeoncewe’reseatedattheItalianplaceandshegenerouslyhandsovertheleather-boundwinemenutoTate.
“Whydon’tyoupickthewine,Tate?”It’sabighonorcomingfromMom,andIcantellhe’sfightinghisamusementovertheceremonialtonewithwhichshemakestheoffer.
I’mequallysurprisedTateagreedtothisdinneratall,consideringhehasn’tbeenmymother’sbiggestfansincethenightshebimbo-shamedme.ButMom’sbeenbadgeringmeaboutitforthepastcoupledays.Isuspectapartofherstilldoesn’tbelieveTateandIareseeingeachotherandshewantsvisualproof.
Idon’tentirelyblameher.Imean,let’snotkidourselves—Tateisprobablythebest-lookingguyI’veeverbeeninthesameroomas,andI’vebeensurroundedbycutecollegeboysforthelastthreeyears,sothatsaysalot.Hesurpassestheminlooks.Theperfectgoldenboywithhisperfectfaceandperfectbody.EvenMomcan’tstopcheckinghimout.It’sbothcreepyandvalidating,twothingsIdidn’tthinkcouldcoexistinmymind.ButIlikeknowingI’mnotjustsomefoolishgirlblindedbyacrush.Thathe’sactuallyashotasIthinkheis.
“I’mnotabigwinedrinker,”Tatetellsher.“You’dbedoingyourselfadisserviceifyouputmeonwine-pickingdutyforthenight.”Hehandsthemenuback.“Butifyou’reinterestedinbeer,thenI’myourman.”
Momproceedstodoanothershockingthing.“Youknowwhat?Let’shavebeertonight.”
Myjawdrops.“You’regoingtodrinkbeer?Here?”ThisisoneofthenicestrestaurantsintheBay.Normallyshewouldn’tbecaughtdeaddrinkinganythingotherthanthemostexpensivewineintherestaurant’scellar.
There’ssomethingdifferentabouther.Evenheroutfitgivesoffadifferentvibe.She’scladinanexpensivesleevelessdress,askybluethatcomplementsherredhair,whichshe’suncharacteristicallywearingdown.Shedoesn’tseemsouptighttonight.She’devencomplimentedmydresswhenTateandImetheroutsidetherestaurant.
Anddon’tgetmestartedonthatperplexingexchange.MomhadgreetedTatewithawarmsmileandsaid,“Nicetoseeyouagain,Tate,”andhe’drespondedwith,“Nicetoseeyouagaintoo,Tori.”
Tori.
MyeyebrowsalmostjumpedoffmyfaceasIturnedtoMomtoclarify.Idon’tthinkI’veeverheardanyonecallmymotherTori.DadcalledherVicsometimes,butmostlyVictoria.EvenGrandmaalwaysusesherentirename.
“Allmyfriendscallmethat,”Momhadresponded,rollinghereyesatme.“Wherehaveyoubeen,Cass?”
Tobefair,Ialwayskeptasafedistancewhenevershehadafriendovertothepenthouse.Itwasmucheasierthanputtingonthewholemother/daughteract,theoneshe’ssoskilledat.Whennewfriends,acquaintances,orstrangersarearound,shepretendswe’rethebestestoffriends.We’reLorelaiandRoryfromGilmoreGirls,gigglingtogetherinourpajamasandcasuallychattingaboutourcrushes.
Whichhasneverhappened,norwillitever.
ButIguesswe’repretendingagaintonight.MeandTori.Bestbuds.Luckily,IknowTatecanseethroughit.
Whenthewaiterarrives,Tateordersanobscure-soundingbeer,whichheexplainsislocallybrewed.Momtellstheservertomakeittwo,butIbegoffwhenhelookstowardme.Instead,IorderaDietCoke.Ineedtokeepaclearhead.Idon’tknowwhythethreeofusarehereanditstillfeelslikeatrap.
“Thisisnice,”Momremarks,onlydeepeningmysuspicions.Whatissheupto?“So,Tate.Cassiesaidyou’reasailor?”
“Notprofessionally,butyes,Ilovetosail.Usedtocompeteinhighschool.”Whilehetalks,heplayswiththeedgeofhisnapkin,andIwatchthewayhislongfingersmove.
HeatticklesmycorewhenIrememberthefeelofthosefingersmovingoverme.Strokingmybody.Bitingintomyass,myhips,asIrodehim.
Ohno.Don’tblush,Itellmyself.
Hecatchesmyeyeandgrins.Damnit.I’mblushing.
“Idon’tcompeteasmuchI’dliketoanymore,”hecontinues,whilereachingformyhand.
HelinksourfingerstogetherandItrynottosmile.Holdinghandsduringdinner?He’smakingastatement,andInoticeMomgazingoninapproval.Nowthat’sararelookonher.
“Toobusythesedayswithwork,”hesays.
“YouworkattheManor?”sheprompts.
“Part-time,weekendsmostly.TherestofthetimeI’matthefamilybusiness.”
“Andwhatwouldthatbe?”
“BartlettMarine.DadandIrunit.It’sadealership,butwehandlerentalsandcharterstoo.”
Ijustlistentotheconversation.Momcanbeverycharismaticwhenshewantstobe.Disarming.IusedtohavefriendsfromhighschoolcomeoverandlookatmelikeIwascrazyforeveninsinuatingthatmymothercouldbearagingnarcissisticbitch.Theyallthoughtshewasfabulous.Ican’tentirelygaugeTate’sopinionofher.Hewasabitreservedwhenwefirstsatdown,butheseemstobewarminguptoher.
“Cassieshowedmethenewspaperarticleaboutyourfather,”Momsays,smiling.“Soundslikeyouhailfromafamilyofcelebrities.”
“Man,donottellmydadthat,”Tatereplieswithagroan.“He’salreadywalkingaroundthedealershipthinkinghe’shotstuffbecausetheyranaprofileonhim.Like,dude,it’stheAvalonBee,notGQ.”
AsMomlaughs,IcometopoorGavin’sdefense.“Haveyoueverbeenfeaturedonthefrontpageofanewspaper?Anynewspaper,forthatmatter?”
“Uh,yeah,”heshootsback.“I’minthepictureonthefrontpageoftheBee,incaseyouforgot.”
“Foranarticleaboutyourdad.Jeez.Getyourownachievements.”Igivehimatauntingsmile.“Youcan’tcomplainabouthisexcitementuntilyou’veexperiencedyourownfifteenminutesoffame.You’dprobablybeevenworse,too.AcceptingfakeOscarsinfrontofthemirroreverymorning.”
“Cassie,”Momchides,buthereyestwinklewithhumor.
“What?”Iprotest.“Lookathim.Helooksliketheguywhodeliversfakespeechesinthemirror.Don’tdenyit.”
Hesnickers.“Iwouldnever.”
Mom’sgazeshiftstowardhim,assessing.Lingersalittletoolong,butwhensheturnsbacktome,herexpressionstillcontainshumor.“Hedoesseemlikethetype,”sheagrees.
Ican’tbelievemymotherandIsidedonsomething.Andevencrazier,thatI’mgenuinelyenjoyingmyself.Atdinner.Withmymotherpresent.Peopleinhellmustbewearingparkasrightaboutnow.
Whetherornotshe’sputtingonanactremainsundecided.ButI’mstillrelaxed,myguarddown.Ienduporderingacocktail.AndnowthatI’mtwenty-one,IcandothatwithoutstressingthatsomeoneisgoingtoaskformyID.
Dinnerisexcellent,whichistobeexpectedfromthemostexpensiverestaurantintown.ThisplacegetsthefreshestlobsterandthebestcutsofmeatintheBay.Asweeat,Tatetellsusfunnystoriesaboutworkingattheyachtclub.Seemslikeduringeverylesson,somethingridiculoushappens.
“Couplesaretheworst,”heinsists.“Anytimewetakeoutasailboatthat’sbiggerthanthirtyfeet,atleastonehalfofthecoupledemandstoactoutthekingoftheworldscenefromTitanic.ThenIhavetostandtheretakingpictures,like,athousandofthem,becausethefirstninehundredandninety-nineareapparentlynevergoodenoughforthe’gram.”
“Ohdear,”Momsays,gigglingintoherbeer.Shejustshockedmebyorderingasecondone.“Youpoorthing.”
IsupposeIcanoverlookthewayshe’sblatantlyflirtingwithmysort-ofboyfriendifitmeansshe’snotfrowningatmyoutfitortalkingaboutbreastreductions.Overdessert,sheevensharessomestoriesaboutherowndaysatthecountryclub.
“Therewasthisgolfinstructor—Lorenzo.”Shesighsdreamily.“Ihadthebiggestcrushonhim.Almostfaintedwithexcitementwhenheaskedmeonadate.IthinkIwastwenty-one,maybe?ItwasrightbeforeImetyourfather,Cass.”
Ialmostspitoutmydrink.“Mom!YoudatedLorenzo?TheimmortalItalianvampire?”
Tatesnickersintohisbeer.
“Idon’tevenknowwhatthatmeans,”shesays.
“Itmeanshe’sworkedattheManorforfivehundredyearsbecauseheneverages.”Isuddenlyfeelthecolordrainingfrommyface.“OhmyGod,hecouldhavebeenmyfather.”Iglareather,aghast.“YoualmostgotmesiredbyLorenzo.”
“Nochance,”shereplies,lipspressedtighttogetherasifshe’sfightinganonslaughtofgiggles.“Let’sjustsayLorenzohadsome…performanceissues.”
Igasp.
Tategroans.“No.Whydidyouhavetotellmethat?NowI’llneverbeabletolookhimintheeyeagain.”
Whenthebillarrives,hetriestoreachforit,butMomfirmlydivestshimofthatnotion.“It’sonme.I’mjustgladyouwereabletojoinus.Iwantedtomeettheboywho’sbeensneakingintomydaughter’swindowthissummer.”
Hewinksatmebeforeansweringher.“Nocomment.”
“I’mgladyoutwoarespendingtimetogether.It’ssonicetoseeyouwithaboyfriend,”Momsaystome,andIdon’tthinkshe’smockingme.
Whatplanetisthis?Areweinanotherdimension?Eitherthat,orI’vesnaggedaguysohotandperfectthatevenMomcan’tfindfaultinhim.
“Thankyou.Thiswasgreat,”Tatetellsher.“Weshoulddoitagainwhileyou’reintown.”
“Ofcourse.”ShetakestheblackAmExthewaiterreturnstoher,quicklysigningthecheck.“Andyou’llbeaccompanyingCassietotheBeacon’sgrandreopeninginafewweeks?”
Heglancesatme.“Wehaven’treallytalkedaboutit.Iwasplanningongoing,though.”Heflashesanawkwardsmile.Alittlebashful.“Wannagotogether?”
Ifeelmycheeksreddening.“Sure.”
“Excellent.”Mompushesherchairbackandstands.“Iassumeyourparentswillbetheretoo?Accordingtomymother,theCabotgirlinvitednearlyhalfthetown.”
“I’mnotsure,”hereplies,helpingmeoutofmyseat.“Idon’tknowifthere’sanofficialguestlist.I’llaskMackenzie.”
Momwavesahand.“Yourparentsarewelcometocomeasourguests.TheBeaconwasintheTannerfamilyfordecades.”Shewinks.“Westillhaveabitofcloutleft.”
Wereachthedoor,Tateonceagainthankingherfordinnerbeforewepartways.HeandIhaveplanstogototheHartleys’house,andMomsashaysofftowardtheMercedesparkedacrossthestreet
UneasinessswimsinsidemeasIwatchherdriveaway.
“Youokay?”Tateasks,interlacinghisfingerswithmine.
“Yeah.I’mjust…baffled.”
“Baffled.”
“Yes.Like,whatthehellwasthat?”Igesturetowardherdisappearingtaillights.
“Idon’tknow.Ithoughtitwentprettywell.Iwasexpectingalotworse,butitendedupbeingkindoffun.”
“Exactly.That’sthebafflingpart.Mymotherisneverthisnice.Something’sgoingonhere.Firstsheapologizestomeandbuysmeacroptop,andnowthis?Thispleasant,condemnation-freedinnerwithoutawhiffoftensionorashredofcriticism?No.Idon’ttrustit.”
Hegrinsatme.“Aren’tyouthesilver-lininggirl?”
“Thisdoesn’tqualifyasasilver-liningsituation.Thishasneverhappenedbefore.Itoldyou,she’snotthisnice.Especiallytome.”
“You’resayingtherehasn’tbeenasinglegenuinemomentbetweenyoutwoinyourentirelife?”Hesoundsdubious.
Istubbornlyshakemyhead.“There’salwaysanulteriormotivewithher.Anagenda.Thelasttimeshebuddieduptomethishard,shewasgoingthroughherdivorcewithStuanditturnedoutshewantedmetosignawrittenstatementfromherlawyerclaimingStuemotionallyabusedherthroughouttheirmarriageandshethereforedeservedtohavetheirprenupdissolved.ThenwhenIrefused,shetoldmeStuhadneverevenlikedme.”
“Damn.Seriously?”
“Seriously.Mystepbrotherassuredmethatwasn’ttrue.Butstill.That’swhythis—”Ivaguelymotiontowardthestreetandtherestaurant.“Idon’tgetit.”
Hegoesquietforamoment.“Haveyouconsideredthepossibilityit’sgenuinethistime?”
“Foolmeonce…”
“Igetthat.AndI’mnotsayingyoushouldblindlytrustit.But…”Hehesitates.“Maybeshe’srealizedthathavingacombativerelationshipwithherdaughterisn’tideal.”
“Andwhendidshehavethisepiphany?”
Heshrugs.“Whoknows.Couldbebecauseyouguysaresellingyourgrandmother’shouse,thefamilybusiness.It’stheendofsomething,andendingsmakepeoplenostalgic.Evennarcissists.Sometimesitcausesthemtolookinwardandtakestockofthemselves.Triggersself-awarenesstheymayhavebeenlackingbefore.”
“Maybe.”I’mstillnotconvinced.
“Look,wenevertrulyknowourparents.Theylivedentirelivesbeforeweevercamealong,youknow?Allthoseexperiencesshapedthem,madethemwhotheyare,andsometimespeoplebecomesetintheirwaysandtheirpersonalitydefects,andittakessomethingmajortojarthemintomakingachange.Whoknowswhattriggeredyourmother,butmaybeshe’sreadyforthatchange.”
Westartwalkingdownthesidewalk,whichiscrammedwithtouristsevenonaWednesdaynight.It’ssobusywehadtoparknearlyamileaway.
“Ithinkyoushouldgiveherashot,”hesays.“Beopentothepossibilitythisolivebranchissincere.”
Ibitemylip.TheproblemwithTateis,hedoesn’tunderstandtoxicparents.Hisfamilyisperfect.Asacouple,GavinandGemmaaremadlyinlove.Asparents,they’vealwaysbeenthereforhim.He’stheonlyguyIknowwhocanproudlysaythathismomishisbestfriend.Andhisdadtoo!IfanyonehasaGilmoreGirlsrelationship,it’sTate.He’sRory,andbothhisparentsarefrickin’Lorelai.
Ienvyhim.Truly.I’dlovehavingthatsortofrelationshipwithmyparents.Hell,evenjustoneofthem.ButIdon’t.
Tonightwasnice,though.Ican’tdenythat.Myguardwasnonexistent,andMomdidn’tstrike.I’munscathed.Happy,even.
“Ihadalotoffuntonight,”Iconfess,albeitreluctantly.
“Thenyoushouldgiveherachance.It’snevertoolatetorepairarelationshipwithsomebody.Totryandbuildthekindofrelationshipyouwantwiththem.”
“Youreallybelievethat?”
“Ido.”Hishandtightensaroundmine.It’scomfortingatfirst,butthenherubstheinsideofmypalmwithhisthumb,andthetoneinstantlyshifts.
“Youdidasexything,”Iaccuse.
Henodsinagreement.“Ididasexything.”
Wereachtheparkinglot,wherehedoesanothersexythingbymoisteninghislipswithhistongue.
“So.”Helicksatthecornerofhismouth.“Iknowyoulostyourvirginitylessthantwoweeksago,and,well,Idon’twanttothroweverythingatyouallatonce,but…howdoyoufeelaboutcarsex?”
“Yes,”IsayinstantlyandtughishandtowardtheJeep.CHAPTER25
CASSIE
OnFridaymorning,IstopbytheHartleyhouseonmywaytotowntodropoffastackofphotographsforMackenzie.Sincewe’resellingthehousesoon,I’vebeenhelpingGrandmasiftthroughtheatticthisweek,diggingthrougholdboxesanddecades’worthoftreasures.IfoundaboxofphotographsoftheBeaconHotelthroughouttheyears,andafterwescannedthemsoGrandmacouldhaveadigitalrecord,shesuggestedchoosingafewoftheoriginalstogivetoMackenzie.WhenIcalledMacaboutit,she’dbeenoverthemoon.Sheplanstoframeandhangthematthehotel,alongwithanoriginalmapofAvalonBayshesomehowgotherhandson.Themapitselfissooldthepaperisvirtuallydisintegratingandtheyneedtokeepitbehindprotectiveglass,awayfromanymoisture.
WhileI’matthehouse,MacandGenevieve,whohasthedayoff,dragmetothebackdecksowecangooverourplansforBeachGames,whichcommencetomorrow.It’satwo-dayaffairthat’sboundtogetuglyifthedeadlydeterminationonmyteammates’facesisanyindication.
“Accordingtothis,”Macsays,readingfromherphone,“theonlyeventsthatrequireallfourteammembersonthefieldofplayatthesametimearesandcastles,volleyball,andthewaterballoontoss.Theothersareeithertwo-manonly,ortwo-manheats.”
“Thisisconfusing,”Iinformher.“Andsoisthatscoringsystemonthesecondpageofthepdf.Whothehellorganizedthis,aten-year-old?”
Gensnickers.“BeachGamesisspearheadedbyDebraDooley.She’sthepresidentoftheAvalonBayTourismBoard.”
“DebraDooleysoundslikeacartooncharacter,”Macretorts.
“Trustme,that’snotfaroff.Debhastheenergylevelsofthirtypreschoolers.Justwait.”Genchecksherownphone.“I’mdownforthewindsurfingandtheswim.ButI’dratherdiethangiveEvanthesatisfactionofwatchingmefalloffthetightrope.”
“Oh,I’lldothatone,”Ivolunteer.“Iknowyouwouldn’tthinkitbecauseofthesethings—”Igesturetomyboobs—“butsomehowtheyaidmybalanceinsteadoftopplingmeover.”
Macsnickers.“Icandothetightrope.ButI’mnotdoingthetug-of-war.Ropeburnsucks.”
Welookovertherestoftheevents,tentativelyassigningplayerstoeachone.“I’lltextZaletheassignmentsandseeifhewantstomakeanychanges,”Macsayswhenwe’redone.I’veyettomeetthisZale,Mac’snewactivitiesdirector,butfromthewayshedescribeshim,hesoundslikeablast.
“TateandDannywilltakeanywatersportseasily,”Gensays,stilllookingatthelist.“Butifgoodfortuneisuponus,Evanwillbetheonewindsurfing.He’sadisaster,sothere’snowayHartleyandSonswillscore.”
“SpeakingofTate,”Macsays,turningtoeyeme.“Coopsaidyoutwoaredating.”
“YouneededCoopertotellyouthat?”GendemandsbeforeIcananswer.Shesnortsloudly.“Youmeanthefactthattheycouldn’tkeeptheirhandsoffeachotherwhentheywereheretheothernightandthenleftearlywiththoseguiltyexpressions—thatdidn’ttipyouoff?”
Ican’thelpbutlaugh.“She’sgotapointthere.”
Macrollshereyes.“Well,obviouslyIsuspectedatthatpoint.ButthisismyfirstchancetobealonewithCassie.Iwantedconfirmation.”Sheliftsonedelicateeyebrow.“It’strue,then?”
“We’renotdating,perse.It’smoreofafling.”
“Flingsneverstayflings,”Geninformsme.“Theyeitherturnintorelationships,orsomeonegetstheirheartbroken.”
Ishrug.“I’mnottooworried.Weliveindifferentstates,soitwillhavetoendregardless.We’rejusthavingfun.Anddon’tworry,myheart’sstillintact.”
BecauseIrefusetoengageit.Ihadoneslip,oneminorsetbacktheotherdayatmydad’shouse,whenmyheartinsinuateditselfintowhatwassupposedtobeasummerofpassion.You’refallingforhim.Okay,well,Iheardyouout,heart.AndI’vedecidedtoignoreyou.
Sincethen,I’vebeenmakingaconsciousefforttonotgetemotionallyattached.Andtotempermyexpectations.Luckily,I’mveryproficientatnotexpectingtoomuchoutofpeople.
Whatever’shappeningbetweenTateandI,it’sbetterifphraseslikefallingforhimdon’tentertheequation.
Macsetsdownherphone.“Wanttostickaroundforawhile?Takethedogforawalkonthebeach?”
“Iwould,”Isayregretfully,“butIhavetogo.I’mmeetingmymotheratasalonintown.We’regettingmanicures.”
“Mustbenicetohaveamomtodothatkindofstuffwith,”Genevievesays,hervoicesurprisinglywistful.
“You’renotclosewithyourmother?”
“Well,shejustdiedthispastspring—”
“Ohgosh,I’msosorry.”
“It’sallgood.”Genshrugs.“Evenwhenshewasalive,MomandIweren’tclose.”
“Oh,thismanicuredoesn’tmeanwe’reclose.Trustme.We’vealwayshadaverystrainedrelationship.Butshe’sbeenmakinganeffortsinceshegottotown,soI’vedecidedtomeetherhalfway.”
Becausethesilverliningtothis,thebest-casescenario,isthatwemanagetorepairtherelationshipandhavesomethingbettergoingforward.Worstcase?Shegoesbacktobeingaragingnarcissist,whichI’vedealtwithmywholelifeanyway,sothere’dbenothingnewthere.
Ibidthegirlsgoodbyeanddriveintotown.ThesalonissituatedonastreetparalleltoMainStreet,makingiteasiertofindparking.It’saquietlocation,sandwichedbetweenamassagetherapyclinicandachiropractor’soffice
MomisalreadytherewhenIwalkin,seatedatoneofthemanicurestations.“Cass!”shecalls,wavingmeover.
“Hey,”Igreether,whiletakinginthefamiliarsurroundings.“Itotallyforgotaboutthisplace.GrandmausedtobringmeherewhenIwasyounger,remember?I’dalwayscomehomewithneonpinknails.”
“Andthenyou’dshriekbloodymurderwhenyourfatherandItriedremovingthenailpolishonceitstartedchipping.”
“BecauseGodforbidyoursix-year-oldgooutsidewithchippednails,”Isaydryly.
Thatgetsmeagenuinelaugh.
“Wouldyouliketopickyourcolor?”mymanicuristaskswhileIsettleatthetablenexttoMom.
“Oh,nocolor,”Ianswer.“JustFrenchtip.”
“Nocolor?”Momfrowns.“Thatwon’tlookgoodforthegrandopening.”
It’stheonlycriticalremarkshe’smadeinawhile,soIletitslide.
“I’llneedtogetanothermanicurebeforethen,anyway.IhaveBeachGamesthisweekend,”Iremindher.“I’llbedigginginsandandplayingvolleyball,sothere’snopointdoinganythingtoofancytoday.”
Sherelaxes.“That’sright.Iforgot.You’recompetingfortheBeacon.”
“Yes.Reallylookingforwardtoit,too.It’sgoingtobeablast.”
“MaybeIcanconvinceyourgrandmothertocomewatchsomeoftheevents,”Momsuggests.“Oratleasttoattendthewinners’ceremony.”
“Ihonestlycan’tenvisionusplacing,letalonewinning.”There’ssomestiffcompetitionthisyear.ThedudesfromJessup’sGarage.Thelocalfirestation.Tateandtheyachtclubguys.TheHartleys.We’llbeluckyifwewinoneevent.
Wesettleintobepamperedasournailsarewashed,buffed,andpainted.Mymanicuristisaquietteenagerwithlongblackhair,whileMom’sisasuperchattywomaninherthirties.She’svisiblypregnant,informingusshe’seightmonthsalongwithherfifthchild.
“Lord,youhavefouralready?Icouldbarelyhandleone,”Momjokes,noddingtowardme.Imakeafaceather.“Andnowfive?Youdeserveamedalofvalor.”
Thewomanlaughs.“Itsureischallengingattimes.Myboysarebothundertheageofsix,andmygirlsareenteringtheirtweensandbecomingrealhandfuls,Itellya.”
Onceourcolorisdone,we’reusheredtothedryingareawherewe’reorderedtositfortwentyminutes.
“Fivekids?”Iwhisperwhenwe’realone.“Thatsoundslikeanightmare.”
“Fiveistoomany,”Momagrees.
Aquestionbitesatmytongue.It’soneI’dneverhavedreamedofaskinginthepast,butwe’vebeengettingalongsowelllately,andmycuriositygetsthebetterofme.
“DidyouandDadeverwantmorechildren?”
Shelooksstartled.“Well.Isupposeso.Yourfatherdid,certainly.Hewantedatleastthree.”Aflareofbitternessdarkensherexpression.“Andhegothisthree,so…”
“Whataboutyou?”IswiftlysteerthesubjectawayfromDad,partlybecauseI’vebeenenjoyingournoncombativeinteractions,butmostlybecausewe’restuckwithourhandsintheseheaterswhichmeansI’meffectivelytrappedherewithnoescape.
“Ididn’t,no,”shefinallyadmits.“Iwashappywithjustonechild.YouknowIdon’tenjoychaos.Andgrowingupwiththreeoldersiblingswasverychaotic,especiallyhavingtwoolderbrotherswhoplayedsports.YouruncleswerealwaystormentingmeandJacqueline.So,yes,Iwascontentwithonechild.”Shehesitatesagain,formuchlongerthistime.“Withthatsaid,Ican’tdenyIwaselatedwhenIgotpregnantforasecondtime.”
Ican’tstopmyloudgasp.“Youwerepregnantagainafterme?”
Mom’seyesflickacrosstheroom.Themanicuristsarechatteringawaywithotherclients,oblivioustoourconversation.
“Yes.”Hervoicebecomesverysoft,asifshedoesn’twanttobeoverheard.Ormaybethesubjectistooemotionalforher.Mom’snotafanoffeelings.“Igotpregnantwhenyouwereten.”
“HowcomeIneverknewthis?”
“YourfatherandIdidn’twanttotellyouyet.Wewerealreadyhavingproblemsinthemarriage,andthenIlostthebabyatnineweeks.”Shesighs.“Theyadviseyounottoannouncethenewstotheworldtooearly.Waituntiltheendofthefirsttrimestertoseeifitsticks.Anditdidn’tstick.”
Myheartsqueezes.Thereisn’tanounceofemotioninhervoice,buthereyestelladifferentstory.Idon’tthinkI’veeverseenmymotherappearthisvulnerable.
“I’msorry.IwishI’dknown.”
“No,I’mgladyoudidn’t.Youwouldhavegottenyourhopesupforasiblingandthenbeendevastatedwhenitdidn’thappen.”
“Youcouldhavetoldmeafterthefact,”Ipointout.“OnceIwasolder.”
“Therewasnopoint.Thebabywasgone,andthenyourfatherandIgotdivorced.”Somethinginhertonechanges,asliverofregretslicingthroughit.“AlthoughitmayhavecontributedtowhyIfoughtforfullcustodyofyou.”
Shevoicestheconfessionthenpullsherhandfromthedryerandcasuallyexamineshernails,asifshehadn’tjustdroppedamajortruthbomb.
“Whatdoyoumean?”Ipush.
“Maybeitwasn’tfairtoyourfather,butafterlosingthebaby,IclungtoyoualittletighterthanIshouldhave.”Shepauses.“Perhapsthatwasn’ttherightthingtodo,but…well,youcan’tchangethepast,canyou?”
Shequicklyadoptsacavalierexpression,unruffledbythefactthatshejustshatteredmyentireworldview.Orattheveryleast,alteredmyviewofher.I’dalwaysbelievedsheinsistedonfullcustodytobespiteful,togetbackatDad,butthispotentialnewmotiveprovidesanotherglimpseintomymother.AsoftersideIdidn’tknowexisted
Ireachoverandtouchherarm.“I’mreallysorry,Mom.Thatmusthavebeentoughtogothrough.Adivorceandamiscarriagearoundthesametime.”
“It’sfine,sweetheart.”Shejerksawayfrommytouch.Notinarudeway,butit’sclearImadeheruncomfortable.Physicalcomfort—anycomfort,really—isn’tsomethingwetypicallyoffereachother.MaybeIwasoverreachingbygoingforthatconsolatorypat.
ThemainlessonI’vetakenfromthisconversation,though,isthatTatewasright.
Wenevertrulyknowourparents.CHAPTER26
CASSIE
Inevergavemuchthoughttopeptalks.Inschool,Ididn’tplaysportsorbelongtoateam.ButI’mfairlycertainapeptalkissupposedtopumpyourteammatesup,notmakethemfearyou.TheHartleytwinsnevergotthatmemo.
“Let’shearitagain,”yellsEvan.“Louderthistime!Whatarewegonnado?”
“Murder,”thetwonon-Hartleyteammembersrecite.Thoroughlyunenthused.
“Andwhoarewegonnamurder?”shoutsCooper.
“Yourgirlfriends.”
“Hey,assholes,”Genevievecalls.“We’rerighthere,youknow.”
Evanturnswithanexpressionoftheutmostinnocence.“Baby,hey.Didn’tseeyouthere.”
Shejustsnorts.
Mac,meanwhile,seeksouttheauthorities.“Hey,Deb,”shesays,wavingahand.“Anychancewecanswitchsandcastlestations?Ourneighborsareobnoxious.”
“Tattletale,”Coopertaunts.
DebraDooleywavesback.“No,siree!We’reabouttostart!”OurBeachGameshostlooksexactlylikehernamesounds.Short,plump,withahelmetofbrownhairandbangsslashingastraightlineacrossherforehead.She’swearingkhakishorts,awhitepolo,andapinkadventurehatthatwouldmakemydaddrool.
Lookslikewe’restucknexttoHartleyandSons.Toourotherside,huddledaboutsixfeetaway,arethewomenfromtheSoapery,thestoreontheboardwalkthatGrandmalovessomuch.Theirteamconsistsoftheowner,Felice,hermanager,andtwoemployees.Tobehonest,I’mmoreworriedaboutthemthantheHartleys.Theyhand-carvealltheirsoaps.Asandcastleshouldbeeasyforthem
DebDooleyandherteamofvolunteersfromthetourismofficewroteupapracticaleventscheduleforourtwo-daycompetition.Themorelabor-intensiveeventsaretakingplaceinthemorningwhenitisn’ttoohot.Oncethesunstartsscorchingusaroundnoon,we’llbeswitchingtowaterevents.Theteamsarrivedatnine,andI’vebeentoldwe’redonebyonethirty.Wealsogetanhourforlunch.
“Allright,”Gensayswhilethetourismpeoplediscusssomelast-minutedetailsamongthemselves.Shelowershervoice.“Arewestilldoingafish?”
“Wemust,”insistsZale,whobecamemyall-timefavoritepersonwithinthreesecondsofmeetinghim.“Weagreedtobeambitious.”
“Iknow,butit’llbetough,”Genargues.“Especiallythescales.Howarewegoingtomakethemlookalldetailed?”
“Oh,mysweettalentlessflower,”Zalechirps,“leavetheartisticendeavorstothedesigners.YouandCassiearethemuscle.Thepailbearers.MacandIwillhandleourfishfriend.”
Genrollshereyes.“Didyoujustcallmetalentless?”
“’Fraidso.”Heflasheshisbrightwhiteteeth,whichheinformedmehehadprofessionallywhitenedjustforthisoccasion.InthetwentyorsominutesI’veknownZale,I’vebecomeprivytohisbeautyroutine,hisfamilyhistory,andthereasonshebrokeupwithhislastthreeboyfriends,twoofwhomwerenamedBrian.Withhistall,lankyframe,dazzlingsmile,andwildAfroheldbackbyanavybandana,Zaleislargerthanlife.Hisexuberanceisdownrightcontagious.
Acrowdhasalreadygatheredattheboardwalk.Debandherarmyofvolunteersropedoffthesandcastle-buildingareafromthepublic,andIsmilewhenIcatchsightofmydadandsisters.Thegirlsinsistedonshowingupforthe“openingceremonies”tocheermeon.
“Go,Cassie!”RoxyshoutswhenDadhoistsherontohisshoulders.
Ilookoverandwave,thenscanthebeachforTate’steam.Ididn’tseewhereDebplacedthem.OntheothersideofHartleyandSonsarethemechanics.Beyondthemistheteamfromthebakery—Nia’sfriendChandracatchesmyeyeandwaves.IfinallyspotTate’steamaboutfiftyfeetaway.They’rehuddledtogether,talkingstrategy.LastnightIkeptbuggingTatetotellmewhattheyplannedonbuilding,towhichhedeclaredhewoulddrownhimselfbeforesharingtradesecretswiththeenemy.AndIthoughtIwasoverdramatic.
“Ladiesandgentlemen,thetwentiethannualAvalonBeachGamesareabouttocommence!”
Damn,wheredidDebgetamicrophone?Anddidshesaytwentieth?
“Twentyyearsthey’vebeendoingthisshit?”Zalesays.He’snotfromtheBay,onlymovedherethissummerafterMackenzie’sheadhunterpoachedhimfromagolfresortinCalifornia.“Damn.Yousouthernpeepshavetoomuchtimeonyourhands.”
Gensnickers.
“MynameisDebraDooley,andI’llbeyourhostforthisyear’scompetition.”Debisbouncingaroundwithexcitement.“I’mthepresidentofAvalonBay’sTourismBoard,andthatmeansIlovethistown!Iloveithard,folks!”
Ismotheragrin.
“TheBayishomenotonlytosomeveryextraordinarypeople,buttothegreatest,mostuniquebusinessesontheeasternseaboard!Andwehaveagroupofbraveandbeautifulparticipantsforthissummer’sGames,includingateamfromthenewlyrenovatedBeaconHotel,whichisreopeningattheendofthemonth.”
“Whooo!”Genevieveshouts,jumpingupanddown.Sinceshe’sintinyshortsandablackstringbikini,heranticsdrawtheeyesofnearlyeverymaleonthebeach.Myeyesaren’tidle,either.Shehasgreatboobs.Perfectlyproportioned.
“Iknowwhatyou’redoing,”herfiancéwarnsfrombesideus.
“What?”shesaysinnocently.
“Youwanttodistractallthedudesintothinkingaboutyourtitsinsteadoftheirsandcastles.Well,itain’tgonnawork,Fred,”hedeclares,usingthatcompletelyrandomnicknamehehasforherthattheybothrefusetoexplain.
“Toolate,”histeammateSpencersays.“AllI’mthinkingaboutisherracknow.”
Evanglowersathim.“That’sthemotherofmyfuturechildren,asshole.”
“Themotherofyourfuturechildrenhasagreatrack.”
“Ourfirsteventrequiresallfourteammembers,”Debsaysintohermic.“Therulesaresimple—justbuildsomething!Anything!Itcouldbeacastle,itcouldbeaflower,itcouldaself-portrait!You’reallowedtouseyourhandsandanyofthetoolsprovided.Shovels,pails,spatulas.Gonuts,everyone!Youcanalsotakeadvantageofanynaturalobjectsyoufindonthebeach.Driftwood,shells,seaweed,androcksareallfairgame.Whatisn’tallowedisanythingman-made.Ifweseeanyfoodcoloringorcement—”
“Whothefuckbroughttheirowncement?”IhearCoopermutter,andourrespectiveteamsshudderwithlaughter.
“—youwillbedisqualified.”Debclapsherhands.“Allright,everybody,getthosesculptinghandsready!Youhaveninetyminutestowowthejudgeswiththemostimpressivesandstructureevermade.MayIremindyouthatlastyear’swinners,thebeautifulladiesfromtheSoapery—”
Iknewit.They’redefinitelyourbiggestcompetitorsinthisevent.
“—constructedafive-footsandinterpretationofCinderella’scastle.Thatwillbeatoughonetotop,ladies,butIbelieveinyou.”
“Someone’splayingfavorites,”Mackenziegrumbles.
“Forreal.Dooleybetternotbeoneofthejudges,”Coopergrowls.
“Ithinkwefoundthecompetitivecoupleonthebeach,”IwhispertoGen,whogiggles.
“Ready,set,sculpt!”
Anyonewhothinksbuildingsomethingoutofsandiseasyisdeadwrong.It’shard.Andmyonlytasksofariscartingplasticpailsfromtheoceantoourbuildsite.It’snineo’clockandthesun’sraysaren’teventhatstrong,yetGenevieveandIaresweatingprofuselyaswetoiltoreplenishourteam’swatersupply.Aftereachtrip,though,eachsharporderfromMacandZaletopatthis,tampthisdown,buildthisup,I’mstartingtoseeamethodtotheirmadness.Gradually,ourfishcomesalive.It’saboutsixfeetlongandthreefeetwide,itscurvedtailslashingasemicircleinthesand,scalesintricatelycarvedbyZale’sspatula.
Bythetimeourninetyminutesareup,I’mgenuinelyimpressedbyTeamBeacon’screation.
“Nothalfbad,”Gensays,admiringourhandiwork.
“Nothalfbad?”Zaleechoes.“It’sexquisite.”
“Iwouldn’tgothatfar—”
“Yes.Youwould.Andyoushould.”Histonebrooksnoargument,andGenwiselyshutsup.
IcheckouttheHartleyteam’screation,myeyebrowssoaringwhenInoticeit’snothalfbadeither.Theyconstructedalion,completewithawavymane,thickpaws,andanopenmouthbrandishingasetoflethal-lookingteeth.
“Dammit,”Mackenziemutters,sidlinguptoGenevieve.They’resurreptitiouslystudyingtheirboyfriends’work.“It’sprettygood.”
“Oursisbetter,”Iassurethem.
Zaleagrees.“There’snostructuralintegrityinthatlion’smouth.Onegustofwindandthoseteetharefallingoff.”Hegrins.“Andmyweatherapphasjustinformedmeweshouldbeexpectingalil’bitofwind.”
Turnsouthe’saprophet.Bythetimethejudgesarenearingoursectionofthebeach,thewindhaspickedup.TheyapproachtheHartleylionjustashalfitsfacecrumblesoff.
“Sonofabitch,”Coopercurses.
Mackenzielooksoverwithasweetsmile.“Betterlucknexttime,sweetie.”
Thiscoupleisvicious.
Thethreevolunteerjudgesscribblesomethingontheirclipboards,thenwalkovertoinspectourfish.Ihearacoupleoohs,whichbodeswell.Zalelinkshisarmthroughmine,whispering,“Wegotthisinthebag.”
Butthere’snocontest,notwhentheSoaperycreatedasprawlingsandreplicaofSantorini,Greece.EvenifIhadn’tbeentoldwhatitwas,Icouldhaveeasilyguessed.Santorini’strademarkstaggered,dome-shapedbuildingscropoutofthesand,toppedbycoloredshellstheladiesscavengedfromthebeach.They’vesomehowmanagedtocreateblueaccents.Whitewalkwaysmadeofcrushedshells.It’sgoddamnbreathtaking.
Theoohsandahhsgetlouder.Thejudgesfuriouslyscribbleandtakepictures.NobodyisatallsurprisedwhenFeliceandherteamaredeclaredthewinners.
TeamSoaperynowleadsthescoreboardwiththreepoints.Thebakers,nosurprise,comeinsecondwiththeirfour-foot-tallsandcake,earningTeamBakerytwopoints.Andtomydelight,ourfishplacesthird,whichgrantsusonepoint.
“We’reinthis,”Mackenzieexclaims,pumpingherfist.
“Unlikesomepeople,”Genevievesaysloudly.
Ilovemyteammates.
ThenextfewhoursaresomeofthemostfunI’veeverhad.Duetothewindyconditions,thewindsurfingraceendsupbeingthemostcompetitive.It’ssplitintotwoheats,whichmeanstwoscoringopportunities.TateandDannycompetefortheclub;MacandGenfortheBeacon.AndGen,whopracticallygrewuponthewater,causesanupsetwhenshebeatsDanny.Hecrossesthefinishlineameresecondlater,stunnedtofindhimselfinsecond.ZaleandIcheerlikemaniacsfromtheshore,becauseGen’swinjustearnedourteamthreepoints.Mac,sadly,doesn’tevenplace.Tatetakesthatheateasily,withTeamMechanicsfinishingsecond,andanotherupsetoccurswhenTeamBakerystealsthirdplacefromTeamFirefighters.
I’mfranklyshockedbyalltheupsets.Thereareeightteamsintotal,theparticipantsranginginageandskilllevel,butsomeofthecompetitorscomeoutofleftfield.LikewhenthetinywaitressfromSharkey’sSportsBardefeatsagiganticmechanicinthefootracetotakethird.Orwhenoneofthefirefighters,who’stwohundredandtwentypoundswithtreetrunksforlegs,nimblydancesacrossthetightropeasifhewereraisedinthecircus,winningfirstplace.
Afterhiswindsurfingwin,Tatestridesdownthesand,shakingwaterdropletsfromhisgoldenhair.Hesmilesashepassesme.
“Nicewin,”Isaygrudgingly.
“Thanks,ginger.”Hewinksbeforerejoininghisteam.
“Whydoeshecallyouginger?”Zaleasksblankly.“Yourhairisclearlycopper.”
Gasping,Ithrowmyarmsaroundmyteammate’sneck.“THANKYOU!”
Tocooloffafterthelastwaterevent,DebraDooleyannouncesit’stimefortug-of-war.
ZaleandIarerepresentingTeamBeacon.He’sleanbutmuscular,and,asItoldMackenzieduringourstrategysession,I’mfreakishlystrong.
“Allright,Cass,youreadyforthis?”Genencourages.“Let’sseeyouusethatboobpower!”
Irollmyeyesather.NormallyImightbristleatthebig-boobsjoke,butthatonewasactuallykindoffunny.“I’lldomybest,”Ipromise.
SinceDeb’sscoringsystemmakesverylittlesensetome,Istruggletounderstandassheexplainshowthetug-of-wareventwillwork.Itseemstobeabracketsetup,fourteamsnarrowedtotwo,narrowedtoonewinner.Butyoualsogetonepointforeveryroundyouwinalongtheway.Andthentheusualfirst-,second-,andthird-placescores.Whatever.Justpulltherope,right?
ZaleandIfaceoffagainsttheSoaperyladies:Feliceandhermanager,Nora.Ifeellikeasadistatthenotionofdestroyingtwofifty-year-oldwomen,buttheysurpriseuswiththeirfortitude.
“Digin!”Zaleshouts.He’souranchorintheback.I’minthefront.“Digyourheelsin,Cassie!Wegotthis.”
Iholdontotheropefordearlife,whileourteammatesscreamtheirencouragementfromthesidelines.Inchbyinch,wemanagetodragouropponentsclosertotheredline.Sweatdripsdownmyforehead.IseeFelice’sforearmsstraining.AredveininNora’sforeheadpulsating.They’relosingsteam.Givingup.ZaleandIgiveafinaltugandTeamSoaperyisout.
“OnepointforTeamBeacon,”Debdeclaresafterblowingherwhistle.“Youguysaremovingontothenextround.”
Oftheotherthreematchups,I’mnotshockedthattheteamswiththebiggestdudesmakeitthrough.TheHartleytwins,thefirefighters,andtheyachtclubguys.
We’refacingthefirefightersnext,andI’mnotoptimistic.
“Wecantakethem,”Zaleassuresme.
We’rehuddledtogetherseveralfeetfromthebattlearea.Deb’sgiveneachteamacoupleminutestotalkstrategy,butthefirefightersdon’tbotherutilizingtheirallottedtime.They’realreadyinposition,ropeinhand.Cockyassholes.
Rightfullyso,however.“Zale.There’snoway.Thatbigdudeis,like,twohundredpounds.”
Hedisagrees,hisvoicelowandconfident.“Yousawwhattheydidagainstthemechanics,right?Theyplacedtheshortguyinthefront,bigoneanchoring.Nowlookwhatthey’redoing.”
Idiscreetlypeekover.Interesting.Thebigdudeisupfrontnow.
“See?”Zalesaysknowingly.“Badstrategy.Theythinkbecauseyou’reinthefront,he’llbeabletosingle-handedlywrenchyouovertheline.”
“SoIshouldgotothebackthistime?”
“No.Let’snottalkcrazynow.Youneedmetoanchor.Butyou,myspecialgoddesswarrior,won’tlethimmoveyou.You’renotgonnabudge,becausewe’regonnawhat?”
“Digourheelsin,”Ianswerdutifully.
“Exactly.Digthoseheelsin.You’reastone,Cassie.Immovable.You’reastatue.You’reStonehenge.”
Nowthat’sapeptalk.
“Nowrubsandonyourhandstodrythemoff,”heorders.“Adryropeisawinningrope.”
Aswe’regettinginposition,InoticeTategrinningatme.“Comeon,ginger,”hecalls.“Let’sseewhatyougot.”
Debblowsthewhistleandtheroundbegins.Somehow,againstallodds,Zale’sstrategyworks.We’restatues.Wedon’tmove.Don’tbudge.Idon’tthinkthefirefightersknowwhathitthem,andtheyexpendalltheirenergyattemptingtodislodgeourheels,whichareduginsodeepwe’repartofthesandnow.Ouropponentsaredrippingwithsweat,butwe’reStonehenge.We’reimmovable.Standingourground.
“Now,”Zaleorders,andwemakeourmove,yankinghard.Theshorterguycan’tcontroltheropeandthetwomengoflyingforward,landingfacefirstinthesand.
“AnotherpointfortheBeacon!”
“Holyshit,”Iexclaim,dazed.“We’reinthetoptwo!”
Zalescreamsandliftsmeoffmyfeettospinmearound.
TheHartleysfaceoffagainstTateandhispartnernext,thelatterteambeatingthetwinsafteracompetitivebattleinvolvingmanyanexpletive.ThenTate’ssaunteringuptomewithashit-eatinggrin.
“Ohhhh,lookwhatthecatdraggedin,”hetaunts.
“You’retheonewhodraggedyourselfovertome,dumbass,”Ipointout.Ikneeldowntostickmyhandsinthesand.They’resweaty,andIneedthemdry.AsZalesays,adryropeisawinningrope.That’snotarealphrase,buthey,itgotustothefinals.
Where,Isuspect,ourluckisabouttorunout.Tate’ssix-oneandhasthosestrongsailinghands.HispartnerLukeissix-fiveandalsohappenstohavestrongsailinghands.Thetwoofthemhavedominatedtheirmatchups.ButZaleandIdidmanagetobeatthefirefighters,somaybethere’sashredofhopeforus.
“Don’tlooksoworried,”Tatetellsme.“It’llbeokay.I’llhelpyouupafteryourfacehitsthesand.”
“That’ssoromantic,”Isay.IlookatZale.“Isn’thesoromantic?”
“Youguysdating?”Zaleasks,hisgazeshiftingbetweenus.
Ianswer,“Sortof,”atthesametimeTateresponds,“Justalittle.”
Welookateachotherandgrin.
ThenIdragmyfingersacrossmythroatandwarn,“You’regoingdown.”
“Oh,Iamgoingdown.Onyoulatertonight.”
Zaleletsoutahowl.
“Isthatsupposedtobeathreat?”Idemand.“Becauseitsoundsfun.”
Tatewinks.“Morelikeapromise.”
Thenthewhistleblowsandwegetourasseshandedtous.Theroundlastsaboutfourseconds,andIdoindeedgetsandinmyfaceafterIcollapse.I’mprettysureLukewascapableoftakingusdownallonhisown.
Likethegentlemanheis,Tatekeepshispromiseandhelpsmetomyfeet.“Youokay?”
“I’mgood.Nicewin.”
Althoughwelost,oureffortsinthetug-of-wareventawardedTeamBeaconwithfourpoints.MackenziedoessomequickmathandlooksconcernedwhensherealizestheHartleysareclosinginontheleadweaccruedthankstoourwindsurfingupset.
“It’sfine,”Genreassuresher.“We’restillaheadbyalot.”
Exceptsuddenlywe’renot.TeamHartleyembarksonawinningstreakthatmakesMacandGenseered.Theycrushitinbeachvolleyball.ThenEvanandAlexdominatetheirswimmingheats,eachcominginfirst.Bythetimeonethirtyrollsaround,TeamHartleyhasaddedninepointstotheirtotalscore.
Everyone’stiredandreadytogo,butwe’restuckthereforDebDooley’sfinalspeech.
“Allright,everybody!Howmuchfundidwehavetoday?Ithinkthiswaspeakfunforme!AndI’mlookingforwardtoseeingallofyouagaintomorrow,brightandearly!We’llbestartingtheobstaclecourseateightforty-fivesharp—therestoftomorrow’seventsarelistedonthescheduleweemailedtoyouthisweek.We’llbewrappinguparoundonethirtyP.M.,withthewinners’ceremonystartingattwo.Today’sstandingsarebeingpostedoutsidethetourismcenteraswespeak,somakesuretotakeapeekbeforeyouheadhomefortheday!”
Themomentshefinishesspeaking,it’sasifeveryoneonthebeachhastransformedfromadulttochild.Amobofushurriesacrossthestreettowardthetourismcenter,alittlebluebuildingthatstandsattheentrancetotheboardwalk.Nearthedoor,aneaselholdsahugechalkboardwiththescoreboardwrittenonit.Genevievepracticallyhurlsherselfatit.Shestudiesit,thenthreadsherwaythroughtheotherteamsbacktowardus.
“We’reinthirdplaceoverall,”shesaysflatly.
“That’sgreat!”Icounter.“Whydoyoulooksopissed?”
“HartleyandSonsareinsecondplace.”
“Damnit,”growlsMackenzie.
Firstplaceiscurrentlyheldbythefirefighters,withtheyachtclubinfourth.WhenIseeTatewanderingmyway,Istickoutmytongueathimlikeanimmatureass.“We’rebeatingyou.”
Heslapshischestasifstruckbyabullet.“Ohno.Myegocan’thandleit.Imightneedablowjobtomakemefeelbetter.”
Isnicker,andheslingsanarmaroundmeandleansdowntoplantakissonmylips.Myheartskipsabeat,becauseIstillcan’tgetusedtotherealitythatTateBartlettjustgoesaroundkissingme.
“Thatwasfun,”hesays.
“Itreallywas.Didyoucompetelastyear?”
Henods.“Wecameinsecondoverall.Thirdtheyearbefore.”
“Lookatyou,collectingtrophiesleftandright.”
“Baby,don’teventalktomeabouttrophies.Mydad’skepteverysingletrophyI’veeverwoninmylife,sinceIwas,like,fiveyearsold.They’recollectingdustalloverthehouse.”
“Whattrophieswereyouwinningatagefive?”Ichallenge.
“Youkiddingme?IwasfivewhenIwonmyfirstdinghyrace.DamntrophywastallerthanIwas.”Hegrins.“PrettysureDadhasaframedphotoofitatthehouse.Tinymestrugglingtoholdupamonstertrophy.”
“Ineedtoseethatpicture.Getonthat.”
“I’llseeifmydadstillhasitprominentlydisplayedinhisoffice,”Tatepromiseswithalaugh.
“Hey,”Evaninterrupts,elbowingTateinthearm.“Bonfireatourplacelater.”Hewinksatme.“Gottacelebrateourlead.”
IlookatGen,who’sstandingnexttoEvan.“Fraternizingwiththeenemy,arewe?”Isay,raisingabrow.
“Imean,welivetogether.”
“Fair.I’llallowit.Doyouwanttogo?”IaskTate.
“Like,adate?”Hefeignsuncertainty.“Idon’tknow.That’sabigcommitment.”
“Fine.I’llgoalone.”
“Nah,I’llgowithyou.I’mstoppingintoseemyfolksfordinner,butIcancomegrabyouafter.”
Heremoveshisarmfrommyshoulderbutdoesn’treleasemecompletely—hishandinstantlyseeksoutmine.AsTatelacesourfingerstogether,Idon’tmisstheamusedgleaminEvan’seyes.
“Sothisisathingnow,eh?”Evansays.
Onceagain,TateandIansweratthesametime.
“Sortof.”
“Justalittle.”CHAPTER27
TATE
BeforeIeventurntheknobonthefrontdoor,Iheartheexplosionofnoisebehindit.Thekidsalwaysknowwhensomeone’shome.Especiallywhenit’stheirpapa.Sureenough,themomentIstepinside,twotornadoesslamintome.
“Hey,guys.”Idroptomykneestoshowthemsomelove.“Aww,Imissedyousomuch.”
Fudge,ourchocolatelab,hasbothpawsaroundmyneck.He’sahugger.Polly,ourshepherd,waitsherturnliketheproperladysheis.Shealwaysplaysitcoy.SitstherelookingprettyuntilIcan’tresist.
“Oh,youprettygirl,c’mere,”Itellher,andsoonshe’stryingtoclimbintomylapbecausethesetwoalwaysforgethowbigtheyare.Ninety-poundlapdogs.Weusedtohaveathird,abordercollienamedJack,buthediedthispastwinter.Imisstheoldguy.
AsIrubbehindherears,Polly’stongueflopsouthappily.Shecollapsesonthehardwoodandoffersmeherbelly.Fudgedoesthesame,andsuddenlyI’vegoteightpawsstickingstraightupintheairandtwobelliesdemandingtoberubbed.
Whichishowmymomfindsme.“AmIinterrupting?”sheasksdryly.
Atthesoundofhervoice,thedogsjumptotheirfeet,instantlyboredoftheirprodigalpapa’sreturn.Theirtoenailsclickonthefloorastheydashofftowhoknowswhere.I’mbutaspeckintheirproverbialdust.
“Damn.AndIthoughttheymissedme,”Iremark,watchingtheirdisappearingtails.
“Speakingofmissing.Hey,kiddo.”Momlaughsandflingsherarmsaroundme.“Ihatethishousesittinggigofyours.”
“No,youdon’t.YoulovethealonetimewithDad.”
“Well,duh.ButIstillmissmyson.”
“Wetexteveryday.”
“Stillmissyou.Areyouhungry?Dinner’salmostready.”
“Famished.Where’sDad?”
“Upstairsinhisoffice.Heforgottofilloutsomepaperworkatworkearlier,sohe’stakingcareofafewthingsbeforedinner.”
“Cool.I’mgonnagoupandsayhitohim.Ineedsomethingfromhisoffice.”
Intheupstairshall,IfindDad’sdoorajar.Iapproachandgiveitalightknock.“Dad?”
“Yeah,comein,kid.”Hegreetsmewithabigsmile.“Howgoesit?HowwasBeachGames?”
“Intense.We’recurrentlyinfourthplace.”
“Who’sinfirst?”
“Frickin’dudesfromthefirestation.Theyalwaysdominate.”Iwalktowardtheglasscabinetthatspansonewalloftheoffice.
It’sprettymuchashrinetoourfamily,containingalltheaccomplishmentswe’veamassedovertheyears.Dad’sbaseballtrophiesandphotosfromhistimeinSt.Louis.HisandMom’sweddingpictures.Allmychildhoodtrophiesandfirst-placeribbons.Andthere,sandwichedbetweenMom’sframedcollegediplomaandacopyofthedeedtoBartlettMarine,isthephotographIwastellingCassieabout.Me,posingafterthefirstsailingraceIeverentered,holdingthefirsttrophyIeverwon.Orrather,tryingtoholdit.Myteeth-grittingexpressionrevealsI’mstrugglingnottoletthethingflattenme.
“DoyoumindifItakethisoutsoIcansnapapictureofit?”Ipointtothephoto.
“Goforit.”Hechuckles.“Takingawalkdownmemorylane?”
“No,IwasjusttellingCassieaboutthisearlier.Thoughtshe’dgetakickoutofseeingit.”Iopenthecabinetandcarefullyremovetheframe,thenplaceitontheedgeofDad’sdeskandfuckwithmyphonecamerauntilI’mnotseeinganyglare.
“Man,Iwasacutekid,”Iremark.
Dadsnorts.“Andsohumbletoo.”
Itakeapicofthepic,thenreturnittothecabinet.AsI’mshuttingthedoor,mygazesnagsonanotherframedphoto,thisonefeaturingayoungerversionofmyfatherhangingoffthemastofashinywhiteyacht.He’sgrinningfromeartoear,lovinglife.
“WasthisyourHawaii-to-Australiasail?”Iask,glancingovermyshoulder.“Theonethattookyouamonth?”
“Thirty-twodays,”heconfirms.“Man,whatanadventure.IalmostdiedinHurricaneErma.”
“Soundsfun.”MysmilefalterswhenIsuddenlythinkaboutGilJackson’soffer.It’sconstantlybeenonmymind,naggingatme,butIhaven’tmadeanydecisionsyet.Itwouldbeahugecommitment,leavingtheBay.Andsure,Icandoitinsixtydays,butwhoknowsiforwhenI’dgetanopportunitylikethatagain.IfIacceptthegig,IwanttomaximizemytimeontheSurelyPerfect.Thatmeansfourmonths.Fourmonthsandtheadventureofalifetime.
“Uh-oh,you’vegoneseriousonme.”Dadspinsaroundinhischair,proppinghishandsbehindhishead.“What’sgoingon,kid?”
“GilaskedmetodelivertheSurelyPerfecttohiminNewZealand.”
Hiseyebrowsshootup.“Really?”
“Iknow,right?”Ileanagainstthebookshelf.Hesitant,becauseIvaluemyfather’sopinion.ButIalsoknowhewon’twantmetakingsomuchtimeoff.“TheyboughtahouseinAucklandandplantolivetherehalftheyear.They’dneedhertherebyNewYear’sDay.They’dpayme,obviously.”
Dadisstartlednow.“You’reconsideringthis?”
“OfcourseIam.Why?YouthinkIshouldn’t?”
Hiscasualposechanges,armsdropping,handsclaspingtogetherinhislap.Hisexpressiongrowsseriousasheconsidersthequestion.“What’sthestartingpoint?California?”
“Florida.It’lltakeacoupledaystosailfromCharlestontotheportinMiami.I’dstockupthere.Preptheboat.AndthenI’dsetsailtoAuckland.”
Afrownmarshislips.“Thisisatransatlanticcrossing,Tate.No.It’stoomuchforyou.”
“I’dtakeiteasy.Gilsaidhe’llhelpmechartamanageableroute.”
“Easy?Manageable?”Dadshakeshisheadindisbelief.“We’retalkingaboutcrossingtheNorthAtlantic,theSouthAtlantic.IndianOcean.Thenyou’vegotthegulfs,theTasmanSea.”
“It’salot,”Iagree.
“It’stoomuch,”herepeats.“AndheneedshertherebythefirstofJanuary?Thatputsyouinhurricaneseason.”
“Thetailendofit,”Iargue.“Itaddssomerisk,yes,butthetoughsailingstartslaterinthejourney.ByNovembertheseasonwillhavepassed.Anydevelopinghurricanesarelikelytobewest,right?”
“That’snottheonlyconcern,kid.Thetradeswillbedifficult.You’dbelookingatfifteen,twentyknots.Nottomentionsqualls.IdidanAtlanticcrossingbeforeyouborn,nothingtoointensive,justtotheCanaries.Andeventhatwastough.”Hesoundsunhappy.“Yougottapayattentiontowhat’shappeningnorthwhenyoutackleavoyagelikethis.ThoselongtrailingcoldfrontsfromtheNorthAtlanticcanfuckwiththetradewinds.”
“I’dadjustforallthat.”
“AfriendofminedidanAtlanticcrossinginwinteronce.Saiditwastheworstsailingofhislife.”Dad’seyesflickerwithconcernnow.“Waterscouldgetrough.”
“Icanhandleit.”
Herubsthebridgeofhisnose.“Look.Imean,partofmethinks,yeah,youcan.I’veneverseenanyonehandleaboatthewayyoudo.Butit’sabigundertakingforyourfirstsolo,youknow?”
“Iknow,”Isay,nodding.
“Ifit’ssomethingyou’reseriouslyconsidering,maybewaituntilspring,then?Andstartoffalittlelessambitious,maybeonlyaweekortwo?Chartacoursefromhereto,Idon’tknow,theVirginIslands.Yeah,BVIwouldbegood.YoucouldtaketheBeneteau49ifshe’snotbookedforacharter—”
She’snotaHallberg-Rassy,Ialmostblurtout,butbitemytongue.
“—andgiveyourselfasmalltasteofthesolojourney.KnowwhatImean?”
“Yeah,Iguess.”Wecanbothhearmylackofenthusiasmforhisalternateproposal.
“IfyouacceptedGil’soffer,you’dbegone,what,two,threemonths?”
“Aboutthat.LongerifItakethescenicroute,”Ijoke.
Daddoesn’tcrackasmile.“That’salongtimetobeawayfromhome.IneedyouatBartlettMarine,kid.Ican’thandleitbymyself.”
IwanttopointoutthathehandleditbyhimselfforyearsbeforeIstartedtakingonmoreresponsibility.Butit’sclearwhathethinksofthisplan.
Sensingmyunhappiness,hesighs.“Ibuiltthisbusinessforourfamily.Foryou,sothatonedayyouwouldtakeitover.Ithoughtthat’swhatwewereworkingtowardthesepastfewyears.Teachingyouhowtorunit.”
“Weare.ButifI’mevergoingtodoamajorsolovoyage,shouldn’tIdoitnow?BeforeIhaveevenmoreresponsibility?”
Dadissilentforseverallongbeats.“Itrulydon’tthinkyou’rereadyforit,”hefinallysays.“AndIneedyouhere,atthedealership.Butifyouwanttogo…”
Iswallowmydisappointment.“No,”Isay.“It’sfine.”He’sprobablyright,anyway.It’sacrazyidea.Dangerous.“I’lltellGiltohireamoreexperiencedcaptain.”
“Ithinkthat’sasmartidea.Andifyoudidwanttoplansomethingforthespring,I’dbehappytositdownwithyouand—”
“Dinner’sready!”Mom’sfaintvoicecallsfrombelow.
“Shit,”Dadsayswithapainedlook.“Istillneedtosendthisemail.TellyourmotherI’llberightdown?”
“Surething.”
Downstairs,IhelpMomsetthetable,hopingshedoesn’tnoticeI’mfeelingsubdued.Butshe’samom,soofcourseshenotices.
“Everythingokay?”sheasks.“Whatwereyoutalkingtoyourfatherabout?”
“Allgood.Wewerejustgoingoversomesailingstuff.AndIneededtotakeapictureofDad’strophyshrinetoshowsomethingtoCassie.I’mmeetingherafterthis.”
Momsmilesandhandsmeastackofsilverwarefromtheutensildrawer.“Whichpicture?”
“Theoneofmeaftermyfirstdinghyrace.”
“Ohboy,Irememberthatday,”shesayswithalaugh.“Standingthereatthemarina,worryingmyfive-year-oldsonwasgoingtodrown.Gavinassuredmeyoucouldhandleit,andwhatdoyouknow—hewasright.Youwon.Yourdadwaspracticallyburstingwithpride.”She’squietforabeat,thensays,“You’respendingalotoftimewithCassie.”
Ilaydownthesilverwareonthetable.“Yeah.Iguess.”
“Isitserious?”
Iliftmyheadtoseeherfightingasmile.“Notreally.It’sgoingtoendwhenshegoesbacktoschoolinSeptember.”
“Doyouwantittoend?”
Thatgivesmepause.“Tobehonest,Ihadn’tconsideredthealternative.”
“Butyoulikeher.”
Idolikeher.Ilikeheralot.Infact,I’mgettingimpatientfordinnertostart,becausethesooneritstarts,thesooneritendsandIcangopickCassieupforthebonfire.IsawheralldayandI’malreadydyingtoseeheragain.
“Yes.Ilikeher.”
“Thenwhydoesithavetoend?”Momasks.
Forthelifeofme,Ican’tthinkofagoodanswertothat.
Later,atthebonfire,I’mstillthinkingaboutmymother’squestion.
Whydoesithavetoend?
Imean…doesit?CassieandIagreedtoasummerfling,butsometimesflings…evolve.MybiggestfearwasthatI’denduphurtingherbecauseofmyneedtokeepthingspurelyphysical,butthatneedseemstohave…evolved.Wegooutontheboat.WehavedinnerwhenIgethomefromwork.Hell,I’vegonefordinnerwithherandhermother.Somehow,withoutnoticingit,Iallowedallthistohappen.AndIdon’tevencare.Ilikeit.
Fuck.
Whateverwehavegoingonthesedays,it’salotmorethanphysical.
IgazeacrossthefirewhereCassie’ssittingwithGenevieveandHeidi.SheandHeidiarelaughingaboutsomething,whichisabitshockingbecauseHeidiisn’tthechatty,gigglytype.She’sthetypewhoeatsherownyoung.That’swhysheandAlanaaresuchgoodfriends.Stonehearts,thosetwo.
SpeakingofAlana,whenIgotothecoolerstograbanotherbeer,myformerflamesidlesuptome.Shelooksgorgeousasalways,andyetI’mstartledtodiscoverI’mnotattractedtoheranymore.She’sgonebacktobeingtheAlanaIfirstmetinjuniorhigh,justanotheroneoftheawesomegirlsinmyplatonicfriendgroup,someoneitwouldn’tevenoccurtometosleepwith.
“Hey,”shesays.
“Hey.”Itwistopenafreshbeer.
“You’vebeenavoidingme.”
Iglanceover.“Notatall.”
“Ohreally?SoitjusthappensthatweusedtoseeeachotherallthetimeandnowIhaven’tseenyousince…”Alanathinksitover.“Damn,sincethelasttimewewereheretogether.”
“Shit,really?Thatwasmorethanamonthago.”
“Exactly.”
“Ipromise,I’mnotavoidingyou,”Iassureher.“I’vebeenslammedatworkthisentiresummer.Ihaven’treallyhungoutwithanyoneotherthanCassie.”
“Ah,”shesaysknowingly.“Theotherredhead.”
“Purelycoincidental,”Ireplywithagrin,althoughIdofinditfunny.
“Soyou’renotavoidingme.”
“No.”
Thosesharpeyescontinuetostudyme.“Idon’tthinkyou’relying.”
“I’mnot.I’vebeenatthedealership,theyachtclub,chillingwithCassie.ThisweekendisBeachGames.Lotsgoingon.I’vegoneoutwithEvanforacoupledrinks,butthat’saboutit.AndI’mhousesittingfortheJacksons,soI’vebeenawayfromtheregular’hood.”
“Ohyes,you’relappingitupinthelandofcloneluxury.”
“Prettymuch.How’veyoubeen?”
“I’mgood.Gotajobasanaupair.”
“Youhatekids,”Iremindher,grinning.
“Theseonesaren’ttoobad.Andthepayisgreat.Iswearthoseclonesliketothrowtheircasharoundliketheirentirelifeisonelongstripclubvisit.”
IthinkabouthowmuchGilofferedmetosailtheSurelyPerfectandIhavetoagree.“Youdatinganybody?”Iraiseabrow.
“Iamnot…unlikesomepeople.”Alanalaughs.“It’sweirdseeingyouwithagirlfriend.”
“She’snotmygirlfriend.”
“Uh-huh,that’swhattheyallsay.”Withthat,Alanasauntersoff.
Beerinhand,Iwandertothefireandgrabachair,draggingitnexttoEvan’s.Heidi’sgone,andGenandCassiearenownearthedeckinanintensehuddlewithMackenzieandtheirBeachGamesteammateZale.WhenCooperpassestheirhuddle,Macliftsherheadandallbuthissesathimlikeaferalcat.Heholdshishandsupinsurrenderandkeepswalking,rollinghiseyeswhenheapproachesus.
“Ijustgotaccusedofespionageforwalkingbytheirteam,”Coopsayscheerfully.
Isnicker.MyeyesremainonCassie,who’slaughingatsomethingGensaid.
“Genreallylikesyourgirl,”Evanremarks,followingmygaze.“AndGenhatesmostpeople.”
“It’shardnottolikeCassie,”Iadmit.
Cooper’sbrowsjerkup.Thenhechuckles.“Interesting.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Yousoundlikemymother.ShewasjustgrillingmeaboutCass.”
“Imean,you’reactingveryboyfriendly,”Evanpipesup,soundingamused.“Soifthat’snotthepathyouwanttotake,”hewarns,“youshouldprobablycoursecorrectrightaboutnow.”
Itakeaswigofbeer.“Boyfriendlyhow?”
“EverytimeIturnaroundyou’reholdingherhand.”
“So?”
“YouneverheldAlana’shand,”Cooperpointsout.
“Alanawouldbiteadude’sdickoffbeforeshelethimholdherhand.”
“Didyoueventry?”challengesEvan.
Ipause.“No.”
“Whynot?”Hissmugsmirktellsmehealreadyknowstheanswertothat.
Andhe’sright.IneverfeltthatsortoftendernesstowardAlana.Webothkeptanemotionaldistancebecauseweknewitwasnevergoinganywhere.
Butthere’snodistancewithCassie.She’salwayswithinmyreach.ShemeltsintomewhenIcometoher.Shedoesn’tkeepmeatarm’slength.Doesn’tplaygames.I’mhappywhenI’mwithher.AndasIthinkaboutallthewayssheandIjustfit,thatquestiononceagainsurfacesintheforefrontofmymind.
Whydoesithavetoend?CHAPTER28
CASSIE
“Thisisit.Whatwe’vetrainedourentirelivesfor.AndbyentirelivesImeanthelasttwodays.AndbytrainedImeanwerandomlydecidedwhowouldcompeteinwhatevent.Imean,Ididn’ttrain—didyou?”Zaleglancesaroundthehuddle.
“Iswamsomelapsinmypool,”Itellthem.“Doesthatcount?”
“Nowthat’sdedicationtotheteam,”Mackenzieteases.
“TheBeaconisforeverindebtedtoyou,”Genevievesayssolemnly.
Isnicker.Ihadalotoffunwithmyteammatesthisweekend,andI’msadtoseeitend.Alas,onlyoneeventremainsinthetwentieth-annualAvalonBeachGames:thewaterballoontoss.
It’sbeenafrustratingdaythusfarforTeamBeacon.Wedidn’tplaceineitheroftheobstaclecourseheatsthismorning.TeamYachtClubwonboth,whichhadTatestruttingaroundlikeaself-righteouspeacock.Wealsolostoutonthirdplaceinthebucketrelaytothosedamnfirefighters.Wemadeupforitbyplacingthirdinthethree-leggedrace,thankstoMackenzieandZale.Unfortunately,“thestupidtwinsbecausetheyhavethesamestupidsizelegs,”asMackenziehadpoeticallyframedit,wonthatracetogiveTeamHartleythreepoints.
AsitstandsnowforMacandGen’ssidebet,theirboyfriendsarebeatingusbyonemeaslypoint.Inthescopeoftheactualcompetition,Ithinkourteamsarevyingforthirdplaceoverall.Butsincemyteammatesaremoreconcernedwiththeirsidehustle,theyproceedtotorturemybrainwithabunchofmaththatmakesnosense.
“Allright,”Macissaying.“They’reupbyone,sothatmeansweneedtoplacethirdinordertotie—”
“What’sthetiebreaker?”Zaleinterjects.
“Noidea.Wedidn’tanticipateatie.We’llhavetocomeupwithsomething.Butifweplacesecond,thatbecomesmoot,becausethenwegettwopointsandwewin.Firstplace,wegetthreepointsandwewin.But—weonlywiniftheydon’tplace.”
“Wait,whatiftheyplacethirdandweplacefirst?”Genpointsout.Shesquintsasshedoessomementalmath.“Thentheygetonepoint,whichputsthemupbytwo.Butwegetthreepoints,whichputsusupbyone.Wewin.”
“Right.But…damnit,ifwewinandtheycomeinsecond,wetieagain.So—”
“Stop,”Iwail,coveringmyears.“Ican’tlistentothisanymore.”
“Forreal,”Zalemoans,hisfacescrunchedinsheerpain.“Thisistoocomplicated.Yousoundlikemybrothersdroningonabouttheirdumbassfantasyfootballstandings,tryingtofigureoutiftheymadetheplayoffs.”
“Allright,everyone!”DebraDooleyyellsintohermicrophone.Iswear,shebroughtthatthingfromhome.Noneoftheothervolunteershavemics.“We’reabouttostart!”
Afewyardsaway,Evancallsouttohisfiancée.“Hey,Fred,whatsizeshouldIorderyourFrenchmaidcostumein?”
“Inyourdreams,”Genshootsback.
“Everynight,”hepromises.
Mackenzie’sgazetravelstoCooper,andshecocksherheadathim.“Well?I’mwaiting.Where’syoursmartasscomment?”
Coopersmirks.“Idon’thecklethedowntrodden.”
“Hecklethis,”sheretorts,flippinghimthebird.
Ismotheralaugh.It’sfunnyseeingeachoftheminteract.GenandEvanarechemistrypersonified,everywordexchangedpracticallyoozingsex.CooperandMacaremoreadversarial,yetwhentheylookateachother,theirconnectionisunmistakable.
IlookoveratTate,rememberingthewayheheldmyhandlastnightatthebonfire.Hisfingerslacedthroughminefeelssonatural,andIwonderhowonearthI’mgoingtosaygoodbyetohimintwoweeks.MyflighttoBostonleavesthreedaysaftertheBeacon’sreopening,andapartofmeisalreadythinking,well,IdogetaweekoffformidtermsinOctober.AndIdogetThanksgivingoff.AndChristmas.NewYear’s.
Maybewecanmakesomethingwork.Notarelationshiporanything;I’mstilldoingmybesttokeepmyheartdisengaged.Butwhosayswecan’tkeepsleepingtogether?Hookingupwhenwehavetheopportunity?We’renotsickofeachotheryet,sodoesn’titmakesensetokeeptheflinggoinguntilweare?Thatis,ifTate’seveninterestedinextendingthefling.
Forsomereason,though,Igetthefeelingheis.
“We’lldoarandomdrawtodeterminetheorderforthetoss,”Debsays,andavolunteerrushesoverwithabaseballcapcontainingslipsofpaperwithourteamnames.“Upfirstwillbe…thehandsomesailorsfromtheManor!”
Therestofthenamesarepulledfromthehat,andwe’regratifiedtohearwe’llbegoinglast.Givesusanopportunitytowatchtheotherteamsandlearnfromtheirmistakes.
AsTateandhisteamcomeforward,Debquicklygoesovertherulesagain.Thewaterballoontossrequiresallfourmemberstostandinaline,startingatabouttwofeetapart.Theballoonisthrowndownthelinefromonepersontothenext,andaftereachcompletedleg,theteammembersmusttakeastepback.Thedistancebetweeneachpersongetsbiggerandbigger,andtheteamthatmakesitthefarthestdistancewithoutpoppingtheirballoonwinsthosecovetedthreepoints.
“Ready?”Debshouts.“Annndtoss!”
Thisisit.Doordie.
TeamYachtClubmakesittoadistanceoffifteenfeetseparatingeachmemberbeforetheballoonhitsLukeinthefaceandexplodes,soakinghim.Tateshootsmeawrylookastheyreturntothesidelines,asiftosay,youwinsome,youlosesome.Hetakeseverythinginstride.Ilovethatabouthim.
“Fifteenfeetisthedistancetobeat!”announcesDeb.
Thebakersandmechanicsareupnext,finishingwithanimpressivetwenty-twofeetfortheformerandadismaltwelveforthelatter.Thefirefightersfinishwithtwentyfeet.TheSharkey’sstaffwithnine.
Thenit’sTeamSoapery,workingtogetherlikeawell-oiledmachine.EachtimeDebshouts,“Annndstep!”thefourladiestakeasteptowidenthedistance.Debshouts,“Annndtoss!”andtheballoonexchangeshands.
Threeminutesin,andthey’realreadytwentyfeetapart.
“Whoa,”Zalemarvels.
“It’stheunderhandthrow,”Macwhisperstoourteam.“Weneedtogounderhand.”
TeamSoaperymakesitaspectaculartwenty-ninefeetbeforeFelicecatchestheballoonwronganditburstsinheroutstretchedhands.Still,theladiesknowtheykickedass,grinningfromeartoearastheyheadforthesidelines.They’vegotagoodsevenfeetonthebestteam,thebakers.
“HartleyandSons,you’reup!”
Coopersmirksathisgirlfriendashesauntersby.“You’resayingallwehavetodoisbeattwentyfeetandwe’reguaranteedtoplace?Ohno!Sohard!”
MackenzieandGenevievesimultaneouslythrowuptheirmiddlefingers,sparkingaburstoflaughterfromthegatheringcrowd.WhenIglancetowardtheonlookers,I’malarmedtospotmydad’sface.He’swithNiaandthetwins,andtheyallsmileandwavewhentheynoticemelooking.Shit.Ididn’tknowtheywerecomingbacktoday.MomandGrandmaaresupposedtoshowuptoo.Forthewinners’ceremony.
Panicflaresinsideme,whileIstraintorememberthelasttimeMomandDadwereinthesamevicinity.
ThesavinggracehereisthatMomandGrandmahaven’tarrivedyet.ThatmeansIhavetimetowarnDadoffbeforetheygethere.Butfirst,weneedtomurderthiswaterballoonevent.
Onthefieldofplay,theTeamHartleylinemoveswithswiftprecision.Theynailtheirfive-footthrows.Ten.Fifteen.
Atnineteenfeet,thebiggestupsetoftoday’sBeachGamesoccurs.
Spencer,theirdaylaborer,tossestheballoontoEvan.Hishandslipsontherelease,justslightly,butit’senoughtoalterthetrajectory.TheballoonveerstowardEvan’sright,forcinghimtotakeanabruptstep,andhisbodyisn’tquiteinpositionasheattemptsthecatch.
Splat.
ThewaterexplodesinEvan’shand.
“Mandown!”Debcrowsintothemic,andthefirefighterscheerloudly,maintainingtheircurrentthird-placescoreoftwentyfeet.
“Ohbaby,whyareyouallwet?”GenevievecooswhenEvanstompsback.Shepretendstobeconfused.“Whathappened?Iwasn’tlooking.Diditpop?”
“Usethatlittle-girlvoiceagain”—henarrowshiseyes—“anditbetterbetonight.Inbed.”
MacwinksatCooperashepasses.“I’mprettysurethatwasn’ttwentyfeet…”
Hesnorts.“Youhaven’tplacedyet,princess.Andrightnowwe’restillbeatingyoubyonepoint.”
Finally,it’sourturn.Ican’tevenbelievehownerve-wrackingthisis.Howisthislow-stakes,small-townbeachcompetitionmakingmesweatthismuch?
“Wegotthis,”Zalesays.
“Wegotthis,”Genechoes.
“Annndtoss!”Debyellsoncewe’reinposition.
TeamBeaconmakesfastworkofit.Fivefeet.Ten.Fifteen.Thosearetheeasyones.Nowcomethescarylittleone-footersbetweenfifteenandtwenty.Ifwehittwenty,though,weonlytiewiththeHartleys,andwecan’thavethat.Wewantthewin.Whichmeansweneedtobeatnotonlythefirefightersbutalsothebakersinordertomovetosecondplace.
Ateighteenfeet,mypalmsaresoclammyIhavetobenddownandwipethemoffinthesand.
Atnineteenfeet,Ican’tfeelmylegsanymore.
Thepressureismonumental.We’retossingfortwentynow.Ifwemakeit,we’vetiedthefirefighters.
Wemakeit.
“Annndstep!”
Wetakeanotherstep.Ifwesucceedinthisnextsequence,we’veknockedthefirefightersout.
“Annndtoss!”
Zaletosses.Imakethefirstcatch.
IlookatGenevieve.“Ready?”
Shewipesherhandsonthefrontofherdenimshorts.“Ready.”
Verymethodically,Ithrowunderhandedinaperfectstraightline.Theballoonfloatslikeaweightlessfeatherintoherwaitingpalms.Shecatchesit,andacollectivebreathofrelieftravelsthroughthecrowd.
GenturnstofaceMac,featurescreasedwithdeepconcentration.
Shetosses.
Mackenziemakesthecatch.
“Twenty-onefeet!”Debdeclares.
“Holyshit!”Zalescreams.“Wedidit!Wedidit!”Hestartsjumpingaround,thrustingupbotharmsandpunchingtheair.
Ichokeoutalaugh.“We’renotdone!”Iremindhim.“We’restillplaying.”
“Oh,right.”
“Wehaveanactualshotatsecondplacehere,”Genmarvels.
Andwedoit.Wemakeittotwenty-threefeetbeforemyballoonexplodesatGen’sfeet.Doesn’tmatter,though.Wesuccessfullyedgedoutthebakerstofinishsecondplaceinthisfinalevent.
We’vebeatentheHartleysatBeachGames.
Byonepoint.
Thatwasreallyfuckingclose.
“Whatsizethongdoyouneed?”asmirkingGenasksthetwinsonceourteamcelebrationdiesdown.HergazeshiftstoEvan’sgroin.“Idon’tknowiftheymakeitinextrasmall,sweetie.”
“Extralarge,youmean.”Growling,heliftsGenoffherfeetasifhe’sgoingtotossher,butinsteadbringsherclose.Shewrapsherlegsaroundhimandtheystartmakingout.
Rollingmyeyes,Iwanderovertomydad,whonowstandsaloneontheboardwalk.“Nicejob!”heexclaims,givingmeaquicksidehug.
“Thanks.Wherearethegirls?”Iask,glancingaround.
“Theygotboredofwatchingyouthrowballoons,soNiatookthemtogeticecream.”
Inod.“Hey,soIshouldprobablywarnyou—MomandGrandmaaregoingtobehereanyminute.They’recomingforthewinners’ceremony.”
“Really?Yourmother?”Heliftsabrow.
Ismileruefully.“Iknow,right?But…Ihaven’tsaidanythingtoyouaboutthis,mostlybecauseIdidn’ttrustitatfirst,butMomreallyhasbeenmakinganeffortsinceshegottotown.”
“Hasshe?”Ican’tquitediscernhistone.
“Shehas.It’sbeenfun,actually.”
Dadistakenabackbythat.Idon’tblamehim.I’veneverusedthewordfuninrelationtomymother.
“Oh.Well.That’sgreat,Cass.I’mgladtohearyou’reenjoyingyourselfandthatshe’sputtingintheeffort.”
Thistime,Ieasilypickupontheskepticismlininghisvoice.
“LikeIsaid,Ididn’tentirelytrustit.Butshe’sbeengoodlately.Attentive.Funny.Forthcoming…”Ihesitateforabeat.Thisprobablyisn’tthemostappropriatetimetotaketheconversationdeeper,butIalsosuspectwelikelywon’tgetanotheropportunitytodiscussmymother,andsothewordsjustslipout.“Shetoldmeaboutthemiscarriage.”
DadlurchesasifIstruckhim.“Shedid?”
“Yes.”Mypalmsaresweatyagain.DadandIrarelydiscussanythingthissensitive,soI’munsurehowtonavigateit.“I’mgladshedid.Itmademeunderstandherbetter,youknow?Whyshefoughtyousohardforcustody.Ithoughtshewastryingtokeepyouawayfromme,butIguessshewastryingtokeepmecloseafterherloss.So…yeah.I’mgratefulthatshetoldme.”
“Yes.Well.”Hisexpressionshutters,butnotbeforeIglimpseaflashofanger.
“Cassie!”
Iturnintimetoseemysistersracingtowardme.Niatrailsafterthem,wearingbrownsandalsandaloose-fittingsleevelessdress.
“WannaknowwhatPierredidtoday?”Roxyexclaims.“Hefarted!”
Thegirlsproceedtodoubleoverinhigh-pitchedlaughter,whiletheirmothergrimaces.
“Itwasveryunpleasant,”Niasaysstiffly.
IglanceatDad.“Youdidn’twarnthemaboutthewholestinkpotthing?”
“Clayton?”growlshiswife.
“Thanks,Cass.Thanksalot.”
Isnicker.“Hey,youknewgoingintothispurchasethatiftheyhandledhimtooroughlyhe’dunleashafartattack.”
“Fartattack!”Mosqueals,andthegirlsstartskippingaroundshoutingthosetwowordsoverandoveragain.AresignedNiaoffersanapologeticsmiletoallthepeoplewhoturntostareatus.
“Attention,AvalonBay!”
Avoicesuddenlyblastsoutoftheboardwalk’sPAsystem.Deb,ofcourse.I’veheardDebraDooleyscreamintomicrophonessomanytimesthesepasttwodaysthatIcouldnowpickhervoiceoutofalineup.
“Thewinnersofthetwentieth-annualAvalonBeachGamesareabouttobeannounced.PleasemakeyourwayovertotheTourismCenter.”
“Didyouwin?”Moasksme,wide-eyed.
“Idon’tthinkso.Butifmyteammate’smathisright,wemayhavecomeinthird.I’llseeyouguyslater,okay?Gottafindmyteam.”
“We’reheadingoutnow,”Dadsays,whichtellsmehetookmywarningseriously.“ButI’llcallyoulater.Goodjobtoday.”
“Thanks,Dad.”
There’salargecrowdgatheredatthetourismhutwhenIarrive.IsearchtheseaoffacesuntilIspotZale’sfamiliarAfro.“Cass!”heshouts.“Overhere!”
Ijoinmyteam,andwewaitimpatientlywhileDebdeliversanotheroneofherspeechesabouthowmuchshelovesthistown.Shestandsatopalowstagethatbarelyholdstwopeople,letaloneateamoffour.Thewinningteamsselectonemembertogoupandaccepttheirtrophy.
Thefirefighterswinfirstplace,whiletheyachtclubtakessecond.AndfortheBeacon’slong-awaitedreturntotheworldofBeachGames,ourteamcomesinthird.
WebreakoutincheersasGenhopsontothesmallstagetoacceptourthird-placetrophyfromabeamingDebDooley.It’saboutteninchestallwithacopperfinishandgoldaccentsaroundthebeachballfigurineatthetop.ThebrownwoodenbasejusthasagenericTHIRDPLACEengravedonit.
GenflashestheHartleysasmileasshesaunterspastthemholdingourtrophy.“Aww,theydon’tgivetheseoutforfourth?”Genaskssweetly.“Lookhowcuteitis.”
“Athird-placetrophy,Genevieve?”Coopershootsback.“Growthefuckup.Ifyoudon’twin,youlose.”
Macoffersabrisknodofagreement.“He’snotwrong.”
“Youtwopsychosaremadeforeachother,”Evanmutters.
“Hey,Cassie,”Macsays,turningtosmileatme.“Thankssomuchforbeingonourteam—thiswassuchablast.Willyoucomebacknextyear?”
“Really?EventhoughIdon’tworkatthehotel?”
“Whatdoyoumean?TheBeaconwasintheTannerfamilyforfiftyyears.You’llalwayshaveaplacehere.”
I’msotouched,myeyesstarttosting.Ididn’texpecttoformgenuineconnectionsthissummer,butI’msogladIdid.StupidGrandmawasright.Itisnicebeingpartofagroup.
SpeakingofGrandma,Isuddenlyspotherinthecrowd,afrownstainingmylipswhenInoticeshe’salone.Iexcusemyselfandmakemywaytowardher.Shegreetsmewithasmile,butit’sclearlystrained.
“Hey,”Isay,leadinghertowardalessbusysectionoftheboardwalk.“Where’sMom?”
“Well…”Grandmapressesherlipstogether.
“What’swrong?”
“Nothing’swrong.But…perhapsalittlehiccup.Wejustranintoyourfatherandhisfamilyintheparkinglot.”Grandmapauses.“YourmotherstoppedtospeaktoClayton.”
Shit
“Damnit,”Imutter.ThenIforceasmilesoGrandmadoesn’tworry.“Areyoucoolwaitinghereforaminute?Iwanttogoandmakesurenobody’sbeenkilled.”
Iraceoffinthedirectionofthelittlegravellotbehindthetourismcenter.ThissituationneedshandlingASAP.LastthingIneedisforEvilMomtomakeareappearancewhenwestillhaveaweekleftintheBay.WhichmeansIneedtodefuseanybombsthatmightblowtherestofmysummertosmithereens.
Icatchsightofthemimmediately,gratifiedthatit’sjustthetwoofthem.Niaandthegirlsmustbeinthecaralready.Silverlining,Iguess.
Hurryingtowardthem,ImanagetocatchthetailendofDad’sincensedaccusation.
“Usingthemiscarriagetoturnourkidagainstme?Tryingtomakeyourselflooklikesomesortofmartyr?That’slow,Vic,evenforyou.Youfoughtforcustodybecauseyou’reaselfish—”Hestopsabruptly.“Cassie,hey.Hi,sweetheart.”
Momwhirlsaround.Herbrowneyesblazewithanger.Notdirectedatme,though.She’sstillwhollyfocusedonmyfather.
“Guys,”Ibeg.“Please.Idon’twantyoutwotofight.”
“NeitherdoI,Cassandra.ButI’mnottheonefighting,amI,Clayton?”Momsayscoldly.
Dadfrowns.“Victoria…”Idon’tknowifit’sawarningoranappeal.
“No,Ithinkthisconversationisover.Whydon’tyougonow?Yournurseandherchildrenarewaitinginthecar.”
“Mychildren,”hegrowls.
IreachforMom’sarm.“Comeon,”Iurge.“Tate’stakingustolunch.HeandGrandmaarewaiting.”
Herthunderousexpressiondoesn’tchange,butshealsodoesn’tobjectwhenIstartleadingheraway.IglanceovermyshoulderatDad,whosefaceisbrightred,hismovementsjerkyasherepositionshisglassesonthebridgeofhisnose.
“I’llseeyouthisweekend,”Itellhim.“We’restilldoingdinner,right?”
“Yes,ofcourse.Seeyouthen,sweetheart.”
AndthenDadstalksoffandMomisstillfuming,andIfeellikeIjustfoughtoffapackofrabiddogs.Thisiswhyconfrontationsshouldbeavoidedatallcosts.Theyneverleadtoanythingbutmisery.CHAPTER29
TATE
“Thatwassobrutaltoday,”Cassiemoansagainstmyshoulder,herbreathticklingmyskin.We’relyingtogetheronthedock.Sharingoneloungechair,whichmeanswe’repracticallyontopofeachother.NotthatI’mcomplaining.Iwelcomeanyopportunitytohaveherdelectablebodypressedupagainstme.
“You’restillthinkingaboutit?”Isaygently.
“HowcanInot?Idon’tevenwanttoknowwhatwould’vehappenedifIhadn’tbeenabletodragMomaway.Theylookedliketheyweregoingtomurdereachother.”
“That’srough.”
“Imean,it’sparforthecoursewiththem.”
It’sdifficultformetorelatetothat.Myparentsrarelyfight.Theybicker,sure.They’vegonethrougharoughpatchortwo,butI’veneverseenthemtreateachotherwithanythingclosetothelevelofvitriolthatCassiedescribeswithherparents.Theirconfrontationreallyaffectedhertoday,andthelunchthatfollowedwasn’tmuchofapalatecleanser.Toriwasplainlyinabadmood,andIwasgladwhenthecheckfinallyarrived.
IspenttherestofthedaytryingtodistractCassiefromherparents’argument.Wepassedtheafternoonswimming,barbecuing,andhangingoutonthedock.AtsunsetwetooktheLightningoutforarideagain,whichinturngotmesohotIcouldn’tevenwaittofindabedwhenwereturnedtothehouse.Wehadsexonthedock,which,Iwon’tdeny,isabitrisky.ButToriandLydiahadgoneoutfordinner,andwetriedtobequiet,mindfuloftheotherhousesalongthewater.Notsureifwesucceeded.IcanbeloudwhenIcome.
Now,we’restillinourbathingsuits,cozieduponthelounger,whilethenightbreezefloatsalongthebayandIabsentmindedlystrokehersofthair.
Cassiesnugglescloser,andasenseofpurecontentmentwashesoverme.Evennow,asolidhourpostcoital,I’mstillrecoveringfromthesex.Iswearitonlygetsbetterwiththiswoman.IforgetmyselfwhenI’minsideher.Theentireworlddisappearsandit’sjustmeandher.Herwarmth.Herpussy.Hersmile.It’sperfection.AndthemoreIthinkaboutit,themoreIdon’twantthistoend.I’malreadythinkingabouttheholidays,thepossibilityofflyingtoBostontoseeher.
Or,evenbetter,acceptingGilJackson’sofferandaskingCassietojoinmeontheSurelyPerfect.Foraweekend.Aweek,amonth.Aslongasshewanted.Ahordeofimagessuddenlyswarmsmymind.CassieandIontheopenwater.Herhairblowinginthewindasshehelpsmesail.Havingsexonthedeck.Fallingasleepinthecabin.Cookingtogetherinthegalley—
Jesus.Whatthehellismybraindoingrightnow?
Noneofthatisevergoingtohappen,leastofwhichbecauseIalreadydecidednottogo.IpromisedDadIwouldn’t.
“Areyougoingtotalktoyourdadabouttheargument?”Iask,mygazefocusingonthedarkeningsky.
“Godno.”
“Whynot?”
“Becauseclearlyit’sasoresubjectforhim.”
“Asitshouldbe.Shehadamiscarriage.Shefoughtforsolecustodyofyouinsteadofagreeingtojointcustodylikehewanted.”IlightlystrokeCassie’sarm.“Don’tyouwanttoknowmoreaboutthat?Hisperspectiveaboutthemiscarriageandeverythingthatfollowedit?”NowIfindmyselffrowning.“Don’tyouwanttotalktohimaboutrealshit?”
“Wedo,”sheprotests.“Sometimes.Sporadically.”Shesighs.“Allright,fine.Wedon’ttalkaboutanythingdeep.Iholdalotofitback,but—”
“Butthere’sasilverlining?”Iguesswithadrychuckle.“Okay,let’shearit.”
“Ihavehiminmylife,”shesayssimply.
Ifurrowmybrow.“Andhe’dgoawayifyousharedyourfeelings?”
“Hemight.I…”Hervoicecracks.“Idon’twanttobeaburdenonhim.Healreadyhashishandsfull,raisingtwolittlekids.Hedoesn’tneedhisgrown-assdaughterwhiningaboutherfeelingsanddemandingtoknowwhyheneverfoughtforcustody.Tellinghimhowmuchithurtsthathegaveherchildhoodbedroomaway,howawfulitistofeellikeI’vebeenreplaced.HowfuckingjealousIamofhisnewfamily.”
Itakeabreath,tighteningmyarmaroundher.“Man.Ididn’trealizeyoufeltanyofthat.”
“Yeah.Ido.”Herhandtremblesagainstmyabdomen.“Rightafterthetwinswereborn,whenDadsuddenlyhadevenlesstimeforme,Iusedtolistentothisonesongallthetime.Itwascalled‘Jealous,’andI’dlieinmybedroominBostonandlistentoitonrepeatbecauseitjustencapsulatedeverythingIfelt.HowjealousIwasthatDadhadthisnewlifeIwasnolongerapartof.”
Damn.Irememberthelyricstothatsong,andthey’reheartbreaking.Soulcrushing.TheideaofCassiefeelingthatwaybringsahotclenchofemotiontomychest.
“Anddon’tgetmewrong—Itreasuremysisters,Ido.AndIlikeNia.ButIcan’ttellyouhowmanytimesIusedtolietherecryingaboutit.Sometimes,I’dfantasizethatDadwouldrandomlyshowupinBostonandcomegetme.He’dpushpastmymotherandannouncehewasbringingmehomebecausehewasmiserablewithoutme.Likeinthesong.”Cassieletsoutashakybreath,aflimsylaugh.“It’sstupid,Iknow.ButIwasfifteen.Angstwasmymiddlename.”
Myvisiongoesalittleblurry,andI’mstartledtorealizethere’smoistureclingingtomyeyelashes.Iblinkrapidly,butthatprovestobeamistake.OnetearslipsoutandplopsontothecheekCassiehaspressedonmyshoulder.
“OhmyGod,Tate.Areyoucrying?”
Someonegoddamnkillme.
Iswallowhard.Mythroatissotightithurts.
“Youare,”shesaysinamazement,risingonherelbowtopeeratme.“I’msorry.Ididn’tmeantobumyouout.”
Iliftmyfisttomyfaceandscrubitovermyeyes.“Sorry.It’sjustsofuckingsad,Cassie.”Iholdhercloserandshe’ssosoftandwarm,andsuddenlyI’mhitwiththevisionofaten-year-oldCassiebeingforcedtoleaveAvalonBayandherfatherbehind,whiskedawaytolivewithhershittymother.
Myeyesfeellikethey’reburningagain,andIgulpdownthelumpobstructingmythroat.
Christ.
“Thisisthesweetestthingever,”shewhispers,buryingherfaceinmyneck.“Nobodyhasevercriedonmybehalfbefore.”
Hell,I’venevercriedonanyone’sbehalfbefore.ButthisisCassie.She’sthekindestsoulI’veevermet.Thefunniest,sexiest,mostcompellingwomanI’veeverbeenwith,andIfeel—
Itakeasharpinhaleasunderstandingstrikesme.
Ifeelit.
Theelusiveit
Whateverthehellitisthatmakesmyparentslookateachotherthewaytheydo.ThefeelingI’dbeenwaitingforbutcouldneverfindwithanyofthegirlswho’vecrossedmypathovertheyears.
Ifeelitnow.
Theironyofthisdoesn’tescapeme.Ialmostdidn’tgetinvolvedwithherbecauseIwasworriedshe’dcatchfeelings.Meanwhile,myfeelingsforherhitmeoutofnowhereandknockedmeonmydamnass.
Butwhatdoesthatmeanforus?ShelivesinBoston,andIcan’tleavetheBayforthetimebeing.Long-distancerelationshipsarehardtomaintain,butmaybewecouldmanageit.Shegraduatesthisyearanyway.Maybeshe’dconsidermovingbackhere.Thiswaswhereshewasborn.Whereherfatherlives.Andit’sevidentsheloveshimdeeply.
“Youhavetotalktohim,”Isay.“Toyourdad.Hell,andyourmothertoo.Sheshouldknowhowmuchherwordshavehurtyou.Don’tyouwantparentsyoucanbehonestwith,insteadofsweepingeverythingimportantundertherug?Justbehonest,Cass.Withbothofthem.”
“Sortoflikehowyou’rehonestwithyourfatherabouthowbadlyyouwanttosailtoNewZealand?”
“Imean,it’snotlikeIdidn’ttellhimaboutit.Idid.Ijustcan’tgo.”
“Sureyoucan.Yourcontractendssoon.Youhaveallofautumnandwinteroff.”
“IalreadypromisedDadI’dworkfull-timeatBartlettMarine.”
“Thedealershipwillbewaitingforyouwhenyougetback,”Cassiesayssoftly.Shesitsup,watchingme,hereyesshiningwithencouragement.“It’sonlyafewmonths.BartlettMarineisn’tgoingtoimplodeifyou’regoneforthreemonths.”
Ichewontheinsideofmycheek.“Iknow.Ijust…Idon’twanttolethimdown.”
Thatearnsmeagentlesmile.“See?”
“Seewhat?”
“Webothdoit.Holdbackourownfeelingsbecausewedon’twanttodisappointourparentsormakeanywaves.”
She’sright.
She’srightabouteverything.
IfIgo,BartlettMarinewillstillbetherewhenIgetback.IfIdon’tgo,I’mlettingtheopportunityofalifetimeslipaway.ImightnevergetanotherchancetosailagoddamnHallberg-Rassyhalfwayacrossthegoddamnworld.I’mtwenty-threeyearsold,forfuck’ssake.Ihavetherestofmylifetostayinoneplaceandworkanine-to-fivejob.Threemonthswillpassintheblinkofaneye.Myfatherwillsurviveit
“Youknowwhat?You’reright.IthinkIneedtopracticewhatIpreach.I’llmakeyouadeal,”Iannounce,asmileticklingmylips.“Howaboutthis?Youtalktoyourdadandtellhimeverythingyoujusttoldme.Talktoyourmomandtellherhowshe’shurtyou.AndI’lltalktomydadandtellhimI’mgoingtoNewZealand.Deal?”
Cassiepursesherlips,thinkingitover.“Onlyifit’saftertheBeacon’sreopening.”
“You’restalling,”Itease.
“No,justbeingpractical.Anyconversationwithmymothercreatesthepotentialforsheeranduttercatastrophe,andIstillhavetolivewithherforthenextweek.”
“Fair.Thenwe’llscheduleourrespectiveconversationsforthedayafterthereopening.”Iliftabrow.“Deal?”
Sheshakesmyhand.“Deal.”
MychestfeelssurprisinglylightatthenotionoftellingmyfatherI’mgoingtoacceptGil’soffer.OrmaybethatfeelingofeasehasmoretodowiththeotherconfessionIplantomake.
BecauseafterItellDadaboutthetrip,I’mgoingtotellCassieI’minlovewithher.CHAPTER30
CASSIE
LasttimeIwasinthisballroom,itwasayearafterthehurricaneandmygrandparentsweregivingmeawalk-throughofthedamage.Bythen,theseahaddoneitsworst,leavingbehindagapingspacethatcould’vedoubledasthesettingofaghostshipinahorrormovie.Everythingneededtoberippedout.Thedrywall,theflooring.Guttedrighttothestuds.
Now,afterallofMackenzie’shardwork,theballroomhasbeencompletelyrestored.Theoldwallpaperandgildedwallornamentsaregone,replacedbycreampaintandwhitepanelswithintricatedetailing.Brand-newhardwoodflooringgleamsbeneathourfeet.Themostimpressivechange,however,istheceiling.Itstillsoarsimpossiblyhigh,onlynowthereareskylights,glasspanelsthatopenuptheroomandprovideadazzlingviewoftheinkyskystreakedwithadustingofstars.
Onthestage,aten-piecejazzbandperformsanup-temponumberthatmakesmefeellikeI’vesteppedintoanothertime.Everythingaboutthisballroomfeelsbothmodernandvintageatthesametime,andIwatchGrandma’sfaceasshetakesitallin.
“Incredible,”shesaysunderherbreath,andIseethereliefinMackenzie’sgreeneyes.
“Youdidanamazingjob,”ItellMac.
“Itwasateameffort.”ShelinksherarmwithCooper,wholooksgorgeousinhistux.Withhistattooscoveredandhisfaceclean-shaven,heresemblesapreppyboyfromGarnetCollege.Iwouldnevertellhimthat,though.Ifeellikeitwouldruinhisentirenight.
MacintroducesmygrandmothertoCooper.AsGrandmashakeshishand,she’sstillgazingaroundtheroom,marvelingoverit.Herattentionlandsonthechandelier.“Isthatthesame—”
“No,it’sareplica,”Maccutsin.Hersmileishopeful.“Itlooksthesame,though,right?Iaskedthedesignertocopyitfromaphotograph.”
“It’sbreathtaking,”Grandmaassuresher.“Allofit.”
Thetwoofthemwanderoff,Macpointingoutotherupdatestotheballroom.Meanwhile,Inoticeseveralfamiliarfacesenteringthroughthearcheddoorway.It’sonlyeighto’clock,sopeoplearestilltricklingin.Thehotelitselfisn’topenforbusinessuntiltomorrowmorning,whenguestsfromnearandfarwillbecheckinginatthenewlychristenedBeaconHotel.Mackenziesaysthey’rebookedtocapacity,andGenevievehasbeenstressingaboutitallweek,grumblingabouthowshe’dbeenpromisedasoftopening.IguessMac’soriginalplanwastoonlybookhalfcapacityforopeningweekend,justto“diphertoein,”butCoopertalkedheroutofit,convincinghertomakeabigsplashinstead.
“Cass!”MycousinLivbreaksawayfromthecrowdandhurriesovertohugme.
“Hey!Youlookincredible.”
LiviseighteenandabouttostartherfreshmanyearatYale.She’sUncleWill’sdaughter,andtheonlycousinclosetomyage.Theothersareallthirteenorunder,withAuntJacqueline’slate-in-lifebabyMariahbeingtheyoungestatfive.Myaunthadheratforty-four.
“Hi,squirt,”IgreetthelittlegirlwhowaddlesupbesideLiv.Mariahlooksadorableinawhitetutudressandshinysilverbarrettes.Sheremindsmeofmysisters,whichmakesmewishtheywereheretonight.ButDadandCo.weren’tinvited,andeveniftheyhadbeen,I’msureNiawouldratherbecaughtdeadthaninteractwithmymother.NotthatIblameher.
Igreetmyauntanduncles,whoflewinlastnightfromMassachusettsandConnecticut.
“It’safamilyreunion!”UncleMaxgivesmeakissonthecheekandthenrufflesMariah’shair.“Where’sVictoria?”heasksme.
“Idon’tknow.Shearrivedwithusbutthendisappeared.Ithinkshewenttotheladies’room.”Iscantheballroom,whichisn’tsupercrowdedyet.Still,there’safairnumberofpeoplemillingaround,inanarrayofbeautifulgownsandtailoredsuitsandtuxedos.“Oh,theresheis.”
Momsauntersover.Ican’tdenyshelooksstunninginherform-fittingblackgown,red-soledLouboutins,andelegantupdo.She’sforty-fiveandhonestlylookstenyearsyounger.Genetically,thatbodeswellforme.
I’mquitepleasedwithmyowndresstoo.It’semeraldgreen,withahalter-stylebodicethatcoversmyboobsnicelyandapleatedskirtthatswirlsaroundmyankles.PickedformecourtesyofJoy,who’slookinggorgeousherselfinawhiteminidressandimpossiblyhighstilettos.Isaiahisherplus-one,butfromthewaythey’vebeenbickeringsincetheygothere,Ihaveafeelingthislatestreconciliationwon’tstick.
Mom’sgazesweepsaroundtheroom,restingonthelivelyband,beforesheturnsbackandgrudginglyadmits,“Thisislovely.”
“Isn’tit?”AuntJacquelinesays.“Almostmakesmewishweheldontothisplace.”
Momisquickwithareprimand.“Don’tyousaythat,Jacqueline.Wehadtosell.”
UncleWillchimesinagreement.“Itwastimetosaygoodbye.RememberMomandDadwiththisplace?Itwastheirentirelife.Theydidn’thaveanytimeforthemselves.”
“TheworldrevolvedaroundtheBeacon,”UncleMaxconcurs.
“Iknow,”myauntsayssullenly.“IguessI’mjustsadtoseeitgo.”
Mackenziereturnstogiveusaprivatetour.Justthefamily,andeveryoneissuitablyimpressedbywhatshe’sdonewiththehotel.Thetourendsonthetopfloor,whereMacstridesdownthecarpetedhallwaylookinglikeasupermodelinherblacksatingownandsilverheels.Sheleadsustoapairofdoubledoorsattheveryendofthehall.
“Thepresidentialsuite,”shesays.Eyestwinkling,shestepsasidetoshowustheplaqueonthewall.
THETANNERSUITE.
Grandmalookslikeshemightcry.“Oh,Mackenzie,dear.Youdidn’thavetodothat.”
“No,Idid.”Mac’sexpressionbecomesserious,hervoicethickwithemotion.“Ifitwasn’tforyou,theBeaconwouldn’thavestoodonthisboardwalkforfiftyyears.It’syourlegacy,Lydia.”
Thesuiteisasposhasyouwouldexpect.Evenhasagrandpiano.Afterward,wereturntotheballroom,andI’msurprisedtowitnesssomegenuinenostalgiaswimminginMom’seyes.
“Aww,you’resadtoseeitgotoo,”Iaccuse,mysmiletellingherI’mteasing.“Afterallthegrumblingabouthowyoudidn’twantit…”
“Ohstop,”shesays,pattingmegood-naturedly.Shelooksaroundtheballroomthat’sslowlyfillingup.ThebandisnowplayingajazzyrenditionofaTaylorSwiftsong,whichissortofcool.“Whereisyourboyfriendtonight?”
“Um…”Ipullmyphoneoutofmyclutchandcheckthescreen.Tatewassupposedtoletmeknowwhenhewascominginside.Lasttimewetexted,hewasintheparkinglotwaitingforhisparents.“Oh,perfect.Hisparentsjustgothere.They’rewalkinginnow.”
Aserverappearsbrandishinganarrayofchampagneflutes,andMompluckstwoofthemoffthetray.Withabroadsmile,shehandsmeone.
Ieyeherinamusement.
“What?”shesays.“We’recelebrating.Let’smakeatoast.”Sheraisesthedelicateflute.“Toourfamily.”
“Toourfamily.”Wetapourglasses.Idon’tknowwhyherspiritsaresuddenlysohigh,buthey,I’lltakeit.
Weweaveourwaythroughtheballroom,stoppingtosayhellotoseveralpeopleMomknows.ThenIturnmyheadandseeTateentering.
Mythroatinstantlyturnsintoanaridwasteland.IthoughtTateinasuitwasnice.Tateinatux?It’sasighttobehold.Althoughofcourse,Tateinnothingatallwouldbemyultimatepreference.Anytimewe’renakedtogether,Iforgetmyownname.Andit’snotjustthesexthatturnsmymindtomush.It’severything.Hislaughter.Thewayhisblueeyesbecomesoanimatedwhenhetalksaboutsomethinghe’spassionateabout.Howhe’sfarmoresensitivethanheletson.Hetriestohidethatundertheguiseofsurfer-boyman-whore,buthe’snotfoolingme.Notanymore.
I’mstillflooredbywhathappenedlastweek.TatesheddingrealtearswhenIspokeofmyfragilerelationshipwithmyfather.Iplanonstickingtomyendofthedeal—I’mgoingtotalktobothmyparentsaboutourrelationships.ButIthinkI’maddingTatetothatlist,becauseit’sgettingharderandhardertodenymyfeelingsforhim.
ItriednottogetattachedandIfailed.
Myheartisofficiallyengaged.
Itwassupposedtobeasummerfling,butIdon’twantittoend.Idon’tthinkhewantsittoendeither.Iwishhe’dbetheonetobringitup,tosuggestwecontinueseeingother,butsofarhehasn’t.Apartofmewondersifhe’swaitingformetotakethelead.Iwastheonewhowantedthefling.IinsistedIdidn’twantarelationshiptocomeofit.AndTate’sthekindofguywhoisn’tgoingtopushtheissue.IfIwantmore,Ineedtoaskforit.Vocalizemyneedsandallthatfunstuff.
Itakeanothersip,thentouchMom’sarm.“Tate’shere.Let’ssayhi.”
“Ofcourse.”Shesipsherownchampagneasshefollowsmetowardthetuxedo-cladgoldengodwhostolemyvirginityandmyheart.
“Whoinvitedyou?”Imockglarewhenwereachhim.
“Iknow,right?”Tate’sappreciativegazeeatsmeup.“Youlookincredible.”
“Youcleanupnicetoo.”Ismileandriseonmytiptoestokisshischeek.
Hisparentsarestandingnearby,talkingtoCooper’suncleLevi,butGemmabreaksawaywhenshenoticesme.
“Cassie.Youlookbeautiful.”Gemmagivesmeawarmhug.
“Thankyou.Sodoyou.”She’swearingayellowdress,herfairhairarrangedinanupdowithwavystrandsframingherface.Asmalldiamondpendantisnestledinhercleavage.
IgreetTate’sdad,who’slessboisterousthanusualasheleansintokissmycheek.Maybehe’stoninghimselfdownbecausethisissuchaclassyevent,butwhenhespeaks,hisdemeanorfeelsmorepolitethanlively.“Cassie.Goodtoseeyou.”
“Goodtoseeyoutoo.Thisismymom,Victoria.Mom,thisisGemma,andthisis—”
“Gavin,”Momfinishes,greetinghimwithatightsmile.ShebarelyacknowledgesTate’smother,offeringabrisknodinlieuofhello.“It’sbeenalongtime.”
“Ithas.”Gavinlooksillatease,fidgetingwithhisbowtie.“Nicetoseeyouagain,Tori.”
Iblinkinsurprise.“Oh,youtwoknoweachother?”
“Ohyes,we’rewellacquainted.”Momtakesanothersipofchampagne.
Iwaitforhertocontinue,perhapseven,youknow,explain
Butshedoesn’t,andneitherdoesGavin.
TateappearsasbefuddledasIam.Weexchangeamystifiedlook,asiftosay,whatarewemissing?
Grandmachoosesthatmomenttoapproach,andItrytotransmittoherwithmyeyesthatmaybenowisnotthetime.Something’sbrewinghere.LikethewayIknowwheneverastormiscoming.Icansmellit,feelitintheair.
“Howlonghasitbeen,Gavin?”Momasks,studyinghimoverthetopofherglass.Shesipsagain.“Elevenyears?”
“Aboutthat,”hesays,notquitemeetinghereyes.
InoticeTate’smomshootinghimaquestioninglook.Okay.AtleastTateandIaren’ttheonlyoneswhoareoutoftheloop.Andwhateverthisloopis,it’sbeginningtotriggerallmyinternalalarms.
Grandmareachesus,herexpressiononeofconcern.“Iseverythingallright?”shemurmurstome.
“Ihavenoidea,”Imurmurback.ThenIslatheronabrightsmileandmakealast-ditchattempttowardofftheimpendingstorm.“Hey,Mom,IthinkAuntJacquelineiswavingusover—”
“ThelasttimeIsawyou…”shemusestoGavin,effectivelyignoringme.“ItwasthemonthofAugust,Irememberthatmuch.AndIbelievewemet…here,actually.Atthisbar.”Sheabsentlywavesherarmtowardtheballroomdoors.“Beforeitwasthatcaféoutthere.Itwasthelobbybar,remember?”
Tate’sdaddoesn’tanswer.EitherI’mimaginingit,orhisforeheadhastakenonasheenofsweat.
“Refreshmymemory?Ican’trecallexactlywhenwelastsaweachother…”Withasmilethat’smoreabaringofteeththananythingresemblingamity,MomlockseyeswithGavinBartlett.“Oh,sillyme!Iremembernow.Itwasthenightyouorderedmetoabortourbaby.”CHAPTER31
CASSIE
Whatinactualtarnation…
Istareatmymother.I’mnottheonlyone.
Everyonehasbeenstunnedtosilence.
Well,noteveryone.Allaroundus,otherpeoplearestillenjoyingthemselves.They’relaughingandchatting.They’renibblingonhorsd’?uvresanddrinkingtheirchampagne.Eventhebandisstillplaying.Ilongtobeoneofthoseblissfullyobliviouspeople.Imissmyoldlife,theonefromfivesecondsagobeforeIheardmymotherutterthoseinexplicablewordsinthatice-coldyetoddlysmugtone.
Hershockingadmissionhangslikeacloudintheair,lingering,refusingtodissipate.
I’mthefirstonetofindmyvoice,thoughitcomesouthoarseandunstable.
“Mom.”Ishakemyheadafewtimes,unabletoformulateanymorewords.
“What?”Sheiscompletelyunbothered,cheerfuleven,asshedrainstherestofherglassbeforesignalingapassingserverforanother.
Isshefuckingdrunk?
IlookatGavinandGemma.Tate’sdadispalerthanthecrisplinennapkinsbeinghandedoutwiththehorsd’?uvres.Gemma,ontheotherhand,isflushed,hercheeksstainedadeep,darkred.Whetherfromangerorhumiliation,Idon’tknow.
Mom’samusedgazeflicksmyway.“Weren’tyoutheonewhowassocuriousaboutmypasttheotherday?”sheremindsme.Amockingnotecolorshertone.“Andnow,notasinglequestion?”Shetsks.“Really,Cass?”
“Victoria.”Grandma’ssharpvoiceslicestheair.
“Oh,Mother,don’tlookatmelikethat.Youknewaboutit.”
MygazefliestoGrandma,flashingahundreddifferentquestionsather.Shesaysnothingtoremedymybewilderment.Doesnothingtoassuagemydistress.Hershutteredexpressionisvexingandit’sallIcandonottogrowlather.
“Okay,whatishappeningrightnow?”Ifinallyshout,andthistimewedrawsomeattention.Severalstartledgazes.Curiouseyes.
Momtakesanothersip.
Gavin,whohasn’tutteredasinglewordyet,doesn’tmeetmygaze.Hisjawisstiff,amuscletwitching.
“Gavin?”ThedistrustfulvoicebelongstoTate’smother.Anditsucceedsingettingareactionfromhim.Hisblueeyesshift,lockingontohiswife.Iseenothingofnoteinhisexpression,butGemmamust,becausehercheeksturnredder.Lipstightening.
“Her?”shedemandsindisbelief.“That’swhoitwas?”
Tatestaresathisparents,hisfacedarkening.“Seriously,whatthehellisgoingon?Whatbabyisshetalkingabout?”
Mystomachbeginstochurn.Aneddyofdisgustandshame.I’mlookingatmymotherandIrealizeshe’senjoyingthis.Shestandstheresmirking,unruffled,sippingherdrink.Shedoesn’tcaretoexpoundonthistale.She’snotpurposelydelayingthepayofftokeepeveryoneontheedgeoftheirseats.Thatwasn’therintention.Allshewanted,Irealize,assheaimshersatisfiedsmirkatavisiblysweatingGavinBartlett—wasthat.ShewantedtomakeTate’sfathersquirm.Wantedtoputhiminthispositionofhavingtoexplainhimselftohisfamily.
Withoutaddressinghisson’squestion,GavintouchesGemma’sarm.“Whydon’twegospeakprivately,darlin’?”
Mymotherdoesn’tlikethatonebit.Whateverheroriginalplan,Iseethemomentshementallyadjustsit.
Withaharshlaugh,shesays,“What’sthematter,Gavin?Youdon’twanttotakeatripdownmemorylaneamongfriends?Whyonearthnot?”Shepretendstothinkitover.She’sthestarofthissickmovieandshe’srelishingeverysecond.“Isitbecauseyoudon’twantyoursonandyourwifeandthegoodpeopleofAvalonBaytoknowthekindofmanyoureallyare?”
Angertwistsandcutsatmyinsides.“Stopit,”Isnap.“That’senough,Mom.Timetogo.”
Iplanongettingthiswholestory,damnrightIdo,butnotnow.Nothere,inaballroomfullofpeople.InoticeMackenziestartingtomakeherwaytowardus,Cooperatherheels.ButtheystopwhenIgiveaslightshakeofmyhead.
“No,wecan’thavethat,canwe?”Momdoesn’theedmywarning.She’slaughingagain.Coldandpunishing.“You’reMr.CongenialityoftheBay.Mr.Perfectwhocandonowrong.PerfectGavinwhocanhaveanaffair,screwanotherwomanbehindhiswife’sback,knockthatwomanup,andstillsmiletoallthosepeoplewhowalkintohisplaceofbusinessandtalkabouthowmuchheloveshisboatsandletmetellyouaboutthetimeIsailedtoHawaii!Right,Gavin?”Scorndripsliketarfromhereveryword.“Well,I’msorry,youdon’tgetthatluxuryanymore.Youdon’tgettopretendanymore.”
“Victoria.”It’sGrandmaagain.ShetouchesMom’selbow.“Thisisneitherthetimenortheplace.”
“Whynot?”Momflashesamockinglook.“ThisisthelasttimeI’lleverbeinthisfuckingtown,sowhynotnow?”
Iflinchattheexpletive.Momisusuallyalotclassierthanthis.There’snothingclassyabouthernow.Thecontemptuoussmile.Thosegleamingeyes,aimedatTate’sparents.It’sinsidious.Everythingaboutthisisfuckinginsidious.
AndTate.God,Ican’tevenlookatTate.IseehiminmyperipheryandI’mdiligentlytryingnottoletoureyesmeet.Idon’twanttoknowhisexpression.Nobodywantstoseewhattheirsort-ofboyfriend’sfacelookslikeafteryoubothfindoutyourparentshadanaffair.Allegedly.I’mstillnotcertainwhatthewholestoryishere,butit’sevidenttheywereinvolvedinsomeway.
“Mr.Perfecthasnothingtosay?”MomseemsalmostdisappointedthatTate’sdadisn’ttakingherbait.
Themanhasn’tevenacknowledgedhersinceshedroppedherbomb.Andthat’saproblem.Narcissistscan’thandlebeingignored.That’susuallywhentheygoforthejugular.AndMomisnoexception.
“PerfectGavinBartlett,whohashiscakeandeatsittoo.Whoflashesahugesmiletotheworldandthensitsdownandofferstopayfortheabortion.”
Someoneneedstostopthis.Butnobodyis.Grandmahasgonedeathlysilent.Tateismotionless.Gavinjuststandstheretakingit.AndI’mtoostunned,myheartpoundingtoofast.Tooloud.Icanbarelyhearmyownthoughts,letalonestringsometogetherandverbalizethem.Ifeelnauseous,bileburninglikeacidinmythroat.
ThepersonwhofinallyputsanendtoourcollectivetortureisTate’smom.
It’satestamenttohersouthernupbringing,thewayGemmaBartlettwipesherpalmsonthefrontofherdressbeforetakingabreathandsteppingclosertomygrandmother.
“AvalonBaywillbesadtoseeyougo,Lydia.I’veenjoyedrunningintoyouaroundtownandchattingwithyou,andIdowishwe’dgottentoknoweachotherbetterovertheyears.IhopeBostontreatsyouwell.”Withasoftsmile,GemmaclaspsGrandma’shand,thenreleasesit.“Now,I’mafraidImusttakemyleave.I’mfeelingaweebitundertheweather.”
Withoutsparingaglanceatmymother,Gemmadropstheproverbialmiclikeafuckingrockstarandwalksaway.
It’schaosafterthat.Notthekindofchaoswherepeoplearescreamingandrunningandmakingascene.Aquietchaos,whereeveryonedisappearsintheblinkofaneye.Tate’sfathergoesafterGemma.AstrickenTatefollowsGavin.Mymotherdrainsherglassandhandsittoawaiter,thencalmlysaunterstowardthearcheddoorway.
Istareatherretreatingback,thecasualswayofherhipsinthatblackcocktailgown.Iremainfrozenforamoment.Beforetheragepropelsmeintoaction.
Heartratedangerouslyhigh,Ihurryaftermymother.She’swalkingatafastclip,andIdon’tcatchuptoheruntilshe’sglidingthroughthelobbydoorstostepoutside.
“Areyoukiddingme?”Igrabherarmbeforeshecanapproachthevalet.“Noway.You’renotgoinganywhere.”
“Don’tspeaktomeinthattone.”Momflingsmyhandoff.
“Me?You’reunhappywiththewayI’mspeakingtoyou?Howaboutthewayyouspoketoeveryoneinthere?Whatthehellwasthat?”
Myvoiceisshakingwildly.Aleafinahurricane.Mypalmsfeelnumb,pulseracing.Andthroughmybloodsurgesthekindofragethatproducestears.Thatmakesyousoblikeahelplesschildbecausetheferocityofthefuryistoostrongforevenanadulttohandle.
Asmythroattightenstothepointofpain,IsnatchMom’shandanddragherawayfromthevaletstation.
“Cassie!Letmego.”
“No,”Isnap.
“Cassie,”shesayssharplyasshestumblesonherheels.
Islowdowntoallowhertoregainherbalance,butIdon’tstopmovinguntilwe’rewelloutofearshotoftheBeacon.
“YouhadanaffairwithGavinBartlett?”Idemand.
Shelooksamusedbythequestion.
“Don’tsmileatmelikethat.”Iclenchmyteeth.“Areyougettingpleasureoutofthis?”
“Alittlebit,yes.”Shechuckles.“Idon’tthinkI’veeverseenyousoangry.Youcanrelax.Itwasalongtimeago.”
Igapeather.“Youwantmetorelax?YoucheatedonDad.”
“Wewerealreadyseparated.”Shepauses.Mulling.Thensheamendsthat.“Talkingaboutseparation,anyway.”
“Butyouweren’tseparated.”Idragatiredhandovermyeyes,willingmyselfnottocry.“Whendidthishappen?Theyearbeforethedivorce?”
“Yes.Iwastradinginyourgrandfather’sboatanddealtwithGavinatthedealership.And,well…”Sheshrugs.“You’vemettheman.He’scharming.Nottomentiongorgeous.”
Myheadisspinning.Idon’twanttoknowthedetails,andyetIdo.“Whoinitiatedit?”Iaskwarily.
“Hedid.”
Forsomereasonthatsurprisesme.IpicturedMomastheinstigator,struttingintothedealershipinatightdress,setonruiningaman’slife.
“Andittookalotofpersuasiononhisend.I’dnevercheatedonyourfatherinalltheyearsweweremarried.Ifwehadn’talreadybeenhavingproblems,I’msureIwouldhaveremainedfaithful.”
Ifeelsickagain.“Howlongdiditgoonfor?”
“Fourmonths.ThenIgotpregnant.”Thehumorandindifferencefinallyabandonher,replacedbybitterness.Darkandacute.Itfillshereyes,burninghot.“Thethrillofanaffairfadesawfullyfastwhenreallifecreepsin.Heasked—no,hedemanded—thatIgetridofthebaby.Saidhecouldn’tdothattohisfamily.”Sheshakesherheadangrily.“Itwasperfectlyacceptableforhimtobesleepingaroundonhiswife,hurtinghereverysingledaybybetrayingthevowshetook.Gettinghisrocksoffinhotelroomsonhislunchbreakandthengoinghomeactingasifhewastheperfecthusbandandfather.Solongashewashavingagoodtime,thenIwasusefultohim.Andthen,whenhisperfectlittlebubbleburst,Ibecameaninconvenience.”Momlaughswithoutashredofhumor.“VictoriaTannerisnobody’sinconvenience.”
“So,what,youweregoingtokeephisbabyoutofspite?”OhmyGod.Iwanttothrowup.
“No,Iwaskeepingitbecauseitwasmine.”ShesoundsoffendedI’devenvoicethatquestion,yetdoesn’trealizeheranswerisequallydisturbing.Asalways,shetalksaboutpeople,includinganunbornchild,likethey’repossessions.Toolsforhertousewhicheverwayshewants.
Myeyeswellupagain.IfeelthetearsonmylashesandwhenIblink,astreakofmoistureslidesdownmycheeks.
“Cassie.Stopit.You’reactinglikeachild.”
“I’mactinglikeachild?”Istarttolaugh.I’msofuckingastounded.I’mastonishedthatI’mrelatedtothiswoman.“Ishouldn’tcrywhenIfindoutmymothercheatedonmyfather?Gotpregnantbyanotherman.Decidedtokeepthatbaby.Didyoureallyhaveamiscarriage?”
“Yes,”shesaysstiffly.
“AndDadknew.”
“Hedid,yes.”
“Heknewitwasn’this?”Ichallenge
“Would’vebeenhardforhimnottoguesswhenwehadn’tbeenintimateinmonthsbythatpoint.”
“AndGrandmaknewtoo?”Iask,rememberingthewayMomsnappedatherintheballroom.“Thatyouhadanaffair?”
“Sheonlyfoundoutafterthedivorce.SheandIweren’tseeingeyetoeyeonsomething,anditcameoutduringanargument.”
Ofcourseitdid,becauseapparentlymymotherdoesn’tbehavelikeanormalhumanbeing.Shesavesupallherammunitionandshootsitatyouwhenitsuitsher.Whenshewantstohurtyou,orneedssomesortofvalidation.
Grandma’searsmusthavebeenburningbecausesheappearsthen.Hergaitisslowerthanusual,exhaustionlininghereyes.Butherfeaturessharpenwhenshereachesus,hershouldersstraighteningasiffortifyingherforafight.
“Notnow,Mother,”Momsnaps.“Ireallydon’tneedyourinputatthemoment.”
“You’reright,Victoria.Youdon’tneedmyinput.Youdon’tneedanyone’sinput,doyou?Becauseyou’realwaysright.”Grandmafocusesonme,allbutdismissingherowndaughter.“Areyouokay,dear?”
“Notreally,”Iadmit.“IjusthopeTateandhisparentsareallright—”
Mompracticallygrowlsatme.“ThereisabsolutelynoreasonforyoutoworryaboutGavinandhisfamily.Hemadehisownbed.Youdon’tgettocheatonyourwifeandlieaboutitforyears,goonwithyourlifeasifnothingeverhappened.Hedoesn’tgetthat,andyoushouldn’tfeelsorryforthatman.”
“Idon’tfeelsorryforhim,”Isaysadly.“Ifeelsorryforyou.”
Sherearsback.“Excuseme?”
“Youheardme.You’vebeenaselfish,manipulativejerkmyentirelife.Nothingisevergoodenoughforyou.ThewayIlook,thewayIact,theguysIdate—”Istopinhorror.“Wait,isthiswhyyou’vebeensonicetomelately?BecauseIwasgoingoutwithTate?YouknewhewasGavin’sson.”
“OfcourseIknew.IfigureditoutthemomentIsawhimoutsidetheJacksonplace.He’sthespittingimageofhisfather.”
“Soyouwerejustpretendingtobenicetome—”
“Stopbeingsodramatic,Cassie!”sheinterrupts,blowingoutanexasperatedbreath.“Nobodywaspretending.I’myourmother.Ienjoyspendingtimewithyou.”
“Idon’tthinkIbelievethat.”Iswallowmybitterness.“ButnowIgetit.”Shakingmyhead,disappointmentembeddeddeepinsideme,Imeethereyesandask,“WasthissomebigplantogetGavininpublicandhumiliatehisfamily?”
“No,”shescoffs.“I’mnotapsychopath.ButasI’vealwaystoldyou,ifanopportunitypresentsitself,youtakeit.Tonight,anopportunitypresenteditself.”
“Really,”Isaydubiously.“Youdidn’tplanit.AndyouhadnoulteriormotivesforconstantlyinvitingTatetojoinusfordinner.”
“Ofcoursenot.IenjoyTate’scompanytoo.It’scompletelyincidentalthatitalsogavemeinsightintowhathisfamily’sbeenuptointheyearssincehisfather’sindiscretion.”
Incidental,myass.
“And,Iwilladmit,itannoyedme.HearingaboutGavin’slife.Howeveryoneintownstilladoreshim.Gettingarticleswrittenabouthiminthepaper,photographedwithhisobliviouswifeandperfectson.MaybeIwasabitoutoflineinthere,”shenodstowardthehotelbehindus,“butthistownneededtoknowwhatkindofmanheis.”
IstareatherandseesomeoneIdon’trecognize.SomeoneIdon’twanttoknow.Iseeabitter,miserablewomanwhohatesherselfsomuchshelashesoutateveryonearoundher.Awomanwhocouldn’tstandseeingthemanshehadanaffairwithlivingaseeminglyhappylifeandthusfelttheneedtohumiliatehimandhiswife.Inpublic.Infrontoftheirson.
IseeawomanIdon’twantinmylifeanymore,andIfeelaprofoundsenseofloss.
Andnomatterwhatshesays,Inolongerbelievethestoryshefedmeaboutfightingforsolecustodybecauseshewasfeelingvulnerableandlongedtokeepherdaughtercloseafterthemiscarriage.Shedidittohurtmyfather,plainandsimple.Iwasapossessiontoher,somethingshecoulduseagainsthimandkeepfromhimtomakehimsuffer.
“You’resick,”Itellher.“Youhaveanactualsickness,Mom.AndI’mdone.”
“Cassie—”
“No.Stop.Don’ttellmeI’mbeingdramatic.Don’tblastmefornottakingyoursideorwhateverelseyouwanttobitchabout.Youjusthumiliatedmyboyfriendandhisfamilyatapubliceventthatwassupposedtohonorourfamily—”Icutmyselfoff,becauseshe’snotworthit.NotworththeenergyI’mexpendingbyevensayinganyofthesefutilewords.Thisentiretimewe’vebeenouthere,shehasn’tonceapologizedforheractions.Inhermind,shedidnothingwrongtonight.
IjerkwhenIfeelGrandma’shandonmyarm.“Ithinkit’stimetogo.”
“Ithinksotoo,”Isay,nodding.
MygrandmotherglancesatMom.“AndIthinkit’sbetterifyoustayinahoteltonight,Victoria.”Withalookofirony,GrandmagesturestotheBeacon.“There’sonerightthere,dear.PerhapsMs.Cabotwillcompyouaroom.”
“Mother.Seriously.”
“Yes,seriously.I’mdonelisteningtoyoutonight.Youdestroyeverythingyoutouch.Youalwayshave.Itriedtoinstilltherightvaluesinyou,toteachyoutheimportanceofbeingcompassionate,humble.ItappearsIfailed.”Grandmashakesherheadsadly.“I’llhaveAdelaide’shusbanddeliveryourbagstomorrowmorningtowhereveryouchoosetostay.Butfortonight,andfortherestofthevisit,CassieandIwouldliketobealone.Isn’tthatright,Cassie?”
“Yes.Itis.”
Armslinkedtightlytogether,GrandmaandIwalkaway.CHAPTER32
CASSIE
Me:Youokay?
Me:Tonightwasbrutal.
Me:Idon’tevenknowwhattosay.
Istoptextingafterthetrifecta,becausenomatterhowupsetIam,Irefusetobecomeapersonwhotextsinone-liners.
MyheartjumpswhenIseeTatetypingback.I’vebeendyingtotalktohimsinceIgothome,buthehadhisownshittodealwith.Hisownparentalconfrontations.Iwould’vekilledtobeaflyonthewallwhenTatespoketohisparents,especiallyhisdad.IneedtoknowGavin’ssideofthesordidstory,becauseIdon’ttrustadamnwordmymothersays.
AsIwaitforTate’smessagetoappear,Istareupattheceiling,wishinghewereherewithme.It’seleveno’clockandIdoubtI’llbegettingsomuchasawinkofsleep.Mybrainkeepsrunningovereverywordthatwasutteredtonight.Everyhorrible,horribleword.Icouldusethedistraction.ButTateishomewithhisparents,andIassumehe’llbespendingthenightthere.
Tate:Yeah,thatwasrough.Howareyoudoing?
Hewastypingforsolong,Iexpectedmore.ButIguessit’sbetterthannothing.
Me:Idon’tevenknow.Isyourmomokay?
Tate:Notreally.Shehasn’tsaidmuchsincewegothome.Justbeenquiet.We’reabouttotakethedogsforawalk.
Me:Thislate?
Tate:Shedoesn’tfeellikegoingtobedyet.
There’sabeat.Thenanothermessage.
Tate:Dad’scrashingonafriend’scouch.
Fuck.Guiltlodgesinmythroatlikeawadofgum.IknowthatI,personally,didn’tdothistohisfamily,butIfeelresponsible,complicitinmymother’sactions.
Gavincheatedtoo…
Right.Ihavetoacknowledgethattoo.Notalltheblamecanbeplacedonmymother;Tate’sfatherwasequallyresponsible.AndIdoubtI’lleverknowtherealstoryaboutwhoinitiatedtheaffair,becausecheaterstendtotwistthetruthtoportraythemselvesinthebestpossiblelight.I’mnotsureIenvisionGavinastheseductiveroguewhowooedmymotherintohisbed.ButIcan’tentirelypictureherseducinghimeither.Mommightbecharming,butshe’sneverbeenaflirtora,well,bimbo.
Isuspectaswithmostsituationsthetruthissomewhereinthemiddle.
Eitherway,tonightlefthurricane-scaledamageonbothourfamilies.GrandmaandIsattogetherinthekitchenformorethananhourafterwegothome.Shewascandidwithme,admittinghowdisappointedshe’dalwaysbeeninheryoungestdaughter.Momhadn’texperiencedanytraumaticeventsinherchildhoodthatmadeherthisway—shewasjustspoiled.Shewasthebaby,theyoungestoffour.Grandmadidn’texplicitlyblameGrandpaWally—shewouldneverspeakanillwordabouthim—butafterourtalktonight,Igetthesensehewastheonewhodidmostofthespoiling.
Butspoilingyourkidisn’tareasonforsomeonetobecomeascallousandentitledasmymother,notreasonaloneanyway.Somepeoplearejustbornassholes,Iguess.
Grandmasaidwe’dtalkaboutitmoretomorrow,butreally,whatislefttosay?Iwantnothingtodowithmymother.Forthetimebeing,andpossiblylonger.Thewayshewassmirkingoverherchampagnetonightasshedestroyedanotherwoman’smarriagewasdespicable.OneofthecruelestthingsI’veeverwitnessed.
Tate:IwishIwasinbedwithyourightnow.
Me:Metoo.WillIseeyoutomorrow?
Tate:Yeah.GilandShirleyreturnonSundaysoIgottaheadbackandcleanthehousefromtoptobottom.
Ican’tbelievethesummer’sover.IleaveforBostononMonday.AndmyrelationshipwithTatestillhangsinthebalance,unresolved.Except,nowIrealizetheremightneverbearesolution.Whetherwekeepseeingeachotherornot,ourfamiliesarenowintrinsicallyintertwined.Forever.
Butwe’renotourparents,Iremindmyself.We’renot.IwouldneverjudgeTateforhisfather’sactions,andIknowhewouldn’tjudgemeforwhatmymother’sdone.I’mhopingthisdoesn’tchangeus.Ifitdoes,Ican’tbecertainmyheartwillsurvive.
Tate:I’llcallyouinthemorning.Night,Cass.
Me:Night.
Isetthephoneonthenightstandandcrawlunderthecovers,butsleepeludesme.Itsimplywon’tcome.Mythoughtsarerunningandrunningaroundinmyheadinanunceasingloop.
MomgotpregnantbyTate’sdad.
Andmyfatherknewitwasn’thisbaby,whichraisessomanymorequestions.DidDadknowitwasGavinBartlett’sorthinkitwassomeanonymousman?Anddoesitmatter?Eitherway,Dadknewshewashavinganaffair.Heknewwhatkindofshittypersonshewas.Andhestillletmegolivewithher.Heletmebealonewithherfromtheageoftentoeighteen.Eightyearsofherattentionsolelyfocusedonme.Herverbalpunchingbag.Howcouldhedothat?
I’msuddenlyhitbyagustofanger.Sleepisallbutforgotten.Itallspillsout,allthethingsIwanttosaytohim,allthequestionsplaguingmymind,anditpushesmeoutofbed,becauseyouknowwhat?I’mdone.I’mdonebottlingitup.Donenotvoicingmyfeelings.Vocalizingmyneeds,asTatelikestosay.I’mfuckingdone.
Idon’tbotherchanging,justheaddownstairsinmyplaidshortsandgrayT-shirt.AsquietlyasIcan,IwalktothefronthallandstickmyfeetinapairofGrandma’sgardeningCrocs.ThenIgrabherkeysandgoouttothecar.
It’s12:10whenIpullintothedrivewayofmychildhoodhome.IstareatitthroughtheRover’swindshield,mythroatclosingup.Ilovethishouse.Igrewuphere.Mydadwashere.AndalthoughIknowtheaffairwasn’tthesolereasonforthedivorce—theywerealreadydiscussingseparationbythen—mymotherwasstillthecause.Thewayshetreatedpeople,thewayshetreatedhim,that’swhatendedtheirmarriage.Butitdidn’thavetoendmyrelationshipwithhim.Hedidn’thavetopassivelystandbyandlethertakeme.
Hecouldhavefoughtforme.
Iflingopenthecardoorandjumpout,heartpoundingasImarchtowardtheporchandthen—
Andthennothing.Ihalt,suddenlyfuriousagain.Atmyself.BecausewhatthehellamIdoing?Therearetwosleepingsix-year-oldsinthere.It’smidnight.IfIstorminandstartmakingdemandsonmydadrightnow,I’mnobetterthanmymothercausingasceneattheBeaconHotel’sgrandreopening.Makingitallaboutherself.
Swallowingthelumpinmythroat,IslowlyturnandwalkbacktotheRover.I’llcomebackinthemorning.It’swhatIshouldhavedoneinthefirstplace.
WhenIreachthecar,Ihearasoftvoicesaymyname.
“Cassandra?”
It’sNia.
Mystomachdrops.Fuckinghell.No.Nother.Ican’tdothisrightnow.Ijustcan’t.
Butshe’salreadystridingtowardme,wearingwhiteslippersandaredrobe,thesashtiedhaphazardlyaroundhermidsection.Hertightcurlsareloosearoundherface,andthere’snomistakingtheconcernthatfillsherdarkeyeswhenshenoticesmytear-streakedface.
“Areyouallright?”Niafrets,andforsomereasonthequestionunleashesafreshonslaughtoftears.
“No,”ImoanandthenIthrowmyselfintoherarms.
Theyweren’toutstretched,weren’tinvitingmein,butthemomentI’mthereshewrapsthemaroundme,huggingmewithouthesitation.Ishudderinherarms,cryinguncontrollably.Gaspingforairandfeelinglikemyentireworldhasjustcrumbledaroundme,likeI’mtenyearsoldagainandmyparentsaregettingdivorcedandDaddyistellingmeIcan’tlivewithhimanymorebutdon’tworryI’llseeyouallthetime,Cass
“Helied,”Ichokeout,asthetearscontinuetofall.“Hedidn’tseemeallthetime.”
“What?”Niasaysinconfusion.
“Heletherhaveme.Afterthedivorce.Hepromisednothingwouldchangeandeverythingchanged.”IfIhadtheabilitytothinkcoherentthoughtsrightnow,IknowIwouldbemortified.ButI’mtoodistraught,sobbinginherarmsaswestandthereinthedriveway.AsNia,thestepmotherwhodoesn’tevenlikeme,providesmewiththecomfortthatneitherofmyparentshavebeencapableofgivingmemyentirelife.
“Ihadtolivewiththatwoman,andheknowswhatitwaslikelivingwithher.Buthegotridofher,hegottoleave.Ididn’thavethatluxury,didI?Ihadtokeeplivingwithher,keeplisteningtoallthewaysIwasn’tfuckinggoodenough.Andmeanwhilehegetstostayhereinmyhouse,”Ispitout.It’sahalfgrowl,halfsob.“Withhisnewkidsandtheirmother.Theirperfectfuckingmother.”
Iburymyfaceagainstherbosomandshakefrommytears.Sheholdsmetighterandrunsherhandovermyback,strokesmyhair,andthatonlymakesitworsebecauseit’swhatamotherissupposedtodo.Andthatmakesmecryharder.
Somehow,Imanagetoliftmyheadeventhoughitfeelslikeitweighsathousandpounds.
“Iwishyouweremymom,”Itellher,myvoicebarelyaboveawhisper.
Andthenitfinallyhappens—themortificationkicksin,intheformofapanicattackthatknocksmeoffmyfeet.ItallbubblesoverandIcan’tbreathe.I’veneverhadapanicattackbefore,thekindwhereyou’rehyperventilating.SuddenlyI’montheground,thegravelbitingintomybareknees.Igulpforair,cryingandpantingandavoidingNia’sworriedeyesbecauseIcan’tbelieveIjustsaidthattoher.
She’skneelingbesidemenow.“Breathe,”sheorders.“Breathe,Cassandra.Lookatme.”
Ilookather.
“DowhatI’mdoing.Takeaverydeepbreath.Inhale.Ready?”
Iinhale.
“Good.Nowexhale.”
Iexhale.
Forthenextcoupleofminutes,shehelpsmerememberhowtobreathe.Inandout,inandout,untilmyheartbeathasregulatedandmyhandsarenolongernumb.
“I’msosorry,”Icroak.Iglancetowardthehouse,realizingtheporchlightison.Icatchaglimpseofmovementinthelivingroomwindow.Wasthatmyfather?“DidIwakeupthewholehouse?”
“Non,non,youdidn’t.”
“HowdidyouknowIwasoutside?”
“Thedoorbellcamerasendsanalerttomyphone.Itwokemeup,butyourfatherwasstillasleep.”
“I’msorry.Ididn’tmeantobargein.Somethingjusthappenedtonight,and…”Itrailoff.
“Iseverythingallright?Yourgrandmother?”
“It’sfine.She’sfine.”Iinhaleagain.“Wewereatthegrandreopeningofourfamilyhotel,and…”Ishakemyhead,abitterlaughslidingout.“Well,longstoryshort,mymotherdecidedtoannouncetotheentireballroomthatshehadanaffairwithmyboyfriend’sfatherwhenIwasten.”
Nia’seyeswiden.“Oh.”
“Accordingtoher,Dadknewabouttheaffair.”Istudymystepmother’sface.“Didhetellyouaboutit?”
Afterabeat,shenods.“Hetoldme,yes.ButIdon’tbelieveheknewwhotheothermanwas.”
“Idon’tthinkheknew.Tate’smomdidn’tknowaboutmymom.”God.Thisissuchatwistedmess.“Itwassoembarrassing,youhavenoidea.IwaslookingatMomandshewasthistotalstrangertome.Gettingenjoymentoutofit.Mywholelife,I’vejustwantedamom.AndtonightIrealizedthat’snevergoingtohappen.Notwithher.”IgiveNiaasadsmile.“I’msorry.IknowI’mnotyourkid.Youdon’tneedtobesittingouthereinthemiddleofthenightcomfortingme.”
Nia’stonebecomesstern.“Imaynothavebirthedyou,Cassandra,butIcertainlyviewyouasadaughter.”
“Bullshit.”ThenIwince.“Sorry,Ididn’tmeantoswear.”
Shelaughsquietly.“Don’tworry,everydaythewordmerdegetsspokeninthishousemoretimesthanIcancount.Andit’snotbullshit.Iadmit,I’vekeptmydistanceovertheyears.NotbecauseIdidn’tconsideryouapartofthefamilyordidn’tloveyou.”Shehesitates.“Yourmotheris…difficult.”
“No,really?”
Webothlaugh.
“Ifiguredthat’swhatitwas,”Iadmit.“Thatyoukeptyourdistancebecauseofher.ButI’mnother.AndI’mnotlikeher.Atall.”
“You’renot,”Niaconfirms.“Butthereismuchyoudon’tknow,chérie.WhenyourfatherandIbecamelovers—”
Ichokeonanotherlaugh.“Pleasedon’tsayitlikethat.”
“WhatshouldIsaythen?”
“Say…gottogether.”
Hereyessparkle.“WhenyourfatherandIgottogether,yourmotherwasveryunhappy.Shedidn’thavenicethingstosaytome,oraboutme,atthebeginning.Thereweremanywarnings,includingwhatwouldhappenifItriedtotakeherdaughterfromherorspeakbadlyofherwhenyouwerearound.Therewasameetingwiththejudge—”
Shockslamsintome.
“Shewasthreateningtotakeawayyourfather’svisitation.”Niasighs.“YouweretwelvewhenClaytonandIgottogether,andshetoldthejudgeshedidn’twantherex-husband’sbimbo—Ihadtolookupthatwordinthedictionary—shedidn’twantmebrainwashingherdaughterintohatingher.Therewasamediationsession,andforthefirstyearIwasn’tevenallowedtobealonewithyou.”
Igasp.Whatintheactualfuck?“Ihadnoidea.”
“Iknow.Wedidn’ttellyou.Andkeepingadistancebecameahabitforme,Isuppose.ButI’vebeenwatchingyougrowupalltheseyears,andIthinkyouareawonderfulyoungwoman.Socreative,withyourstories,andyourhumor.I’mveryproudofyou.”
“Thenwhydon’tyouwantmearoundmysisters?”ThewoundedquestionslipsoutbeforeIcanstopit.
Shelooksalarmed.“Whydoyousaythat?”
“You’vealwaysbeensoprotectiveofthemwhenI’maround.Likeyoudon’ttrustmetobearoundthem.Lastmonth,afterMoniquefell,youlookedsofuriousand—”
“Iwasveryfurious,”Niainterrupts.“WithMonique!”She’sflusterednow.“Thatgirlknowsbetterthantoclimbonfurniture!Itoldyoubeforeweleftthatnighthowmuchitwasupsettingme.”
Shedidtellme.But,Isuddenlyrealize,whenyouthinksomeonedoesn’tlikeyou,everythingtheysaybecomeswarped.Everylookbecomesdistorted.HereyesmighttransmitaggravationwithMonique’sdisobedience,butmyeyesseecondemnation.Hertonemightconveyconcern,butIhearaccusation.Imadeitallaboutmyself,andI’mashamedwhenIrealizethat’ssomethingmymotherwoulddo.
“Ithoughtyoudidn’twantmearound.Dadtoo.”
“Yourfather?Never.Yourfatherlovesyou,Cassandra.You’reallheevertalksabout.”
Alumpformsinmythroat.“Really?”
“Thereisn’tadaythatgoesbyinthishousewhereyournameisn’tspoken,”Niasays.“Helovesyouverymuch.”
“Henevertellsmethat.”
“Doyouevertellhimhowyoufeel?”
“No,butisitjustmyresponsibility?”
“No,”sheagrees.“Andthisiswhywewillgoinsidenow,soyoucanspeaktohim.”
“Yousaidhewasasleep.”
“WhenIgotup,yes.Buthe’sawakenow.”Shenodstowardthekitchenwindow.“Isignaledforhimtogiveusaminutewhenhecameoutside.”
“Hecameoutside?”
“Yes.Whenyouwere…beingsad.”
Beingsad.Understatementoftheyear.
“Isuspecthe’spreparingtheteayoulike.AndIwouldlikeyoutosaytohimallthethingsyoujustsaidtome.Whydon’twegoinsideanddothat?”
Ihesitate.
Shebrushesdrivewaygraveloffherkneesandgetstoherfeet.“Cassandra?”Sheextendsherhand.
Itakeitandletherhelpmeup.Butthedoubtsarereturning,theoldinsecuritieswhippingupandmakingmebitemylip.“Ifyoulikeme,whydoyoualwayscallmeCassandra?”
“That’syourname,oui?”
“Oui—Imean,yes.But…everyoneelsecallsmeCassieorCassandyouneverdo.Ithoughtitmeantsomething.Likemaybeyouwerebeingintentionallyformalbecauseyoudidn’tlikeme.”
Herlipscurvewithhumor.“Notatall.Ijustthinkit’sabeautifulname.Cas-san-dra.Ienjoythewayitrollsoffmytongue.”
Iswallowmylaughter.Ofcourseshedoes.
Thehumanbrainissoridiculoussometimes.Itcreatestheseelaborateintentionsforpeople,attributesmotives,whenattheendoftheday,shejustlikeshowmynamerollsoffhertongue.CHAPTER33
TATE
Iwalkintothekitchenthenextmorningtofindmyfatheratthetable,drinkinghiscoffeeandreadingtheSaturdayeditionoftheAvalonBeewhileMomscrambleseggsatthestove.Idoanhonest-to-Goddoubletake.IhavetoblinkseveraltimestoconvincemyselfI’mnotimaginingthischaradeofdomesticbliss.
DadcrashedathisfriendKurt’shouselastnightandnowhe’sinourkitchen.Hemusthavewokenupandcomestraighthome,andinsteadofslammingthedoorinhisface,Momallowedhiminandisgoddamnservinghimbreakfast.
Istandinthedoorway,staring.Theydon’tnoticeme,toocaughtupintheirmundaneactivities.Mom’sstickingtwoslicesofbreadinthetoaster.Dad’sreadingthepaper,nocareintheworldafterblowingourfamilyapart.
“Whatthehellishedoinghere?”
Theybothlookoverinshock.
WhenmyeyeslockwithDad’s,hisfillwithshame.Good.Hefuckingbetterbeashamed.SincethesecondCassie’smotherdroppedthatbomb,theeventsoflastnighthavebeenrunningonaloopinmyhead.WhenMomandIgothome,sherefusedtoevendiscusswhathappened.I’veneverbeensofrustratedinmylife,buthey,Ithought,it’snotjustmylifethatgotcompletelyupended.Thisishermarriage.SoIkeptmymouthshutdespiteallthequestionsburningatmytongue.Ididn’tpushher.Wewalkedthedogsandthenshebidmegoodnightandwentuptobed.
Nowshe’scookingbreakfastformycheatingfatherasifnothinghappened?
“Tate,”Dadstarts.Cautious.“Sitdown.Weshouldprobablytalkaboutlastnight.”
“Firstofall,probably?”I’mequaldosesdumbfoundedandenraged.“Andsecond,whyareyouhere?Whyareyousittingtheredrinkingcoffee?Youshouldbeupstairspackingafuckingbag.”
Herecoils.
EvenasIspitoutthewords,aboltofhotagonyripsaholeinmychest.Packingabag.Christ,theideaofmyfatherleaving,myparentsdivorcing…Iscrapeahandthroughmyhair,wantingtotearitoutbytheroots.
Myfatherhadanaffair.Hesleptwithanotherwoman.Andnotjustanyotherwoman—Cassie’smother.I’mstillreelingfromthat.I’msureCassieisequallyhorrified.I’lltalktoheraboutitlaterwhenIseeher,but,fuck,Idon’tevenknowwhatthereistosay.Yes,thismesswascausedbyourparents,notus.Buteverythingaboutthissituationjustfeelsfuckingwrong.AswrongasMomcarryingtwoplatesofeggsandtoasttothetableasifourworldisunchanged.Thedogstrailafterher,Fudgesettlingatherfeetandstaringlonginglyattheirplatesasifhehasn’thadabiteoffoodinforty-fiveyears.Pollykeepsarespectabledistancebecauseshehasbettermanners.
Igapeatmyparents.“Whyishehere?”IaskMom.Withoutlettingherrespond,Iturntoglowerathim.“Youcouldn’tevengivehertwenty-fourhours?”
Disdaindripsfrommytoneandheflinches.HiseyeswidenandIrealizeI’veneverspokentohimthiswaybefore.ButI’vealsoneverbeenthisfurious.
“Youcouldn’tevengiveherafulldaytoabsorbthatbombshell?Trytodealwith—”
“Wedealtwithitelevenyearsago.”ThatcomesfromMom.Calmandresigned.
Iswivelmyheadtowardher.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Imean,wedealtwithitelevenyearsago.Granted,Ididn’tknowitwasVictoriaTanner.”ShegivesaruefullookatDad.“Iknow,Iknow,Iwasinsistentaboutyounottellingmewhoitwas.But—”
“Youknewhehadanaffair?”Iinterject.
ButIdon’tneedtoseehernodtoknowthetruth.Ofcoursesheknew.I’dbeensocaughtupinmyownshockoverVictoriaTanner’sbombshellthatI’doverlookedMom’sreactiontoit.WhenIthinkbacktolastnight,Irealizeshehadn’tactedasshockedandhorrifiedassheshouldhave.
“Idid,yes,”shesays.
IturnbacktoDad.Thistime,hewon’tmeetmygaze.Ofcoursenot.ThatwastheonethingVictoria—sorry,Tori—hadgottenrightlastnight.Mr.Perfectalwaysneedstolookgoodtotheworld.
Anotherrushofangerburnsafierypathupmyspine.Alltheseyears,he’sbeenactinglikethemodelofvirtue.Preachingabouthowfamilyissoimportant,italwayscomefirst.Neverforgetthat,Tate.AndGavinBartlettdoeseverythingforhisfamily.
Wherewashisfamilywhenhewasbangingsomebodyelse?
Dadseesitallinmyeyes,everythoughtI’mthinking,anditdeepensthecloudofshamethatdarkenshisface,sagshisshoulders.Hedeservestofeellikeshitafterwhathe’sdone.
What’smoreshockingisthatMomknewallalong.Ithinkbacktoelevenyearsago.Iwouldhavebeentwelve,turningthirteen.ItwasrightwhenwemovedtoAvalonBay.Thememoriessurface.Theargumentsaroundthehouse,alwaysbehindcloseddoors.TheymadesureIwouldn’toverhearthem,butIknewsomethingwasup.WhenIaskedMomaboutit,shejustsaidtheyweregoingthrougharoughpatchandnottoworry.SoIdidn’tworry,becausemyentirelifemyparentsnevergavemeanyreasonsto.
Turnsout,theywerearguingaboutthefactthathecan’tkeephisdickinhispants.
“Tate,sitdown.Please,”Dadbegs.
“No.”Istalkovertothecounterandpourmyselfacupofcoffee.Igulpdownthescaldingliquid,wishingIcouldjustfuckingdisappear.
“TheaffairhappenedwhenwemovedherefromGeorgia,”Momsaysquietly,seekingoutmygaze.Thetotallackofangerorbetrayalonherfaceonlypissesmeoffmore,though.“Yourdadjustopenedanewbusiness.Icouldn’tfindajob.Wewerearguing—”
“Andthatgiveshimafreepasstocheat?”
“Ofcoursenot,”shesays.“I’mjustprovidingthecontext—”
“It’sokay,darlin’,”Dadinterjects,hisvoicegentle.“Thisisformetofix.”Witharaggedbreath,hefinallymeetsmyeyes.“Ifuckedup,kid.Elevenyearsago,Icommittedaveryselfishact—”
“Severalselfishacts,”Iremindhimcoldly.“Becauseitsuredoesn’tsoundlikeitwasaone-timething.”
“No,itwasn’t.Itlastedforfourmonths.AndIhatedmyselfforiteverysingleday.”
Isnort.“Ifyouexpectmetohaveanysympathy—”
“Idon’t.Idon’texpectsympathy.IknowwhatIdid.YourmotherknowswhatIdid.Andyes,ittookmefourmonthstocomecleantoher.”
Inarrowmyeyes.“Youtoldheryourself?”ForsomereasonIimaginedMombreakingintohisphoneorstumblingacrossahotelreceiptinhispocket.
“Yes,Idid,”hesays,andthere’sasliverofprideinhistonethattriggersafreshrushofanger.
“Sure,Dad,patyourselfonthebackthere.”
“Tate.”Helookshurt.
“Soyoucameclean,bigdeal.Itdoesn’tchangethefactthatyousleptwithsomebodyelse.”
“Wewerestrugglingwiththenewbusiness.Wewerelowonmoney.Myegowasinthegutter.”
“AllI’mhearingismoreexcuses.”
“No,you’rehearingthetruth.Andlikeyourmothersaid,it’scontext.Peoplearen’tblack-and-whitecreatures.Sure,weknowwhatrightandwrongoughttobe.Butsometimesthelinebetweenthoseisabitgray.Lifecloudsyourjudgmentandyoucrosslinesyouneverthoughtyou’dcross.Peopledostupidthings.Ididastupidthing,andforelevenyearsI’vewokenupeverysingledaywiththeintentionofshowingyourmotherthatIrecognizethepainandsufferingIcausedher,andthatIconsidereachdayshecontinuestostaywithmethegreatestgiftofmylife.”
Atthetable,InoticeMom’seyeswellingupwithtears.
Idon’tknowhowIfeelaboutthis.Tome,cheatingisunforgivable.Idon’tknowhowsheforgavehim.Butshemusthave,becauseIhaven’tpickeduponanybitternessorresentmentinourhomesincethen.Noclosed-doorarguments.Nohostility.AsfarasIknow,they’reopenwitheachother.Theyseemasinlovetodayastheyhavebeenmyentirelife.
“Idon’texpectyoutounderstand.”Dadshrugs.“AndI’mnotaskingforyourforgiveness.”
Ilaughharshly.“Gee,thanks.”
“ThepersonIhurtalreadyforgaveme,”hesayssimply.
Iscoffathim.“Youdon’tthinkyouhurtme?”
“Hasyourlifebeendifferentthispastdecade?”heasks.“Havewelovedyouless?HaveItreatedyouworse?”
“No,but…”I’mmadagain,because…yes,he’sbeenagoodfather.No,itdidn’taffectmethen.Butit’saffectingmenow,goddamnit.Agrowlescapesmythroat.“Youfuckedmygirlfriend’smom.”
Dadflinches.
Momgoespale.
“So,please,don’tsitthereandactlikethat’scool.Idon’tcareifMomdidn’twanttoknowthenameofyourmistress.Youshould’vesaidsomethingthemomentIstarteddatingCassie—”
“Ididn’tevenknowshewasVictoria’sdaughter.Ihadnoidea!”
Thatgivesmepause.WhenIthinkonit,Irealizehemightbetellingthetruth.ItoldthemCassiewasaneighbor,butIdidn’tspecificallysaywhichhouse.Idon’tthinkIevenmentionedherlastname…Ishakemyselfoutofit.Fuckthat.I’mnotgettinghunguponminordetails.
“You’vespentmywholelifeharpingaboutfamily,”Imutter.“Familyisthemostimportantthing,Tate.Teamfamily!Andthenyoualmostblowupourfamily.Andshewasrightabouthowhardyoutrytopresentyourselfasthisgoodguy.Someselfless,perfectsaint.Butyouwereselfishwhenyoucheated,andyou’reselfishwhenyougoonaboutthedealershipandhowyoubuiltitforme—”
“Tate—”hetriestointerject,lookingalarmed.
“Becauseit’snotaboutme.It’saboutyourselfishneeds.Youwantmeatthedealershipsoyouhavesomeonetolookatboatpictureswith.YouwanttohavesomeonetheresoyoucantakeMomonvacation.It’snotaboutme.”Islammycupdown.Liquidsloshesovertherimandsplashesthecedarisland.
Momstandsup.“Tate,”shesayssharply.“Iunderstandthatthisisabigshockforyou,butwe’restillyourparents.Youcan’tspeaktoyourfatherlikethat.”
Ijuststareather.ThenIsnortandstalkoutthebackdoor.
Idon’tknowwherethehellI’mgoing.I’mbarefoot,cladinplaidpajamapantsandanoldyachtclubT-shirt.Ijustroundthesideofthehouseandwalkdownthestreet.ThisstreetonwhichI’velivedsinceIwastwelve.ThetownIfellinlovewiththemomentwegothere.Myfirstdayofschool,Imetthetwins,Wyatt,Chase.ImetStephandHeidiandGenevieve,andimmediatelyhadthisbigfriendgroup.Iwassweptaway,socaughtupinthisnewawesomelifeofminethatIwasn’tpayingattentiontomyparents’lives.Iwasvaguelyawareof“theroughpatch”andthenitpassed,andIneverevenstoppedtoconsiderwhatitmeant.
AndnowI’mstalkingdownthestreetonbarefeet,tryingtofigureoutwhyI’msoangry,andthat’swhenithitsme.
I’mmadbecausehe’sfallenoffthepedestal.NotthatIintentionallyplacedhimonone,butIhadalwayslookeduptomydad.Iadmiredhim.Ineverwantedtolethimdown.Hewasthestrongest,kindestpersonIknew.Hecoulddonowrong,andnowhereIam,discoveringthatattheendoftheday,he’sperfectlycapableofbeingaselfishprick
Imean,Ishould’veknown.Everyone’scapableofthat.ButIguessyouneverreallyexpectitofyourparents.
Iendupatthesmallparkattheendofourstreet.It’sonlyseveno’clockonaSaturdaymorning,sotheparkisempty.Ispotamotherpushingastrolleralongthepathaboutahundredyardsaway,andthat’saboutit.
Ifindabenchandsitdown,buryingmyfaceinmyhands.Iregretsnappingatmymother.Myfather,notsomuch.
Theyworkedthroughit.Igetit.Theyhadelevenyearstodothat.Ihadelevenfuckingminutes.
IsmotherasighwhenIhearhisfootsteps.Iknowit’shimandnotMombecauseIknowmymother,andshewouldwantustomendourrelationshipfirst.Whichjustmakesmeangrier.
“Shealwaysputsyoufirst,”Iaccuse
“Iknow.”Hisvoiceshakes.
Ilookover.Hiseyesarewet,rimmedwithred.
“Always,”herepeatsashesitsdownbesideme.“Becausethat’syourmom.She’sthebestpersonIknow,andIdon’tdeserveher.Idon’tknowwhereshefoundthestrengthtoforgiveme.Trustme,IthanktheLordeverydaythatshedid.Inevertakethatgiftforgranted.”
“Ican’tbelieveyoucheatedonher.”
“Metoo,”headmits.“NeverthoughtIwascapableofhurtingsomeonelikethat.I’mnotproudofit.Icarrythatshamewithmeeveryday.”
Westareforamomentattheswingsthatbeginswayinginthesuddenbreeze.Asifinvisiblechildrenaremakingthemmove.Itinvokesimagesofmeinthispark,hangingoutwithmyfriends.IwassohappytomovetoAvalonBay.Ididn’trealizethatmovewastheprecipitatingfactorinalmostlosingmyfamily
“Didyoureallydemandshegetanabortion?”Bilecoatsmythroat.
“Ididn’tdemandit.Ijustsaidweshould.”DadlooksassickasIfeel.“IwasplanningonbreakingitoffwithVictoriathatnightattheBeacon.TheguilthadbeeneatingmealiveandIcamecleantoyourmotherthedaybefore.Beggedhertogivemeanotherchance.SoIwenttomeetToritotellheritwasover,andthat’swhenshetoldmeaboutthebaby.IsaidI’dsupporthereitherway,butthatIlovedyourmotherandwouldneverleaveher.And,yeah,ItoldherIthoughtitwouldbebest,forbothofus,ifshedidn’tkeepthebaby.Iwasselfish.Ididn’twantachildwithher.”Heblowsoutabreath.“Butyou’rewrong,kid.AftertheaffairalmostcostmeeverythingIholddear,Imadeavowtoneverbeselfishagain.Thesepastelevenyearshaven’tbeenanact.Idevotedmylifetoyourmomandtoyou.”
“Ididn’taskyoutodothat.”
“Ofcoursenot,butyou’remykid,myblood.Iwastryingtoleaveyoualegacy.Iknowyoudon’tbelieveme,though,soifitmeanscancelingavacationorwritingyououtofmywill,thensobeit.”Heshrugs.“Nobody’sperfect.Leastofallme.We’realljusthuman.Good,bad,andeverythinginbetween.Luckily,Ifoundawomanwhosharesmybeliefthatonemistakedoesn’thavetodefineaperson.I’mnotperfect,”herepeats,thenpausesforamoment.“Withthatsaid,IthinkyoushouldacceptGil’soffer.”
Thesuddenchangeofsubjectmakesmyheadspin.“What?”
“Takethatvoyage,Tate.Ishouldn’thavetalkedyououtofit.”
Istareatmyfeet.“Youdidn’t.I’mgoing.Iwasplanningontellingyoutoday,actually.”
Helaughsunderhisbreath.“Ofcourseyou’regoing.”Anotherchuckle,beforehegoesseriousagain.“Tate.ThereasonIdidn’twantyoutogoisn’tbecauseIneedyouatwork.Tobehonest,thatsoundedbetterthansayingI’mfuckingterrified.”
Iliftmyhead.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“It’sadangerouscrossing.Idon’tknowifyourmotherandIwouldsurviveifanythinghappenedtoyou.Butwe’venevershelteredyou.We’veletyoumakeyourownmistakes,andyou’reprettygoodatrecognizingthem.Andweneedtoletyoutakeyourownriskstoo,soifyourheartistellingyoutogo,andIknowitis,because—”Helaughsagain.“—myheartdidthesamedamnthingwhenIwasyourage.Youshouldgo.”
Inodslowly.“Iwill.”
“AndIknowIsaidIdidn’tneedyourforgiveness,butI’mgoingtoaskforitanyway.”
Draggingmyhandthroughmyhair,Iglanceoverwitharuefulsmile.“IfMomcangetpastit,thensocanI.Justgivemealittletime.”
“Yougotit,kid.”Heclapsmeontheshoulder.“Whydon’tweheadbacktothehousebeforeyourmomsendsFudgeandPollyonarescuemission.Idon’tlikemakingherworry.”
Andshemusthavebeenreallyworried,becauseherentirebodysagswithreliefwhenwetrudgeintothehousefiveminuteslater.Shewasstandingvigilatthefrontdoor,thedogssittingatherfeet,likesomeweirdoilpainting.Iflashherasmileofassurance,andthenFudgeripsadogfartandweallsnicker.
“Everythingokaywithmyboys?”Momprompts,studyingourfaces.
Ishrug.“Gettingthere.”
Afaintsmiletouchesherlips.
“Hopeyoudon’tmindifIskipbreakfast,”Itellher.“I’mjustgonnagoupstairsandchange,thenheadbacktotheJacksonhouse.Gottastartcleaning.”
“Noproblem,sweetie.”
Upinmyroom,Ishuckmypajamapantsandgrabapairoffadedjeansfrommydresser.Ishovethemupmyhips,thengrabmykeysandphoneoffthenightstand.
There’saknock,andIlookuptoseeMomlightlyrappingherknucklesagainstmyhalf-opendoor.“Hey.Gotasecondformebeforeyouleave?”
“Always.Whatdoyouneed?”
Shewalksinandsitsattheedgeofmybed.Afterabeat,Isitbesideher.Andthenshebeginstotalk.CHAPTER34
CASSIE
“Hey.”
MyheadliftsatTate’sapproach.“Hey.”
It’snineinthemorningandhe’sbackfromhisparents’house.IwasupinmybedroomwhenIheardhisJeeppullin,andamomentlaterhistextpoppedup,askingmetomeethimdownontheJacksons’dock.
Helookstiredashelowershisbodynexttome,danglingthoselonglegsovertheedgeofthedock.
“Didyougetanysleeplastnight?”Iask.
“Whatdoyouthink?”hesayswryly.“You?”
“Whatdoyouthink?”Imimic.Iletoutasigh.“Mymom’sgone.”
He’sstartled.“Gonehow?”
“Oh,Imeansheleft.CaughtaflighttoBostonlastnight.Grandmatoldhernottocomehome,tostayatahotel.Iguessherpridewouldn’tallowhertodothat.ShesentGrandmaamessagethismorningaskingtohaveherbagsshippedtoBoston.”
“Didyoutwotalkatall?”
“Oh,wedid.”ThememoryoftheconfrontationoutsidetheBeaconisgoingtostaywithmeforaverylongtime.Hell,theeventsofthatonenightalonewilltaketenyears’worthoftherapytounpack.“Shehadherexcuses.Claimedshedidn’tplanonambushingthemattheparty.”
Tatesnorts.“Bullshit.”
“That’swhatIsaid.Itdoesn’tmatter,though.What’sdoneisdone.”
Hestudiesmyface.“Sowheredidyouleaveit,youandher?”
“It’sover,”Isayflatly.Myheartclenches,arippleofpainmovingthroughme.“Therelationshipisirrevocablybroken.”
“Cass…”
“Itis.AndnowIfeel…free.Nolongerfeeltrappedbyit.IalwaystoldmyselfIhadtobeinthisrelationship.Ihadtotaketheabusebecause,well,it’smymother.That’swhatpeoplealwayssay,right?It’syourmother.Theycan’tfathomcuttingaparentoutoftheirlives.”
Ileanclosertohim,restingmyheadonhisshoulder.Afterabeat,heputshisarmaroundme.Hisfingertipsstrokemybareshoulder.Apartofmefearedhewouldshowupthismorningandannouncehewantednothingtodowithmeaftermymother’snauseatingactions.Buthe’shereandhehashisarmaroundme,andI’mweakwithrelief.
“Idon’tneedtobeinthatrelationship,Tate.Maybeoneday,ifshehasthatmomentofself-reflectionyouweretalkingabout.Butthat’snothappeninganytimesoon.Andinthemeantime,Ineedtolivemyownlife.Withoutherinit.”
“Andyou’reokaywiththat?”
“Iam.Imean,ithurts.Buthavingherinmylifehurtsmore.”
“Iguessthat’sthesilverlining?”Herunshispalmovermyshoulderagain,acomfortinggesture.
“Oh.No.ThesilverliningwouldbethatifIhadn’thadacompletebreakdownafterconfrontingmymom,thenIwouldn’thavegoneovertomydad’s—whereIhadanothercompletebreakdown.Iwasverybusy.”Ican’thelpbutlaugh.“Butenoughaboutme.Howdiditgowithyourparents?”
“Itwent.”Hisansweringlaughisdry.“Butyoucan’tjustleavemehanginglikethat.Whathappenedatyourdad’s?”
IpeekupatTatewithaself-deprecatinggrin.“Well,Iwenttoconfronthimandendedupcurledinafetalpositionoftearsontheirfrontlawn.Niacameoutsideandwehadamoment.Agoodone,actually.ThenIwentinsideandtalkedtomydad.Ididwhatyoutoldme.Sharedmyfeelings.Vocalizedmyneedsandallthatcrap.”
Tatesnickers.
“ItoldhimIwantarelationshipthatinvolvesmorethanlightheartedbanterandturtleshopping.ThatIwanttobeabletocometohimwhenIneedhimandnotworryhe’llpushmeaway.Itwentwell.Ifeelverygrownupnow.”Itipmyhead,smilingagain.“You’vechangedme.”
Thosechiseledfeaturessoften.“HowdidIdothat?”
“Youtaughtmehowtostandupformyself.Howtobehonestwiththepeoplearoundme.Iusedtobearealchickenshit.Butyoumakemefeelstrongand—”
Hekissesme.
Itcomesoutofnowhere.DareIsay,reminiscentoftheoldAarondays,butatleastTate’stongueisstillinhismouth.Hepresseshislipstomineinasoftcaressbeforepullingback.
Irunmyfingertipsoverthestubblerisingonhisjaw.“Youokay?”
“Justkissmeagain,”hesays,andourmouthscollide.Nowhistongueslidesthroughmypartedlips,borderingondesperate.Hisfingersareinmyhairandhe’sgroaningagainstmylips.There’sanurgencythere,athickthreadofemotionwrappingaroundthetwoofus,andIrealizebothourheartsareengaged.
Ipullbackandthewordsjustslipout
“Iloveyou.”
Hiseyelidspopopen.“What?”
“IknowIsaidalotofthingsbefore.ThatIdidn’twantarelationship.ThiswouldendinSeptember.Therewasnopressure.IknowIsaidallthosethings.Butsomething’schanged.Idon’tknowhow,butitjusthas,andnowI’minlovewithyou.”Igulp,staringatmyhands.They’retrembling.“Youtoldmetotalkaboutmyfeelings.Thosearemyfeelings.Iloveyou.”
“Iloveyoutoo.”
Mygazefliestohis.“Youdo?”
“Ido.I’veknownforawhile.Justdidn’thavetheballstotellyou.”
“Wait,soI’msuddenlydroppingfeelingsbombsandyou’reholdingthemin?Isthatwhatyou’resaying?We’veswitchedplaces?”
“Somethinglikethat.”Withanindecipherablelook,Tatestrokesmycheek.Thenhebringsmyfacetowardhim,andhislipstouchmineinaninfinitelygentlekiss.
Butthiskiss…
Itdoesn’tfeelright.
AdropofmoisturesplashesthetipofmynoseandIlookupinconfusion.Tate’sblinkingrapidly.Hedragsthesideofhisthumboverhiseye.
“What’sgoingon?”Iaskuneasily.
“Idon’twantittoendeither,”heconfesses,emotioncreasinghisfeatures.
Joyflickersthroughme.“Okay,good—”
“—butithasto,”hefinishes,hisvoiceascantwhisper.
Myheartsinkslikeastonetothepitofmystomach.“W-why?”Istammer.
“Youaskedhowitwentwithmyparents.”Heletsoutabreath.“Theyworkedthroughtheaffair.Momforgavehimalongtimeago.Alltheseyearsofbeingdisgustinglyinlove,itwasn’tfake.Theyareinlove.Theyloveeachotheralot,infact.”
“That’sgood,no?”
“It’sgreat.AndIunderstandmydad’sreasonsforwhathedid.That’snottosayIcondonehisactions.Hewaswrong.Hedidashittythingandhehurther.Butsheforgavehim.Theirmarriageisrocksolid.”
“Thisisallgood,Tate…”
“DadandIhadamomentaloneandtalkedaboutourownstuff,too.Workedthroughsomeshit.I’mgoingtosailtoNewZealand.”
Inod,thedotssuddenlyconnectinginmyhead.“Isee.Andyouthinkithastoendwithusbecauseyou’releavingforthreemonths—”
“No,that’snotit.”
Irubthebridgeofmynose.I’msoconfused.“Idon’tgetwhat’shappeningrightnow.”
“Ispoketomymotheralonetoo.”
“Okay…”Noneofthisismakingsenseyet.
“Sheforgavehim,”Tatereiterates,hisvoicebreakingslightly,“butthatdoesn’tmeansheneedstoberemindedofiteverysingleday.”
Asicksensationcrawlsintomystomachandwrapsaroundmyintestines.“AndI’mareminderofit,”Iwhisper.
Henods.Agonyflashinginhiseyes.
“Wetalkedforawhile.Momneverwantedtoknowwhohehadtheaffairwith,butsheknowsnow.Sheknowsit’syourmother.Sheadmittedit’llbehardtoseeyouifyouandIweretogether,ifwewereacouple.”
Ifeelthetearscoming.Ibrieflyclosemyeyes,hopingtowardofftheonslaught.Ican’tevenblameGemmaforthis.That’stheworstpart.Iunderstand.Ofcourseshedoesn’twantthisreminder.Everytimehersonbringshisgirlfriendhome,shehastoberemindedthatherhusbandcheatedonher?Withthegirlfriend’smother?
“Ican’tdothattomymom,”Tatesayshoarsely.“Iloveyou,Cass.Ido.ButIwouldn’tbeabletolivewithmyselfknowingIwashurtingmyownmother.Ican’tdothattoher.”
Hisjawisworking.Throatsqueezingasheswallowsrepeatedly.Helookssoupset.
Ireachforhishand,lacingourfingerstogether.“It’sokay.Iunderstand.”
“I’msosorry.”Sheermiseryhangsfromeveryword.
“Youcan’tbringhomethegirlwhosemotheralmostdestroyedtheirmarriage.It’sgoingtobeadarkcloudoverourentirerelationshipgoingforward,especiallyifyourmothercan’tgetpastit.There’snosilverlining.”Mybottomlipstartsquivering.Ibitehardonit.Idon’twanttocry.“SoIguessthisisgoodbye.”
“Guessso.”Hisvoicecracksagain,andsodoesapieceofmyheart.
“Ihadagoodsummer,”Itellhim.
“Bestsummerofmylife.”
Ismile.Hiseyesarelookingalittlemistyagain.Minearerapidlyfollowingsuit.Icanbarelyseehimnow,myvisionissoblurry.We’rebothweepy,andIknowifIsithereanylonger,I’llbreak.
“I’mgladImetyou,ginger.”
“GladImetyoutoo,Gate.”
Ileavehimthereonthedock.Idon’tknowhowmylegsmanagetocarrymeallthewayintothehouse.ButsomehowImakeit.EveninmybedroomIcontinuetofightthetears,becausewhatifhe’sinhisroomnowandwepassourwindowsatthesametime,soIstepintothebathroomandsitontheedgeofthetub.AndonlythendoIcry.CHAPTER35
CASSIE
November
“Wedidit!”Tate’sflushedfacefillsmylaptopscreen.Herakesahandthroughhiswind-kissedgoldenhair,beamingfromeartoear.Reliefjoltsthroughme.I’vebeeninaconstantstateofworrysincehesetsail,andeverytimeIseehim,safeandsound,Iwanttoweepwithjoy.“Imean,itwastouchandgoacoupletimes.Definitelyalmostpissedmyselfduringthatsqualllastmonth—”
Ishiver.Thatwasabadone.Isawthevideoheshotofthedeckafterthesquallanditstillhauntsmydreams.
“—andI’mnevergoingtostopapologizingforsubjectingyoutomyacappellaversionof‘PokerFace’thenightIkilledthatbottleofJack.”
Igiggle.
“—butthevoyagehasofficiallycometoanend.Sortof.I’mgoingtostickaroundheretillmygirlfriend’sparentsstealherbackfromme.”HelovinglysweepsthoseblueeyesovertheSurelyPerfect’stopsail.“SpendthenextmonthsailingaroundAustralia.Seewhatthefussisallabout.So,staytuned,folks.Journey’snotoveryet.Talksoon.Cheers.”
Thevideoends.
Istarttocry.
It’saweeklyroutinenow.EveryMonday,whenTatepostshistravelvlog,Isitonmybed,openthelaptop,andsubjectmyselftothirtyorfortyminutesofTaterecappinghisweek.I’mnotsurewhateditingsoftwarehe’susing,buthisvideosareexcellent.Photooverlays,datecardstoshowwhencertainfootageisfrom.Somefootageisfixed,whenTatesetsthecamerasomewhereandjustletsitfilm.MyheartalwayssoarswhenIwatchthosecapablehandshoistingasail,tyingarope.Butmyfavoritepartofhisvideosisthis—whenit’sjusthim,sittingonthedeck,oratthetableinthegalley,talkingtome.Well,toeveryone.ButIliketothinkhe’stalkingtome.
PeytonsaysI’mtorturingmyself.JoyhasthreatenedtoflyinfromManhattanandstageanintervention.TheythinkIneedtomoveon.I’msurethey’reright.There’snothinghelpfulaboutthis,nothingtobegainedfromstaringatTate’shandsomefaceweekafterweekforthreemonthsstraight.Allitdidwasmakememisshimmore.
Thissemesterhasdragged.Ican’tconcentrateonschool.Can’tbebotheredtoseefriendsorattendanyparties.Ihaven’tgonefullrecluseyet—Istillshower.Stillwashmyhairandeatfood.Icleanmydormroomandtextpeople.IevenrespondtoemailsfrommynewliteraryagentDannaHargrove,whosoldtheKit’nMcKennaseriesforusinafive-bookdeal.Itwasamodestadvance,butDanna’sexcitedforthepotential.Shethinkstheserieswilltakeoff.She’salreadytalkingaboutTVadaptationsandmerch.
I,asalways,amtemperingmyexpectations.ButI’mhopeful.Robb’sonboardasillustrator,andthefirstbook,theoneIgavetomysisters,releasesnextfall.Thedeadlineforthesecondbookisinthenewyear,soluckilyIdon’tneedtoforcemyselftobecreativerightnow.
I’mnotfeelingcreative.Notfeelinganything,really,leastofallhappiness.Butnowit’sThanksgiving,andmyspiritsareslightlyelevated.I’mlookingforwardtoseeingmyfamily.SincethenightIshowedupatDad’shouseandcriedinNia’sarms,thingshavebeenreallygood.Dad’sbeenmakinganefforttocheckinabouthowI’mfeeling,andNiaandIevenstartedtexting.
Withmymother,it’stheopposite.Ihaven’tspokentohersincethatnight.Ihavenointerest.She’stextedseveraltimes,callsfrequently,andthoughIcan’tbringmyselftoblockher,Idon’ttakehercalls.AccordingtoGrandma,it’sdrivingmymothercrazy.I’mdiscoveringthatnarcissistsdon’tliketheno-contactmethod.EverynowandthenIworryshe’llshowuponcampusandtrytowrestareconciliationoutofmystubbornhands,butsofar,she’skeptherdistance.Whoknowshowlongthatwilllast.
Ishutmylaptop,leavingitonthebedasIheaddownstairstorejoinmyfamily.Nia’spreppingdinner,whileDadpretendstowatchfootballinthedenwheneveryoneknowshecan’tnameevenoneplayeronanyoftheteamsplayingtoday.Inthelivingroom,mysistersaresittinginfrontofPierre’stank,showinghimthedrawingstheymadeofhim.
Iwalkovertothemandpeerattheglass.Pierre’schillingonhiscypresstree.Igivehimawave.“Hey,littledude.”IlookatMo.“Anyfartattackslately?”
“No,”shecomplains,andRoxyheavesadisappointedsigh.
Snickering,IwanderintothekitchenwhereIfindNiaatthecounterglaringathercuttingboard.
“Um.Everythingokay?”Ieyethepileofdicedonionsshe’samassed,tryingtofigureoutwhattheproblemis.
“Iranoutofonions,”shegrumbles.
“You,NiaSoul,ranoutofaningredient?Didn’tyoujustgivemeawholebraggyspeechwhenIwashereatmidterms?Theoneaboutyourfancysixthsensethatallowsyoutoalwayspurchasetheexactamountofpotatoesrequired?”
“Yes.Potatoes.”She’sgrittingherteeth.“Theseareonions.”Niacursesunderherbreath,amixtureofEnglishandFrenchexpletivesthatmakemegrin.“Merde.Idon’thavetimetogolookforastorethat’sopenrightnow.Ihavetoomuchtodo—”
“I’llgo,”Ioffer.“I’mprettysureFranny’sMarketisopentillfourtoday.They’realwaysopenonholidays.”
Reliefloosenshershoulders.“Areyousureyoudon’tmind?”
“Yeah,it’snoproblematall.”IgrabDad’skeysoffthecounter.“I’llgonow.Howmanydoyouneed?”
“Two.Sogetfour.”
Isnicker.“Fouritis.”
“Thanks,Cassandra.”
IleavethehouseandgetintoDad’struck.It’ssostrangenottobedrivingGrandma’sRover.Orstayingatherhouse.ButGrandmadoesn’tliveintheBayanymore.She’sinBostonnow,residinginthesamebuildingasAuntJacquelineandUncleCharlieandlovingherqualitytimewiththegrandkids.OurhouseinAvalonBaybelongstoanotherfamilynow.Someventurecapitalist,hismuchyoungerwife,andtheirthreechildren.Grandmasaystheyseemedlikeanicefamily.Ihopetheyenjoythehouse.Itholdsalotofgoodmemoriesforme.
Atthemarket,Ibypassthecartsandmarchtowardtheproduceaisles.Ipickoutfourlargeonions,managingtostacktwoineachhand,thenturnaround—andslamrightintoTate’smother.
“Gemma,”Isqueak.“Hi.”
“Cassie.”She’sequallystartled.“Hello.”
Thensilencefalls.
Ohboy.Thisisawkward.
Istandthere,tryingtofigureoutwhattosay.Ihaven’tseenhersincethatawfulnightattheBeacon.DoIbringitup?Askhowshe’sdoing?Apologizeonbehalfofmymother?
Nowwe’rebothfidgetingwithwhatever’sinourhands.Inmycase,unfortunately,it’sonions.AndthenIforgetthatit’sonions,andstupidlyraiseonehandtorubthebridgeofmynose.Myfingers,nowcoveredintheonioncurse,triggerareflexiverushoftears.Shit.
Gemmatakesonelookatmyfaceandburstsintotearstoo.
“Oh,no,no,”Iassureher,tryingtowipemyeyeswithmyelbow.“I’mnotcrying.It’stheonions.”
“Well,I’mcrying,”sheblubbers.“Andit’snotbecauseofonions.”
“Oh.”
Ourgazeslock.
Sniffling,sherubshereyeswithhersleeve,thengivesmeasadsmile.“Doyouhaveaminutetotalk?Iknowit’sThanksgiving,but…”
“Sure.Letmejustpayforthese.I’llmeetyououtside.”
Afewminuteslater,wereconveneinthesmallparkinglot.Themarketistheonlystoreopenintheplaza,butthecaféattheendoftherowhasanoutdoorpatio.Igesturetowardit.
“Let’ssit,”Isuggest.
Shenods.Wewalktothepatio,whereIflipovertwoofthechairsandsetthemontheground.
Wesitacrossfromeachother.Iwatchher,sorrowtighteningmybelly.“Howareyoudoing?”Ifinallyask.“Wehaven’tspokensincethenight…youknow,thenight.”
“Thenight,”sheechoeswryly.
“Justsoyouknow—Ihadnoideawhatmymotherwasgoingtodo.Shetookmebysurprise,sameasshedideveryoneelse.”
Gemma’seyeswiden.“Oh.No.Ineverforamomentthoughtyouwereinvolved.”
“Ah,okay.Good.”
Anothersilencefalls.
“I’vebeenwatchingallofTate’svideos,”Isay.“Thatwassomevoyage,huh?”
“Tooktenyearsoffmylife.”Sheshudders.“Hecouldhavediedinthatsquall.Lord!AndthenwhenhisGPSbroke!”She’snowswallowingrepeatedly,appearingnauseous.“Neverhavekids,Cassie.You’reconstantlylivinginfeartheymightdie.”
“Nah,whentheGPSbroke,that’swhenIwastheleastconcernedabouthim.”
“Really?BecauseIwaspicturingmyboylostinthemiddleoftheIndianOcean.”
Ishakemyhead.“Tatewillnevergetlost,notaslongasthestarsarestillinthesky.”
Myheartsuddenlyswellswithemotion.Imisshimsomuch.Ithinkabouthimallthetime.SometimesIdreamthatI’montheSurelyPerfectwithhim.We’relyingonablanketonthegleamingteakdeckandgazingupatthestars.Hepointsoutallthedifferentconstellationsandtellsmewherethefuckweare.
Gemmamustseetherawpaininmyeyesbecausehersfillwithtearsagain.“Canyoueverforgiveme?”sheblurtsout.
Iblinkinsurprise.“What?”
Ratherthanclarify,sheseemstochangethesubject.Herfacetakesonafarawaylook.“Hisvideos,Cassie…he’shappy,yes.He’salwayshappywhenhe’ssailing.ButIknowmyson.He’snotatpeace.Hiseyesaretroubled.”
Ineversawanyindicationofthat,butshe’shismother.Sheknowshimbetter.She’sprobablycataloguedeverylastexpressiononTate’sface.Everyflickerofemotion.
“We’vespokenthreetimes,”shetellsme.“Onceamonth.Hecallsfromthesatellitephone.It’sexpensive,sohekeepsthecallsshort.ButIhearitinhisvoice.He’ssad.”
Asobrisesinmythroat.Ihastilyswallowitdown.I’msadtoo,Iwanttosay.ButIdon’t.BecauseIunderstandthereasonwebrokeup—she’ssittingrightinfrontofme.AndIdon’tblameherforit,notonebit.
“Iaskedhimtobreakupwithyou,”Gemmaconfesses.“ItoldhimIcouldn’tstandtohaveyouaround.”
“Iknow.Igetit.Honestly,Ido.”
“Iwaswrong.”
Ifrownather.“What?”
“Iwaswrong,”sherepeatswithafirmshakeofthehead.“Gavincheatedonme,butItookhimback.That’sallthatmatters.”
“Butmymother…”Ifurrowmybrow.
“Idon’tcareaboutyourmother.Theaffairwasneveraboutyourmother.Itwasaboutmyhusband.Itwasabouthisowninsecurities,hisperceivedinadequacies.Andhe’sworkedsohardonhimselfovertheyears.I’mproudofhim.AndI’mashamedofmyselfforputtingmyownneedsaheadofmychild’s.”
“Gemma,comeon.You’rebeingtoohardonyourself.”
“No.”Sheshakesherhead.“Tatecomesfirst.Always.Forever.”
Igulpdownanotherlumpofemotionattheproofthattheyexist—goodmothers.TheproofisinNia,andhowfiercelysheloveshergirls.InGemma,andhowfiercelyshelovesherson.Imightnothavethat,butitmakesmehappytoknowothersdo.
“Helovesyou.You’rethefirstgirlhe’severfeltthatwayabout.I’vewatchedhimovertheyears.”Shesighs.“Iknowmyboy.Hewasalwaysaplayer—that’swhatwesaythesedays,right?Aplayer?”
Mmm.Notquite.Ibelievethetermisfuckboy.ButIkeepthattomyself.Besides,that’snotwhatTateis.It’snotwhoheis.He’sthebestmanI’veeverknown.Wisebeyondhisyears.Moresensitivethanheletson.
And,fine,he’sgreatinbed.
“Thenthissummer,hemetyouandfellinlove,andhisownmothertookthatawayfromhim.I’mashamed.”
“Gemma.Stop.”
“So,please,canyoueverforgiveme?”
“There’snothingtoforgive.”
Ireachoverandtakeherhand.Sheclaspsitwithbothofhers.
“Imisshim,”Iconfess.
“Iknow.SodoI.”Shesmiles.“Iputtogetheracarepackageforhimlastnight.IneedtosendittoAucklandbeforehesetssailforhisAustralianadventure.DoyouknowhowmuchitcoststoshipsomethingtoNewZealand?Gavinalmostchokedonhistongue.”
Ilaugh.“Well,Imean,it’sliterallyatthebottomoftheworld.It’sboundtobeexpensive.”ThenIbitemylip,assomethingnagsatthebackofmymind.Itstartsasatinyseed,thengrowsintoafull-fledgedideathathasmesqueezingGemma’shand.“Butifyouneedadeliveryperson…”CHAPTER36
TATE
December
Iexitthetinygrocerystorethreemilesfromthemarina,mutteringastringofcursesundermybreath.Thekidthatloadedthesebagsoverfilledthisone.Andit’sapaperbag.Adelicatefuckingcreature.AsIfeelthebottomabouttogiveout,Iexecuteaswiftmaneuver,readjustingmygripatthesametimeIheavethedangerbagontopofthemeatbag.Iswear,ifthisthingburstsandallmycarefullyhand-pickedfruitrollsaway?AndthenmyapplesgorollingonthedirtandIhavetochaseafterthemlikeanasshole—
“Tate.”
Istop.Frowning.
Weird.IswearIheardCassie’svoicesayingmyname.Isnapmyselfoutofsuchinsanityandkeepwalking.
“Tate!Iknowyouheardme!Areyourunningawayfromme?”
Nowit’sCassie’soutragedvoice.
Wait,isthisactuallyreal?
Ispinaround.Unfortunatelyforgettingthedelicatepaper-bagpyramidinmyhands.Imanagetoholdonfordearlife,butthefruitbagisingreatperil,andCassierunsovertograbitoutofmyhands.
“Youokaythere?”sheteases.
AllIcandoisstandandgawk.
“Tate?”
Finally,Ifindmyvoice.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”
“Oh,Iaskedtheguyatthemarinawhereyouwere,andhesaidyoucameheretobuygroceries,somycabdriverbroughtme—”
“No,Imeanhere.InNewZealand.Yourealizeyou’reinNewZealand,right?”
“No!Really?IthoughtIwasonabeachinMiami!”
Asmilespringstomylips.Goddamn.Imissedher.AndIcan’tstopstaringather.Herredhairistwistedinalooseknotontopofherhead.She’swearingjeanshortsandablueT-shirt.Whitesneakers.Hereyesareshiningandhercheeksareflushed,butthelattermightbebecauseofthesunbeatingdownonus.It’shotashellhereinthewinter.Orrather,theirsummer.
“I’mstilltryingtofigureoutifyou’rereal.”Iblink.Blinkagain.Butshe’sstillstandinginfrontofme.
Cassiesmiles.“I’mreal.”
“Andyou’reinAuckland.”
“I’minAuckland.”
“Because…?”
“Oh.Right.”Shebrightens.“I’mdroppingoffacarepackagefromyourmother.It’skindofbulky,soIleftitattheofficeinthemarina.Wecangrabitwhenwegetthere.”
Istareatheragain.“Nowyou’rejusttalkinggibberish.”
Cassiestartstolaugh.“No,IreallydidbringacarepackagefromGemma.IranintoherlastweekwhenIwashomeforThanksgiving.”
Inarrowmyeyes.“IspoketoherthedayafterThanksgiving.Shedidn’tmentionseeingyou.”
“Iaskedhernotto.Iwantedthistobeasurprise.ButIhadtowriteacouplefinalpapersbeforeIcouldgetaway.”
“Cass.”
“Yes?”
“Iamnotcomplainingthatyou’rehere.Notonebit.Butwhatishappeningrightnow?Whydidyoucome?”
“Icamebecause…”Shebitesherlip,suddenlybashful.“BecauseImissedyou.”
Mypulsequickens.“Imissedyoutoo,”Isayhoarsely.
Morethanshe’lleverknow.Theselastfewmonthshavebeenthemostchallengingofmyentirelife.Meagainsttheelements.Singled-handedlysailingsomeofthetoughestwatersI’veevernavigated.I’mnotgonnalie—Iwasscared.TerrifiedIwouldn’tevenreachmydestination.ButIpersevered,andoneofthereasonsIdidwasCassie.WheneverIthought,fuck,Imightactuallynotmakeit,Iheardhervoiceinmyhead,makingsomesmartassremark.Youcandoit,Gate
Nowshe’srighthere,andwhileIdon’thaveaproperexplanationyet,Ican’thelpmyself.Isetthegrocerybagsonthegroundandpullherintomyarms.Shesqueaksinsurprise,butIjusttightenmygripandletoutaraggedbreath.“Justletmeholdyouforaminute.”
Andshemeltsintome.Iburymyfaceinherhair,inhalingthesweetscentofhershampoo.Thesoftstrandsticklemychin.Herarmswraparoundmywaist.
“Ireallyfuckingmissedyou.”Myvoiceisstillsohoarse.Thickwithgravel.Iforcemyselftoreleaseher,searchingherenigmaticexpression.“Whatexactlydidmymomsaytoyou?”
“Shesaidshewantshersontobehappy.”
Mychestclenches.ThenotionofhurtingMomisstillsosoulcrushing.ButthesepastthreemonthswithoutCassiehavealsobeenprettyfuckingawful.
“Andsheaskedmetoforgiveher,”Cassiesays.Shemeetsmyeyes.“Ithinkthatmeansshe’sokayifI’myourgirlfriend.”
Heartracing,Iputonacockygrin.“Girlfriend,eh?That’sratherpresumptuousofyou.WhosaysIwantyouasmygirlfriend?”
“Sweetie.Ithinkyoukindofcededtheupperhandwhenyousmelledmyhairandtoldmehowmuchyoumissedme.”
Shehasapoint.MysmilewidenssobigIfeellikeit’llcrackmyfaceinhalf.Thesunisalmostblinding,butIdon’tslidemyaviatorsonbecauseIwanthertoseemyeyes.ToseethesincerityinthemwhenIsay,“Iloveyou.”
Happinesswarmshergaze.“Iloveyoutoo.”
“Areyoureallyhere?”Iask.
“I’mreallyhere.Andyouhavemeforthreeweeks.IneedtogohomeforChristmas,”shesaysregretfully.
Threeweeks.Damnedifmydickdoesn’ttwitchhearingthat.It’sbeenthreemonthssinceI’veseenher.Kissedher.Touchedher.
“Threeweeks,yousay?”Icockabrow
“Ihavetowarnyou,though…Imightneedtoputinsomeworkonmynextchildren’sbookwhileI’mhere.”
Myjawdrops.“No.”
“Ohyeah.Five-bookdeal,baby.ThefirstbookintheKit’nMcKennaseriesdebutsnextfall.Theyloveitsomuchtheywanttorushitout.”
“You’reafuckingrockstar.”
Itugherintomyarmsagainandthenmylipsaredevouringhers.Hot.Desperate.Becausethreemonths’worthofpent-uplustisnowbubblinginsideme.
“Iwantyounakedsobadrightnow,”Igrowl.
Cassiegrins.“Thenlet’sgogetnaked.”
IleadhertowardthedustyblackJeepparkedafewyardsaway.Yup,ItraveledtotheendsoftheearthandtheygivemeanotherJeep.Iwantedsomethingcooler,likeaHumvee.Butthiswasalltherentalplacehad.
Weloadthebagsinthebackandhopin.Cassieisbeaming.Herlipsarecurvedinasmile.Cheeksflushedwithexcitement.Everythingabouthersendsjoyripplingthroughme.
“Wait,letmegetmysunglasses.”Shetwiststowardthebackseattorummageinherpurse.AndIcan’thelpcoppingafeelofonedelectabletit.
“Saveitfortheboat,”sheteases.Whensheturnsback,shadesinhand,shesuddenlymakesahappynoise.“Lookatthesilverlining.”
Iglanceover,grinning.“Allright,let’shearit.”
“No,Imean,lookatit.”Abrilliantsmilefillsherfaceasshepointstothesky.
Ifollowhergazeandrealizeshe’sright.Backlitbythesun,today’scloudshaveverydistinctedges.
“I’veneveractuallyseencloudswithsilverliningsbefore,”Cassiemarvels.“It’sbeautiful.”
Ileanoverandplaceakissonthecornerofherjaw.“Beautiful,”Iagree,andI’mnotlookingattheclouds.EPILOGUE
CASSIE
March
“I’mworriedaboutPierre.”
Onemightexpecttohearthatfrommysisters.
Ormyfather.
OrmaybeevenTate,who’sdevelopedacloserelationshipwithmylittlesisters’turtleoverthesepastfewmonths.DadisconstantlytextingpicturesofPierretomyboyfriend.
Butno,theworry-lacedremarkcomesfromnoneotherthanNia,whowalksupandslidesintotheboothnexttoDad.Thethreeofusarestillfinishingupourcoffeeanddessert;acrosstherestaurant,Tateandthegirlsarecrowdedaroundoneofthosetoymachineswhereyouhavetomaneuveraclawhandtotryandcaptureoneoftheplushiesintheglassbox.Roxydemandedhewinthemthestuffedturtle,andI’mdiscoveringthatTateisincapableofwalkingawayfromachallenge.
“Why?”Dadaskshiswife,hisforeheadcreasing.“What’swrong?WhatdidJoelsay?”Niahadjuststeppedouttoansweracallfromtheirturtlesitter,andhasreturnedlookingquitedistraught.
“IaskedhimhowPierreisandhekeptsayingLLCoolJisfine.”Shesoundsflustered.“ItoldyouweshouldhaveaskedChandrainstead.Thatboy’sbrainisjumbledfromtheganja.”
“Jumbledfromtheganja,”Ihowlintomycoffee.“Iloveit.Titleofmynextbook.”
Dadsnickers.“Nice,”hetellsme,beforeputtingareassuringarmaroundNia.“Don’tworry.Joel’snotinsomestonedstupor—well,heprobablyis,butnotaboutthis.LLCoolJwasPierre’sformername.”
“Oh.Isee.”Sherelaxes.
“Andtrustme,”Iadd,“nobodywilltakebettercareofthatturtlethanJoel.He’stheturtlewhisperer.”
AlthoughtheymayneedtospraythehousedownwithairfreshenerwhentheygetbacktotheBaytomorrow,becauseIguaranteeJoelsmokedpotintherewhilehewashousesitting.
Dad,Nia,andthegirlsflewtoBostonoverMarchbreaktovisitme.Technically,IliveinHastings,thesmalltownanhourfromthecitythathousestheBriarUniversitycampus,butIdroveintoBostontospendtheweekendwithmyfamily.AndTate,whoheardaboutthevisitandinsistedontaggingalong.
HeandIhaveseeneachothertwicesinceourAustraliaadventure.AweekendattheendofJanuary,andanotheroneduringmyFebruarybreak,butTatebemoansit’snotenough.He’sright.Imisshimeverysecondwe’renottogether,andI’mcountingthedaystillgraduation.I’vealreadybookedmyflighttoAvalonBay.I’mgoingtostaywithmyfamily,butlatelyTate’sbeendroppinghintsthatweshouldfindaplacetogetherforthefall.
“Cassie!Look!”
IgrinwhenIglimpsemysistersracingtowardthebooth.Boththeirhandsareclaspedaroundthestuffedturtle,whichthey’reholdingupinavictorypose.Behindthem,Tatestrutsoverwithasmuglook.
“Andyoudoubtedme,”heaccuses.Heglancesatmysisters.“Rememberhowshedoubtedme?”
Roxynodssternly.“Shedid.Iremember.”
“Iremembertoo,”Mosays.
Irollmyeyesatallofthem.“OfcourseIdoubted.Thatmachineisrigged.Nobodyeverwins.”
“Ohreally?”Tatepointsattheturtle.“Doesthatlookrigged?Idon’tthinkso,ginger.”
“Don’tthinkso,ginger,”Roxyechoes,whileNiaandDadlaughintotheircoffees.
IglareatTate.“You’reabadinfluenceonthem.”
“Nah.”
“Nah,”Momimics.
Isighandtakethelastbiteofmylemoncake.
Tatesitsbesideme,slingingonesculptedarmaroundmyshoulders.“Ithinkyou’rejustjealous,babe.Wantmetowinsomethingforyou?There’salobsterintherethat’salmostthesameshadeofredasyourface.”
“You’resofunny.”Iglowerathim,buthejustwinks.Besides,webothknowI’mnotactuallymad.Ifanything,I’msohappyhe’sherewithmerightnow.
We’rehappy.
Like,disgustinglyhappy.
ThelastthingIexpectedfrommysummerflingwastogetaboyfriendoutofthedeal.AllIwantedwaspassion.Fun.Maybealittlebitofromance.
ButIgotsomuchmorethanwhatIbargainedfor.Ifoundtruelovewiththegreatest,funniest,sweetestmanI’veevermetinmylife.Amanwhotaughtmehowtoexpressmyfeelings,evenwhentheysuck.Andthankstohim,Igotmydadback.Iwasfinallyabletofreemyselffrommymother’sclutchesandendarelationshipthatwashurtingme.Imadeagenuineconnectionwithmystepmother.Hell,IevengottoseeAustralia—fromthedeckofayachtpilotedbythehottestcaptainontheplanet.
“It’scold!”Mocomplains,burrowingclosertoourdad.Agrouphadjustenteredtherestaurant,andsinceourtableisnearthedoor,agustofcoldMarchwindcoolstheair.
“Seriously,”Dadgrumbles.“Isn’titsupposedtobespring?Idon’tknowhowyousurvivelivinguphereintheArctic.”
Igrinathim.“ThenortheastisnottheArctic.AndIdon’tmindtheweather.Especiallyinwinter.Thesnowissopretty.”
“Wintersucks,”Roxyinformsme.
“Totallysucks,”Tateagrees,beforeplantingakissonmycheek.“Summer’smyfavoriteseason.”
Imeethisplayfulblueeyes.“Yeah?Why’sthat?”
“Youknow.Allthosecutesummergirlsrollingintotown…”
“Allofthem?”Iaccuse.
“Well,justone.”Hefindsmyhandunderthetable.“Andthissummerisgoingtobeevenbetterthanthelast.”
Ilaceourfingerstogether.“Ican’twait.”ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
EverytimeIreturntotheworldofAvalonBay,there’sasmileonmyfacefromthewordsChapterOneallthewayuntilTheEnd.Thislittlebeachtownissomuchfuntoimmersemyselfin,andI’msogratefulthatIgettospendmydayslosingmyselfinfictionalworlds.Evenmore,I’mgratefultothepeoplewhoallowmetodothat:
Myeditor,EileenRothschild,wholetmeleanintomysillysidewiththisbookandwriteaboutKeanuReevesturtlesandwhateverotherrandomthingscametomind.
TheGriffinall-stars:LisaBonvissuto,AlyssaGammello,andAlexisNeuville,fortheirsupportandcheerleadingforthisseries,andJonathanBush,foranotheramazingcover.
Myagent,KimberlyBrower,forfindingsuchagoodhomeforthisseries.
AssistantsNatashaandNicole,whokeepmeontaskwhenI’dratherbebinge-watchingTVshows.
Ann-MarieandLoriatGetRedPRforhelpingspreadthewordabouttheAvalonBayseries.
Andasalways:everyreader,reviewer,blogger,Instagrammer,Tweeter,BookTokker,andsupporterofmybooks.Yourcontinuedloveandenthusiasmiswhatmakesthisjobworthwhile!ALSOBYELLEKENNEDY
GoodGirlComplex
BadGirlReputationABOUTTHEAUTHOR
ANewYorkTimes,USAToday,andWallStreetJournalbestsellingauthor,ELLEKENNEDYgrewupinthesuburbsofToronto,Ontario,andistheauthorofmorethanfortyromanticsuspenseandcontemporaryromancenovels,includingtheinternationalbestsellingOff-CampusseriesandBriarUseries.Youcansignupforemailupdateshere
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Foremailupdatesontheauthor,clickhereCONTENTS
TitlePage
CopyrightNotice
Chapter1
Chapter2
Chapter3
Chapter4
Chapter5
Chapter6
Chapter7
Chapter8
Chapter9
Chapter10
Chapter11
Chapter12
Chapter13
Chapter14
Chapter15
Chapter16
Chapter17
Chapter18
Chapter19
Chapter20
Chapter21
Chapter22
Chapter23
Chapter24
Chapter25
Chapter26
Chapter27
Chapter28
Chapter29
Chapter30
Chapter31
Chapter32
Chapter33
Chapter34
Chapter35
Chapter36
Epilogue
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