
If I Can't Have You
Lauren Hammond
If I Can't Have You © Lauren Hammond 2012
No parts of this novel may be used or reproduced whatsoever without written permission or consent except for quotations written in articles or reviews.
For information contact info@sbaddisonbooks.com
The characters in this novel are fictitious and are completely drawn from the author's imagination. Any similarities to real people; either living or deceased are completely coincidental and are not intended by the author.
ISBN: 9780983868132
This book is dedicated to everyone in the world who, at one point or another, has been in love or had their heart broken. Trust me...
The real kind of love is out there, somewhere.
You just have to find it.
1
Three Summers Ago
Love like wild. Kiss like crazy. And live like you'll die tomorrow.
There's water everywhere. Miles and miles of endless blue that stretch on forever and for a second the navy liquid swallows me. It swallows me then it spits me out and my head bobs along the surface like a golden delicious. I drink in a mouthful of salt water and I swear I can taste the bitterness in my lungs. My arms twist, fingers outstretched clawing at clear blue. "Help!" I choke on another mouthful of salt water. "Help!"
Someone save me! Please!
If not I'm a goner. I am going to die.
I go under as another wave wraps around my head like a liquid blanket. The current pulls me out farther, but I'm fighting against it. Fighting with everything I have. As my head breaks the surface again I suck in lungful's of air.
Refusing to give up, I swim for the shore, a tiny crescent of tan amongst miles and miles of blue. My arms hang heavy and sore from pushing my body as hard as I can and my breaths come out short and raspy.
If I can only make it a few more feet. Just a few more strokes.
I don't make it.
The ocean is a deadly weapon---a shotgun and I'm staring down its' wide barrel. One slip of the finger and the trigger will be pulled. It's almost too late. In my head I see that finger. It's moving backwards. Farther...Farther...
Bang!
Soon the blue waters will claim me as another one of its innocent victims.
I'm the anvil without the Acme Company. I'm drifting---sinking---and pretty soon my feet will skim the bottom of the ocean floor. I can't hold my breath anymore. Water is filling up in my lungs and I'm certain that in minutes I'll be as blue as the ocean that claimed my life. My eyelids grow heavy and right now the only fight I have left in me is to keep them open and even though the salty water stings my eyes, I struggle to keep them open because I know once they close I'll be gone forever. Never to return. Another vagrant soul making its way toward heaven's gates.
Now all I see is blue. Blue forever. Blue and suddenly a flash of red.
Red. Where did the red come from?
My eyes finally close and in seconds I know my will lungs give out. I'm the Titanic resting off the coast of Newfoundland, cursed forever to a deep watery tomb.
Wait...What's happening?
Did I die already?
Suddenly I feel weightless. Like I'm flying. I'm soaring through the pale blue sky full of marshmallow clouds. I'm a seagull and I dip down skimming the surface of the water in search of fish.
"Get out of the way!" a deep panicked voice rasps.
I'm no longer soaring through the sky. I feel my body being slammed into the ground. Sand scrapes against my back and I can feel my silent heart start beating. "Breathe! Just breathe!"
But I can't breathe. The ocean took my breath away.
Firm hands press against my chest cavity. Someone is pumping the life back into me. Someone is giving me CPR. "Breathe damn it!" They plug my nose and I feel their hot moist lips against mine. The heat sizzles inside of me and squashes the cold. I am not dead...yet.
Bring me back to life.
Muffled voices ring out in my ears and we've reached round two of hands thrusting into my chest. Their paws are the jumper cables and my heart is the battery. Revive me. Jumpstart me, please. Someone plugs my nose and blows a gust of air from their lungs into mine. I taste them. Their breath tastes spicy and cool, like cinnamon and mint.
My eyes fly open and I cough up saltwater and I can breathe again. I try to sit up, but a pair of strong hands hold me down and turn my head sideways. "Easy," says the deep voice of a guy. "You scared the shit out of me."
Sunlight bleeds into my eyes and all I can see is my savior's silhouette. Broad shoulders and I can make out a hint of bronzed skin on his washboard abs. Lifting my arm I block the heavy ray of sunshine from my gaze and I'm staring into two pools of grayish blue. He smiles and his perfect white teeth glow almost brighter than the sun in the sky.
"I...I---." I try to speak, but my throat is raw and sore and I struggle to swallow a giant lump of saliva.
"Don't try to do too much at once," he tells me. "Just lie here for a minute and regain your strength."
I inhale and exhale slowly, thankful to be able to use my lungs again. All the nerve endings in my body tingle as every organ inside of me starts functioning properly. A throbbing pain pumps through me as I wiggle my fingers and toes. My muscles and joints ache like I've just been stretched out on the rack.
I remain lying flat on my back and close my eyes. Relief floods through me like the cold blue ocean did minutes earlier. I almost died today. I probably did die for a minute or two. Then an angel flew down from the heavens, flapping his white feathered wings and rescued me.
A bronze hand thrusts toward me, inches away from my face. "Here. You ready? I'll help you up."
I nod and take the hand of the guy who rescued me. He grunts and heaves me to my feet. My legs are wobbly and I stumble, but he's quick and he catches me by the shoulders, steadying me. "Do you want to sit for a while longer?" he asks, concerned. "Do you think you need to go to the hospital?"
"No," I answer. "I just want to go home."
I've had enough of the sand and surf for one day. Too much really. My mouth still tastes like salt. My lungs still feel bogged down with water, and I feel like a prune with wrinkled, purple skin.
"How far is home?" he asks.
"Just a few beach houses down." I point to a row of houses that line the beach. "It's the white one with the purple shutters."
My savior glimpses over his shoulder and shouts to person behind him. "Can you cover me for like twenty? I'm going to walk her home."
"No prob!"
As we walk toward the beach house my family rents for two weeks every summer, he keeps his strong hands on my shoulders and I glance at him, getting a clear look at his face. And I realize I know him---no---not know him, I've seen him around. Then I remember seeing a flash of red when I was drowning and my eyes wander down his abdomen and I get a glimpse of his bright red swim trunks. He's the hot lifeguard I've seen on the beach for the last week.
Six days ago when we'd first arrived, I walked down to the beach. Watching the sun go down is a vacation ritual I'd started when I was twelve. I'd always thought there was something beautiful about watching the waves with white crests crash into the sand at sunset. There was a calm, relaxed feeling that accompanied me and brought me peace when I trudged away from the beach house and closer to the surf.
The sky was fading from orange to pink, swirling together to make a radiant form of magenta. Birds flew in circles, belching caws and squeals before swooping down to glide across the water. The sounds of the sea had always soothed me.
I sat close to the water as the wind whipped through my auburn hair. The navy blue waves rose up, twisting and contorting like a spineless back only to come crashing down, fanning out along the toasted almond sand.
I've always longed to be like the ocean. Flowing and free. No rules to follow. No agenda to adhere to. A demure smile crept across my lips as I threw my head back allowing the sun to warm my cheeks and the bitter aroma of spraying salt filled my nostrils.
The sound of clinking metal throbbed in my ears and my attention averted to the left as an aluminum ladder banged against the hull of a small fishing boat. I squinted and watched as a guy climbed out of the water and up the ladder.
Little droplets of water glistened on the guy's bronzed skin and every muscle in his back was toned and flexed. The pellets of water that dripped down his spine reminded me of the mist on a glass door in a steamy shower room. He shook his head and water sprayed everywhere, expelling from the ringlets of his golden blonde hair like a sprinkler watering grass.
The muscles in his back clenched tighter as he gripped the ladder harder and hoisted himself up over the edge of the boat. He turned around, but I still couldn't see his face because he kept his head down. Then he picked up a cast iron anchor and tossed it over the edge of the boat. And as he lifted his head I saw them two grayish blue eyes that were so beautiful I'd convinced myself the watery orbs could give the ocean a run for its money.
The same set of grayish blue eyes that are staring at me now. "You know you should be careful from now on," he tells me. "Thank God I saw you go under or else you'd be shark bait by now."
I'm a little taken aback by the sound of his tone. His comment reminds me of something my Dad would say. "Aren't you the lifeguard? Isn't it your job to watch swimmers and make sure they don't drown?"
"Yes," he scoffs. "But most of the swimmers follow the rules and read the signs on the beach that say, don't swim past the buoys. The tide is way too strong out there. In most cases you'd be swept out to sea instead of being rescued."
"I'll keep that in mind for next time." I pull away from him, deciding that I'm okay to walk on my own and hop onto a rotting piece of driftwood, tiptoeing toward the edge like I'm on a balance beam.
The lifeguard eyes me oddly as I stretch out my arms to keep myself from falling off the narrow log. "What's your name?"
"Robin."
"A beautiful singing bird."
Hmm. I like that analogy. Nobody has ever complimented me that way. "What's yours?"
I'm surprised at myself for being able to hold up a conversation with this guy. Normally when it comes to the opposite sex I either end up mumbling incoherent words or I don't say anything at all.
"Drake."
"You from around here, Drake?"
"Yeah actually about twenty miles north of here."
I'm staring at him and a nervous flutter tears through the walls of my stomach and I'm too focused on his pouty lips and high cheek bones to pay attention to what I'm doing. My big toe scuffs against a separation in the wood and I trip, falling forward. Drake zooms ahead and catches me before I eat a mouthful of driftwood and sand. "Jesus, Robin. You're like a walking disaster. I can't leave you for a second."
I don't want him to leave me. He captivates me, mesmerizes me, and awes me. I want to stare at his mind-blowing smile all day and all night. In fact I might have deliberately tried to fall so I could delay our walk for a more minutes. "Clumsy, me."
Drake helps me straighten out and says, "I think you should stick to walking on the sand for a while."
What's with all the parental jibber-jabber? "How old are you?"
"Eighteen about to be nineteen in September. You ?"
"I just turned fifteen." It bothers me that he thinks just because he's a few years older that he has to parent me. Plus, even though I've watched him and seen him around, I barely know him. "You don't have to spout off commands for my safety, you know. I already have a father. I don't need another one."
"Oh," he chuckles. I admire the way his muscled abs clench when he laughs. "Mouthy, are we?"
I shrug. "No. I just like to be independent. I don't like being told what to do."
"Right." Drake stops in front of my house and nods toward it the small beach cottage. "This is it, right? White house with the purple shutters."
"Yeah. Thanks for walking me home."
A radiant smile curls on his lips. "No problem." I start toward the wooden steps and he stays put. "I think maybe I should talk to your parents. They should probably take to the hospital to have you checked out."
I frown. "I'm fine."
The last thing I want is my Mom; queen of the hypochondriacs taking me to the ER. Last time we were there she freaked and told off a nurse because she didn't think woman butterflied a cut on my knee correctly.
"You almost drowned," Drake announces. "There may be something else wrong. Besides, it never hurts to get checked."
"I'll tell them," I say quickly and hope that he'll drop the subject.
He does.
"Maybe we can hang out sometime," I say with a bit of boldness.
He starts backing away. "Maybe. Stay safe kid."
Kid? Who is he calling kid? I'm only four years younger than him.
I open my mouth to let out a smart remark, but he's already jogging back to his spot on the beach. I wait for a moment, watching him as he climbs back up his lifeguard chair, leans in and kisses the raven haired girl in the chair next to him.
Then I know that the "maybe" about us hanging out was just Drake being nice to a plain tween whose life he'd just saved.
And at that moment my whole summer goes to hell.
2
Two And A Half Years Later
The first encounter is always the sweetest, but it's the last encounter that will impact your life forever.
College visits.
I don't see the point. At least not for me anyway.
I've already been accepted to CNU, (Connecticut Northern University) so I don't see the need to go on this exploration expedition. I assumed that college visits were only necessary when you trying to come to a decision on which college you'd like to attend. Not if you've already been accepted.
"I can't believe my baby is going to college." There's a glint of sadness in Mom's green eyes along with a sheer film of wetness and I know the waterworks are going to kick in at any minute.
Mom sniffles and grips onto the steering wheel. Water glazes over her eyeballs and the whites of her knuckles are showing. I place my hand on her shoulder. "Mom, don't cry. Seriously. You know I'll be home pretty often."
"I know, sweetheart. I just can't believe it though. It's crazy how fast seventeen years go by. It seems like just yesterday I was changing your diaper."
My eyes bulge and my mouth drops open. "Mom! Seriously?" Thank God we are the only ones in the car.
Mom sniffles again and wipes her eyes with the bottom of her palms as we pull into a parking lot. "I know. I know," she says as she parks the car. "I'll cool it on the diaper comments."
I unbuckle my seatbelt and get out of the car. I'm too anxious and way too excited to sit there and wait for mom. Technically, since Mom made me come and this is my first and only college visit and I'm determined to drink in every second of it.
CNU has been my dream college since, well, I really can't remember when. But there is a picture of me as a toddler, tucked away in one of mom's photo boxes, of me in a CNU t-shirt with my pull-ups as an added accessory. My dad is an alumni. And I think a lot of my decision to come here rested in the fact that I knew how proud he'd be if I did.
"Mom?" I look over my shoulder. Mom is still in the car. "You coming?"
Mom gets out of the car, slams the door, and hits the lock button on her keychain. The car beeps twice then mom shoves her keys in her purse. "Let's go, sweetheart," she says with a smile.
We trek across the vast and wide newly paved parking lot to the administration office and at that moment I wish Whitney, my best friend could have joined us today. Her added quick-witted commentary to things like this are always comical and lighten the mood a lot. Judging from mom's outburst in the car, I'd say I'll need her comebacks today more than ever. I pull out my phone and text her.
I wish you were here. The waterworks have commenced.
I wait a second and my phone vibrates in my palm.
Take it easy on your Madre. She's losing her only child.
And she must be in Senora Witt's class.
Spanish?
Si amiga.
K. I'll let u kno how it goes.
Cool. Hey. Let me know the layout of the campus library. U kno y.
I laugh at her last text and shove my phone in my pocket. Whit has this obsession about hooking up in the library. She once told me that there's a certain thrill about hooking up in places where there's a good chance you'll get caught.
I'll take her word for it. I've only never really hooked up with a guy, but I've had a few make-out sessions. And trust me; they were anything but a thrill. It was awkward and uncomfortable. Basically neither one of us knew what we were doing. His name was Greg Pierson and I dated him for about six months during my junior year. And the relationship lacked something important, passion.
It's weird you know, I mean how much passion can one expect out of a high school relationship? I didn't go into it expecting any. Well, I take that back I expected something. I expected to more than like him, but after six months of the same old, same old I dumped him because after six months if you don't feel the way you should in a relationship there's no point in dragging it on further. And I didn't feel the way I should have.
Truthfully, there's only one guy I ever felt that way about and he saved me from drowning when I was fifteen. I don't think I've obsessed over the guy for the last three years just because he saved me from drowning, even though it was very noble of him and it was his job. I think I've obsessed over him because he's beyond beautiful, and charming, and sweet, and way out of my reach. He's unattainable in so many aspects. And you always want what you can't have.
He has a girlfriend, a girlfriend that matches him equally in the beauty department. And that's only one of the reasons why he's out of my reach. The other is, well, I don't think I'm very pretty. Well, at least not like his girlfriend pretty. I'm plain with pale skin, emerald eyes, and thick auburn hair. I rarely wear makeup and I'd much rather wear jeans and a hoodie than get all dressed up for the day.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not completely insecure. I know that I'm smart, logical, easy going, and a lot of times can match Whit quip for quip in the quick-witted comebacks department so I have that going for me.
But...
There are some times where I wish I didn't feel like I lacked so much in the looks department and I wish that society didn't make it such a huge part of our everyday lives.
I mean I consider myself to average looking and normal and it would be nice if the media would consider normal as sexy.
I never see a girl like me on the cover of a magazine, or in movies, or even dating the hottest guy in school. For God's sake I don't think the resident hottie in my grade even knows my name. Well, I take that back, he knows my name, but has a hard time remembering it.
And I've sat next to him in AP English for the last two years.
Every day in class he'd sit down across from me and whisper, "Hey. You."
One time I corrected him, "My name is Robin."
He'd nodded and flashed me a flawless yet fake smile. "Right. Robin. Yeah, do you have the homework from yesterday?"
I just shook my head and handed over my paper.
I don't why I gave it to him. Maybe it was because I thought that he might somehow remember me the next time and actually say my name.
I was wrong.
A week later when I actually thought he might remember my name he said, "Hey. You." Again.
That's pretty much how my high school career has gone thus far. I'm a 'you.' Invisible and just another nameless face in the crowd.
Mom and I stop in front of the administration building. "Sweetheart, I'm going to go find a bathroom. That four hour car ride did me in."
"Okay, mom. I'm just going to wait here for you."
"You don't have to go to?"
"No. I didn't drink my weight in iced tea."
Mom laughs and shakes her head then walks inside the administration office, asks the receptionist a question, and I'm assuming it's; where's your restroom? Then she turns left down a hallway.
I prop myself up against the side of the door and wait. Then it occurs to me that maybe I should wait for Mom inside. When she comes out of the bathroom I'm going to need to be in there anyway, so I pivot on my heel and grip the door handle. And just when I do someone pushes on the door from the inside and smacks me in the face with it.
"Ow!"
I'm seeing tiny white dots and I stagger backwards, eyes closed, hands covering my face as a sharp pain stabs my forehead. Dammit! That hurt like hell.
"Dude, I'm so sorry." A guy's low voice rings out in my ears. "I didn't even see you there."
The pain intensifies and throbs beneath my skin and I can feel a goose egg forming on the right side of my forehead. "Don't you pay attention to where you're going?" I ask nasally, hands still covering my face, eyes watering up.
"I could say the same thing to you." The guy lets out a soft laugh and I'm sure he wouldn't be laughing if he was in as much pain as I am at the moment.
My whole head feels like its splitting open and I move my hands up my cheeks and touch the spot that's swelling. "Ouch."
"Here let me see it." My assailant moves closer and I drop my hands. His soft fingertips glide over my forehead and he pokes the bump gently with his forefinger. I wince. "Well," he says softly. "That's going to leave a mark."
Since he hit me with the door, I've managed to keep my gaze lowered. But after that comment my head snaps up and I scoff, words dripping with sarcasm, "Gee, you think?"
Then I look at him, I mean really look at him and everything blurs. I blink several times and I'm not sure if it's the after effects from the smack in the head that's making my head spin or the fact that the guy who smacked me with it is so hot that I damn near gasped when I finally caught a glimpse of his face.
I lower my head and exhale. I am not good in situations like this. I am lousy at conversing with the opposite sex. Especially hot members of the opposite sex. Breathe, Robin. Just breathe. It's not like he's interested or anything. It's not like he's going to ask you out. He probably has an equally stunning girlfriend at home waiting for him.
I pick my head up again and he's staring at me, his broad muscular shoulders pulled back, a half smile on his full pink lips. But it's the way he's staring at me that makes my stomach do a back flip because no guy has every stared at me in such a ravenous way. No guy has ever stared at me like he's undressing me with his eyes.
He leans in closer to me and I stiffen out of nervousness and fear and his half smile breaks out into a full one as he says, "Easy. I'm not going to hurt you."
"You already did," I blurt out. Shit. I should be trying to play it cool. Typical me. I always say the wrong things. But technically speaking he did hurt me.
"Touché. But if it's any consolation it was an accident and I did apologize. Err---Miss---."
"Robin."
He chuckles softly and I admire his long dark lashes as he leans in closer to my face to examine the bump on my head further. He breathes softly and his warm breath wafts over my face and at that point I know I'm blushing. "Wait here a second." He backs away from me and jogs off toward a few vending machines.
He returns a few minutes later and thrusts an ice cold soda into my hand. "Put that on it. It will make the swelling go down."
I do as he says and sigh in relief as the cold can of liquid refreshment puts out the raging fire beneath my skin. "Thanks."
He smiles and my breath hitches at the sight of his pearly, straight teeth. I keep reminding myself to breathe normally, but it's like my lungs aren't listening to the commands spouting off in my head.
A nanosecond later mom rushes out the door and her gaze shifts from me holding the can of soda on my forehead to the beautiful boy standing next to me. "Sweetheart!" she gasps and pulls back my arm to examine my head. "What happened?"
"He...Um..."
The guys chuckles nervously and shrugs. "I accidentally whacked her in the head with the door."
"Robin, sweetheart." Mom moves her finger toward the bump.
I wince. "Mom, don't touch it."
Mom pulls her hand back and there's a flash of concern in her evergreen eyes. "I'm worried. What if you have a concussion?" Her eyes shift to the guy. "How hard did you smack her with it? And how did this happen?"
"Not too hard, ma'am," he answers politely. "She was trying to go inside the administration office and I was trying to leave. Then, well, we sort of collided."
I place the pop can back on my forehead and I can feel the heat blazing in my cheeks. This is beyond embarrassing. Sometimes mom treats me like a child---no---more than sometimes almost all the time. I assume it's because I'm an only child. "Mom, look I'll be fine. Um, this guy---err---."
"Elliot."
"Yeah, Mom. Elliot was nice enough to go and get me something cold to put on my head to make the swelling go down."
Mom shakes her head. "Are you sure you don't want me to run you to an Urgent Care before we take the tour."
"No!" I say it fast and with a lot of force. "No I'm fine."
I think she may be overreacting. It's not like I've never had a goose egg before. I replay an incident from my childhood where there was a head on head collision with another six year old during a game of dodge ball and I had a goose egg as big as a golf ball. What I remember more vividly than anything is the emergency room doctor examining the bump and saying with a smile, "It's just a little goose egg."
The sun shines brightly and touches the highlighted tips of Elliot's crown of gold. His hair shimmers and I notice his watery gray-blue eyes. My chest tightens and I feel the need to relieve myself from this embarrassing moment. Thank God, Mom beats me to it. "Well, sweetheart, you ready to get this tour over with?"
You freaking bet I am. "Yeah, Mom."
Mom turns to Elliot. "Thanks for being so kind to my daughter."
Elliot probes me with his eyes. I look away, nervous. "It's no problem really. After all, I'm the one who hit her with the door. It was the least I could do."
Mom gives me her you-better-be-polite look. "Robin, you should thank this young man."
"I already did." Mom purses her lips and her breathing is heavy and I know if I don't do what I'm told I'm going to have to listen to her ranting for the rest of the tour. "Thank you, Elliot. Thank you for being so kind," I say graciously.
I really am grateful that Elliot turned out to be such a nice guy. The guys I know that are gorgeous like him wouldn't have been so kind. They would've hit me with the door and ran away laughing.
Elliot smiles brightly and my heart thumps, beating out of my chest. "No problem, Robin." There's a roll to the "R" when he says my name and it's so sexy that heat rises to my cheeks and I feel like I'm baking in an oven. "Maybe I'll see you around campus sometime."
I hope so. "Yeah, Maybe."
In all reality, I know I probably won't---see him around campus I mean. There are thousands in my freshman class and who knows how many total for all grades. The small flicker of hope inside of me dwindles away and I frown. Why is it that when you have a random encounter with a gorgeous guy your chances of seeing him again always go from possibly to not at all in a matter of seconds? The thought of it totally bums me out.
I've had that before with the lifeguard who saved my life three summers ago. But the thing is; I still see him. Every year when I walk onto the beach he flashes me his perfect smile from his bright red lifeguard chair. "Hey, kid," he greets me with a chuckle. "Am I going to have to keep a close eye on you today?"
What I always want to tell him is; I hope so. But I never do. I usually end up blushing and look down at my feet, mumbling a string of incoherent words. Elliot makes me feel the same way and I just met him. He makes me feel like I'm a scattered all over inside, bits and pieces of cubed cheddar placed sporadically on a party platter. I gaze at him intensely and he kind of reminds me of Drake, the lifeguard who saved my life and it's unnerving. I swallow hard and start playing with my fingertips. Will I ever be able to act like myself around gorgeous guys? I snort softly. Probably not.
Elliot smirks and grazes his teeth along his lower lip. "I look forward to it, Robin." He starts backing away. "Have a good tour. I've got my own to get to."
"You're a freshman?" I shout as he distances himself from me.
"Yep!"
Elliot smiles and disappears from my view and a wide smile curls on my lips.
For my sake I hope that the "maybe" of me seeing him again turns into a definitely.
3
Six Months Later
Missing someone gets easier every day because even though it's one day further from the last time you saw each other, it's one day closer to the next time you will. Author Unknown
"Robin Sue Mason! You'd better be up there packing!" Mom shouts from the bottom of the steps.
"I am!" No I'm not.
"Good because we're leaving in forty-five minutes with or without you!"
I glimpse over my shoulder at my empty suitcase then back at my open laptop. A tiny grin crawls across my lips when I read the post on Drake Robertson's Facebook wall.
Another summer in Paradise.
I'd asked him if he'd be my friend on Facebook last summer and I honestly didn't think he'd say yes. But he did and I remember more clearly than anything the palpitations my heart made after he'd answered me.
Heat rises to my cheeks and my face tingles as I admire his picture. He saved my life three summers ago and we've been to same beach cottage in Paradise, Maine every summer since. But he's never looked or thought of me the way I think of him. In fact, most of the times he's seen me he'd give me a playful punch to the arm and say, "What's up, kid? You surviving vacation this year?"
I'd roll my eyes and reply, "Yes." But that I really want to say is I know I'll survive because you'll be there to save me.
He's my own personal superhero. Or at least I like to think of him that way. And it seems like the only time I'm accident prone is when he's around.
Most of all, I wish he'd look at me like I'm not a kid. Hopefully this year he will because I don't look the same as I did last year, much less three years ago. I hit puberty late, not filling out until a month before my senior year. Now I feel like I look more womanly, with curves and a b cup-size I can actually fill out.
I close my laptop and plop down next to my suitcase and sigh. If Mom hopes to leave in forty-five minutes, I'm afraid I'm going to disappoint her because I have no idea what to pack.
Just then Whitney bursts through the door singing, "We've got two tickets to Paradise!" I laugh, falling onto my side as she drops her duffle bag onto the floor. Whit is always so animated. "What the heck are you doing?" she asks glancing from my suitcase to my face. "You haven't packed anything!"
"I don't know what to bring," I whine and puff out my bottom lip.
Whit rolls her hazel eyes. "I'll help you." She starts rummaging through my drawers. "I think I'm more excited about this vacation than you are," she says, elbows deep in my underwear drawer.
"Beats serving cones at the Frosty Dream." Whitney has a summer job at the local ice cream shop.
"You got that right," she huffs. "I think sand in my bikini is more appealing than sticky, melted ice cream in my hair."
I laugh. "So true."
Whitney stops rummaging and picks up a pair of my undies, turns around and holds them up. "Dude, what's with all the granny panties? You don't have one cute pair of underwear in this drawer?" She stretches out the pair of white bikini briefs in her hands. "Haven't you ever heard of Victoria's Secret?"
"And what is her secret?" I ask sarcastically.
"She designs cute underwear," Whit says as she slingshots the underwear at my face.
The panties skim my cheek and I pick them up and toss them over my shoulder. "Whit, you know I like to be comfortable and I can't be comfortable with some skimpy pair of underwear riding up my crack. Besides, nobody is going to be looking at my underwear."
She grabs a handful of my skivvy's and shoves them into my suitcase. "You never know." She gives me a mischievous wink. "Maybe Drake will decide you're too hot for your own good this year."
"I doubt it."
She opens my bathing suit drawer and frowns. "And you don't own one cute bathing suit either. Geez Robs. You've finally got a rockin' bod and you never show it off."
"I don't feel the need to."
Whitney picks up two bathing suits and tosses them at me and I fold them and put them in my suitcase. "You can borrow one of my bikinis." I make a face and she shakes her head, knowing exactly what I'm thinking. Wearing your bff's bathing suit bottom is still kind of like sharing her underwear. "Chill, babe. It's brand new. Still has the tag on it and everything."
There's a knock on the door. "You guys ready to go?" Dad's muffled voice wafts through the door.
"Ten minutes," I tell him.
Dad's footsteps carry down the hall and I get up, thumbing through my closet, trying to decide what outfits to bring. I pull out a few sundresses and Whit plops down next to my suitcase. "I can't wait to see this Drake guy in the flesh," Whitney muses.
I pick up a hot pink halter on a wire hanger and point the hanger at Whitney accusingly. "Don't you say a word about anything to him. You hear me?"
She holds her hands up like I'm pointing a gun at her. There's a stick up at the 'Mason Corral'. I am the outlaw and Whit is the damsel in distress. "Hey, my lips are sealed sister." She lowers her hands. "But I think this guy should know that you've never let another guy hold a candle to him for the last three years."
I've dated a few other guys throughout high school and for some odd reason I always wind up dumping them or comparing them to Drake. I don't know why I do it.
No. Yes I do. It's because not one of them has ever made me feel the way he has.
"That's because no guy our age can hold a candle to him." I take the pink halter off the hanger and place it in the suitcase. "When you see him, you'll see."
Whitney sighs. "My lil Robin is crushing on an older man. It's very Lolita of you."
I giggle at her comment and grab some jeans off the shelf in my closet. I wish that Drake would look at me or think of me the way Humbert does Lolita. I know that's a strange comparison, but that's how I feel. He's never looked at me with lust or adoration, but you never know. Maybe this summer will be different. Maybe this summer he'll actually see me as someone other than the kid he'd saved from drowning once.
When we'd gone back for vacation the following year, I assumed he'd forgotten all about me. I'd gone down to the beach to watch the sunset like I do every year when we first arrive in Paradise and I was surprised to see Drake sitting close to the spot I usually sat in. But... and this was the part that sucked; he was there with another girl. It was the same lifeguard with the black hair I'd watched him kiss the summer before.
They both turned to look at me as I sat down a few feet away like I'd just interrupted some romantic interlude. But I didn't interrupt anything as far as I was concerned. I came here every year. Sat in the same spot every year. They were mooching on my territory.
For a moment Drake and I locked eyes and the spark of anger in his baby blues cut into me deep, like he was stabbing me with a knife, twisting and carving out my insides. I was a Christmas ham and he was slicing away my layers every second that he kept his gaze on me. It hurt seeing him look at me like that and I felt my tear ducts kick into overdrive. I blanched, looking away so he wouldn't see me cry.
Then the sound of Drake and the girl's whispers carried over to me and swelled in my ears. I'd wiped my tears away in a hurry and stared up into the sky. Then I closed my eyes listening to the sound of rushing water and a rustling noise as Drake and the girl he was with gathered up their stuff. Footsteps scuffed against the sand and I kept my eyes closed until the sound of the footsteps stopped. I opened one eye and noticed Drake staring at me. "Kid? Is that you?"
"My name is Robin," I said gruffly.
"I remember. The singing bird." He'd left out the beautiful part. I assumed because the girl who was with him would probably be a little upset about that. Either that or he forgot that he said it. But I didn't. That was the best memory I had of him. I'd replayed the words so many times in my head I thought that by now I'd be sick of it. I wasn't and never would be.
He turned toward the girl with him and mumbled something. "This is Sydney," he said introducing me to his girlfriend.
"Hi."
She smiled. "Hi."
They started walking down the beach and Drake shouted over his shoulder, a wide grin on his face. "Try not to drown this year, Robin!" he shouts with a chuckle.
I didn't answer him. I just sat there and let the hurt consume me, crashing into me just like the white caps into the toasted almond sand.
4
A goodbye isn't painful unless you're never going to say hello again.
Author Unknown
After stopping three times for bathroom breaks and gas and a six hour car ride we finally make it to Paradise. Whit and I unpack our suitcases while my parents go next door to say talk to the Marshall's. The same family that vacations with us every year.
Dad and John Marshall have been friends since college. And they thought it would be a good idea to start these vacations every summer as a way of keeping in contact. It is a good idea. Dad says that sometimes when you grow up you lose contact with your friends when everyone goes their separate ways. I look at Whit as she folds up a gold bikini and puts it in a drawer. I hope that doesn't happen with us.
We're both going to the same college next year, and we're extremely lucky that we were able to room together, so at least we have another four years together, but who knows what will happen after that. I like to think we'll always keep in contact, but you never know.
I'm pulled from my thoughts when the door to our room opens abruptly. I stare at a pair of hot pink flip flops and work my way up the person who's wearing a hot pink terry-cloth sundress to match. Sadie, the Marshall's daughter.
Sadie and I are the same age and we used to play together when we were kids, but as we got older we started distancing ourselves from each other. She's more shopping, and tanning and gossiping and I'm more reading, and studying, and laid back. Her parents probably made her come over here to say hi.
Sadie's heavily highlighted hair is tucked back into a low ponytail and her fingers are frantically pounding on the keys to her iPhone.
"What's up, Sadie?" I say zipping up my now empty suitcase.
"Nothing." She doesn't even look at me. She keeps her eyes zoomed in on her phone.
"Just came to say hey."
"Hey," I groan. Then Whitney clears her throat and I glance over my shoulder as she gives me the "introduce me already" look. "This is my friend Whitney."
Sadie still doesn't look up. "Nice to meet you."
I sit down on my bed and glare at Sadie, hoping that she'll leave sooner rather than later. Finally Sadie meets my gaze and shrugs. "Well, I'll see you around." Less than a second later she walks out the door.
Whit gives me an odd look and shudders. "Frigid."
"Tell me about it," I scoff. "At least you haven't had to spend every summer with her since you were a toddler."
"No because I would have killed myself way before I reached my pre-teen years." I laugh. Whit's sarcastic comments always make me laugh. "Spending a summer with that thing must have been torture."
"Meh. She wasn't always like that."
I remember one summer in particular where Sadie and I made the biggest sand castle ever. We laughed and swam, collected seashells, and spent every waking minute together. But the last time we'd spent time like that together we were ten. People change. We changed. She got into boys and I got into school. As we got older we didn't have anything in common anymore.
"So," Whit says, standing up. "Why don't we go watch the sunset?"
"Sounds like a plan," I say with a smile.
\*\*\*\*
The sand glows a mixture of yellow and orange. The water looks violet instead of blue from the afterglow of the sky. The beach is deserted. Just the way I like it.
I pull a beach towel out of my bag and spread it out along the sand. Clinking glass echoes in the night air and my head snaps toward Whitney as she pulls two wine coolers out of her purse. My mouth gapes open and I glance over my shoulder at sign two feet away from us. Then my eyes widen as Whitney meets my gaze. "Where did you get those?"
"I ganked em from your mom's stash. She had like fifty of em. It's like she's addicted to them or something."
I point to the sign over my shoulder. "The sign says no alcohol on the beach."
"What are you, the party police?" Whit shakes her head and reaches into her bag, pulling out two red cups. "Live a little Robs. It's our last summer of freedom."
"I just don't want to get caught."
"Ree-lax. This isn't the prohibition-era." Whitney opens a bottle and pours half of a wine cooler into a red up and hands it to me. "If we get caught, we'll tell them its juice or something." I glance at the cup then back at her face. She shoves the cup closer to me. "Just take the cup."
"What if my mom notices that they're gone?"
"Did you not hear me? She's got like fifty more in the fridge. She'll never know, unless she's an alcoholic. And I've known your mom as long as I've known you. I don't get that vibe from her."
I take the cup warily. "Fine."
Whit pours herself a cup and snuggles in next to me. "You've got to loosen up, Robs. How in the heck are we supposed to party it up in college if I can't even get you to have fun now?"
It's not that I don't like to have fun. It's that I don't like the consequences that accompany having fun. I don't have good luck when it comes to having fun. Right after graduation one of the football players in our graduating class threw a party. I let my hair down then and had a few drinks and had a great time. The down side... The party got busted and the cops brought me home. Whit wasn't there to witness the look on my dad's face. It was a fun killer.
Then I got the two hour "I'm so disappointed in you, I thought you were smarter than that" lecture. I don't want to go there again.
I take a sip from my cup, watching the tide roll in. Whit scoots closer to me as a cool breeze whips through my hair and hers. She laces her arm through mine. "You were right about this, Robs. It's beautiful."
"I told you."
Another gust of wind blows and tousle's the edge of the towel and an orange piece of paper sticks to Whit's feet. She sets her cup down and picks it up. "What's this?" I lean over, glancing at what appears to be a flyer. Whit squints, trying to make out what it says. The sun is almost beneath the horizon and it's starting to get dark. "I need a light or something. I can't read it." She digs through her purse and whips out her cell phone. She presses a button and the phone lights up. Then we read the paper. "Oohhh!"Whit squeals. "It's a frat party!"
I snatch the paper from her hand. "Give me that." Whit leans in and holds her phone over the orange flyer so I can read it clearly. "A frat party in the summer seems odd doesn't it?"
"Not really," Whit replies. "Some people take summer classes."
"The Start of Summer Bash," I say aloud. I scan the address and crumble up the paper.
"Hey!" Whit protests with a frown. "What are you doing? We should totally crash that party!"
"It's like five miles away. How will we get there?" There's no way I'm walking five miles to go to some party for an hour if that.
"I'm sure your rents will let us borrow the car."
"Sure. Hmmm. Yeah, dad. I'd like the car so I can go to a frat party," I say with sarcasm. "I'm sure that will work out wonderfully."
"That's why we lie, silly."
"Whit, you know me better than that. I don't have one deceptive bone in my body. Plus you know I'm a terrible liar."
Whitney exhales and gives me a quirky grin. Then she picks up the balled up flier and stuffs it in her purse. "We have all day tomorrow to work on your skills. Trust me, babe. You're learning from the best."
That's true. Whitney is great at dreaming up random fabrications and making them believable. She could tell my mom that aliens were going to invade earth tomorrow and that the entire human population would be random test subjects and somehow make my mom believe the whole thing.
Her whole lying bit started in the sixth grade. Her parents had always been strict. No, more than strict. They kept her on lock down. Whit calls them 'The Dictators' and they made the rules my parents set up seem lax. Like my twelve o'clock curfew. Whitney's mom would frown at that. "A young lady doesn't need to stay out past ten thirty," Whit'd say, mocking her mom. "Only harlots and drunkards roam the street after that time." Then we'd laugh and she'd say, "Who in the hell talks like that? I swear my mom is medieval."
In the sixth grade Whit really wanted to see a movie that was rated PG-13. Well, up until that point her parents wouldn't let her see anything above a G rating. So Whit lied to them and told them she was seeing something else. She even went as far as memorizing bits and pieces of the other movie, from the previews so if her parents asked any questions, her lie would sound believable. Pretty soon she'd gotten so good at lying to them about everything that they were clueless. I can't imagine the look on her mom's face if she ever found out her daughter wasn't a virgin.
I think my parents actually learned a little bit from Whit's. What happens when you're too strict with your kids? They rebel. I shudder when I think about what Whit's going to do when we get to college and she has freedom. She's going to go crazy. Like doing strip teases at parties and smuggling beers into the campus library in your purse crazy. I bet she'll be thankful for my party police attitude then because my attitude might just keep her from flunking out of college. Or at least I like to think so.
"Let's just say, hypothetically that my parents do let us take the car. How are we supposed to get home if we drink? You know I'd never ever be cool with drinking and driving."
Whit scratches her chin and makes her "I'm thinking" face. "I'll do it. I'll sacrifice one night of fun to take one for the team."
I roll my eyes and giggle. "How generous of you."
"Hey." Whit punches my shoulder playfully. "You're always the one who stays in the right frame of mind so I can let loose. It's about time I returned the favor. Besides, you never know who might be at this little swaree."
Blood rises to my cheeks. I'm blushing. And I'm thankful that it's dark out because I'm certain I look like a ripe tomato. "He probably won't be there."
"Oh, I'm gonna bet he will be," she teases. "He's in college. It's a college party. And from the way you've described him in the past, he doesn't sound like you and he have the same agenda when it comes to fun."
Whitney knows so much about Drake I'm sure she feels like she knows him already. I tell her anything and everything about him. Every time I saw him in the past years I called her. Told her what he did. Asked her what his actions meant. I'm clueless when it comes to guys and their flirtations or hidden innuendos.
"So. Even if he is there it doesn't mean he's going to talk to me. Or maybe he's finally forgotten me all together."
That's a lie. I know he hasn't forgotten me. Last summer I actually spent time with him. Like apart from me seeing him at random and him calling me "kid." He still called me "kid", but last year he actually stuck up a conversation with me a few times. One of the times, I had gone into town to the local CD shop and he brushed past me as I was walking through the door. He stopped mid-step when he saw my and spun around. "Fancy meeting you here, kid."
He flashed me a brilliant smile and my heart hammered against my ribcage. I could feel it beating everywhere. In my throat. In my ears. Even in my temples. And then I bashfully looked at the floor. "Yeah...eh. Fancy."
My insides were a mess. Finger paints. Red, blue, and green on a toddler's hands smeared on the wall mess. I couldn't even mumble coherent words.
When I lifted my head. He glared at me with a puzzled look. A look I had memorized over the last three years because it was one of my favorites. I loved his puzzled look. Where he'd scrunch his eyebrows together and bite his bottom lip just the slightest bit. "Huh?"
I swallowed hard and fidgeted with my fingers. "Nothing. Never mind."
"So." He shoved his hands into the pockets of his board shorts and rocked back and forth on his heels. "You enjoying your vacation so far?"
"Yeah. It's vacation. What's not to enjoy?"
He smirked. "Very true."
Sydney appeared next to him and gave him a peck on the cheek. "I'm ready to go, babe."
He smiled at her lovingly and my heart sank. Sydney flashed me a sincere smile. "Hi again. Having a good summer?"
I nodded, but didn't respond because I was afraid if I did Sydney would hear the fractured emotion in my voice.
During that moment all I wanted to do was run to one of the corners in shop, crouch down, and cry. And I couldn't help but despise, Sydney. I knew I had no reason to because she was so nice. It wasn't a fake nice either. She was genuinely nice and I'd witnessed her kindness on a few occasions when she'd help an elderly person across the road, hold doors open for people, or even cover an extra for shift for another one of the lifeguards. Mom always says that genuine people are hard to come by and it's because of that, that I couldn't hate her all-together.
What I didn't like the most about Sydney is the fact that she was perfect, too perfect. With her shiny, black patent leather hair, proportional symmetrical smile, clear olive skin, and her perfectly applied Ruby Roo MAC lipstick. More than anything I was jealous because girls like Sydney; the perfect girls, seemed to always get everything. Once, just once I wanted everything.
And to me, that everything was Drake.
"I am thanks." I smiled back, trying to be genuine, but inside I'm shrieking at the top of my lungs and thinking about how I'd like to claw at Sydney's face, damaging her Neutrogena clear, skin.
"I'm sure we'll see you around, kid," Drake said.
"Bye," Sydney said, adding a small wave.
Just as they turned to walk away I watched Drake lean in and plant a kiss on the side of Sydney's head with his full pink lips. At that moment, I had to look away. Witnessing that loving gesture between them was more than I could handle.
For the longest time after he saved my life, I thought about the way his lips felt against mine. The soft, gentle brush of warmth that followed him pumping life back into me. I remember how the heat from his mouth seared through me like shishcabob's being cooked on a charcoal grill. I never forgot the way his lips felt against mine because that memory was the only thing that got me through that moment outside the CD shop in one piece.
Whit nudges into me and the flashback returns to a nook in my brain. "So the party tomorrow? Yay or nay?"
"Yay," I mumble softly.
It's about time that I stop with all the wall-flower bullshit. I'm a shadow lurking in the darkened corner of a crowded gymnasium. I'm always waiting and watching. I'm always hovering against the wall praying that someone will ask me to dance while some other random person is having their moment.
And I'm getting sick of it.
5
Crushes are like fireflies. You can catch them and keep them or you can let them go and watch them fly away.
"Robs, get out here now!" Whit is the most impatient person I know and I'm taking too long putting on the bikini she let me borrow. She starts pounding her head against the door.
"No," I refuse.
"Just let me see how it looks on you."
"No." I glance down at the skimpy hot pink bikini I'm wearing, and then fiddle with the thin ties on the sides. What if someone pulls on them? I shudder when I think about the bikini bottoms falling down and me giving every beach-goer a crotch shot. "I feel naked."
"I'm sure you look fine."
"I wish you would have just let me wear the one piece I brought."
"A one piece?" Her voice hikes. "Who are you my grandma?" I touch the bare, exposed skin on my stomach and feel the need to wrap myself up in a towel. "Just come out," Whit whines.
I'm not insecure about my body. I like my figure. I like my curves. But I've been a modest dresser and person my whole life and I'm having a hard time adjusting to the change now.
I realize that if I don't come out now, I'll have to listen to her whine for what feels like eternity. "Fine." So I suck up my insecurities and open the door.
Whit's mouth drops open and her hazel eyes widen. "O.M.G Robs! You look hot!"
I frown. "I don't feel hot." At the moment, I'm thinking of my navy blue Speedo that's carefully tucked away in one of the drawers. "I feel like I need to be covered up more."
I fold my arms over my stomach and Whit steps closer, uncrossing my arms and pinning them to my sides. "Stop it," she scolds. "You look great." Then she scans me from head to toe as a sinister smirk curls on her lips. "Drake Robertson, prepare to eat your heart out."
I laugh and shake my head as Whit snatches her beach bag and walks out of the room. I stand still for a moment, grab my towel from the bedpost and wrap it around my body before walking out the door.
\*\*\*\*
The beach is a picturesque scene. A group of people in the far left corner play beach volleyball and I watch the round ball sail through the air as one of the female players jumps up and spikes it over the net. The waves are choppy today and several kids have boogie boards, skimming along the surf. And it's beyond crowded, so crowded I'm not sure we'll find a spot to put our towels. I notice Sadie a few feet to my right and she's wearing a neon yellow two piece, lying on her stomach, texting. I meet Whit's gaze and she raises an eyebrow. "You wanna?"
I tilt my head to the side and slit my eyes. "What do you think?"
"I think you'd rather choke on your own vomit."
I laugh and go back to surveying the area. My surveillance stops when I see the bright red lifeguard chair. I scan it slowly seeing a new girl with dark brown hair and no Drake anywhere. My heart sinks and falls out of my chest cavity, a thick mass of disappointment sitting in my stomach. I was so hoping that I'd see him today.
Then Whit yells, "Over there!"
I follow her finger with my eyes and see a spot a few feet away from the volleyball net. "No way," I protest. "We'll be in the direct line of fire."
But Whit doesn't hear me. She's already on her way over there.
Following her, I step over bodies, trying to find empty spots on the sand to step. "Sorry," I apologize as I accidentally step on a woman's hair. She doesn't even flinch or notice. She's sleeping, oiled up like a greased pig and I bet she doesn't even know that her back is so red that she looks like one of the lobster's Maine is famous for.
When I finally make it over to Whit she's already laying out her towel. I throw my stuff down. "Didn't you hear me back there? Do you have a death wish? There's a good chance a volleyball is going to smack one of us in the face!"
She nods with a sly grin. "I know."
I stare at her incredulously. "Are you kidding me? I'd like to make it through the day without a concussion!"
Whit puts her sunglasses on and gets cozy on her towel. Then she nods toward the volleyball playing field. "Do you see all the hot guys playing?" She props herself up on her elbows and lowers her sunglasses. "Well, if they hit us with a volleyball they'll have to come get it." I grumble and Whit tilts her head to the side. "Quit complaining and lie down. You can remind me how brilliant I am later."
I reach into my bag and pull out an extra towel. I lie it down on the sand, then slowly peel away the towel wrapped around my stomach. Glancing around self-consciously, I realize that no one is paying attention and suddenly feel a little better. Not long after I lie down on my back I hear Whit's light snoring and decide to listen to some music.
After putting in my ear buds, and setting the timer on my iPhone, I roll over onto my stomach and let the blazing hot sun beat down on me. I'm certain I'd be able to hear my skin sizzling if it weren't for the Jack Johnson song that's blasting through my ear buds.
Ten minutes pass by. Then twenty. Before I know it, the timer on my phone dings and it's time to roll over. I elbow Whit and she screeches, "Eh?"
"Roll over."
I feel like a rotisserie chicken. Rolling and bronzing. Rolling and bronzing.
We roll over in unison and I set the timer for thirty minutes again. When it dings again, I'll take a dip in the ocean. The water will cool me down and take a little bit of the sting out if I burn at all. I don't usually use tanning beds, but I did a few times before we came to Paradise, just to get a base. The fried look is never sexy.
My mind wanders to Drake. I wonder where he is or what he's doing. Then I make a mental note that if I see him I'm going to try and have a normal conversation with him. I'm not going to fumble my words. I'm going to be bold. I'm going to show him that I'm not a kid anymore.
And he shouldn't treat me like one.
It doesn't feel like thirty minutes have passed, but the timer dings on my phone. Yanking the ear bud's out, I push my sunglasses on top of my head and tap Whit on the shoulder. "I'm going for a dip in the ocean. You wanna join?"
"Nah," she moans and doesn't move.
"I'll be back in a few."
Whit doesn't reply and I stand, sauntering past the intense volleyball match, making my way to the water. I envision the cool water sliding over my skin and can't wait to float in it. I can't wait to feel the gentle caress of the slapping water as it puts out the fire on my skin.
But I don't make it to the water.
I'm only a few steps away when a volleyball sails through the air and blasts me like a cannonball right in the back of the head.
6
Desire is a wicked emotion that blurs the lines between what's real and what's not.
Damn you, Whit. A brilliant idea indeed. I'm going to kill her when I get back to our spot.
I wince and rub the back of my head, searching the ground for the ball. At the moment, I wish I had a pin so I could deflate the freaking thing.
"Sorry about that!" a guy shouts. Sand swishing between toes throbs in my ears as someone jogs toward me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a flash of white gleaming in the sun. I turn my attention to the ball a few paces to my right, pick it up, and spin around to face the person who came to retrieve it.
"You?" My mouth gapes open and I blink several times. "What are you doing here?"
Elliot, the same guy who whacked me in the head with a door on my college visit, raises an eye brow and crooks me a grin. "I'm spending the summer here with my brother. He's actually a lifeguard here, but he's off today. So we're just playing a little beach volleyball with some of his frat brothers." Elliot tilts his head to the side and licks his bottom lip. "What are you doing here?"
"My family vacations here every year." I frown at him and chuck the ball at him with force. "What is it with you and hitting me in the head?" Elliot catches the ball and places it on his hip, holding it up with his forearm. "And where is this brother of yours?"
Elliot peeks over his shoulder. "That's him coming over now."
I glance around Elliot and my mouth damn near touches the sand. At the moment I feel sick and I can't decide if it's my nerves that are making me nauseous or the fact that Elliot's brother just so happens to be Drake.
Drake jogs toward us, keeping his eyes on the sand. "Elliot, what's taking so long?"
Drake lifts his gaze and when his cloudy pools of blue cut into my emerald green eyes I forget how to breathe. My lungs are electric and someone at the utility building has shut down my source of power. Drake narrows his eyes and runs a hand through his shaggy hair. "Wow. Kid! You---!"
"I know," I say interrupting him. "I don't look like a kid anymore." Even though it rips me apart to look away from him, my eyes wander and I scan the packed beach. "I didn't see Sydney. You two are usually joined at the hip."
"We broke up." His words are strained and he looks down at his feet. He purses his lips and exhales and I can tell from his mannerisms that his relationship with Sydney is a subject he's rather not talk about.
And I can't help but think how convenient, how marvelous, and how earth shattering the news of his break-up is.
A harmonious chorus of Hallelujah sounds off inside of my head and I try to keep the smug grin from crawling across my lips. "I'm sorry to hear that."
"Wait..." Elliot cuts into the conversation, changing the subject, and relieving the tension of the previous topic. "You're the famous, kid?" After he asks me the question I take notice in the fact that he's staring at me like I'm the most appealing person he's ever seen.
I'm baffled by his comment. "Excuse me?" I roll my eyes toward Drake. "Famous, kid? What's that about?"
Drake eyes his brother like his blue orbs are daggers and he's cutting into his flesh. "Don't mind Elliot. He lives for sarcasm."
Elliot rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Drake talked about the way he rescued you for like an entire summer. We had to listen to him brag about it over and over and over again." Elliot chuckles and rubs his chin with his forefinger and thumb. "Trust me when I say this; It got old real fast."
Drake gives me a cheesy grin, juts his arm back and elbows Elliot in the stomach. Elliot hunches over, winces, and grunts out in pain. Then Drake steps in front of him.
"Did I mention Elliot also likes to exaggerate?"
Part of me is confused by their brotherly bantering and the other part of me is a giddy child locked in a toy-store after being told I can take home any toy that I want. Drake is that hot pink motorized Barbie Corvette and I want him---bad. I've waited years for him.
Finally, the patience is about to pay off.
There's another part of me that is confused by Elliot's uncanny resemblance to Drake. And I wonder why I never noticed it before.
Both of them standing side by side, almost the exact height, golden blonde hair, puddles of blue for eyes, and bronzed abs has my mind in a blunder. I keep glancing in between the two brothers, wondering if I'm looking at the right one.
I stop and focus on the brother to my right. Totally Drake. When he smiles he has dimples on both sides of his cheeks and Elliot only has one on the right cheek. Also, Elliot's eyes are a little bit brighter of a blue than Drake's and set a little farther apart on his face. Yeah, now that I look at them, I mean really look at them; they don't look as much alike as I originally thought.
Then I stare at Drake. Intensely. Reality slips away. I'm living in a sordid façade where the entire beach is abandoned and Drake is standing on one end and I am on the other. Heat lightning snaps above our heads and fans across the sky from the humidity. Waves crash into the sand, pumping a rhythmic rush into the air---the soundtrack to our movie.
Drake crooks me a devilish grin and his eyes turn from grayish blue to electric blue as the lightning flashes in them. He lures me closer with his stellar smile and electric eyes and before I know it, an invisible tether is dragging me across the sand. Closing the gap between us. I fight at first, trying to break free from his hold, but then I stop. I can't fight Drake's gravitational pull anymore because all I want is to be in his orbit.
I'm in his arms and his hands are in my hair, twirling through reddish-brown strands. He breathes into my ear and inside I'm the Berlin Wall, collapsing. Crumbling cement everywhere. Thousands of German's cheering.
Suddenly I find myself thinking about things. Naughty things. Dirty things. I've been a bad girl things. Things that I'd normally never think about.
Seduce Me. Ravage me. Torture me. Throw me down in the sand and shroud me with breathless wonder. I want him so bad it aches.
I want him the way Satan wants to corrupt a person of virtue. I want him like a depraved sinner kissing the feet of his savior and begging for their forgiveness.
Drake's hand slides up my waist and I want him to touch me everywhere. He kisses my neck and I want him to kiss me like I've never been kissed before. I want every other kiss I've ever received to feel juvenile and silly. So that a brush from his lips trumps every other kiss I've ever received. So that he's number one. So that his kiss matches the way I feel about him everywhere, not only in my heart.
I drop my gaze to his hands, his strong manly hands. I imagine them crawling up my skin peeling away straps from my shoulder blades, tugging on my loose clothing. His hands want me bare. His hands want to glide over my soft, smooth skin and make me shiver in delight.
Drake clears his throat and I snap out of the trance, shaking my head. Whoa. That felt way too real and I swear I'm blushing. I need that dip in the cool water now more than ever.
"Elliot starts college in the fall," Drake tells me.
I smile at Elliot. "I know."
Drake eyes me, confused. "Huh? How do you know?"
Elliot clears his throat and chuckles. "We sort of know each other."
Drake's eyes widen and his jaw drops. "What? How?"
"Your brother hit me in the head with a freaking door."
Elliot smirks. "She wasn't watching where she was going."
My jaw drops. "No way. You are not going to blame it all on me. Let's just say it was both of our faults."
Drake and Elliot exchange a glance and Drake runs his hand through his golden locks. "Well, what can I say? Elliot has never been the graceful type. Or smooth with the ladies."
Elliot scowls at Drake and the once light hearted situation has turned into a tense one. The tension swells and fills the air surrounding us and my skin prickles. I can tell that these two don't necessarily have a great relationship and I'm guessing that maybe it has to do with a deeply rooted sibling rivalry or something. I mean I could be wrong. I don't have any siblings so I can't be one hundred percent sure, but Elliot is staring at Drake like he wants to murder him and his hands are balled into fists at his sides.
"You should talk, bro." Elliot's tone is icy and Drake scowls at him in return.
For a second the two of them have a stare down that's so intense I'm not even sure if they notice that I'm still standing across from them. Drake backs down first, his matching gray-blue eyes breaking away from Elliot's. He sighs and runs his hand through his hair again. "So the same college, huh, kid? You've got to be shitting me? How coincidental is that?"
I've always hated that expression. I frown. "No. I am not shitting you." For some reason I always get unwanted visions of a large man sitting on his ivory throne. I shudder, trust me it's not pleasant.
I point to Whitney who is still fast asleep on her towel. "My best friend Whitney and I are rooming together."
"What dorm are you in?" Elliot asks.
I open my mouth to answer, but one of the players on the volleyball court shouts and interrupts me. "Elliot! Drake! What the hell are you guys doing? You're holding up the whole game!"
Elliot glances over his shoulder and holds up a finger. "Guess we'd better get back." He bounces the ball from hand to hand and walks backward toward the volleyball court. "It was nice seeing you, Robin," he says, wearing a radiant smile. "Hopefully I'll see you again and I promise I'll keep any objects that I so happen to be near at the time away from your head."
I nod and laugh. "Thanks. See you around."
Elliot jets off toward the playing field and Drake stays behind for a second. "So."
There's an awkward moment of silence. I let out a nervous laugh, unsure of what to say. "So."
Drake dips his chin and smiles, looking up at me. "My frat is throwing a party tonight. You should come."
"I think I saw a flyer for that."
Drake starts backing away. "It would be nice to see you there, kid."
"Maybe you will."
No. There's no maybe about it. He definitely will.
7
When you touched me your fingers danced across my skin and at the same time, spoke to my soul.
"You hoochie!" Whit squeals as she scampers across the room with one towel wrapped around her head and another one wrapped around her body. "I can't believe you didn't introduce me to him!"
"You were still sleeping," I say, trying to reason with her. "I didn't want to wake you up."
She stands in front of the dresser, her eyes shooting daggers at me through the mirror. "For something like that, Robs, from now on, I give you full permission to wake me up."
"I don't see why you're so peeved about it. You're gonna meet him tonight anyway."
"Yeah, but didn't you say he has a brother?"
"Yeah. So?"
"So," Whit scoffs. "I could have been getting my flirt on with him already in preparation for the party!"
I look away from her and groan, "I'm so sorry I put a damper in your plans for the evening."
Sometimes Whit's 'I have to be privy to everything attitude' gets on my nerves. I love her to death, but there are times where I don't want to tell her everything. And there are moments in my life where I don't always feel like including her. Mostly because she's such an attention whore. I claim the title of sidekick enough. I happen to like being in the spotlight for once.
Whit frowns and pivots, walking toward me. She crouches down in front of me, taking my hands in hers. "Look, I'm sorry I got a little carried away. It's just I've been hearing about Drake and seeing his pictures for years. I'm just a little disappointed that I didn't get to meet the number one obsession in my best friend's life."
A demure smile spans across my lips. "I'm sure you can meet him and talk him up all you want, tonight at the party."
Whit straightens up. "And hopefully this time, you'll introduce me to his brother."
"Definitely."
\*\*\*\*
Two hours later and Whit is still getting ready. During the school year I can't even count how many times she's been late when we have to go somewhere. And every time she'd always come up with a believable excuse like; my mom needed the car or she'd gotten a flat tire on the way over. But after sitting here and watching her for the last hour, I know the real reason. She's applied the same coat of lip gloss ten times, at least.
"Are you ready yet?" I whine. I've been ready and waiting for her for the last hour.
Whit pouts her lips and blends her lip gloss in with her finger. "Just about."
I'm glad I don't like to wear a lot of make-up. It makes the whole getting ready process take ten times longer. Plus, when I do wear it, even after I wash my face I still feel like I'm wearing it.
Whit blows herself a kiss and winks at her reflection. "There. All ready." Then she turns to face me. "Now, let's go over the plan one more time." I let out a frustrated grunt and Whit's gaze hardens. "We have to go over the plan again, Robs. Like you said earlier, you're a terrible liar."
"Fine," I grumble and repeat the lie Whit came up with. "We're going to a late movie in town." When we got back from the beach, Whit pulled out her laptop and googled the closest theater. There was one ten miles away. "It doesn't start until almost eleven so we might not be home until after two."
At first I was a little leery of the time frame, then Whit reminded me that most movies came with at least twenty minutes of previews. So if the movie started at five to eleven, it wouldn't actually start until 11:15. The one we selected Love on the Run, lasted for two hours and twenty minutes. By the time the movie started and finished and we drove home the whole trip would last over four hours, giving us plenty of time to party.
"Very good," Whit says wearing a devious grin. "And what will you do if your dad throws you a curveball?"
Meaning, what will I do if he throws in a random question and catches me off guard. "Call you in for back up," I answer, warily.
I'm nervous about this plan we've concocted. I can't help the terrible feeling in my gut that tells me we'll get caught. But Whit seems to have faith in it. I'm glad she does because I think that she might have to do all of the work. I have a feeling when I get in front of my dad, I'm going to choke.
"Uh...Dad?" The words come out shaky and I swallow hard, standing in the living room, in front of my dad. He's propped up in the reclining chair reading the newspaper. I say a silent prayer that he keeps the newspaper in front of his face. That will make this so much easier. But I've learned earlier on in my life that nothing ever seems to go my way.
Dad lowers the paper and smiles, admiring my attire. Wrinkles crease around his ocher eyes and he folds up the paper, setting it on the coffee table. "You look nice, sweetheart," he tells me. "Going somewhere?"
"Um. Yeah... About that."
Before I know it he's tossing me the car keys and I stare at them puzzled. "Wait a sec." I look up. "Aren't you going to ask me where I'm going?"
Dad picks up the paper. "Where are you going?"
"To the movies."
He opens the paper and stares intensely at an article. "You're not going to the movies."
"Uh. Yes. We are."
"Do you think I was born yesterday?"
I glance over my shoulder for Whit. I need back up like a needle needs a vein. Whit is nowhere in sight. Looks like I have to wing it. "No."
"I know you're going to that frat party."
How did he find that out? Shit. Shit. Shit. "What frat party?"
"Don't play clueless with me, Robin. I know you're going to that party so there is no point in lying about it."
I sigh, defeated. "How did you find out? And wait a sec...Are you saying you don't care if we go?"
Dad peaks out from the side of the paper. "Sadie is going. We were over the Marshall's and she was talking about it. I figured if she knew about this party, you would too." He exhales and glances at me earnestly. "You're a good, responsible kid, Robin. I trust you to make smart decisions. Besides, you're eighteen years old and going off to college in a few months. I think you've earned a little bit of freedom, don't you?"
"Yeah."
Whit walks into the room and flashes dad her fake 'I'm an angel' smile. "Hey there, Mr. Mason, we---."
"Save it, Whit," I tell her. "It's cool."
Whit opens her mouth, confused, ready to remark, but shrugs instead. Car keys in my palm, we turn to walk out the door and dad shouts, "Be back at a decent hour!"
Which means don't come staggering in past two.
"Will do!"
On the way out the door Whit grabs me by the elbow. "What was that about?"
"He knows about the party. He's cool with it."
"Did you choke?"
"No. I guess Sadie is going and he figured we'd heard about it too."
"Great." Whit rolls her eyes. "Well I think we can both agree on what to do if we see her there."
"Yeah," I remark. "Avoid her."
8
A kiss is like a book; it can tell you a thousand words, but in order to understand the true meaning of it you have to be willing to read between the lines.
Author Unknown
Sadie reminds me of a teenage girl version of Lucifer. She's dressed in black mini dress with a red belt and matching six inch spike heels. I swear I can make out horns protruding through her locks of salon dye-job blond hair.
"Are we going to stand here all night or are we actually going to go to the party?" Whit comments as we linger at the end of the driveway.
After plugging in the address on the GPS the house was relatively easy to find and plus, it was smack dab in the middle of fraternity row. Large Tudor houses. Greek letters in the middle of every one.
"Yeah, just give me a minute." I let out a long ragged breath. This is only the fourth party I've ever been to. And to make things more nerve-racking, I have to face the fact that I'm standing on the edge of the driveway and in a few minutes I'll enter my first college party. For someone like me who shied away from social scenes all together this is a lot to take in.
"A minute," Whit snaps. "I've given you twenty."
Before I can plead for another second, Whit grips me by the hand and practically drags me up the driveway. Beer pong tables are set up on the porch and cheers break out as a tall bulky guy lands a ball in the red cup. Groups of girls huddle in circles, chatting amongst one another, nursing beers from red cups. Several of them giggle and coyly glance over their shoulders at the boys playing beer pong.
"You made it!" shouts a deep voice over the chaotic cheering. I spin around and face Elliot who is beaming as he walks toward us.
Whit leans close to me. "Is this him?"
"The brother."
Whit bats her eyelashes. "I like what I see."
I'm not going to lie. So do I. Elliot's smile could replace the stars in the sky. It's bright, white, and beautiful and somehow it makes every feature on his face shine. I notice the swagger in his step as he nears me and Whit. He walks like an epic warrior, boasting with his body language after a triumphant win. But as he gets closer and closer the smile on my face fades. He's not Drake. It doesn't matter how similar they look or how nice Elliot is. Elliot will never be Drake.
"What's up, ladies?" Elliot smirks coyly and takes a sip from his red cup.
"Hi, Elliot." I face Whitney who is blushing and wearing a glazed over look. "This is my friend Whitney."
"Nice to meet you," Whit says softly.
She clasps her hands other at her waist and starts tapping her foot. Oh. My. God. She's flustered. Whit doesn't get flustered. She's always loud, at times obnoxious, and sassy when it comes to conversing with the opposite sex.
"Can I get you guys a drink?"
"Sure," I say. "I'd like one."
Elliot's eyes flash to Whitney's. "How about you?"
"No thanks," she politely refuses. "I'm taking one for the team tonight."
Elliot laughs, a deep, throaty husky laugh that rings out through the humid summer air like Carolers strolling down the sidewalk, belting out holiday hymns during Christmas. And I love the way his laugh sounds. "All right." He glances between us. "You ladies wanna come with?"
I take a hesitant step forward then step back. "Whit, why don't you go with him?" I tell her. "I'll wait for you guys here."
Whit raises an eyebrow. "You sure?"
I smile. "Positive." Then I watch on as Whit disappears with Elliot into the crowd, but not before Elliot gives me a tortured, longing glance over his shoulder. Then I think that maybe I should have gone with them. Nah.
There are two major reasons why I stayed behind; one I don't want to push and shove my way through all the people and two because I might miss an opportunity to see and talk to Drake without Whit or Elliot being around. When it comes to the guy you're crushing on, three is a crowd, but four is a sold out concert. There's no intimacy when you've got to share a conversation four ways.
A flash of gold glimmers in my peripheral vision and I see Drake as he shoves his way through the crowd. He's headed straight for me and instead of being bold, I do the exact opposite, I clam up. I can't understand why I'm so nervous now. I mean, we're not in a remote setting or anything. We're swimming in a sea of people. What do I say? What do I do? How do I act? And how did I manage to play it so cool when I was on the beach with him earlier today? Maybe I was at ease because Elliot was there too.
"Kid!"
He's only inches away from me now and suddenly I feel like I have TMJ and some surgeon has just laced wire through my gums to correct it.
"So you made it," he says softly as he plants his feet across from me.
I nod. He smells like the ocean mixed with his own personal brand of cologne. He's wearing a white cotton button up shirt with the first couple buttons undone and a sheer foray of perspiration glistens on his bronzed skin. I stare at the opening. I want to run my fingers along the wetness. I want to slip and slide against his essence.
The fact that I can't speak makes this encounter awkward. I need a drink. Yeah, that's it. Once I have a drink or two I'll loosen up. I think.
Drake smiles at me and inside I'm a smoothie, a bunch of fruit and ice thrown into a blender, spinning. I'm being crushed together to make a delicious concoction, a delicious concoction that Drake will want to devour in one gulp.
Drake moves closer and my spine stiffens. I don't know what to do. He rests his warm hands on my shoulder blades and his touch sets me on fire. And I'm so pissed at myself for blowing this moment.
For the last three years this is all I've thought about. For the last three years this is all I've wanted. All I've wanted is for Drake to notice me and feel for me the way I've felt for him. I finally have my chance and I'm letting my nerves get the best of me. Inside I'm screaming; you moron! Stop standing here like a twit and say something! Do something! But it doesn't matter if I tell myself to do it. It doesn't matter how many times I scream at myself to make a move. I know I won't.
Drake's lips are against my ear. His warm breath caresses my earlobe and I sigh completely consumed by my desire for him. "You look really pretty," he whispers.
The word 'thank you' is lodged in my throat being kept down by my nerves and a wad of saliva as thick as honey. I want so much more from this moment. I need so much more from this moment. Inside I'm begging for his kiss. I crave it. I'm a Drake kiss-a-holic. Just send me to rehab already.
"I...I---."
He's lips are so close to mine I can almost feel the warmth from them. I can almost feel the moisture from them as they flutter gently over-top of mine. I feel like a heroin addict, on my knees in front of a drug lord, begging for one more jab from a needle.
"We're back," Whit sings behind me and as Drake moves away from me, I scowl as she twirls a red cup around in her hand.
I walk over to her and snatch the cup from her hand while Elliot and Drake stare at us. "Why did you do that?" I snap and chug down the contents in my cup.
"First of all," Whit retorts. "There is no need for the attitude. Second, take it easy on the liquid refreshments, babe. I don't think you'll want to add a severe hangover to your vacation itinerary."
I snatch the second cup out of her hand and chug it too. "Sorry," I apologize. "I'm just really parched." Whit eyes me oddly and I know she can tell I'm lying. She also gives me a look that tells me she doesn't want to be cleaning up puddles of my vomit later.
"So, kid," Drake interrupts. "Are you going to introduce me to your friend?"
My lips tingle and a drizzle of beer runs down my chin. I wipe my mouth with my arm. I catch a glimpse of Whit out of the corner of my eye and she looks annoyed that I haven't introduced her yet. "This is my best friend Whitney."
Drake smiles and extends his hand. "Nice to meet you."
"So you're the famous Drake?" she asks with a sultry undertone as she shakes his hand.
A crazed look crosses over my face and I give Whit the 'death stare.'
Drake's lips form a straight line and he lets out a controlled laugh. "Excuse me?"
Whit looks at me and laughs off her previous comment. "Uh... I just heard how you saved Robin's life once." I relax and slouch. The last thing I want is for Drake to know exactly how long and how often I've obsessed over him. "And thank God you did," Whit goes on. "I don't know what I would have done if I lost my best friend in the entire universe."
Drake crooks me a devilish yet swoon-worthy grin and my stomach ties itself in knots at the sight of it. "Your friend is pretty stubborn." He keeps his gaze on me. "She doesn't like to read the signs on the beach."
"That's Robs, for ya. She marches to the beat of her own drum."
Elliot's lips part and he smiles softly. "That's good to know."
Drake gives Elliot a hard look. "Yeah," he repeats robotically. "Good to know." Then his gray-blue eyes break away from Elliot and focus on me. "Kid, what do you say you come with me and we'll get you another drink?" Drake laces his fingers through mine and he takes a step forward.
Elliot grasps Drake's elbow and eyes him warily. Concern flashes in Elliot's matching steel-blue eyes. "Bro, do you think that's a good idea?" Elliot gives me a worried look. "She looks like she's already feeling the two cups she chugged."
Elliot is right. I am totally feeling the cups I chugged. My lips are working their way from tingly to numb and my cheeks feel hot and flushed. Plus I'm in a slap-happy mood---which only happens when I've acquired a buzz. Drake frowns at Elliot and rolls his shoulder, knocking Elliot's hand off his elbow. "Mind your own business, bro."
Then Drake and I disappear into the crowd.
In the kitchen, Drake hands me another cup full of beer and I can't wrap my head around the fact that I'm standing in a room across from the guy I've been crushing on for what feels like forever. And from the way he's staring back at me, it knocks the wind out of my lungs when I think he might feel the same way.
There are so many questions I want to ask him. There are so many things about him that I want to know. And now that I've had a few drinks, it seems like I've finally worked up the courage to find out some of those things and ask some of those questions.
The loud incessant chatter in the kitchen of the frat house swallows us. A few of the guys from the frat whom Drake introduced me to a little while ago are doing keg stands. A ruckus of cheers and jeers sound off and I have to lean close to Drake's ear to ask him, "So what happened between you and Sydney?"
He puffs out his bottom lip, shrugs, and leans close to my hair. "She's studying abroad for college and we both decided that it would be better if we took a break while she was away."
There's a moment where I'm staring at him intensely and wondering if he's telling me the truth. Guys, especially guys who look like Drake seem to have a way getting girls like me to believe whatever they want us to. I narrow my eyes, staring so intensely, and so close to his face that I can make out every portion on his flawless face. And he's staring back at me with such a sincere look I know there is no way he can be lying.
"Do you miss her?"
He raises an eyebrow. "Truth?" I nod. "Yes and no. I loved Sydney, don't get me wrong, but it's nice to break away from that, you know? It's nice to be free to do what I want for a change without having to check in with my other half."
I laugh and take a swig from my cup. "I can see the appeal."
He eyes flash to the floor then back up at me. "Yeah. And it's nice to be able to act on impulses that I've had for a while."
I furrow my brows. "What do you mean?"
His lips are so close to my ear that I can practically feel them brushing against the lower lobe. "You know what I mean."
And before I can react he's kissing me. Kissing me fast. Kissing me hard. He's breathing heavy and his breath tastes sweet like honey and whipped cream. Then there's an explosion in my mouth. A bomb has just gone off inside of me and I have a sulfur aftertaste resting on my taste buds. His tongue gently flicks mine and I melt inside. He cups my face and I can feel his hands all over me. I want his hands all over me.
I drop my cup and my beer spills all over the floor. I'm sliding in it and I don't care. I'm surrounded by a ton of people who are watching my PDA and I don't care. Every inhibition I've ever had slips away from me like filth slopping from the soles of boots. The way I see it; Drake is the male version of Aphrodite and I want him to poison me with his love.
9
You take my breath away, only to make my heart beat faster.
Author Unknown
Drake leads me through the mass of bodies and we come to a halt in front of Sadie. She's blocking the back door and cramping up the narrow hall by being there. She smiles at Drake seductively. "Hi Drake."
At the moment, the only thing I can think about is gouging out her eyes with my fingernails. But Drake gives her an uneasy smile, says, "Hey," and brushes past her without even giving her a second glance. And a harmonic chorus sounds off inside of me so loud and so beautiful I'm confident that they could be the second coming of Beethoven himself.
Seconds later, we're out the back door walking onto the almond sand, away from all the party guests. My brain is fuzzy, from Drake's kiss, from the beer I'd consumed. Fuzzy. Fuzzy. Fuzzy.
I giggle because I'm happy and drunk and Drake who's slightly ahead of me peaks over his shoulder. "What's so funny?" he asks, amused.
To be honest, I don't know. But I don't tell him that. I don't want to seem like an idiot. "Nothing." And I giggle again.
Drake stops walking, faces me, and gives me a quirky grin. "Something is funny," he assumes. "Is my hair sticking up or something?"
His golden hair glows and shimmers in the moonlight like the metallic paint on a shiny, new car. "No."
We're far away from the party. Or at least I am. I feel like I'm perched on a cloud close to heaven and I don't want to come down. I never want to come down.
Feeling playful I pull away from him and make a mad dash for the ocean. Drake is behind me, but I drown out the sound of him calling my name. Not that I want to, really. I could listen to him say my name over and over again. He's a record skipping. Robin. Robin. Robin. It's nice to hear him say my actual name for a change.
At first I hated the nickname he'd given me years ago. Now I anticipated hearing 'kid' leave his lips. Just like I anticipated feeling his lips caress mine.
"Robin!" he shouts. "What are you doing?"
I stop at the edge of the water as the tide rolls in and tickles the tips of my toes. I inhale the bitter smell of salt and not even the icy water can freeze the fire smoldering inside of me. I don't know what I'm doing. But I like how 'not knowing' feels.
My life always feels like it's so planned out. I'm a good girl. I went to school, obeyed my parents, and always followed the rules. I got good grades and got into a good college. For once, it feels amazing to get away from that. Good isn't always fun. Most of the time it's predictable and boring.
Right now I want to get in trouble. I want to break rules. I want to be spontaneous. I want to be bad.
A deceitful look spreads across my face and Drake stares at me unsure of what to do. I can tell by the way he's looking at me that he thinks I'm a loose cannonball. I'm going to shoot out of my barrel at any second and cause a wave of mass destruction.
Reaching down, I scoop up a heaping pile of sand. I flash him a wicked smirk and chuck the heaping-over pile of sand at him. The wet, dirty sand hits him smack dab in the middle of his perfectly pressed white button-up, leaving a dirty residue and falls to the ground in a clump. He drops his head and stares at his shirt.
Me, I'm trying so hard to keep my laughter in my throat that I snort. Then I let out a forced grunt.
Drake lifts his head slowly and slits his eyes, glaring at me seriously. "You think that's funny?" I think it's hysterical. But I can't tell him that because I've reached the point where I'm laughing so hard I can barely breathe. Drake shakes his head and crouches down. "Well, we'll see how funny you think it is now." In a split second he scoops up a handful of sand and I take off running. Still laughing. Laughing so hard I have to clutch my side as my ribs start aching.
Drake catches up to me and I shriek as a glob of wet sand smacks into my bare shoulder. Then he tackles me. And we both fall to the ground, rolling around in the sand.
He's on top of me and I stare up at him. His long black lashes curl up in a feminine way and almost touch his eyebrows. I push his ringlets that hang down into his eyes away from his face. He looks even sexier with his bangs pushed back. A flash of moonlight gleams in his blue eyes. Then his mouth crashes into mine like the jet from Lost when it crash landed into the ocean.
I wish that I could freeze time---no---I wish that I was dreaming so that I could have this same dream over and over again for the rest of my life.
Our kisses escalate to the point where they are coming faster. More deep. More passionate. He kisses me how I imagined a man from a romance novel would kiss his lover and I know this won't be enough. I want him to kiss me like this every single day. Until the day I'm six feet under lying in my wooden box, lying in my final resting place.
I sit up panting and his hands are in my hair. A second later he rips his shirt off and I brush my fingers against his abs like they're a road map to the heavens. I need him to kiss me again. If he doesn't I think I'll go crazy. But he does. This time more soft. More gentle. More sensual.
I fall backwards into the sand and arch my back as he moves down my neck, tracing the curve with his kisses, and moves on to my collar bone. I love him. I love him I love him. Even though I know that isn't necessarily true, those are the words I keep hearing in my head.
I can feel my want for him, writhing in my veins. I can feel it prickle in my bones. I can feel the ache for him in place of my heart. Pounding. Thumping. Hammering. I might as well be a construction site; that's how much I've let my feelings for Drake build up.
He hooks his arm underneath my waist and presses his body against mine as water trickles over our limbs. His lips brush against my ear and his hot breath whirls through me like steam from a tea kettle. "You're beautiful, kid," he whispers seductively.
"No one has ever told me that," I tell him.
"What?" Drake holds himself up slightly and examines my face.
"No one has ever told me that I'm beautiful."
Except him. Well, kind of. Once.
He gives me an odd look, like I might be lying to him, but I'm not. I'm plain. I'm simple. I'm quiet. I was in the marching band in high school and in chess club. I was a social outcast and kind of nerdy if anything. Boys didn't look at me how I wanted them to or try to date me. Sure I'd had a couple of boyfriends, but both were geeks like me.
"Well, you are beautiful to me." He leans down and kisses me softly. "Robin, my beautiful singing bird."
10
Those who never make mistakes lose a great many chances to learn from them.
Author Unknown
"I could kill you!" Whit yells into my ear.
I blink several times and my eyes fly open. "What...What are you talking about?" I shove the comforter off my legs and sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. My head is spinning and I feel like a surgeon has removed my brain and put it in the washer on the spin-cycle.
Whit hops out of bed and puts her hands on her hips. "Really? Do you not remember anything that happened last night?"
One memory of last night pops into my head. My moment on the beach with Drake. I exhale as a fleeting feeling whirls through my stomach. I feel weightless. Like there's no gravity in the room and if I don't use my pillow as an anchor I'll float up to the ceiling. "Just kissing Drake on the beach."
Whit flops down next to me and throws her hands up in the air. "Well I'm glad you had a great time." There's sarcasm in her voice.
"Did something happen?" I don't remember much of anything aside from my moment on the beach.
"Don't even get me started," Whit huffs. "First you go all AWOL on me. Then that Sadie spills a beer all over me. And that's not even where the real fun begins."
I give her a pleading look. "Well? Tell me what happened then."
Whit shakes her head. "I don't need to tell you. I can show you."
The last part of her comment scares me. "What do you mean you can show me?" She bends down and rummages through her suitcase for a minute and pulls out her laptop. My head starts pounding and nervousness bounces off the walls of my stomach. "Wait a second. Do I even want to see what you're about to show me?"
Whit doesn't look at me. "No," she says as she frantically taps the keys on the keyboard. "But you need to." Seconds later she turns the laptop toward me as streaming video on YouTube starts playing of a wasted girl dancing around on a table in her underwear.
At first I laugh. Then I focus on the girl's hot pink polka dot underwear. "No," I gasp as dread and embarrassment seeps into my blood stream. "No." Then I lift up the sundress I fell asleep in. My pink polka dot underwear practically poke my eyes out. "That's me!"
Whit points at the screen as I watch on. "And that's me trying to get you to come down." The video continues and I watch in horror as Whit hops on the table yanking on my arm and I stumble, backhanding her across the face accidentally, knocking her off the table. Elliot is in the background and I notice he catches Whitney when she falls.
But where is Drake?
I continue watching my drunken uncoordinated movements and I feel like I'm going to barf. Then I slide in some clear liquid on the table, probably beer, and fall off the table myself.
I slam the laptop closed. "Oh my god!" I'm mortified and embarrassed and one hundred percent I can never show my face around here ever again. "I'm an idiot."
Whit takes the laptop and puts it back in her bag. "Give her an inch and she takes a mile."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I scoff.
"It means you had way too much to drink."
"You should talk. I've seen you do worse." Once, at a party in high school Whit took all of her clothes off, wrapped herself in a blanket and passed out in the host's front yard. Needless to say, she woke up the following morning next to a puddle of her vomit.
"And not only that, but you stick me with a hottie who clearly wants you," she mentions, changing the subject.
I bolt upright. "Wait...what?"
"The brother, Elliot. Yeah, he wants you."
A laugh gets stuck in my throat and I grunt. "No he doesn't." That's insane. There is no way Elliot wants me. I've only seen him two times. And on top of that he doesn't even know me. Whit has clearly lost her mind.
"You didn't spend half of the night with him. He asked me a billion questions about you. It felt like every time I turned around he was asking a different one." She folds her arms across her chest. "And on top of that, he kept saying how Drake wasn't right for you."
"That doesn't mean he wants me." Why would Elliot want someone like me? I have hard time believing one Robertson brother might actually like me let alone two.
Sometimes I think that behind Drake's beautiful face and luminous eyes is a beast with razor sharp teeth, ready to maul me or swallow me. Every time I'm with him I have to remind myself that may be someone like Drake could fall for someone like me. Even though deep, down inside I know I'm living in a dream world by thinking that.
A lot of times I like to think that I'd be perfectly content living in a dream world where everything is blissfully perfect, and people love each other, treat each other with respect, crap daisies, and eat hot fudge sundaes all day, every day, without gaining a pound.
And even though I like to think that way, I know that's not reality. I'd give anything to step away from reality now and keep on pretending because let's face it; reality sucks.
Whit grabs my shoulder and starts shaking me. My head bobbles back and forth and I swear I can hear my brain rattling in my skull. Plus the shaking makes my head throb harder. "You really are clueless, aren't you my friend?"
"It just doesn't seem right?" Elliot and Drake are beautiful, bronzed God's of perfection. So how could two specimens of perfection want someone as imperfect as me? I'm not used to being noticed by guys so Whit's comment about Elliot liking me as well is hard to process.
"Face it, babe, high school is over. In this world you're not the geek in chess club. You're a stone cold fox."
Her comment makes me laugh. Maybe that's what other people think, but in my eyes I will always be the invisible, chess-club geek.
\*\*\*\*
After some heavy persuading and a twenty dollar bribe Whit gets me to come out of the house and go down to the beach. On the way we pass a group of guys and several of them shout at me.
"Nice ass!"
"Can we hire you again?"
"Shake it for me, baby!"
I hang my head low in humiliation and keep my eyes on the sand. When will this get old? I wish I could rewind time and have a do-over.
We get farther away from the group and I can still hear them laughing.
"Ignore them," Whit mutters.
That's easy for her to say. She's not the one who dropped trou in front of everyone and gave the customers what they paid for.
"Well, well," someone says.
Whit comes to a halt abruptly. I'm not paying attention to where I'm going and smack into her back. Her head whips around. "Watch where you're going, Robs."
"Sorry." I lift my head and Elliot comes into view looking like a bronzed God. Shirtless. Toned abs. Perfect hair. Gleaming white-toothed grin.
"If it isn't the life of the party."
I've had enough. My table dancing moment was the only moment like that I've ever had in my life. "Would you give me a freakin break?" I snap.
Elliot raises his hands. "Easy. I was just joking."
I scowl. "Well, don't." It's bad enough that I'm dancing on a table on YouTube in my underwear for the whole world to see. I don't need to be reminded of it for the rest of my life.
"Don't mind her," Whit interjects. "She's still hung over and suffering from the aftermath of her first and only striptease."
Only is right. I will never ever do that ever again. Did I say never ever? Because I don't think I can say those two words enough. Never ever. Never ever. Never ever. Give me a library and books over beer and frat parties from now on. Maybe I should move into a convent. You never see nuns go wild.
Elliot and Whit chat for a minute and my eyes break away from them and observe the beach, searching for Drake. Then I decide I don't want to see him and lower my head again. I replay the horrifying video in my mind. Maybe he didn't see it because I can't remember seeing him in the crowd of onlookers. I remember seeing Elliot, but I didn't see Drake.
"There's a bonfire on the beach tomorrow night," Elliot says. "You guys should come."
"I'm swearing off parties for the rest of my life," I groan.
Elliot winks at me. "Come on. It will be fun. And I promise I'll keep an eye on you. I won't let you get out of control."
"How noble of you."
"We'd love to come!" Whit pipes up and I scowl at her for speaking up for me.
Elliot turns to leave and locks eyes with me. "I hope to see you guys there." He walks away, but not before tossing me a flirtatious grin over his shoulder. He can flirt with me all he wants, but that's not going to change the fact that my heart belongs to someone else.
And conveniently, it happens to be his brother.
"Thanks for asking me if I wanted to go," I say to Whit as we find a bare spot on the sand and spread out our towels.
She shakes her head, frustrated. "What else are you going to do? Stay inside for the rest of your vacation and mope?"
I shrug. "Maybe."
Whit spreads out on her towel. "Relax. This whole thing will blow over and before you know it every one will be talking about something else."
I hope for my sake that Whit is right.
11
I fell for you hard, like ice to the ground. You were like no one that I've ever found. I fell into something, something with you, but I'm sure it wasn't love because that's not what love is supposed to do.
Author Unknown
She's not.
It's been 48 hours and I'm still catching flack for my lil dance.
I wish I knew who freaking taped it and put it up on the internet. If I ever find out I'm going to strangle them.
As we walk toward the giant blazing fire I hear a few guys snicker. A couple even whistle. Don't these people have anything better to worry about? Probably not.
People camp out around the six foot bonfire in beach chairs. I spot Sadie on the far end, phone in hand, typing away. She's on that phone a lot. It's like the best friend she's never had. I wonder who she talks to all the time and I wonder why she didn't bring whoever she's talking to with her.
As I continue scanning the small crowd, I spot Drake. Warmth sears through me and I feel my own personal bonfire igniting inside of me. He glances at me seductively, and I swear I can see bright orange flames circling his blue irises. He bows out of the conversation he's in the middle of and heads over to me and Whit.
He nods at me and panic spreads through me like an infection. "Oh no," I gasp. I haven't seen him since we kissed on the beach and I'm not sure how to act. This is going to be awkward.
Whit leans close to my ear. "Just play it cool." She sounds so confident when she says it and she knows me, I have a tendency to screw situations like this one up. I either say the wrong thing or can't find my vocal chords at all.
"Robin." Drake stands across from me, his head cocked to the side, a cocky grin on his lips. His full, pink pouty lips that smothered me into oblivion just two days ago.
"Hi," I squeak, cover my mouth then lower my voice. "Hi, Drake." He's wearing a white wife-beater that glows against his sun kissed skin and navy blue board shorts. My attention averts to his biceps and the way the toned muscles flex when he shoves his hands into his pockets. "So," I say trying to break the ice. "What's up?"
Drake sticks his tongue out the slightest bit and licks his bottom lip and a flutter of desire courses through my veins. Traveling at a high speed. Like a shot of adrenaline to the heart. "Not much." He inches closer and an overwhelming feeling to have his hands on me crawls on my skin. Touch me. Touch me. Touch me. Please. Inside I'm screaming for it. I'm begging for it. I'm dying for it. He extends his hand. "You wanna go for a walk?"
I give Whit a look, asking her if she cares if I go with him. She smiles and says in her finest fake, Brooklyn-like accent, "Get outta here."
I laugh and take Drake's hand as we wander away from the fire and away from civilization.
The ocean is quiet tonight. No crashing waves or loud rushing water. Just soft plunking as the tide crawls across the sand. I can make out the outline of seagulls as they flap their wings, nose-diving into the violet colored horizon. The stars peak through the fading clouds and look like they've been stenciled in the sky with glow-in-the-dark spray paint.
We've walked for at least a mile, hand in hand before either one of us speaks. Drake goes first. "So I heard about your little dance." His voice is deep and husky and beautiful. A voice that I'll never get sick of listening to. A voice that I'd like to hear whisper sweet nothings into my ear.
I blush and look at my feet. Wet sand squishes between my toes and I laugh nervously and kick some up. "Heard?" I feel his eyes on me and I lift my head, meeting his gaze.
Drake gently caresses my hand with his thumb. "Well and saw...I watched it on the internet."
I exhale and look away. My cheeks flush and I keep my gaze low, hoping that redness will subside. "Like everyone else on the planet."
He laughs. "I didn't think you had that in you. You're a little wild, kid."
No I'm not. I'm not wild at all. It's crazy what a little alcohol can make a person do.
"Not usually." Then I'm plagued with curiosity. "Where were you when it was happening?" I want to tell him I searched the crowd in the video for him, but I don't.
"I walked out of the room for a second to get another drink." Drake stops and we face each other. He releases my hand and his fingers skim my cheek. I fight off the urge to kiss his palm and pull his arms around my waist. And I don't need to fight the urge any longer because he makes a move.
He drops his hands from my face, staring deep into my eyes and slides them down to my waist. He grips the fabric on my tank-top tightly and yanks me forward until our bodies are pressed against each other's. He brushes his lips against mine and it's amazing how such a soft kiss can unravel me. I'm an orange and he's peeling away my layer of skin.
"Kiss me again," I whisper. And I don't have to tell him twice. He envelopes me in his arms and his mouth hovers over mine. His lips move in a frenzy and his tongue slips over mine. He clutches the fabric of my tank-top, gripping the thin cotton tightly as he grazes my bottom lip with his teeth.
At the moment, all I can think about how bad I want him to do more. The kissing is not enough. It's just a portion of him. He's like a chocolate chip cookie. I can't just have one. I want five, six, or seven. I want all of him. I need all of him. And I want to give him all of me.
Maybe this seems silly. It seems silly that I'm willing to toss away my virtue like this, something I've kept sacred my entire life. But as I pull out of the kiss and brush his blond bangs away from his face, gazing into his baby blues, I can't imagine sharing this part of myself with anyone else. I've obsessed over Drake for the last three years. I've never let another guy squash the fire he ignites inside of me.
Then I make the second reckless move I've made on my summer vacation. I shove him away and he stumbles backwards startled, mouth gaping, eyes wide. "What's gotten into you kid?"
I want to say, you. You have gotten into my head, my mind, and my heart. You have infected my soul with a burning desire that I can't put out. But I don't say any of that. Instead I shove him again, a fierce passionate look in my eyes and he falls backwards, his butt skimming the wet sand. I straddle him and he clutches my shoulder, staring up at me, captivated by my spontaneous gesture.
For a moment neither one of us moves. We're mesmerized, swimming in each other's gazes. Slowly Drake slides his fingers up my waist, locking my hips against his. Then he sits up, still staring, not breaking his focus. There's sand all over his arms and the rough texture scratches against my burnt skin, making it feel raw.
He glides a free hand up my spine and I shiver as my shirt slides up and I feel his moist fingers against my back. He gently pulls the hair tie from my hair and my shoulders are covered in waves of chocolate cherry locks. "I want you," he whispers. "I want you bad."
And I want him. Oh how I've wanted him. For years and years and years. And this moment seems a little surreal to me. That finally, after all this time I finally get what I've wanted. What I've coveted. What I've adored.
I twist the thick straps of his wife-beater around my forefingers and urge his lips closer to mine with each tug. He's so close his warm breath trails along my cheek bones and heats my face. His lips are so close and if I move an inch mine will touch his. "You do something crazy to me, kid."
And he does something crazy to me too. I'm a nut job in a mental institution. Clearly incapable of functioning normally and Drake is the orderly he comes to me every morning to deliver my pills. Without him I'll be crazy forever. Only he is capable of getting rid of the insanity because he is the cure to it.
12
Why am I afraid to lose you when you're not even mine?
Author Unknown
We've been making out for what feels like years, but I want to stay like this forever. Our limbs entwined. Mouths touching. Body heat blazing. Heavy breathing. My heart thumps so loud that in between our raspy breaths I hear it in my ears, drowning out the sound of the ocean.
And Whitney's voice. "Ummm Robin?"
For a second I'm almost convinced that I'm hearing things all-together until her voice sounds off again. "Robin!"
A throbbing ache pulsates in my lips as I pull away from Drake and glare at Whit, annoyed. "What is it?" I ask in a snarky tone. Why is she doing this? She knows how I feel about him. She knows that I've been waiting years for him. "This better be important."
Her eyes flash to Drake. She gives him a hard look then her gaze softens when she looks back at me. "Come here, please."
"I'm kind of in the middle of something, Whit."
"This is important," she says sternly. "I need to talk to you."
I stare at Drake for a moment then ease up off of him. "Don't go," he says.
I sigh and walk towards Whit. "This will only take a second, I promise."
Whit flashes Drake another hard look over my shoulder and leans close to my ear. "You need to stay away from him."
I jolt back slightly, baffled. "What?"
"You heard me."
"I heard you, but what you're saying doesn't make any sense. You know how I feel about him." I keep my voice hushed, hoping that Drake can't hear all, if any of our conversation. Glancing coyly over my shoulder our eyes lock and a soft smile tugs at his lips.
Whit slaps my shoulder and I face her. "Exactly, which is why I'm doing what BF's do. I'm warning you beforehand so that you don't get hurt."
I narrow my eyes and jam my fists into my hip. "Did Elliot put you up to this?" Standing on my tip toes, I try to catch a glimpse of him, thinking that he might be lurking behind her somewhere.
"No. This is all me," she tells me. "Elliot has nothing to do with it."
I'm torn between curiosity and anger. I can't understand why she felt she had to come out here and pull me away from Drake. Also, I know Whit. She likes to be the center of attention and let's face it, during this week she has been anything but that. I twitch my hips, tapping my foot as I make little dents in the wet sand with it. "So let's hear it then. Enlighten me, Whit. Tell me what's so important."
"I can't tell you here," she whispers.
Her vagueness is irritating and I snap, "This isn't even about me is it? It's about you!"
She sneers at me and cocks her head to the side. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"God, Whitney! For once just once could you stop thinking about yourself? You're just jealous because for the first time since the second grade I'm the one who's getting all the attention."
Whit points to her breastbone with widening eyes. "Me, jealous? You have got this so wrong it's sick." She leans forward and gestures to Drake behind me. "This isn't about me! I'm not jealous and I can't believe you'd even go there! I came here to tell you something important and you accuse me of being jealous! Where do you get off, Robin?"
"Whatever."
Whit backs away. "Yeah, whatever is right. Since you think you know everything why don't you figure out what I was going to tell you on your own before it's too late." Then she spins around and sprints back toward the bonfire.
What does she mean before it's too late?
I turn around, keeping my eyes on the sand and walk back to Drake. "I'm sorry about that," I say.
But when I lift my head up, I realize something.
Drake's gone.
13
Feelings are everywhere---be gentle.
Author Unknown
I've walked up and down the beach at least a dozen times, but there's no sign of Drake anywhere.
On top of that, my fight with Whit has me on edge and I feel like someone has just punched a hole through my chest. It started off slow and then began building. Now the massive abyss is huge and my entire body is a black hole. I'm nothing. I'm empty.
Water trickles over my toes and I squint. I can see the dim glow of the once raging bonfire in the distance. A lot of people have left and there are only a few stragglers left. I wonder what time it is. Or if Whit's still there. Or if maybe she's out wandering around the beach looking for me. Probably not. She seemed pretty pissed when she took off earlier.
I'm perplexed by her hidden info. The urgent message she felt she had to tell me. Obviously the information involved Drake. But what did he do? And that's what makes everything so complicated. I don't want to believe he's capable of being anyone other than the dream guy I've built him up to be. Closing my eyes I picture his beautiful face. With his pouty lips, chiseled jawline, and grayish blue eyes. He can't be capable of being treacherous and deceitful. He just can't be.
And even though I know Whit is an attention junkie, and sometimes self-centered, I know her. She'd never deliberately try to hurt me or keep something important from me. Especially if she knew that whatever she knew was going to hurt me.
I feel terrible for lashing out at her the way I did. She didn't deserve that. I abandon my search for Drake and head back toward the bonfire. I need to find Whit and apologize. I need to make things right between us because as much as I hate to admit it, this is all my fault.
Jogging, I make it make to the bonfire in about ten minutes and when I reach I stop for a moment to catch my breath. As I examine the crowd of people left, I notice that Whit isn't there. So where is she?
Spinning around, I smack into someone and Elliot, places his hands on my shoulder, steadying me. My eyes roll up and focus on his as a huge smile curls on his lips. "Hey, there," he greets me and slowly drops his hands.
"Hi, Elliot." I step away from him, putting a half of a foot between us. "Have you seen Whitney?"
Elliot drops his gaze and kicks up sand with his tan, bare foot. "She left a while ago." He picks up his head and tilts it. "She seemed pretty upset."
"Yeah." I hang my head down and sigh. "We sorta got into a fight."
Elliot nods. "I kinda got that impression."
"Why? Did she say something to you?"
"Yeah." Elliot mimics a face Whitney would make. "She's unbelievable!"
I laugh and lift my head. "That is sooo Whitney."
He shoves his hands in his pockets and nods toward the row of houses. "She's probably at the house."
"Yeah. Thanks." I turn to walk home and stop. I glance over my shoulder at Elliot, still wondering if he put Whitney up to seeking me out with the important information. Elliot pivots on his heel and starts walking in the opposite direction. "Elliot!" He stops and turns around, his eyes searing into mine. "Do you know what she wanted to tell me?"
A phantom-like expression crosses over his beautiful face, and then he sighs, "I have no idea."
I stand there, lost in a trance. An odd flutter swims through my insides like a dolphin gliding through the clear blue sea and a twinge of pain circles my heart as Elliot slouches forward, walking away from me into the night, nearing the crashing water.
And as I watch him walk away, I'm thinking that maybe I do feel something for Elliot. Something more than I'm prepared to admit.
14
A friend is someone who can see the truth and pain in you even when you are fooling everyone else. Author Unknown
Whit isn't in our room and I feel like I've walked through the house a million times and there's still no sign of her. I decide to do a perimeter check. Sometimes when Whit gets upset she likes to sit outside somewhere and watch the stars. There have been times in the past where I've found her in the strangest places; the roof, my trampoline, even on the hood of mom's mini-van.
"It's crazy how they're burning a million miles away and we can still see them isn't it?" she'd say.
I'd nod in agreement.
On the front step, I scan the row of beach houses. It's dark, but the bonfire is still blazing twenty feet away and the glow from the fire illuminates the first few houses. I decide to walk down the row to see if maybe Whit wandered off to cool down.
The truth is I feel like crap for acting the way I did. Whit's never been dishonest or ever tried to do the things I accused her of. She's always been supportive, always been there when I needed her, and I know she was just trying to help me by telling me something she thought was important.
But what was it about Drake that she needed to tell me? Hopefully it's not anything bad. But then again, if it wasn't bad I know she'd never tell me to "stay away from him." And that's exactly what she said. A deep plunging fear lingers in my stomach and inside I know that I'm not going to want to hear what she has to say.
After walking down the entire row of houses twice, I still can't find Whit and now the bonfire has died down slightly. A dim glow of orange flames flicker against the white siding of our house and I can make out a few couples left in beach chairs, sitting around the fire, making out. I squint, trying to see clearer and take a few steps closer.
Maybe Whit picked up a random hottie and decided to play 'your tongue or mine.'
She's definitely done things like that in the past, but as I near the remaining couples at the bonfire I see that she opted out of a steamy make out session.
Frustrated, I walk back to our beach house and check the inside again. Still no Whit.
My parents are playing poker with the Marshalls and I can hear the distant chatter echoing through the air. That makes me feel better. I know they'll be over there for a while and that saves me from having to explain why Whit and I are arguing in the first place.
I make my way to the back of the house and snatch a beach chair that was propped up against the frame. Then I open it up and flop down in it, getting comfortable. I'll just wait up for her. I tell myself that I'll sit here all nice if I have to. She'll have to come back to the house eventually.
I close my eyes and listen to the soothing sound of the water, honestly the sound of the waves slapping into the sand makes me sleepy. My eyelids are heavy and I keep blinking just to stay awake. But I can't. Seconds later my eyes are closed and my head is slumped to the side and I pray to God that I'm not drooling on myself when someone finds me.
\*\*\*\*
"Hey!" I hear Whit's voice and then I hear her snapping her fingers. "Hey, Robs! Wake up!"
My eyes snap open and I bolt upright in the chair. "What?" Instinctively, my arms sweep across my face. I didn't drool. I squint up at Whitney who looks relaxed. Maybe she's not mad anymore. "What time is it?"
"A little after one."
After my eyes adjust to the darkness I sit up more. "Where did you go? I was looking for you?"
Whit sits down in the sand next to me. "I just went for a walk along the beach." She shrugs. "You know, to cool off."
I nod and exhale. "Whit look, I'm sorry for acting the way I did. It's just you know how I feel about Drake. You know how long I'd waited for that moment." I'd thought about that moment since I was fifteen years old.
"I know," she says softly. "But that's exactly why you should have let me talk. Because I know how much you've liked him. I know how you feel about him, Robs."
"I more than like him, Whit."
"Oh, no." Whit stands and shakes her head. "Don't do this. Do not fall for a guy like him."
I stand and cross my arms. "What do you mean a guy like him?" It's too late. I've already fallen. In fact I'm buried.
"Just trust me, Robs. He's not a good guy. He's an ass."
"What has gotten into you? How do you know?"
"Because I---." Whit snaps her head to the left. "Did you hear that?"
I stand and turn around, squinting into the darkness as light brushing noise fills up my ears. "Yeah."
"What is it?"
"It could be an animal."
Before I can protest, Whit is on her way over there and I follow her. There's a row of shrubs on the side of the Marshall's beach house and the shrubs are moving. I don't like this scenario one bit. "Whit," I whine, shuddering on the walk over. "What if it bites?"
Whit flashes me a patronizing look. "We don't even know if it's an animal." She faces forward. "What if it's a burglar?"
I laugh so hard I snort. "I've been vacationing here my whole life and there has never once been a robbery."
Whit and I get closer to the shrub and I find her arm in the darkness. I stay a step behind her as she pushes away the shrubs and then I notice two sets of feet. "Son of a bitch!" Whit shouts.
I push her out of the way and glare down, mouth open, heart beating rapidly as I take in the sight of Drake and Sadie both naked, mouths smashed together in a passionate lip lock, and limbs tangled in the mess of shrubbery.
And that's when my heart falls out of its cavity and plummets into the pit of my stomach.
15
There are things that we don't want to happen but have to accept, things we don't want to know but have to learn, and people we can't live without but have to let go. Author Unknown
I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I can't breathe.
Pain snakes through my chest and circulates through my entire body.
Drake pushes himself away from Sadie and scrambles to get his clothes on. There's panic in his eyes and he's hopping on one leg as he puts each foot through his board shorts.
The pain inside of me intensifies and throbs all over and I'm certain that at any second it will kill me.
I've never felt so betrayed. Never felt so hurt and useless. I can't handle this. Seeing him and her like together in that way. My ex friend and the boy I've pined for, for like ever, hooking up. This is too much. Too hard. Too agonizing.
Drake never asked me to be exclusive. To be his girlfriend, but he made me think that's where our time together was heading. By his comments. His actions.
Robin, my beautiful singing bird.
Fuck that. And fuck him.
All I want to do is run. Run fast. And run as far away from Drake as I can. So that's exactly what I do. I take off running.
"Kid, wait!" Drake calls.
I don't want to listen to him. I don't want to be near him. I want to go home and forget this vacation. I want to forget Paradise.
This place isn't Paradise, it's a shit hole.
Footsteps pound behind me, but I charge forward, faster. I pump my legs as hard as I can and run down the beach. I have to get away, as far away as I can.
Whit shouts for me. Then Drake. Whit. Then Drake. Pretty soon I'm so far away and their voices are so blended together that I can't tell which one is which anymore. I keep running and eventually they both give up and I stop a mile or two away from my house and hunch over, sobbing into the sand.
How could I be so stupid? How could I be so stupid to think that someone like Drake would actually want someone like me? How could I be so oblivious to Sadie and the random person she'd been texting since she got here? She's probably been talking to him the whole time.
And Drake...
I've built him up for years like a game of Jenga. Every summer I'd add another block of perfection to the stack I'd already created and it wasn't even close to toppling over.
Until now. The blocks are scattered across the sand. I've lost the game.
I hit my knees sobbing, harder as my chest heaves in and out and then my whole body goes limp and I fall forward. Wet sand is smeared all over my arms, my face; it's even in my hair. The crisp water glides forward, crawling across the sand and crashes into me soaking me. I'm wet. Wet with tears. Wet with salt water. And wet inside. There's a flood in the pit of my stomach. All of my organs are floating and it's only a matter of time before I cry them out too.
Of all people for him to do this to me with he does it with Sadie. Sadie! I lift my head slowly and gaze out at the water. The white rolling caps and choppy navy blue waves remind me of the way I feel inside. Rough. Broken. And mangled. Like a predator that has just used its long claws on my face and scratched and scratched and scratched until all that's left are strips of dangling flesh.
I hear Whit calling for me again and I can hear her footsteps as they pound into the sand, but I don't turn around. I'm not ready for the "I tried to tell you" lecture and I know she's going to try and give it. She's only feet away now and I listen to her raspy breaths. She wheezing and coughing. Yeah, she's not the most athletic person.
Swallowing the lump in my throat I raise my hand before she can even reach me. "Save it!" I snap. "I don't want to hear it."
"I wasn't going to lecture you," she says in between breaths.
I narrow my eyes as she plops down next to me and she rolls her eyes. "Okay. So maybe I was going to add in one I tried to warn you."
"How did you know?"
"About him and Sadie?"
I nod.
"I heard her talking about him at the bonfire and showing someone a text he'd sent her."
"Oh God," I bury my head in my hands and my upper body shakes. Right now I don't even hate him as much as I hate myself for letting myself get so involved in something that I had doubts about from the beginning.
Whit wraps her arm around me and pulls me close. I dip my head in against her shoulder and I can feel more sobs coming on. "Robs? You gonna be okay?"
"I don't know."
I really want to tell her that I don't think I'll ever be okay again. I want to tell her that I feel like my heart is permanently broken and I'm not sure if it will ever get put back together again. But I can't because not only is my heart broken, but my mind is in pieces and there's no way I can have a conversation right now.
Whit understands. She pulls me closer and smooths the hair back from my forehead and I keep my head against the crook between her neck and shoulder blade and cry harder than I ever have in my entire life.
16
Sometimes I wish I were a little kid again, skinned knees are easier to fix than broken hearts. Author Unknown
The next day Whit parades into our room with an exuberant grin. "I know what you need!" Whit cheers. "A little retail therapy!"
I don't need retail therapy and the only thing I can think about doing at this point is hurling myself over a cliff. "I'll pass." I lie down on my stomach and plant my face into the pillow.
Whit flops down beside me. "I know it's going to be hard for you, Robs, but you have to get over this." She places her hand flat on my back. "Think of this in a positive way, at least you didn't let him water your garden."
I lift my head and glare at her. "Ugh, Whit."
She shrugs. "What?"
No, I didn't let him "water my garden" but it was close. And right now I hate myself more than anything for letting him get that close. Also, I hate myself for being fooled by his super model looks, charm, and charisma.
I change the subject. "If we go shopping in town, there's a really good chance that we'll see him and I don't think I can handle that right now, okay?"
Whit falls back on the bed with a sigh. "You can't avoid him forever."
"Yes I can and I will."
Whit rolls over and props herself up on her elbows as I roll onto my back. "No you can't. This is a small town and you're going to see him eventually."
"Not if I can help it."
"Seriously, enough of this shit!" Whit hops up off the bed and starts yanking on my arm. "Get up. We're going shopping."
"No we're not."
"Robs, I am not going to let you spend the rest of the vacation cooped up in this room!" Whit pulls me until half of my body is dangling off the edge of the bed. "Get up."
I don't move. Whit tugs on my arm with more force and grunts as she begins to make more progress. Now my entire abdomen is hanging off the edge of the bed and I'm digging my toes into the mattress to keep myself from falling. "Whit, stop!" Another forceful tug and I feel like she's going to rip my shoulder out of its socket. "You're hurting me!"
She doesn't listen and says, "So." Then she continues tugging. Finally I fall into a heap on the floor. Whit drops my arm while I lie there on the floor. She crosses her arms and taps her foot impatiently. "Get a move on it, Robs."
"No," I groan.
Whit crouches down right next to my ear. "Trust me, if I have to pull you out the door by your feet I will."
I grumble and push myself off the floor, sitting up with my back against the bed frame. "Whit, the hurt still feels too fresh. Too new. Just give me another day or two. I promise. I'll come out then."
She shakes her head, standing up. "Nope. I'm not buying it." She walks to the door. "Let's go. Robs, I know you. One, you give up way too easily. Two, if things get hard or difficult you shut yourself out. You never face your problems head on."
I raise an eyebrow. "And how is that a bad thing?"
"Because then the problem never gets solved. You'll never have closure. You'll never move on. Look how many years you've spent pining over this tool. The only way you're going to be able to move on is if you confront the problem head on. Yeah, it will be painful. Yeah it's going to suck. But at least you won't be spending every vacation from here on out seeing him places and feeling awkward around him, wondering why."
Her words make sense, but I'm still wary about leaving. What if I see Drake out with Sadie? I know that will be my undoing and I don't want to give either one of them the satisfaction of seeing me cry in public over what they've done to me. Also, what if Drake asks me to talk? I don't think I'm in the right frame of mind to have a normal conversation. I'm too pissed and heartbroken and more than anything I think that any conversation that I have with Drake will most likely lead to a slap across the face over me sticking around to listen to whatever lame excuse he's going to give me.
And I know he'll have one ready. A lame excuse.
Guys like Drake always have something prepared in situations like this. He'll either say, "It's not you, kid. It's me," or "I just don't want to be in a relationship right now." I swear I can hear the sound of my hand connecting with his jaw ringing in my ears already.
Whit extends her hand and wiggles fingers, leaning over inching closer to me. "Seriously, Robs. It's only for a little while. If we see him and it's too overwhelming for you we can come back."
I glimpse at her from the corner of my eye. "Swear?"
She flashes me a cheesy grin. "I promise."
Whit is so persistent. Sometimes I have a hard time telling her no---no I have a hard time telling her no all the time.
My parents give us the car to use for the day. They are headed down to the beach with the Marshalls. I'm in the driver's seat and dad stands at the window and motions for me to roll it down. I hit the power windows button and he leans into the car. "Why don't you guys take Sadie with you?"
"No." I don't think I can say it fast enough. Sadie walks in front of our house with her cell phone in hand, texting away. I scowl at her and wish that her phone would spontaneously combust and blow her hand off. She's probably texting Drake.
"Hey, Sadie!" Dad calls.
I grip his wrist and squeeze. "Dad, no!" I glance at Whit and a nervous flicker resides in her eyes.
Dad ignores me.
Sadie stops, glares at me for a second, and averts her attention to dad, flashing him a fake smile. "What's up Mr. M?"
I'm pretty sure my fingernails are digging into dad's arm, but he doesn't pay attention. "The girls are going into town to go shopping. Would you like to join them?"
If looks could kill I swear Sadie's fierce eyes would give me a heart attack. "That's okay," she says coolly. "I have other plans." A smug grin tugs at her lips and she waves at me. I assume by the look on her face and the way she said, "I have other plans," she means that she has plans with Drake. And I feel like I'm about to go crazy on her.
"Jesus, kiddo," Dad huffs. But I can barely hear him. I can't take my eyes off of Sadie and the phone that's glued to her palm. Is she talking to him? Is she? Is she? Is she? Or is she just saying it like that because she knows it will get under my skin and eat at me like a flesh eating parasite. Dad pries my hand off his arm. "Robin, sweetheart. You really need to cut those fingernails. They're like claws."
I face dad and he's examining bright red crescent shaped marks on his forearm from my nails. "Sorry, Dad," I mutter under my breath and try to look around him to see if Sadie is still on her phone, but I can't see her. She's disappeared from my view.
Whit shrugs and looks out the passenger window and dad leans into the car again. "Well you two be safe okay?"
"We will daddy."
He kisses my forehead and then I back the car out of the driveway.
In Paradise all the town shops are so bunched together. One right next to the other, kind of like the beach house we come to every year. And it's nice that everything is so close. One because then you don't have to walk far to get to where you want to go and two because it's extremely hot and you don't have to spend too much time in the blazing heat. There's like a ten second time span in between walking from one shop to the next.
After we park the car, the first shop we go into is a swimwear shop. It's a small cubicle of a store with the girls swimwear on the right half and the boys on the left. When we enter Whit flashes me a look with an excited gleam in her eye. "Do I smell a sale?"
My eyes focus on the back of the store and there's big read sign hanging over and few racks that reads; 25 percent off. "You've got a good sniffer there, Fido."
Whit doesn't hear me. She's already walking with a pep in her step to the back of the store.
While Whit peruses the sale rack, I thumb through a few of the racks in the front of the store, but every bathing suit I pick up has like a zillion dollar price tag. I pull out a skimpy white lace bikini and examine the contents of it. Seriously, who wants to pay a hundred bucks for some string and two fabric triangles that barely cover your nipples? Not me, that's for sure.
I make my way to the back of the store and Whit has a few suits in her hand while she continues going through the rack. "I see you've found some stuff," I mutter and skim the sales rack. I'm over the shopping trip and it just started. I wish I would have just stayed cooped up in my room for the day.
Whit faces me and holds up a neon orange bikini. I frown and point to it. "What is that?"
Whit glances at the bathing suit then back at me. "Um, a two piece bathing suit. You should buy one sometime, Ms. Speedo."
"I'll pass. It's way too loud for my taste." The last thing I want to wear is a neon orange bikini. "It reminds me of an orange caution cone on a construction site."
Whit scrunches up her face and places the suit back on the rack. "Good point." When Whit turns back around her eyes widen and her mouth drops open.
I start turning. "What?"
Whit grabs my arm and squeezes before I can twist all the way around. "Don't turn around.
"Is it him?" I lower my voice, and a flash of worry sparks in my eyes.
"No," Whit says. "It's worse. It's her."
Sadie.
What about her damn plans? She probably just said that to avoid riding with us. Not that I really care. She's the last person on the planet I'd want riding in a car with me right now. The sound of metal scraping against metal throbs in my ears as Sadie looks through a rack of swimsuits. "Whit, we have to get out of here," I whisper.
There a huge part of me that wants to confront Sadie, but when I think about it I really have no right to. I mean I do, but I don't. Sadie and I aren't friends anymore so how would she know that I've been head over heels for Drake for the last three years. Then again, she saw us at the party together. If she couldn't tell by the way I acted around him that I was interested in him than she had to be really drunk. Or maybe she didn't care that I was interested. Some girls thrive on that you know.
But Whit doesn't give me any time to confront her. A nanosecond later she's stuffing the swimsuits in her hand back onto the rack and yanking me out the door before I can give Sadie a second look.
Outside the store Whit places both of her hands on my shoulders and looks me in the eye. I meet her gaze and exhale as a million questions pound through my brain and my heart begins to dislodge from its cavity. I focus on the sidewalk, staring at a few loose rocks. I can feel the tears building, ready to fall, drop from my eyes and dampen the cement.
Whit shakes me. I look at her and pain ripples through her features. She embraces me. "I'm so sorry," she says apologetically. "I shouldn't have made you come today."
I back away from her and wipe my tears away with my wrists. "Its fine," I sniffle. "Honestly, I didn't think it would be this difficult."
All I can think about is the way their limbs were tangled together and the way Sadie was kissing Drake. So deep. So passionate.
"What? The shopping trip?"
"No." My voice cracks. "Mending a broken heart."
17
Relationships are like glass. Sometimes it's better to leave them broken than try to hurt yourself putting it back together. Author Unknown
For some reason that I can't explain, I tell Whit I'll be able to handle it if we go to one more store. But I don't know if that's true. It seems like every time I say that I'll be able to handle whatever the day throws at me, my day automatically takes a turn for the worst.
I guess that's ironic because as soon as we walk into the CD shop my day does get worse. Much, much worse.
Elliot spots us as soon as we walk into the shop. He's in the back of the store and he raises his eyes from a CD in his hand. He and I exchange a glance then he smirks and bites his bottom lip. A quirk that totally reminds me of Drake and I have to look away. I close my eyes and see Drake's face. I see his lips. He's whispering words. He bites his lip and my breath hitches just thinking about it.
I feel Whit's eyes on me, but I don't meet her gaze. I know the look she's wearing and it will be too painful for me to stare at her when she's wearing the "I'm worried about you, Robs," look. Instead I mumble, "I'll be in the front of the store." Then I distance myself from her. I don't wait to see if she's following.
I pick through a bin of CD's finding nothing that appeals to me and move on to the next one. After picking through that bin, I still can't find anything and now I'm not only tortured and in pain, but I'm frustrated too.
"Nothing good, huh?"
Elliot's voice startles me and my head snaps up. "What?" The sound of his voice stabs my ears and I dig into the bin in front of me, shuffling through piles of CD's to do everything I can to avoid looking at him.
"Are you avoiding me?"
Elliot catches on fast. I want to tell him, yes I'm avoiding you. You remind me too much of that douche-lord sibling of yours, but instead I keep my eyes on the bin of CD's, praying that Whit will come over and insert one of her famous, one-liners. I wait a minute and Whit doesn't show. God never answers my prayers when I want him to. "No."
Elliot leans closer to me and I can feel his warm breath in my hair before its wafts down my neck, bringing on a trail of goose bumps. "I think you are."
I face him, but keep my eyes low. I can't look at his face. Well, I can, but I don't want to. Instead, I stare at his abs that are hidden beneath a thin, white cotton shirt. I find myself wondering how it will feel to run my fingers over them then I push that thought to the side, finally meeting his gaze. There's warmth in his blue eyes, warmth that I've noticed residing in Drake's eyes a few times too.
For a moment, neither one of us says anything. We're standing in the middle of the CD shop, gazes locked; only focused on each other. The cash register dings and shuffling footsteps echo in the background, but I tune them out. And even though Elliot is staring directly into my eyes, I can feel his watery orbs everywhere. They are touching my shoulder, caressing my thigh, and squeezing on my heart. "No I'm not."
Finally breaking away from Elliot's magnetic gaze, I scan the store for Whit. She's in the back, thumbing through a row of Cd's. She lifts her head, locks eyes with me and I give her a look of desperation, a look that says; "save me." A few seconds later she abandons her search and starts toward me and Elliot.
"I think you're lying," Elliot tells me.
So what if I'm lying. I scan Elliot's face and narrow my eyes. He reminds me too much of his brother with his trusting grin and perfect proportional features and top of that, Drake has broken my heart and my trust. I was blinded by a beautiful face, stellar smile, and washboard abs. I was taken advantage of by a man who led me to believe I meant more to him that just some summer fling and I'll be damned if I let that happen to me twice. "I'm not lying. Why would I be avoiding you?"
A coy smile creeps across his face and he shrugs. "I don't know. I guess I thought maybe you'd want to avoid me because of what happened with my brother."
I don't want to have this conversation. The last thing I want to do is talk about what happened with his brother, especially when it still feels so...so... so fresh. "Well, you guessed wrong."
Whit steps up next to me and laces her arm through mine. "You ready to go."
"Yes." The word couldn't leave my lips fast enough.
I take a step forward, pulling Whit with me when Elliot stops us. He touches my arm and a smoldering fire crackles on my bare skin. His fingertips burn and suddenly he catches himself touching me and yanks his hand away. "Sorry," he says and shoves his hands into his pockets. "I just wanted to invite you guys out on my boat day after tomorrow. Either one of you ever been sailing?"
"No," I say. "I think I'll pass." I can't help but think that Drake might be on this little trip and I don't want to take any chances.
I look at Whit waiting for her to mirror my reply, but she purses her lips. "Once." Then she shifts in her stance. "It might be fun."
Elliot flashes a dazzling grin. "So is that a yes?"
I narrow my eyes at Whit and she shrugs. "No," I say, lowering my voice. "It's a we'll think about it. Check back in two days."
Elliot nods and he seems to be satisfied with my answer. "Will do, ladies. Will do." He flashes us another million-dollar grin and strolls of the CD shop whistling.
After we walk back to the car, I slam the driver's side door as Whit hops into the passenger seat. "I can't believe you just did that," I huff and fasten my seatbelt. "I do not want to go sailing with him, Whitney!"
She closes the door and pulls her seatbelt over her shoulder. "So don't go. Look, Robs, I don't know how many times we have to go over this. You need to stop being a baby. You didn't love Drake. Yes you may have deep feelings for him, but, I know it wasn't love. It was some kind of weird infatuation and you've got to get over it. And if that means hanging out with his equally hot brother. Then so be it."
The sound of Whit's seatbelt fastening fills up the confined space and I sigh, planting my forehead on the top of the steering wheel. "What if he's there, Whit? What if Drake is there? Did you even add that into the equation?" I turn my head to the side and peek up at Whit, but she isn't looking at me. She's staring, eyes wide, out the windshield. "Whit, what is it?"
"Bobby Coulsen," she mumbles, transfixed in a trance-like state.
"Bobby Coulsen?" I scrunch my eyebrows together, confused. "That was random. What about him?"
Whit nods at the windshield and drops her gaze, playing with her fingers.
I look out the windshield, and observe a guy and a girl. The guy is tan with spiked, chocolate brown hair and caramel colored eyes. He's bulky, but not in a chubby way. He's bulky from being packed with muscle. He smiles and pulls the blonde that he's with close. They both laugh and before I know it, Whit is sobbing so hard that she's gasping in between her cries. She lifts her head slowly, sucks back her tears and the look of pain that flashes in her eyes breaks me. "Whit," I say softly and pull her close. "Don't cry. It's okay."
The guy outside is Bobby Coulsen, a kid we'd gone to high school with. Well, he was more like a God at our high school. Every girl wanted him at one point during their high school career.
But Whit...
Whit had him. She'd dated Bobby Coulsen for six months our junior year and was envied by every girl in our entire school, me included.
She'd once said, "I don't why he likes me."
She might have not known, but I did. Not only was Whit beautiful with her long, strawberry blonde locks, flawless ivory skin, and child-like blue eyes, but she was fun, kind, and sweet. I'll never forget the day Bobby Coulsen strolled up to our cafeteria table to talk to her. Whit was hardcore blushing (which is rare for her) and I almost choked on my turkey on wheat.
Sadly, 'The Bobby and Whitney Show' didn't last too long.
And what was even worse was that he was her undoing. He'd cheated with some bitch on the cheerleading squad and Whit was devastated. She lost it after that. A lot of drunken benders. A lot of one night stands.
"Did you know?" she asks with a trembling voice.
"Did I know what?"
"Did you know that he vacations here?"
"No." My eyes widen. "I've never seen him here before and I've been vacationing here practically my whole life."
And that's the truth. Honestly though, it doesn't surprise me that we'd seen someone we know here. It's only hours away from our home town and a lot of people come here randomly in the summer.
Whit and I are looking at each other and the sound of Bobby and the girl he's with laughing echoes through the air and wafts toward us and Whit's chest sinks and she starts sobbing again. In a flash, desperate to make the laughter disappear, I turn the car on and hit the power windows button. But the laughter doesn't disappear. It presses on the glass and gets louder and louder and I think Whit might be sobbing harder purposely to drown it out.
For a while I just hold her. I let her cry on my shoulder and run fingers through her hair, trying to comfort her. Part of me thought that Whit was over Bobby. He'd dumped her the summer before our senior year and every time I'd ask her if she was okay, she'd huff and say, "Okay, I'm great. That tool did me a favor."
Even though she said those things I knew that wasn't true. She put up a good front, but I'd catch her staring at him all the time; in school, or at the mall, or at Friday night footballs games because he was the captain of the team.
She'd always check his Facebook status to see where he was or what he was doing. And sometimes, she'd purposely jog past his house in the mornings just to get glimpse of him, getting ready for school in his bedroom window.
You see Whit lost her virginity to Bobby, and it wasn't long after he took that part of her that he cheated then dumped her for Jennifer Berger, the co-captain of the cheerleading squad. I'd kept a watchful eye on Whit during that time because every time she'd look at Bobby, I'd see the longing in her eyes. I'd see the pain in her eyes and I would have done anything to take it away.
Eventually, even though it took some time she returned to her normal self, but I'd still see her give Bobby those longing looks and apparently I thought she was over him and she really isn't. "Don't you see," she sniffles and digs her fists into her eyes. "Don't you see why I've been so insistent about the whole "Drake" thing?"
"What? Are you saying it's because of Bobby?"
Whit slouches in her seat, blows out some air and places her head against the window. "I don't want you to end up like me." She stares at me intensely. "Look at me."
"I am."
"No I mean really look at me," she raises her voice. "I'm a wreck! A stupid, pathetic blubbering mess over a guy who cheated on me and dumped me over a year ago!"
I shake my head. "You shouldn't be blaming yourself." I grab her hand and squeeze. "Nobody would have ever thought that Bobby would have turned out to be such a mega douche. He was very charming and deceiving."
"That's exactly my point!"
"Huh?" Now I'm confused. "What point are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about you being like me. Infatuated with someone who doesn't give a crap about you and letting your whole universe revolve around them. Bobby never gave a fuck about my feelings. All he ever wanted to do was fool around or talk about football or talk about himself. I just tuned out all of the bad and pretended everything was good so that I didn't have to face reality. Because reality sucks. And you know what the reality was; was that I was nothing to him, but a piece of ass."
"Whit, I---."
"Let me finish. I was a piece of ass and I had my heart broken and it will be a cold day in hell before I ever let that happen to you. It will be a cold day in hell before I let some jerk hurt you the way Bobby hurt me."
I'm elated and moved and I can't even think straight. I've always known that Whit cared in her own off-kilter way, but this is deep. Abyss deep. "Come here." I stretch my arms and pull Whit into a warm embrace. She cries into my shoulder and it's weird that her saying all of that about Bobby makes me realize that she's right...
I'm worth more than being a piece of ass to some hottie and so is she.
18
Some emotions don't make a lot of noise. It's hard to hear pride. Caring is faint, like a heart beat. And pure love, some days it's so quiet you don't even know it's there. Author Uknown
Whit decides to turn in early. After today's events I don't blame her. Today was definitely an emotionally draining day.
I lie down for a little bit, but can't sleep so I decide to walk down to my spot to watch the sunset. Maybe it will take my mind off things or at least distract me for a little while.
Walking out the front door, Mom passes me and catches me by the elbow. "Where ya going?"
She lets go of me and I step away, walking backwards. "I was just gonna go watch the sunset."
She smiles. "We're going into town with the Marshall's. They're having a firework display. You want to join?"
"Thanks, mom. But I think I'm just going to stick with my own plan."
"Okay, sweetheart." Mom waves and walks through the front door as I stroll away from the house.
The sky is cloudless and I watch the seagulls as the whip through the miles of orange, yellow, and magenta. The sun hangs low, casting a shimmering reflection off the water and it looks like lightning bugs are resting along the surface. The sight of it relaxes me, soothes me, and sweeps me up into an embrace of ambiance.
I sit close to the water. The waves are calm today and as a small one rolls into the sand with its white caps and fizzing bubbles it feels surprisingly warm against my skin. I shut my eyes and listen to the sounds of the roar of the crashing waves, feeling completely lost and calm, visualizing myself floating in the deep blue sea, not a care in the world.
Keeping my eyes closed, I fall back onto the sand and spread my limbs out. The rough texture of the grains of sand is irritating yet calming at the same time. I feel like the sand is scratching away pieces of me. Every time a grain rubs against my skin it's scraping off a new piece. First there's hurt. Then regret. And who knows what will be next. Maybe foolishness.
Footsteps plod into the sand and pull me from my thoughts. I sit up and open my eyes and glimpse over my shoulder, noticing a body moving toward me. "Whit?" I shout.
Maybe she woke up and decided to come looking for me. Or maybe she decided she needed a distraction too.
"No!" A deep beautiful voice shouts back. Not Whit. Then I see his perfect, white smile gleaming beneath the light of the moon as he comes into view. Elliot.
Instinctively, I stand as Elliot picks up his pace and starts jogging toward me. He's shirtless, wearing only a pair of hunter green board shorts. That's the bad thing about being on vacation; hot ties always walk around flaunting their perfectly chiseled abs.
Elliot is a hottie that I want to avoid at the moment, so I turn and start walking
.
He's getting closer. "Hey!" His voice hangs in the night air. "Where are you going?"
I ignore him and keep walking until he finally catches up to me. "Didn't you hear me calling you?" He keeps up with me and walks next to me.
"No." A smug grin curls on his full pink lips and I know he knows I'm lying.
"So it's true then?" he asks as his breathing returns to normal.
"So what's true then?"
"You are avoiding me."
"Not technically," I say as I focus on the sky and marvel at how the colors have faded to a dull purple and deep navy blue. "You're the one who keeps interrupting my private moments."
"In case you didn't know this," Elliot says, "This is a public beach."
I narrow my eyes and shake my head at his sarcastic comment. "I know." I stare up at the stars. "But I can still have a private moment on a public beach."
"Well, excuse me," he guffaws. "I'll let you get back to that then."
Elliot turns to walk away and I grab him by the elbow. "Wait." He freezes mid-turn and crooks me a demure smile. "Now that you've crashed the party you might as well stay for it." I release my grip on his elbow and Elliot falls back in line with my steps.
For about ten minutes neither one of us says anything. We both silently admire the stars burning, miles and miles away from us illuminating the heavens until Elliot cuts into the quiet and says, "So what's your story?"
"My story?"
"Yeah." He lets out a deep, throaty chuckle. "Tell me about yourself."
"I thought you knew all about me?" I question. "You know, "the kid" Drake saved from drowning once."
"Okay, so I know a little bit. I know you tend to walk into doors and people and I know my brother saved your life once. But that's not enough. I want to know more."
"What do you want to know exactly?"
"I don't know." He shrugs and I swear I see a twinkle in his pale blue eyes. "What are you majoring in in college?"
"I'm pre-law, you?"
"A lawyer, eh? You don't strike me as the type."
"What? You have to be a specific type to be a lawyer?"
"No." He laughs. "You just don't seem argumentative."
"I can be when I want to be." I punch his arm playfully. "You never answered my question."
"Ah, yes." He massages his chin with his forefinger and thumb, pretending to be scholarly. "I'm a biology major?"
I fight the smile that's working its way over my lips. "Really? You don't strike me as the type."
We share a laugh and Elliot says, "Very funny." Elliot breaks away from my gaze and stares out into the ocean. "You ever do anything spontaneous?"
I've done spontaneous a few times. And one of my spontaneous moments was with his brother.
I quirk an eyebrow. "Spontaneous as in---?"
"Spontaneous as in swimming in the ocean in the dark."
I follow Elliot's gaze out to the water. "Don't you think that's a little dangerous?" I point to a sign over my shoulder. "That sign says no swimming after sunset."
Elliot runs the tip of his tongue over his teeth, smiling devilishly. "We both know how good you are at reading the signs on the beach."
"Hey!" I snap.
Elliot shrugs. "Why don't you try living on the edge a little bit, Robin? I promise you, you'll like it there."
I open my mouth to protest again, but in one swift motion, Elliot scoops me up, throws me over his shoulder, and makes a mad dash for the water. I loop my arm through his armpit, clinging on as tightly as I can. My head bobs up and down every time Elliot's right foot then left foot plows into the sand and for a moment I think I'm going to be sick. I can feel my dinner inching its way up my esophagus, but before I can hurl, Elliot picks me up off his shoulder and chucks me into the water.
I'm sailing through the air and everything seems to be moving in slow motion. My limbs flail. My shrill, high-pitched scream pierces the quiet night air. Finally a loud slap rings out as my bare back smacks against the surface of the water. The impact knocks the wind out of my lungs and sends a series of small pin-prick-like tingles through my skin. By the time I stand and wipe the water of my eyes my whole back is on fire, I'm soaked and I'm seething.
The fact that Elliot is a foot in front of me, grunting and puckering his lips, trying to do everything he can to contain his laughter pisses me off even more. I lurch toward him, my heart beating with a vengeance and sneer, "You think this is funny?"
"Funny," he blurts out, finally letting the laughter he's been holding in for the last three minutes. "It's freaking hilarious!" Elliot chokes on a chuckle. "You should have seen your face." Elliot mimics the way he thought I looked in mid-air, puffing out his cheeks and flapping his arms. "I thought you were going to crap yourself."
I feel a smile pulling on my lips and I fight it off, frowning. But as hard as I try to keep a straight face, I just can't and as laughter explodes from my lips, I trudge through the luke warm water and lunge for Elliot's waist, circling my arms around it and yanking him down into the water with me.
I push his head under, still laughing and back away waiting for him to come up for air. A few seconds pass and Elliot doesn't come up. I spin around in my spot, eyes on the water, trying to find air bubbles in the dark. Then a minute passes and I start panicking. "Elliot!" I go under and open my eyes and they sting from the salt and I can't see anything but blackness surrounding me.
Breaking the surface I call his name again. "Elliot!" The panic inside me has escalated into full blown fear and I can feel it working its way through my veins. "Elliot!"
My heart is pounding. Constricting. Racing. I need to get help. What if something happened when I pushed him under? What if I was too forceful and I slammed my hand into the side of his head too hard?
I start for the shore, panting, and a warm puddle of tears flood my eyes. And just as I'm about to step foot on the wet sand Elliot breaks the surface like a dolphin out of water and growls playfully. He slaps his fists against his chest like Tarzan and I turn slowly, facing him.
Elliot howls with laughter and if he thought I was mad before he hasn't seen anything yet. "You asshole!" I walk back toward him and point my finger. "You had me scared half to death! I thought you drowned or something!"
"Easy," Elliot says finally able to control his laughing. "Look at me." He places his hands flat on his abs. "I'm fine."
I shake my head, growl, and scoop up an armful of water, splashing him in the face. "That wasn't funny." Then I pivot on heel and walk back toward the sand.
"Come on!" Elliot calls after me. "I thought we were having fun!"
Obviously Elliot and I have different ideas on how to have fun. "We were!" Then you had to go and ruin it.
I'm out of the water and making my way back toward my house. Elliot's legs kick up water and a loud splashing sound throbs in my ears. I want him to leave me alone---no---I hope he leaves me alone because realistically, I know Elliot leaving me alone for the rest of this vacation is a delusional fantasy.
"Robin! Wait up!" I listen to the thud of Elliot's footsteps against the sand and he sprints toward me.
"No."
"Seriously. Would you cool it?" Elliot appears next to me. "I was just trying to have a little fun. It was only a joke."
"It was a sick joke." The fear and hysteria he brought on in me still feels too fresh, too recent.
"I'm sorry," he tells me. "Is that what you want me to say? Because I mean it, I'm sorry."
I don't want to hear his apology right now. There's still some anger surging through me, pumping blood into my heart and the only thing I can think about is crashing for the night. I exhale. "It's fine, Elliot." I hope that maybe he can sense the exhaustion in my voice and will give it a rest for now.
"Are you sure?" There's an apprehensive tone to his voice. "Really, Robin. I thought you'd know I was joking."
What person in their right mind would think that was a joke? Yes, we were having fun, playing around in the water, but when a person goes under and doesn't come up for minutes that automatically goes from horsing around to a serious situation. A life or death situation. I'd been there once myself, so maybe that's why I'm not taking his so-called joke lightly. "Look, Elliot," I say. "I'm tired. I'm just going to turn in for the night."
I expect to hear his footsteps behind me, but he's stopped following me and I'm glad. I'm too angry and too tired to deal with this trifecta of a triangle between the Robertson brothers that I've gotten myself into.
"Are we still on for tomorrow?" I hear Elliot shout.
"What's tomorrow?"
"You know?" he calls. "Sailing?"
"Maybe," I shout back, distancing myself further from him.
The fact that Elliot isn't following me anymore fills me up with more happiness than I've had on this entire vacation. There's one thing that I know for sure; Elliot without a doubt irks me. He gets under my skin like an annoying rash that hasn't oozed, bubbled or broke through the top layer of my epidermis and I can't decide if that's a good thing or a bad thing...
Yet.
\*\*\*\*
Just when I thought I'd had about all I can take my night takes a turn for the worst.
Drake sits on the wooden steps to my cottage and he stands up, his back as stiff as a board when he sees me approaching. "Kid, I---."
I wave my hand and cut him off. "Don't waste your breath. I don't want to hear it."
Drake blocks my front door and as I try to move around him, he moves with me. "Just let me explain."
I stop in front of him and cross my arms. "What is there to explain, Drake? I thought you liked me. I was wrong. You led me on and then I caught you screwing around with one of my old friends. Believe me, I get it. I don't need an explanation. Now can you please move? I'm tired."
Drake scans me from head to toe and huffs, "What crawled up your ass and died?"
I roll my eyes. What I really want to say is you, you and your brother, who makes me feel something and who knows what that something is. But instead I say, "Nothing. Like I said before, I'm tired."
Drake shakes his head and steps aside, extending his arm like a lowly peasant bowing before a queen. I brush passed him and stomp up the steps. All I can think about is my pillow and how in few minutes I'll be closer to dreaming than living in this fucked up reality. I hope I have good dreams because I don't think I can take any more bad today.
"Kid?" Drake calls and I glance at him over my shoulder as I open the door. "I never meant to hurt you to know. I just---."
I cut him off. "I know. I know. You just don't want to be in a relationship now, right?"
"Yeah." Drake nervously runs a hand through his gold locks. "After Sydney, I told myself I was going to swear off of relationships for a while. I'm not with Sadie. We're just having a little fun and I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression." He turns, shoves his hands in his pockets, kicks up sand with his bare feet as he walks away.
"Drake!" I call after him.
He stops mid-step and turns around facing me. "What's up?"
"Can I ask you a question?" I don't know if I love torturing myself or what is really wrong with me, but for reason I need to know if he ever liked me at all. No matter how bad it hurts and no matter how much I might regret asking him this question I know I have to.
"Sure." He takes a few small steps closer.
"Did you ever like me like that?"
He raises an eyebrow. "You mean like, like?"
"Yes."
He hesitates for a moment and I feel like every passing second is a decade. He's staring into my eyes and then suddenly he breaks away from my gaze, staring out into the dark abandoned beach. He fidgets nervously for another second and replies, "No. I've never liked you like that."
I stop breathing and I try to conceal the pained look that I'm certain is on my face.
Inside every part of me is shattering into a million pieces and I do my best to keep my composure. "Oh," my vocal chords quiver. "I see." I swallow a wad of saliva that's built up in my throat and hurt, loathing, and anger are filling me up. I'm about to snap and sob so I tell him, "Have a good night."
Then I run up the steps and slam my front door, crouching down behind it, hoping that before I made it into the safe-haven of the beach cottage that I didn't give Drake the opportunity to see me cry.
19
Sometimes the truth hurts, but it's always necessary and always something you need to hear.
Mom loves the phrase; the truth shall set you free.
She says honesty is better than going through life lying to everyone. After last night, I find myself wishing more than anything that Drake would have lied to me. I find myself wishing that he would have told me anything but the truth.
His words haunt me, plague me, and fuck with my emotions. No. I've never liked you that way. I know he doesn't deserve any of my time. I know I shouldn't spend any more time thinking about him, but I can't help it. Even though he looked like he didn't want to say those words to me, he did and I've replayed them over and over again in my head thinking that somehow I might be able to forget about them if I think about them too much, but I can't. I can't and the words are piercing through my skull, stabbing at my brain and they're killing me.
Whit prances into the kitchen, still wearing her nightshirt. She stretches and smiles whimsically. "Good morning," she sings. She's giddy. I wish I felt that way. I'd give anything to feel different than the way I'm feeling now. I'd give anything to not feel like a waste.
Whit notices the depressed look I'm wearing and sits down across from me. She massages me forearm. "Robs, what's wrong?"
I exhale and suck back the oncoming tears. "I saw Elliot last night."
"I figured that."
"What? How?"
"He came here looking for you."
My eyes widen then I blink several times. "When?"
"Last night. That bastard woke me up. He was throwing rocks at the back window. I can't understand why'd do that since we have his cell number, but it was actually kinda cute," Whit giggles. "Any who, I told him you were probably walking on the beach or something."
"Oh." I play with my fingers for a second. "I saw Drake, too."
Whit grips onto my hand and squeezes. "When?"
"He was waiting for me on the steps of the porch when I got back from the walk." Our eyes lock. "He didn't knock on the door or anything did he?"
Whit shakes her head. "No. And you know me; if he knocked I would have heard it." Whit has always been a really light sleeper. "What did he want?"
"He apologized," I say with a shrug and a crack of emotion in my voice.
I'm not telling her the whole story and it kills me to keep this from her, but I'm still in pain and I'd rather wait to elaborate. But Whit doesn't buy it. Sometimes I wish she didn't know me so well. She slits her eyes. "What are you not telling me?"
"Nothing."
Whit puckers her lips and shakes her head. "Spill. I know you're not telling me something."
"Alright," I sigh. "So I asked Drake a question last night."
Whit closes her eyes and lets a gust of air out of her lungs. "Oh no."
"I asked him if he liked me like that."
"Oh, no. Robin you didn't?"
A tear drips down my cheek. "I'm an idiot." It feels like I've been having idiot moments a lot lately.
Whit reaches up and wipes the tear away. "I don't know, Whit. For some reason I thought I'd be able to handle hearing his answer. I listened to what you said. I needed the closure or I didn't feel like I'd ever be able to move on."
"What exactly was his answer?"
The words sting my tongue as I spit them out. "I've never liked you like that."
I stand slowly, knees trembling, more tears flowing from my eyes. I hunch over, placing my hands flat on the table as I gasp for air and my crying escalates. Whit rushes over and pulls me in, hugging me and I lie my head on her shoulder. "Why does it hurt so much? If I didn't love him at all, why do I still feel like I'm broken inside?"
Whit hugs me tighter and rests her chin on the top of my forehead. "Because Robs, the truth hurts. It always does. And always will."
For once I'm thankful that I never let another guy make me feel the way Drake did. The pain inside me throbs, gripping my heart, and cuts off the flow of blood from my arteries. And I'm certain that if I did allow myself to feel like this I would have never made it through high school in one piece.
After lunch, Whit hops in the shower and I grab a beach chair and head out back. I want to get lost in the waves, swept up by the tide, and warm from the heavy sunshine. I'm cold inside. Frigid. Stiff. And I'm hoping that a few rays from the burning sun will be able to melt the ice inside of me. Make me feel alive instead of frozen over and dead inside.
As I plant my beach chair firmly in the sand I catch Sadie, pacing behind her house. I focus on her tense stature and the way her jaw is clenched. And then she screams, "Fuck you, Drake!" Then she throws her cell phone into the sand. He's burned her too. For some reason that makes me feel a little better.
That is until I hear her sobbing.
A pang of remorse stabs my heart and even though I know I shouldn't feel sorry for her, I do. Standing, I make a point to go over to her and she glares in my direction and tries to hide the fact that she's crying. "Everything okay, Sadie?" I am concerned for her because I know first-hand how bad Drake's words can sting.
"What do you care?" she bites back with a scowl and quickly scurries away from me.
\*\*\*\*
Elliot comes by later and I let him and Whit talk me into going sailing. Seconds after stepping foot on the boat I instantly regret that decision. The small boat rocks back and forth being tossed around on the waves like a beach ball. The choppy waters don't agree with me. My head is spinning and stomach is in knots and I spend a good portion of the day that supposed to be fun-filled hanging over the side of the boat, trying to prevent myself from throwing up.
"You okay over there!" I hear Elliot shout from somewhere behind me. His shout is faint though. It's nearly impossible to hear anything over the sound of the forceful, blowing wind and the bottom of the boat slapping against the water.
"Ugh," I manage a moan and raise my hand. I can't turn around. That might be the one movement from that will lead to the interior floor of the boat being decorated with my vomit.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Whit in front of me. She's sitting Indian style in the front of the boat and seems to be enjoying herself. Her head is tilted back slightly, her eyes closed, and she lets out a sigh of relief. A small smile stretches across my lips and I'm happy she's feeling better. Just then the boat hits a wave and at that point I can't hold it back anymore. I upchuck over the side of the boat and give the fish some fish food.
We don't get back until sunset and I know now more than ever that I don't have sea legs. As I try to get off the boat my stomach bottoms out and my knees buckle. Elliot catches me by the waist and hesitates a moment, keeping his masculine hands firmly above my hip bones. "Easy, there sailor."
Sailor? Now I know he has to be joking.
Whit laces her arm through mine and I stretch my forearm over her shoulder. "I've got it from here, Elliot," she assures him.
Elliot backs away, but as we start walking away from him he jogs back over. "Hey."
"Hey," I groan still queasy.
"You guys doing anything later?"
"No plans as of yet," Whit comments.
"Well, there's another party tonight. I was hoping to see you guys there."
"As long as there won't be any boat rides at this party I'm in," I say.
Elliot laughs momentarily, but keeps a wide grin on his lips. "I promise no boat rides."
"We'll be there," Whit retorts.
Elliot chews his bottom lip. His full, pouty sexy bottom lip. "Good. The party starts at 10:00pm. It's at the same spot the last one was at. Do you need directions again?"
"Nah," Whit says. "It's probably still saved in the GPS." She turns to look at me. "Right, Robs?"
I nod.
Then Elliot turns and walks away and I'm left sick and puzzled.
Sick because I'm not sure if my stomach will ever get used to the sturdiness of dry land and puzzled because I swear when Elliot invited us to the party my heartbeat actually picked up and started racing.
20
When you touched me your fingers danced across my skin and at the same time, spoke to my soul.
We pull up in front of the frat house and Whit pulls down the passenger side mirror to check her lip gloss. Me? I'm staring at the crowded front yard wondering if this was such a good idea. I know I'll see Drake here. He's officially number one on my guys-I'll-loathe-eternally list.
Actually he's the only guy on that list.
Questions pound into my brain and throb in my temples. What will I do if I see him? I'm torn on whether I'll be a mega a bitch or wind up stalking off to a remote area trying to hold back my tears.
Whit pushes the mirror back up and nods toward the window. "You ready?" She opens her door. "Don't worry if he says anything else to you, I'll hold him down so you can kick him in the nads."
I laugh and get out of the car. Whit's always got a quick-witted sarcastic comeback line ready to throw out and this one in particular makes me feel at ease.
As we make our way up the driveway Elliot is already heading toward us, but as I peer over his shoulder I see Drake lingering in the background engaged in some conversation with a few overly muscled jock-type guys. His eyes flick toward me for a moment. He smiles and I look away. That smile is a killer and for a second I wish all of his teeth would fall out.
I break away from Whit and Elliot and walk toward the back of the house. I can be at this party and I can enjoy it as long as I don't have to look at Drake's beautiful deceitful face. I think.
"Where the hell are you going?" By the tone in Whit's voice I can tell she's wearing her WTF face, where every feature is smooshed together and her nose is wrinkled.
I wave her off and don't turn around. "For a walk!"
And I don't wait for either one of them to follow either. I keep walking straight, heading to the beach.
With my knees to my chest, I sit in the sand a few feet away from the navy waters. The waves are choppy today. Choppy and restless. That's exactly how I feel inside choppy.
Elliot comes up behind me and plops down beside me. I know it's him. I don't even have to look at him to know he's the one next to me. "Where's Whit?" I inquire, not taking my eyes off the crashing waves.
"Talking to some guy."
I glare at Elliot. "Why do you insist on following me around like some lost puppy?"
"Why do you insist on avoiding me on most occasions?" he counters.
"I don't know," I huff. "Maybe because you remind me too much of your brother."
Elliot scoffs, "Let's get one thing straight. I am not my brother."
I roll my eyes. "Right."
Elliot scoots closer to me and stares at me. He's undressing me with his eyes and surprising warmth singes the nerve endings in my fingertips. Don't touch me. I'm a key in a socket. I'll spark.
His fingers curl, inching closer to mine.
No.No.No. He's too close. Way too close. It's making me nervous. It's driving me crazy. I drop my gaze, focusing on his fingers as they glide through the sand, closer to mine.
Fidgeting, I stand and start pacing. Elliot's eyes never leave me. I feel the electric blue irises touching my skin. They're burning me. Branding my flesh.
"What's up with you?" Elliot leans back onto the sand, propped up by his elbows. "You're acting like a whack-job."
I'm not a whack-job. I'm confused. So very, very confused. Confused about my feelings for Elliot. My tense situation with his brother. My estranged ex-friend who has been bawling her eyes out. And there's so much more that I can't even begin to sort out in my head right now.
"Would you stop pacing?" Elliot mutters revealing a seductive grin. "You're making me dizzy."
"Then stop watching me."
Within seconds he's off the ground and gripping my shoulders, halting me mid-pace. I hesitate, refusing to meet his gaze, but when I finally do peer into his puddles of blue they burn into my pair of emerald eyes. "Why do you always try to fight me?" His eyes wander all over my face. He's trying to read me. He's trying to find the answer that I'm unable to give him. Then he tucks a piece of my loose hair behind my ear. "This will be a lot more fun if you quit resisting and just relax."
Relax. Hell no. Relaxing is not an option for me. Especially now. Not in a moment like this.
Elliot's strong hands slide up my chest and rest on both sides of my cheeks.
I'm panting and frantic and before I can shove him away he crushes his mouth to mine. His warm, inviting lips make my mouth tingle and go numb. Then our mouth's part and well, there's tongue.
A lot of tongue.
Elliot is a great kisser---no---not just great. Damn near spectacular. His tongue brushes against mine. Slowly, gracefully, and erotically. It's like watching a ballet dancer on stage, twirling around on her toes in front of a packed auditorium. Each one of her movements is delicate yet beautiful.
I'm sick with emotion. Twisted with pleasure. Lost in a moment, wrapped up in a haze of racing hearts, passionate kisses, and raspy breaths. As our kissing deepens, Elliot moves one hand into my hair and curls a strand around his fingertip while the other one moves down clutching the side of my waist. It's almost like they have a mind of their own.
Elliot moans in pleasure, his mouth pressed firmly against mine and I can feel the want in him. It's oozing out of him spilling onto me and filling me up with a burning desire I've never had before. He presses against me, a bulge in his pants, and his pelvis thrusts into my thigh.
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. His kisses. His touch. Everything about Elliot rocks my world. He's even a better kisser than Drake.
Oh, shit. Drake.
The sound of footsteps in the sand pounds into my ears. Or maybe it's not footsteps; I think it's the sound of my heart because that's how loud it's beating.
It's not until I think about Drake that I lose the moment of perfection. Not because I want to think about him while I'm kissing his brother, but because of what he's done me. The way he hurt me. And I'm terrified of letting that happen again.
I pull out of the kiss and a stunned look appears on Elliot's face. "What's wrong?" He draws his eyebrows in and a spark of concern flashes in his baby blues.
I don't feel like explaining everything to him. This triangle between him and his brother is a cluster-fuck and I'm not sure how to explain the way I'm feeling about it without sounding mental.
Elliot is beautiful with electric blue eyes, a bronzed muscular body, and perfect proportional face. Just like Drake. He has a way with words and smiles and somehow manages to make my heart race every time I'm near him. Just like Drake. And he'll hurt me. Just like Drake.
I'm sure of it.
He'll use me, abuse me, and toss me from a car window. I'm litter scattered along a winding highway, waiting for a man in an orange jumpsuit to pick me up with a poker and shove me into a black trash bag.
I'll never let a guy make me feel so useless and insignificant ever again. So when Elliot asks, "What's wrong, Robin," again. I ignore him and run away from him as fast as I can.
21
True love is when you put someone on a pedestal, and they fall - but you are there to catch them. Author Unknown
The party has multiplied in size since Whit and I had first arrived and my eyes sweep over the unfamiliar faces trying to catch sight of Whit. I'm not having good luck.
For a second I think I see her from behind and I walk up to her and yank on her arm. But it's not her and the girl whose arm I just yanked snarls, "Can I help you?"
"No. I thought you were someone else. Sorry."
I snake my way through the mass of bodies and sigh in frustration somewhere in the middle of the front yard. There are too many people. Whit has vanished and my situation with the Robertson brothers has just spiraled out of control.
I just kissed Elliot, adding more cluster to the fuck in cluster fuck in currently in and worst of all. I liked it---no---I more than liked it. In fact I'm pretty sure when he slipped his tongue into my mouth my knees wobbled. And what plagued me even more is that the way Elliot kissed me back gave me the impression that he wants much more from me. More than I'm willing to give. And that not only shocks me, but it terrifies me at the same time.
I'm shocked because even though Whit said he liked me and he'd drop little hints here and there, with longing gazes, and random encounters it still hadn't clicked inside of me until now. And I'm terrified because I'd once been fooled by a beautiful guy and I don't trust myself enough to not be fooled twice.
I give up on pushing my way through bodies to find Whit and try a different approach. Climbing the porch steps, I slide against the cast iron railings bordering in and hoist myself on top of it. With my acquired twelve and half inches added to my height I hang on to one of the circular columns of the house and squint out into the yard.
Finally, I spot Whit, standing on the far left corner of the yard talking to some tall, muscular guy with black hair. Releasing my hold on the column I wave my hands in the air and call her name. Music bumps from the stereo in the house and the porch is vibrating. "Whit!" She doesn't hear me. On top of the music the loud chatter from all the people is making it impossible for me to even hear myself. "Whit!"
I continue to call her name a few more times when suddenly, she glances in my direction. She hunches over slightly, squints, then turns to the guy she was chatting with and holds up a finger in a "wait a minute" gesture. She closes the distance between us and I wave my hands over head harder. But the arch on my foot is damp with moisture and I slip falling backwards from the railing. Except I don't hit the ground. I find the courage inside of me to open my eyes and see who caught me before I fell.
Elliot.
"You always just pop up out nowhere don't you?" I groan as he helps me to my feet.
"A simple thank you would be nice," he harrumphs as he folds his arms across his chest. He sounds irritated. He's probably upset that I ditched him earlier when we were on the beach. "It's a good thing that I do pop up out of nowhere," he tells me. "Because if I didn't you might be lying on the porch with a concussion or broken bone."
"Well, then," I say with a smug grin. "Thank you."
"No problem."
Five minutes later I'm still standing on the porch next to Elliot waiting for Whit. And neither one of us says a word to each other. The silence between us is deafening and completely blocks out the ruckus going on all around us. Well, at least for me it does.
During the five minute time span I find myself looking at Elliot. I mean really looking and I notice little things about him that I never noticed before. Features and quirks that make him seem less and less like his brother. For one, I can tell something is bothering him by the way his eyebrows are furrowed together and the slump in his shoulders. Two, he's got his long, muscular arm wrapped around my shoulder like he wants to protect me from the world. He tightens his grip too, pulling me closer to his chest. Drake never did that. Drake never made me feel protected.
Drake pushes his way through the crowd on the porch and rests his eyes on the way his brother is holding me. Anger flashes in his eyes and there's a territorial glimmer there too? "What did you do?" he growls at Elliot.
Territorial? Drake told me he didn't like me like that so why do I feel like that isn't the case?
"Do?" Elliot scoffs. "I'm sorry, bro, but I have no idea what you're talking about."
Drake laughs and the laugh isn't a normal jovial laugh. It's a laugh that's laced with a bit of insanity. Maybe Drake has lost a few of his marbles, if not all of them. "Oh, I think you do bro." I'm taken by surprise next when Drake extends his arms, palms up and shoves Elliot. "I think you know exactly what I'm talking about."
Elliot removes his arm from my shoulder and slides me to the side away from their scuffle that I know is going to going to escalate to the next level any second. Panicked I scan the porch for Whit and she's on the opposite end shrugging and trying to squeeze through the crowd, but appears that everyone at this party wants to witness a brawl because they've all stopped what they're doing and all eyes are on me Elliot and Drake.
And the only thing I can think about is how I need to get out of here and fast.
All I've ever wanted is to feel like I mean something. Like I matter. I also wanted to feel like I'm not being torn. Or feel like Drake is tugging on my right arm, Elliot on my left. Each of them is pulling me in different directions and in seconds one of my limbs is going to snap off. I glance at Elliot, then Drake.
Which way do I go? To the right or to the left? Which one do I choose?
Right now, I'm not sure that I want either one.
Drake cut out my heart, kept it safe for years, then returned to me sliced and diced like minced ham. And even though he hurt me, every time I look at him I can't help but feel the want for him. The burning desire that ignites inside of me and licks my organs every time he's near.
And Elliot...
He gives mind-altering kisses, seems to care about my feelings, and assures me he's nothing like his brother. That he'd never hurt me the way Drake has.
Is it all an act? Or will he hurt me in the end, too?
The possibility of him hurting me is a risk I'm not willing to take.
"You know how I feel!" Drake shrieks as he shoves Elliot a second time.
"I know how you think your ass is made of gold and anybody and everybody should kiss it!" Elliot shoves him back. "And I know how you've hurt her! Just like you hurt Sydney!"
Drake's mouth hangs open and rage burns in his eyes. "You don't know anything about Sydney!"
A malicious smirk crawls across Elliot's lips. "I know you cheated on her. But I bet you left that part out." Elliot's eyes flash over to mine. "Didn't he, Robin?"
Before I have a chance to react Drake lunges for Elliot and tackles him and the clash of their bodies against the wooden porch rings out in a loud thud. Then there are several guys pushing through the crowd, making their way toward Drake and Elliot.
A hand clamps down on my arm and I'm being pulled backward away from the chaos and I smack into several bodies along the way.
I can't take my eyes off Elliot as he and Drake are pulled a part. He stands slowly, adjusts his jaw and scowls at Drake who is thrashing beneath a heavy-set guy's tree trunk arms.
This is all a little crazy. And unnerving. And horrifying yet completely amazing. I've never had anyone fight over me. Well, I take that back. Whit got in a fight with Daria Jarvis is the fourth grade because she called me a dork. That was during my awkward stage where I wore huge tortoise shell glasses that were like mini saucers and a palette expander. Eek! I shudder when I think of that old yearbook picture.
Not one guy has ever gotten into a fight over me. Now two did and to make things ever more complicated I'm not even really sure why. I mean I know Elliot sort of has a thing for me. But Drake? Really? He flat out told me to my face that he didn't like me that way. So what's with all the jealousy?
"What the hell was that?" Whit spats out as we stalk toward the car.
"Honestly, I don't have a clue," I tell her. That's the honest-to-God truth. In a way I'm just as baffled by the Robertson brother's battle royale as she is.
"Well," she begins, "I'm going to go ahead and assume that it had something to do with you." She shoots me an accusing glance.
"I just don't get it, Whit. Drake told me he didn't like me like that. Then he starts a fight with Elliot and I think it's because Elliot kissed me." Or maybe there's more to it that I don't know.
"Wait a second." Whit stops dead in her tracks and grabs me by the arm. "You kissed Elliot? Where? And when were you going to fill me in on this information?"
"I swear I was going to tell you as soon as I came back from the beach." I think. At the time I wasn't interested in spilling the deets involving my mind-numbing kiss. The only thing I could think of was getting as far away from Elliot as quickly as I could.
Seriously that kiss scared me. It made me tingle, made my head spin, my heart race and it was screwing with my emotions big time. On top of the kiss, and the fight...
Yeah, I'm still not thinking clearly.
At the car, Whit climbs into the passenger seat and as I open my door I hear my name. "Robin! Robin, wait!" Peering over my shoulder I see Drake running toward me and a nausea feeling slaps against the walls of my stomach. I don't feel like talking to him. Too much has happened and He's broken my trust. I get into the driver's side and start the car. Drake comes to a halt at my window and places his palms on the glass. "Robin, please. I know I don't deserve your time, but just hear me out." His voice is muffled, hidden behind a thin pane of glass.
He's right he doesn't deserve my time. "Drake, I don't want to talk to you."
"Robin, please," he begs and motions for me to roll down the window. Part of me wants to hear his explanation, but there's a bigger part of me that's screaming you idiot, he's hurt you enough! Why torture yourself more?
So I ignore him, give him one, last agonizing look, and speed down the road, trying to get over the fact that he's running, chasing after the car still screaming my name.
22
Love feels no burden, thinks nothing of trouble, attempts what is above its strength, pleads no excuse of impossibility; for it thinks all things lawful for itself, and all things possible. Author Unknown
When we get back to the house I try my best to push what just happened at the party into a dark corner of my brain, but I'm just not able to do it. My heart is still racing from witnessing the fight and questions pound through my brain as I try to make sense of it all.
On top of that, after Whit and I get out of the car I see Sadie again. And she's still crying. I give Whit and look telling her that we should go talk to Sadie and she give me a look back that says it's all me and she doesn't want any part of it. A second later she dashes into the house.
Thanks a lot, Whit.
I'm not good with girl problems period. And now thanks to two extremely hot brothers I have enough of them to deal with on my own. And even though Sadie and I aren't friends anymore, my heart breaks for her as I listen to the sound of her tortured howling.
"Sadie?" I approach her slowly and for a second she scowls at me, but the scowl fades quickly and is replaced by a look of agonizing pain.
Sadie sucks back her tears and holds her head high and says, "What?"
"Do you need someone to talk to?"
Sadie lowers her head and looks away. "No."
"Are you sure?" Even though she doesn't invite me over to sit next to her, I sit down anyway. If it weren't for Whit, I don't know how I'd come out of this vacation in one piece. Sadie doesn't have anybody and right now, I'm determined to be that somebody whether she wants me to be or not. "Look, Sadie," I say sincerely. "I know I'm probably the last person you want to be talking to right now. But I want you to know I know how you feel. He hurt me too. So if you need someone to talk about it with, I'm here."
I place my hand on her shoulder.
Sadie jerks her shoulder away and glares me. Her eyes are full of pain and hatred. "You have no idea how I feel!" she snaps. "So why don't you just mind your own damn business!"
My mouth hangs open. "Really? Really? I'm trying to be nice here, Sadie. What is your problem?"
"Since when do you care how I feel," she sneers. "You know I hear and see the way you and that friend of yours mock me. And I'll tell you this, Robin for someone who used to be one of my best friends, I never thought I'd ever get that from you."
Her comment stuns me. "Sadie, I---I."
"Just shut up," she cuts me off.
"Honestly, Sadie. I thought you were the one who decided to give our friendship the old heave-ho first," I insist. "If we hurt your feelings I'm truly, truly sorry."
Sadie is silent for a moment. She drops her head and plays around in the sand with her big toe. "You know, I didn't know you liked him like that. And even though we aren't really friends anymore I want you to know that I would have never hooked up with him if I knew how you felt about him. I mean I caught you staring at him sometimes and you guys were together at the party, but by that point I was already so invested. I didn't want to give him up." Sadie lifts her head and we exchange a tortured glance as tears water in her eyes.
"Thanks, Sadie. That means a lot." I shift in my spot and pick my feet up, sliding my knees closer to my chest. "The same goes for me, you know. I mean I'd had feelings for Drake along time, but if I knew you liked him like that I wouldn't have acted on those feelings."
A soft smile curls on her lips. "I appreciate that, Robin." Tears stream down her cheeks. "You know what hurts more than anything?"
"What?"
"The whole time I was hooking up with him I kept thinking that maybe just maybe he might see us as something more you know?" I nod and Sadie folds her hands in her lap. "But I was wrong and my own idiocy is what is tearing me up inside more than anything. After our final phone call I kept asking myself how I could be so stupid."
"I don't think you even know how many times I asked myself the same question."
Sadie cocks an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Sadie lets out a breath. "How is it that guys like Drake always have power over girls like that? I mean I'm sure I'm not the only one who fell victim to that gorgeous smile and amazing body."
"You're not. Haven't you been listening to a thing I've said? I did too."
"Yeah, but there's a difference."
"How so?"
"He wants you."
"No he doesn't." Or maybe he does and he's playing some sort of game with me. I close my eyes and replay the image of him when he saw me with Elliot earlier. I remember the anger. I remember seeing the pain in his eyes.
"Robin, he does though."
"Yesterday he told me he didn't like me like that." And then he went and got into a fight with his brother because he kissed me.
Sadie shakes her head. "I don't know why he told you that. When I talked to him he told me he couldn't hook up with me anymore because he had the hots for you."
My eyes widen. "He told you that?"
Sadie nods. "He did."
When I first came on this vacation that's the only thing I really wanted. For the last three years every time I thought about guys or relationships Drake was the first name that popped into my head. But now, after everything that's happened I'm not really sure what I want.
The clinking sound of rocks hitting a window fills my ears and I glance around Sadie, keeping my eyes on the back of my beach house. Standing quickly, I face Sadie and she stands too. "I have to go, Sadie. Are you going to be okay?"
"Yeah. I'll be fine." She smiles softly. "I guess I'll see you around, Robin. I'm glad we've had this talk."
"Me too." I stun Sadie when I pull her in for a long hug. She tenses up at first then relaxes, wrapping her arms around my back. I pull out of the hug and say, "You know we still have a few days of vacation left. If you want you can hang out with me and Whit."
Sadie's eyes light up. "Really?"
"Absolutely." I turn away from her and peek at her over my shoulder. "Good night, Sadie."
"Night, Robin."
Then I listen as the back door to Sadie's house slams shut and keep my eyes straight ahead. Clinking rocks tap against the window on my house and I pick my pace, jogging as Elliot pelts my window with another rock.
23
Trip over love, you can get up. Fall in love and you fall forever.
Author Unknown
I've been standing six feet away from Elliot watching him for the last ten minutes and he has yet to notice me. I'm amazed at his stamina. He's been chucking rocks at my window for the last thirty minutes and he's not even winded. That's impressive. I keep my gaze on him as he bends over and picks up another rock out of a pile he's secured at his feet. The taunt muscles in his back flex when he flings his arm back and tosses the rock.
A ping rings out in the quiet night air. I laugh softly to myself and hope that he can't hear me. He doesn't and just as he bends over to pick up another rock I take a few steps closer and say, "You know I'm surprised Whit hasn't stuck her head out that window and given you a piece of her mind."
Elliot spins around, eyes wide, and clutches his chest. "Jesus, Robin!" he gasps. "You scared the shit out of me." He exhales. "You know subtlety is necessary when you're sneaking up on someone from behind."
"Well, I was only kind of sneaking." I take a few more steps closer. "I've been standing here watching you for a while."
Elliot rests his hands on his protruding hip muscles that are poking through the bottom of his wife-beater. "And how long is a while?"
I shrug. "Close to ten minutes."
"And you didn't say anything?"
"You looked deeply involved in what you were doing." I giggle now only inches away from him. "I didn't want to disturb you."
Elliot shakes his head with a smile and rests his forehead against mine. "I'm sure you know I was trying to get your attention."
"Yeah. I figured that." I pull back, looking away from him and out into the deserted sand. "Does a walk on the beach sound like a good idea?"
Elliot laces his finger through mine. "It sounds like a great idea."
We start walking and I stop mid-step and Elliot jolts backward slightly. "Why'd you stop? I thought you wanted to go for a walk."
"I do, but I thought we should agree to something first."
Elliot quirks an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? And what's that?"
"Well, more like you should agree to something first." Elliot urges me to go on with his pale blue eyes. "No throwing me in the water tonight."
Elliot's deep musical laugh echoes in the air and he brings my hand to his lips, kissing it. "I promise."
The heavens are aglow. The stars are like little flecks of silver glitter on a black piece of construction paper. I glimpse over at Elliot out of the corner of my eye. A soft smile tugs on his lips and the light of the moon highlights his face in various places and makes him look haunting yet beautiful at the same time.
"You know," he says as we lock eyes. "I didn't think you'd want to talk to me after tonight."
"To be honest, Elliot, I didn't want to." Right after we left the party I'd made my mind up that I didn't want to talk to him or Drake anymore. I told myself that everything would be easier if I forgot about my feelings, forgot about both Robertson brothers, and just tried to make the best of what I had left of my vacation. But the second I saw Elliot chucking rocks at my window those thoughts changed.
"I'm not usually like that. It's very rare that I let my temper get the best of me," he tells me.
"That's good to know," I say. "I'm not a fan of brawls." Especially brawls that might have to do with me.
"I don't know what came over me." Elliot shakes his head and clears his throat. "And to be honest, Drake and I don't have the best relationship, but we've never actually got into a physical fight."
"Really? I didn't get that impression." At that moment I think of the looks on both of their faces during that fight earlier, so fierce, so deadly. They reminded me of enemies who had been at war for decades and finally had a chance to end their feud with an epic battle. "Is it true what you said about Sydney?"
Elliot is silent for a moment, stops walking, and then takes both of my hands in his. He stares deep into my eyes and releases my left hand, gliding his thumb over my cheek. "Yes." I close my eyes and sigh. His touch makes my whole face tingle and it burns through my skin, traveling through my veins before adding a skip in my heartbeat.
My eyelids flutter and I open my eyes and Elliot's face is inches away from my mine. His blue eyes sear into mine and I notice a flicker of pain in them. Elliot's scent lingers in the air, a mixture of fresh air, Burberry cologne, and the ocean. I inhale deep, wanting to breathe him in forever. "You make me feel things I can't explain, Robin. Which is why I said that. I mean, even though Drake and I have always had a rocky relationship, I'd never rat out my brother. I didn't care that he hurt Sydney. That's their business."
His lips are so close to my ear that I can feel the heat from his breath as it dances over my earlobe. "Then why did you mention it?" I whisper, hoping I can hide the quiver in my voice. Elliot is making me feel so many things right now. Nervous and scared. Excited and anxious. I want him to kiss me now more than I've ever wanted Drake to. This is torture. Inside I'm screaming please. Please crush your mouth to mine and make my fantasy a reality.
"Because I couldn't stand to see him hurt you the way her hurt Sydney."
I'm speechless and I think it's odd that he could care about me this much in seven days. "Why? You barely know me."
"I know this is going to sound strange and I know everything seems like it's moving fast, but that first time I saw you after I hit you with the door at CNU, it's like something inside of me clicked. It's like I had this urge inside of me. A deep, plunging urge that sat in the pit of my stomach. I wanted you. I wanted you bad. And more than anything I wanted you in a way that I've never wanted anyone else." Elliot smiles and the sight of his perfect wide-toothed grin takes my breath away. "Believe me," he goes on. "It terrified me at first. I've dated around, slept around, and I even had some serious relationships. But none of the girls I've dated or been with have made me feel the way you have, Robin. None of the girls have ever made me feel so whole, so complete. And what terrified me more than anything was that I knew I felt something that deep with one look."
I turn away from him trying to breathe normally, but it's just not possible. He strangles me, squeezing my lungs with his smile, his words, and his beautiful face. He make me shiver with delight, feel safe, and sets my heart ablaze with a passionate fire that I can't put out.
And I don't want to.
Elliot places his hand on my chin and gently guides my gaze back toward his. Then he slides his hand down my body and rests it on the small of my back. "You know Drake isn't my only brother. There are four of us all-together. And when I was a kid I can remember all of us kids sitting around the table in the kitchen on Sunday mornings and my Dad would sit at the head of the table and my Mom would be at the stove flipping pancakes. And I'd always notice the way my Dad looked at my Mom. The flicker of emotion in his eyes, so full of love, respect, and devotion. Almost like the way they felt about each other was so powerful that nothing could make it fade. But what I remember more vividly than anything is what he'd said to me on several occasions."
He'd give me a gentle slap on the shoulder and say, "You know son," and then he'd look at all of us, "I knew I loved your Mom the first time I laid eyes on her. And I said to myself. I'm gonna marry that girl."
"I know that sounds ridiculous and cliché as hell, right? At the time, I'd rolled my eyes and thought to myself what a freaking crock of shit. How can you possibly take one look at a person and see your whole life? How could any man look at a woman and know that he doesn't need anyone else without ever engaging in conversation? And I stood true to that belief. Until I saw you for the first time."
I don't even know what to say or how to react. I just know that I still can't breathe and that about a second ago my heart began palpitating. "Elliot---I!"
He silences me with his lips. Not a full on kiss, but a soft, sensual brush of his lips against mine that leaves me dangling on the edge of fantasy and reality and all I can think about is how I want more. Just give me another, please. I'm begging for it.
"Robin," Elliot whispers. My eyes are closed and I inhale the smell of his sweet breath as I suck it into my lungs. "Open your eyes. Look at me."
I do as he tells me. I open my eyes wide and gaze into a sea of gray-blue waves, feeling like with every flutter of his eyelids, that somehow his wave-like irises are caressing my skin. Like I'm floating on top of water and I love the gentle slap of wetness against my skin. "Yes, Elliot," I murmur.
My eyes wander over his face. He looks serene. He's the ocean on a windless day, tranquil and still.
For a nanosecond I think of Drake and how he makes me feel. Despite how he betrayed me he made me feel wanted, desired, and sexy. This feeling I'm getting from Elliot, the deep blossoming desire that feels almost like an ache, starting at the pit of my stomach, and traveling through every part of me is not the same. It's more. Much, much more. And I'm overwhelmed by it.
Elliot pulls me down into the sand with him. He hovers half on top of me and brushes a strand of hair off my cheek. I moan, filled up with a wicked ravenous pleasure that I hope never fades. Elliot leans in closer to my ear. He's inches away. Then centimeters. His lips are so close, I feel the flick of his tongue against my earlobe. He breathes on me, panting. His hot breath trails down the nape of my neck and brings on a fresh array of goose bumps. Then he murmurs softly, into my ear, "I can't say that I love you for sure, Robin. But I wish you'd let me try."
Suddenly his lips are on mine, smothering the burning desire inside of me. Part of me wants to scream his name. Part of me wants to tell him that he has my mind, my heart, and my soul. He makes the infatuation I had with his brother seem silly and childish.
I know this sounds funny. I'm not in love with Elliot...yet, but I love everything about him if that makes any sense. I love how he can make any situation seem light-hearted and funny even if it's serious. I love how he can twist my emotions from anger to happiness with one flash of his stellar smile. More than anything I love that he has depth and is not just a pretty face. And there's so much more that I love about him, but if I'd said it all I feel like I could rattle on about his amazing qualities for hours. Maybe even days.
Elliot slides his arm underneath the curve in my back and clutches me tighter. He's holding me delicately, kissing me strategically as he moves away from my mouth and kisses all the way down my neck. Then it hits me all once, the only place I want to be is in this moment, mentally and physically, wrapped in a passionate embrace, and so numbed by Elliot's warm lips against my neck that I can't think of anything else.
Most of all, I come to the realization that Drake was just an illusion of what I thought I wanted and that Elliot, well, he's the real deal.
24
If I could wake up in your arms every day for the rest of my life, I'd be the happiest woman on earth.
I wake up to shouting. Not just random shouting. Several people shouting and they're all shouting the same thing. "Robin!"
Shit. I open my eyes and the sun hasn't come up over the horizon yet, but it's definitely early morning and I realize I never came home. I'm still wrapped in Elliot's arms and as I lift the right one he moans and opens his eyes. "Good morning," I say with a smile.
His eyes are still closed, but he returns the smile. "Good morning." Elliot doesn't move from his spot and I try to pull away. I glance over my shoulder and I can see mom, dad, and Whit dashing toward me and the looks on their faces are anything but happy. Elliot tightens his grip on me and tries to get force me back down. "Lie back down, Robin. It's still early and I was having a nice dream about you."
I blush and flattered and thankful that his eyes are still closed. "That's great, Elliot, but if you don't get out of here I'm pretty sure that when my Dad gets closer he's going to break at least one of your bones."
Elliot bolts upright looks over his shoulder, eyes wide with panic as he catches a glimpse of my father. Oh, no Dad looks like he's growling. Even when he's mad he's never like this. I've never seen his face so red.
This is bad. Really, really bad. In one swift motion, Elliot hops to his feet, kisses the top of my head and takes off running. I stand, facing my parents and Whit as they get closer and watch dad as he takes off, running after Elliot. "You get back here you little punk!" Dad screams. "What did you do with my daughter?"
"DAD! Stop!" I'm shrieking at the top of my lungs and I don't care who hears me. During that moment I don't care if I wake up the whole town. "He didn't do anything!"
Mom and Whit stop in front of me and mom shakes her head, then walks over to me and clutches my elbow. "What were you thinking, Robin Sue?" She takes a deep breath and tugs me by the arm over to where Whit is standing.
"We were so worried!" Whit shouts and folds her arms across my chest. Mom nods and huffs in agreement and then Whit leans close to my ear, her jaw clenched, and whispers in a sing-song voice, "If you would have told me where you were going I would have covered for you."
"Sorry," I whisper back. "It was a heat of the moment kind of thing."
All three of us watch Elliot as he puts more distance between himself and Dad.
Frustrated, Dad throws his arms up in the air and kicks up some sand with his right foot before stomping back over to Mom, Whit, and me. "If I ever see that kid again," Dad shouts, pointing his finger at me. "He won't have any arms to hug you with!"
I try to pull away from mom, but she grips my elbow tighter. "Dad! Stop overreacting! Nothing happened! And I'm eighteen years old! I'm going to be around boys and have relationships with them! There's nothing you can do to stop it!"
"Not if I can help it! I'm not going to let some creep take advantage of my daughter!"
"He's not a creep! And what part of nothing happened do you not understand?"
"I was a teenage boy once too, Robin," dad growls now only a few feet away from me. "I know how they think."
"Ugh, dad!" I shriek as a deep shade of scarlet takes up permanent residence in my cheeks. "T.M.I!"
I glance at Whit and I can tell by the look on her face that she has no idea what to do or say. In fact by the way her lips are bunched together almost into a pucker it looks like she's trying to hold back her laughter. Or maybe she's just as disgusted as I am about my dad's teenage boy hormone confession.
"Did he at least use protection?" Mom eyes me with concern. "I know how irresponsible some boys can be about this sort of thing."
Oh. My. God. Can this situation get any worse? I wonder if there's like some sort of embarrassment meter hidden somewhere on the beach. It's probably going off right about now. Ding. Ding. Ding. Robin Mason has hit her limit. I might as well just bury my head in a hole.
"You." Dad wags his finger an inch away from my face. "You're grounded young lady." There's an adamant tone to his voice.
"Dad!" I protest. "You can be serious! Vacation is over tomorrow!" I don't want to spend the last day of vacation cooped up in the beach house. I face mom. "Mom, can't you do something?"
Mom gives Dad a soft look. "Hun, if you're going to punish her, which I completely agree with by the way, I think you should start it as soon as we get home. It's vacation and honestly, I don't want to spend my last night babysitting my college bound daughter."
Dad seems to be thinking over mom's solution. "Fine." He points a finger at me again. "But the second we get back Robin Sue, you can kiss the rest of your summer goodbye." Then dad stalks ahead wandering back to the house by himself while Mom, Whit and I stagger behind.
"I can't believe him," I say, letting out a frustrated sigh. "He's completely overreacting."
Mom smiles and pats my shoulder. "Give him a break, honey. His only daughter just spent the night on the beach with a guy, is going off to college in the fall, and is pretty much a grown up. I think he's having a hard time handling it all. On top of that, you never came home last night."
"I swear Mom; I didn't even realize I fell asleep." Of course I didn't I was way too busy locking lips with Elliot Robertson. I glance between Mom and Whit. "I'm sorry I worried you guys."
Mom wraps an arm around my shoulder and holds me close. "We forgive you, sweetheart. After all, that's what growing up is all about. You make mistakes, reckless decisions, and have momentary lapses of judgment. But what's important is that you learn from all that."
"Consider this a lesson learned."
Mom kisses the top of my head. "Good."
At the house, dad isn't around and mom leaves me and Whit alone to go off and find him.
In our room, I plop down on the bed and Whit sits down next to me, pulling her legs into an Indian style position. "I hope you're prepared to give me all of the juicy deets."
I laugh. "The deets, eh?"
"Yes," she says, "Spill it sister."
First I tell Whit about my talk with Sadie and how we've made peace. Then I tell her that maybe we should invite her to the town fair with us. Whit scowls and I explain that I made assumptions about Sadie and that she really isn't all that bad. And Whit reluctantly agrees that we should invite her since this is technically our last day of vacation and it would be a nice thing to do. Then I tell Whit about my night with Elliot, about our deep conversation, us making out for half of the night, and finally me falling asleep in his arms.
After I finish I fall back on the bed and Whit lies down next to me. "But I thought you didn't like Elliot like that." Whit rolls over onto her side and faces me.
"Did I say that?" I don't remember saying that.
"I guess I assumed that you didn't like him like that."
"You assumed wrong, my friend."
"What about Drake?"
"That's over."
Whit shakes her head and eyes me suspiciously.
I look at her. "What?" She doesn't say anything and I know the look on her face is her I-don't-believe-you-look.
"You mean to tell me you're completely over Drake. Just like that."
"No. Not just like that." I roll over and face her, propping my head up in my hand. "I can't trust, Drake. And I don't think I'll be able to ever again. We wouldn't last and besides even if he was lying when he told me he didn't like me like that. He doesn't want a relationship with anyone. He wants to be free to do what he wants."
Whit shrugs and lies flat on her back. "If you say so."
"Why do I feel like you mean something else when you say that?"
Whit quirks me a grin. "Maybe because I do."
"Please enlighten me then, Whitney Ralston. What exactly do you mean? And please don't tell me you've had this miraculous epiphany and now you think I should give the whole Drake thing another shot."
Whit rolls her eyes. "God, no. That's not what I mean at all. What I mean is that I think you think you're over him, but you're not. Robin, you spent years pining over this guy. And just last week you told me you thought you loved him. I think it's going to take a lot more than just a few mind-blowing kisses with his brother to make you really forget about him." Whit sighs, staring up at the ceiling. "I know you wouldn't admit to this in front of your parents, but you know you can tell me the truth. Did you really sleep with Elliot?"
"No, Whit. Of course not. You know me, I may do other reckless things, but that's not one of them." It's not that I'm saving myself for marriage or anything. I guess I'm just saving myself for the right moment and for the right person. It's funny to me how I started out the vacation thinking that Drake might be that right person. How wrong was I?
"You know what, Robin?"
Whit stands and I sit upright. "What?"
"You know how much I despise Drake for the way he hurt you. But I think you owe it to yourself to talk to him one last time."
What in God's name is she smoking? "Have you lost your effing mind?"
"No," Whit says placing her hands on her hips. "Actually I'm being logical. You can sit here and tell me you're over him all you want, but I saw you last night when he and Elliot were fighting over you. I saw the look in your eye. You still wanted him."
"I did not!"
Whit lowers her head and slits her eyes. "You didn't have a mirror. You didn't see the look on your face. I did. I know that look. I gave Bobby Coulsen plenty of those looks. You need to talk to him. When you're with him you'll know for sure whether you're over him or not."
"Are you smoking crack?"
Whit laughs and shakes her head, lingering in the doorway. "Trust me, Robs. I know what I'm talking about. You need to have closure involving the Drake situation because If you still feel something for Drake there's no point in starting up anything with Elliot because the only thing you're going to do is hurt him." Whit walks out the door and leaves me alone in the bedroom to drown in my own thoughts.
I know she was only saying that stuff about Drake because she cares and she wants me to be sure that I'm making the right decision in wanting to be with Elliot or start up a relationship with him. But there is one thing I'm one hundred percent certain of; I am not going to seek him and talk to him because there's a questioning part of me that keeps asking; what if she's right?
What if Whit's right?
That question is too powerful and too frightening to even think about, so I tuck it into a corner of my brain and tell myself that even if I do see Drake tonight I am going to avoid him like the plague.
25
Until you are broken, you don't know what you're made of.
Author Unknown
Sadie leans against the bedroom door and shakes her head and she watches Whit straighten the same piece of her hair for what seems to be the twentieth time in a row. I sit on the bed. I've been ready for the last hour. Sadie glances at me. "Does she always take this long?"
I laugh. "This is nothing."
Whit's eyes shift between me and Sadie as she watches us through the mirror. "I can hear you guys," she mutters, putting on her lip gloss.
"She's started the lip gloss," I comment to Sadie. "Don't worry she'll only be another twenty minutes."
Whit unzips her makeup bag and throws her lip gloss in it. "No, I won't I'm done."
Sadie lets out a breath and I stand. Whit picks her purse up from off the floor and shoves her makeup bag inside. "Don't you two know that the beautification process takes time?"
"An hour or two, yes," I say. "Not half of the day."
Whit huffs and slings her purse over her shoulder.
The three of us pile into my parent's car. They went to the fair too, but left early and rode with Sadie's parents so that we could use the car. The Fourth of July Festival is only a few miles away and mom left me directions on the counter so I made sure to grab those before heading out the door.
It only takes fifteen minutes to drive there. We park the car, I hit the lock button, and double-check all the doors, then Sadie, Whit, and I walk to the entrance.
There's a huge red, white, and blue banner hanging from two metal poles that reads: Happy Fourth of July. And the tiny fair that only consists of some food booths, a bouncy house for kids, pony rides, and a few games is packed full of what I assume to be townspeople and tourists.
Sadie snags a flier off a table next to the entrance as we walk through and holds it up. "Ohh! Fireworks tonight!"
"Fun," I say.
Whit grabs both of our wrists and starts pulling us through the crowd of people. "Let's go see if we can find some hotties to watch them with."
Well, Whit and Sadie can find some hotties to watch the fireworks with. The only person I want to be curled up on a blanket with, watching the brilliant display of colors in the sky with is Elliot. I wonder if he'll be here. Silently, I laugh off the thought. There's no doubt in my mind he'll be here at some point. And I know since our departing this morning it's going to be an awkward encounter. I replay the image of my dad chasing him down the beach and shudder. Awkward indeed.
We pass an Oriental Express booth and enticing scent of fried rice wafts up my nostrils. A loud growl escapes from my belly and I whine, "I want an eggroll."
I haven't eaten anything since lunch and my mouth is salivating at the thought of some good ol greasy, fried fair food.
Whit releases my wrist and she and Sadie wait off to the side while I wait in line.
There are three people in front of me and the person who is currently up at the counter is ordering the whole damn menu. A loud howl rumbles from my stomach and I wrap my arms around my abdomen thinking that might silence it. I'm wrong. A few more grumbles roll out and by that time the person who just ordered a whole smorgasbord steps out of line with four white bags.
By the time I actually make it up the window I'm thinking I might want two eggrolls instead of one. I go with that. "I'd like two vegetable eggrolls," I tell the person waiting on me as he goes off to make them I reach into my pocket for some cash. And while I'm fishing around for change I hear Whit's high-pitched laughter and turn my attention toward her and Sadie. Two guys have struck up a conversation with them and Whit is giving the raven-haired guy she's talking to a flirty grin. I turn back to the window and pay for my food, grab my eggrolls and inhale one as I make my way over to Whit and Sadie.
But I don't make it very far.
I smack into someone's back and drop my other eggroll. I'm still so hungry and as I keep my eyes on the eggroll on the pavement I wonder if the five second rule would apply here. Ewww, what am I thinking? Definitely not. Seconds later a heavy set man steps on it and squashes it. There goes that idea anyway.
The person who I ran into is facing me and I stare long and hard at his feet before working my way up to his eyes. A set of gray-blue eyes that are only focused on me. But they're not the pair of gray-eyes I've been hoping for because they don't belong to Elliot. They belong to Drake. "Hey, kid. Can we talk for a second?"
I really wish I could tell him no. Part of me is screaming the word. No! No! No! The other part of me wants to hear what he has to say. Then again, what could he possibly say to me that's going to make everything he's done okay? Whit told me that I'd know if I still have feelings for him if I talked to him and right now I'm not getting anything from him but annoyance. "No," I tell him making my way back over to Whit.
"Just hear me out, please," he pleads and grabs my elbow. I face him and decide that maybe I should just let him talk. I know what he says to me isn't going to change my opinion of him and I decide that if I just pretend like I'm listening to him that maybe he'll go away.
Somehow I doubt it.
"You've got sixty seconds," I tell him and fold my arms across my chest.
"Okay," he says. "I lied when I said I didn't like you like that." He waits for me to respond, but I don't so he goes on. "I made a mistake with Sydney. I cheated and there isn't a day that goes by where I don't regret what I did to her. I did love her, but there was something missing from our relationship. There was no spark. But, you kid, you give me that spark." Drake shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks on his heels and I can tell expressing the way he feels is hard for him. "It terrified me at first, the way I felt about you. It terrified me so much I tried anything to push you away. I messed around with Sadie, I told you I didn't like you, I even tried to keep my distance, but I couldn't. And when I saw you on the beach kissing Elliot, I went crazy. I lost it. Kid, you're the missing piece to my puzzle. I want you. I need you."
I don't know what to say. The person I was at the beginning of this vacation would have collapsed into his arms and drank in every word. I would have told him to hold me, kiss me, touch me, and never let me go. But I'm not the same person. I don't feel the same way. "I'm sorry, Drake, but I---."
Before I can even get the rest of my words out he's kissing me, passionate and deep.
At first, my eyes go wide and I try to push him away, but he's so insistent. And I'm so stupid. I lose myself in it---the kiss---and as it gets more intense and both of us start to breathe heavy, I wait to feel something. But I don't. I feel nothing.
Don't get me wrong, Drake is a fabulous kisser, but the all of the jumbled emotions I used to experience when kissing him are gone.
When Drake backs out of the kiss his eyes are still closed and he lets out a soft sigh. His eyes open slowly and he smiles. "That was amazing." I'm glad he thinks so because for me it wasn't amazing at all.
I open my mouth to tell him how I feel when I hear a third voice joining our little party. "Am I seeing straight?" A sickening feeling tears through the lining of my stomach and shivers of panic runs down my spine as I turn my head, facing voice number three. Elliot. He scowls, eyes wandering between me and Drake. "What the fuck was that?"
I've never seen so much anger in his pale blue eyes. "Elliot," I choke out. Tears are welling up in my eyes and I can't see straight. "It was nothing, I swear." Elliot lowers his head, bites his bottom lip, and huffs. When he lifts his head again the hurt look on his face rips my heart out. "Just let me explain." I move toward him and he backs away. I take another step forward and he backs away again. I reach out to him then glimpse at my trembling fingertips. "Elliot, please. It's not what you think it is."
Elliot clenches his jaw and growls, "You're not who I thought you were, Robin." And before I can respond he turns away from me and takes off, disappearing into the crowd.
I start after him and Drake catches me by the arm. "Let him go," he says. "He'll get over it."
I peel Drake's fingers off my arm and frown. "No, you will because you're not the one I want. He is."
Then I leave Drake standing amongst a crowd of people and set off to find the boy who thinks I've wronged him.
The boy who has my heart, Elliot.
26
The heart is like a piece of fine China; delicate, fragile, and easily broken.
I'm running. I shove into body after body, determination pumping through me. As I pick up speed, I take an elbow to the gut and wince, hunching over, dry heaving, but I don't let it slow me down. I push through and swallow the pain.
Elliot is almost a foot taller than me so I'm able to keep my eyes on the back of his blond head as he maneuvers through the crowd. "Elliot! Wait!" I shout. The scuffling footsteps, incessant chatter, and music from the carnival games mutes the sound of my voice and he doesn't hear me.
Elliot hangs a right and it only takes me seconds to realize where he's going. The docks. The place where his boat is parked.
I think back to that dreaded day where he took me and Whit sailing. Honestly though, the day really wasn't that dreaded. I recall the concern in his voice when he asked me if I was okay, while I was throwing up over the side of the boat. I recall how gentle his touch was when he helped me off of the boat and guided me into Whit's arms. More than anything I recall the emotion that was in his eyes because I assume the thought of me not enjoying myself bothered him.
Heat rises to my cheeks and I feel like they're boiling. Tears sting my eyes and rain down my face. After that boat ride was when I realized I more than liked him and now he's slipping away. And I can't handle it. My chest heaves, my limbs are trembling, and my heart has blown up into bits and pieces of flesh, splattered on white canvas.
I slow my pace when I reach the dock and my footsteps echo against the wood. I'm breathing heavily and I can still see Elliot feet away. As I lurk closer the wood beneath my feet snaps and creaks and apart from my plodding footsteps the only sound is the gentle slapping of water against the hulls of the boats parked here.
I can't remember the last time I ran that hard. Maybe gym glass when I was in the tenth grade.
"Elliot!" I shout as I hang my head in between my knees, trying to catch my breath.
Elliot's footsteps fill my ears and when he hears me call his name his entire body goes rigid. It's almost like he's afraid to move. Or face me. It's always easier to run away from something that's bothering you or causes you pain. I know that first hand because I'm excellent at shutting people out, at running away from my problems and feelings and insecurities.
But what I've learned is you can't shut yourself off to the way you feel. You can't push your feelings aside and pretend they don't exist. Even if you tell yourself to move on and ignore them you can't. They'll always be there, stabbing at your heart, your mind, and the core of your soul reminding you that they need to be felt. That you need to care. Otherwise those feelings will gnaw at you, tear at you, and consume you before breaking you down bit by bit.
Right now Elliot is trying to shut me out and I'm not going to let him.
"Elliot, please." I lurch closer to him. I've reached the point where I know I'm begging, but I can't help it. I am desperate. "I swear, Elliot that kiss meant nothing."
He hasn't moved since he heard me call his name and it's making me nervous. "You could at least look at me," I say with a spike of emotion in my voice and tears filling up my eyes.
Elliot spins around slowly, facing me. For a second I breathe a sigh of relief until I notice the look on his face. He's glaring, his lips turned down into a frown, and his eyes are hard. Two blocks of blue cement. "What do you want?" His tone is freezing and I shudder.
Bravely, I take a few steps closer. "I want you to hear me out," I tell him, pleading with my eyes. But he won't look into my eyes. He's all over the place, staring at the dock, out into the dark waters of the ocean, and over his shoulder, staring at the rows of docked boats.
"Why don't you tell me why I should listen to what you have to say?"
"Because what you saw wasn't what you think it is."
"What I saw was you kissing my brother."
"But that's not---!"
Elliot laughs. His laugh is laced with coldness and anger. It reminds of the laughs villains'' in movies let out when they've just finished their evil deed of the day. And the sound of that laugh coming from Elliot terrifies me. He's never like this. He's warm, and happy, and loving. I think I've driven him crazy. His laughter dies down and he struts toward me, arms folded across his muscled chest, a wicked gleam in his eye. "You know," he begins in a low, raspy voice, "You're just like him, Robin. You're the female version of my brother."
His comment stabs at my heart and I clutch my chest as the pain deepens and starts throbbing. I suck back oncoming tears and swallow hard before uttering, "How can you say that? Are you listening to yourself? I am nothing like Drake."
Drake is a lot of things. He's beautiful, charming, and sexy.
And he knows it.
Despite what he has told me in the past I know he's the type of guy who takes what he wants, does whatever he wants with it, and he doesn't care who has to hurt to get what he wants. He carries with him a sense of entitlement along with selfishness and conceit and jealousy. No matter what Elliot says I know I am nothing like that. Why? Because I have compassion for other people's feelings.
Believe me; I have moments where I act out of stupidity. I make stupid decisions, have involuntary brain farts, and have plenty of moments where I want to punch myself in the face for doing the wrong thing. But most of those situations are misconstrued or I've done something absentmindedly. I've never hurt anyone's feelings intentionally or even tried to.
Sometimes I think I care about other people's feelings too much. Mainly because I always ask myself how I'd feel if I was in their shoes.
Elliot clenches his jaw and sneers, "But you are just like him. You knew how I felt about you. I poured my heart out to you." He raises his voice. "I've never done that with any other girl! But I did it with you, Robin! I opened myself up because I thought you were different, but I guess I was wrong." Elliot lifts his chin and starts backing away. "You're not different, Robin. You are just like him. Obviously you didn't care about my feelings at all because even if I didn't catch you somebody else would have and they would have told me."
"Different how, Elliot? Is it because I'm not that pretty?" I struggle as the words leave my lips. Somehow I always revert back to that. I always revert back to the fact that I'm plain and normal and clearly not beautiful enough for him. I think of this because I assume maybe someone radiantly beautiful, like Elliot would fall for me because he thought a normal girl would never hurt him.
"That has nothing to do with this!" he shrieks. "And how could you even think that of me? Robin, I don't think you're pretty. I think you're gorgeous. I think you're smart and funny!" He rakes a hand through his hair then clenches his fists at his sides. "I thought you were loyal. Which is why I said you're not the person I thought you were. And that's why I said you're just like my brother!"
His words melt my insides and more tears stream from my eyes. "He kissed me!" I've reached the point where I'm shouting. "I didn't want him to and I didn't even enjoy it!"
Elliot narrows his eyes. "You sure looked like you weren't enjoying it," he says sarcastically. "For God's sake you were making out with him in the middle of a fucking fair!"
"Not intentionally! Damn you Elliot, listen to me! I'm trying to you that I want you! I don't care about Drake!"
Elliot shakes his head and turns his back to me. "Too bad you have a funny way of showing it."
He reaches his boat and hops over the side of it. I follow him down the dock. I stand across from him, tears streaming down my cheeks, anguish written all over my face. I reach out for him with trembling fingers, but he just stares at me emotionless. "Elliot, please. Don't do this. What was I supposed to do, huh? Did you want me to slug him?" Violence is not my style.
Elliot reaches over the side of the boat and pulls the anchor out of the water. Then he removes a rope that's wrapped around a wooden post. "Maybe this is my fault too," he says calmly. "I should have never let myself fall for someone who clearly has the hot's for my brother."
"I don't have the hot's for your brother," I tell him as a thick wad of saliva takes up residence in my throat.
He leans over the side of the boat again placing both of his palms on the dock. He's inches away from me and I can feel the heat from his body radiating onto mine. I reach out and touch his arm, desperate to feel his warm flesh beneath my fingertips, but the second I do, he yanks his arm away as if he's disgusted by my touch, then he pushes the boat away from the dock with his free hand.
He boat drifts away from the dock and I listen as the engine roars, coming to life. Part of me is tempted to jump into the water and make a swim for it. I need him to let me finish. I need him to understand the way I feel about him. More than anything I need him to know that if I can't have him, I don't want anybody else.
I've heard people say that love doesn't happen overnight. I've heard them say that it takes years to truly love someone. But that's not true. I refuse to believe it. You can feel it in an instant. Sometimes all it takes is one glance and you know because loving someone is that powerful, that meaningful, that one true thing.
Love can happen overnight and it did with me and Elliot. I know it and can feel it just like I feel my heart beating in my chest.
So just before Elliot speeds off into the darkness I shout, "Please don't go, Elliot. I love you! Don't turn your back on me!"
But he doesn't hear me. The roaring engine of the boat is too loud. Instead he gives me a tortured glance, bites his bottom lip, shakes his head and speeds off into the darkness.
I hit my knees, still calling out his name, but pretty soon he's so far away I can't even hear the boat engine. I feel sick and empty and lost. I feel broken and damaged and a dull pain throbs in my side. If this is what real heartbreak feels like I'm glad I've never experienced it before.
What I felt when Drake betrayed me was minor compared to this. What I felt when Drake betrayed me was like a tiny pin-prick to the heart. And this...
This feeling...
It feels like all of my organs are covered in flames. Burning and burning and burning. There's nothing to put out the fire.
Yeah, love fucking hurts.
27
It is worth it to give love everything you have.
I've tried calling Elliot. He won't return any of my calls. I've texted too.
Elliot plz talk 2 me
I've been tryin 2 get a hold of u
Plz text me back
He won't return my texts either.
I've walked up and down the beach several times and I haven't seen him around. I even went down to the docks. His boat is parked in its usual spot, but he isn't there. So after pleading with my mom for thirty minutes, I get her to let me use the car.
I ask Whit if she wants to come, but she declines and says she'll do me a favor by packing my suitcases for me. But she also says that I owe her for it. Typical Whit comment.
"You better hurry back with the car!" mom yells at me as I back out of the driveway. "We're leaving in an hour!"
"I swear I'll be back in twenty minutes!"
Now I'm on my way to Drake's frat house, the place where Elliot is staying. It's my last resort and even if he still won't see me I know I have to try.
I sit in front of the house, playing with my fingers, tapping my foot against the floor of the car, and try to talk myself into turning the car around and driving back to the beach house. As much as it's going to kill me, I know I can't chicken out. I need to see him again.
Even if this will be the last time.
I know we're going to the same college in the fall, but the chances of me actually seeing him on campus is slim. The campus is huge and I seriously doubt we'll have any of the same classes. So, I get out of the car, stroll up the walkway, and slam my fist into the screen door.
A minute later, I recognize the dark-haired guy Whit was talking to the other night when he opens the door. "Hi," he says greeting me with a smile.
"Hi," I reply, my voice shaky. "Is Elliot here?"
The echo of footsteps sounds off and the guy looks over his shoulder. "Yo, Drake! Is your bro here?"
Every limb on my body stiffens when the guy says "Drake." When I left him at the fair yesterday I told him I wanted Elliot and ran off. This is going to be an uncomfortable situation.
Drake comes to the door, takes one look at me and nudges the guy at the door in the shoulder. "I'll take it from here, man." The guy steps aside and Drake opens the screen and steps outside. "Hi, kid."
I take a deep breath, relax my shoulders and ask, "Where's Elliot?"
Drake shrugs. "Hell if I know. He didn't come home last night."
This is turning out to be the worst day of my life. "Will you do me a favor?" Honestly, I don't expect him to say yes and he's giving me an awkward glance that makes me want curl up into a hole and bury myself.
At one point, all I'd ever wanted was for Drake to want me the way I wanted him. And it's weird to me how attraction works. It's like that song; You Can't Always Get What You Want. You can tell yourself when you want something, but most times it doesn't always work out that way.
"Sure, kid," Drake says, pulling me out of my reverie.
My eyes find his and I see a flash of pain in his pools of blue and it tears me apart that I'm the one inflicting that pain. I lower my gaze and stare at my feet. "Can you please tell Elliot I came looking for him?"
"Sure." His voice cracks and he clears his throat. "I'll tell him."
I linger on the porch for another minute. "Thanks." Then I pivot on my heel and walk down the porch steps.
Halfway to my car, Drake shouts, "Hey, Robin!"
I spin around and he's standing on the edge of the porch. "What's up?"
Drake steps down a few steps. "Give him time. Elliot can be a stubborn ass sometimes, but he'll come around."
A soft smile curls on my lips. "Thanks. That's good to know."
Drake is wearing a set of brown swim trunks. He shoves his fists into his pockets and throws his shoulders back. "Besides, he'd be an idiot if he let you slip through his fingers." He smiles, a smile full of regret.
"Thanks, Drake." I wait for a moment, watching as he turns around, going back into the house before walking the rest of the way to the car.
In the driver's seat I pause before starting the car. A deep, stabbing pain resurfaces. It punctures my side and intensifies and I wrap both of my arms around my sides, praying that the pain will die down soon. Drake's words replay in my mind; he'll come around. I hope he's right because I don't know how much longer I'll be able to live like this. Without Elliot I wonder if I'll always feel like a part of me is missing.
And I wonder how long it will take for me to feel whole again.
28
Three Months Later
Sometimes life leaves us no choice but to move on from the people we love but that does not mean we stop loving, caring, and missing them. Author Unkown
I'm buried in a stack of books when Whit parades through the door of our dorm. I've got an open can of red bull to my left and as she closes the door behind her I pick up the can and take a swig from it.
"Are you seriously still up?"
I avert my attention to Whit. Yesterday's makeup is smudged all over her face, her clothes are wrinkled, and her hair is sticking up in odd ways. "Someone did the walk of shame," I say, turning back to the books.
"Well I'm might have come home with my roommate and bestie if she was at the party with me."
"Don't you blame this on me," I say, trying to work out a problem from my calculus book. "You've always had a mind of your own." I know that even if I was there and tried to make her leave if she didn't want to she wouldn't have.
Whit walks over to me and pulls the pencil out of my hand. "This has to stop." Whit chucks the pencil across the room.
"Hey!" I snap and get up to find my pencil. "I have a huge Calc test Monday. I need to study!"
Whit grabs my shoulders and shakes me. "Enough with the bullshit, Robs. I know you know your Calc problems for the test. And I also know that you're missing out on the real college experience."
I peel her fingers off my shoulders and walk over to the left corner of the room to retrieve my pencil. "I'm not missing out on anything," I tell her. "You know the party scene isn't my thing." I pick up my pencil and face her, narrowing my eyes. "Besides, one of us really wants to do well in college."
Whit rolls her eyes and huffs, "Puuhhllease. We all know that you could get straight A's even if you strolled into class every morning drunk." My eyes widen and my mouth is agape. "I'm not saying that you'd ever do that. I'm just saying you don't need to bury yourself in the books to get awesome grades."
"Yes I do," I argue. "This isn't high school, Whitney."
Whit shakes her head and falls back on her bed. "You're trying to distract yourself on purpose. You're burying your head in your books because you don't know or won't know how to act to act if you see him."
"That's ridiculous," I say with an eye roll as I sit back down at my desk.
It's not ridiculous though. It scares me how right on Whit is. I've stayed in every weekend since we moved in two months ago and the only places I go to is the hub to eat and to the library. I know he could randomly pop up at either place, but somehow those places seem safer than parties or clubs. The library is quiet and big and I can hide in the back where no one really goes. The hub is always loud and crowded and I never stay very long. Only long enough to grab food and come back to the dorm.
"You've got to get over this," Whit tells me. "It was just a summer fling."
"No it wasn't." It wasn't a summer fling to me. I've thought about Elliot every day for the last three months. Not only thought, I have dreams about him and right after we left Paradise those dreams used to wake me up in the middle of the night. I'd be gasping for air, drenched in sweat, and sometimes I'd even yell so loud that my mom would have to come in and comfort me.
I know it all seems juvenile and silly, but I can't help the effect Elliot had on me. The effect he still has on me.
When we'd arrived home from Paradise I tried again to contact him, but he changed his cell number. Then I'd even tried to friend him on Facebook, but he declined the request. That led me to believe that he was done with me. That he never wanted to see me again. That I should just try to move on. But I found out even though I told myself I was going to do those things I couldn't. I couldn't move on.
I'm not afraid to see him out in public. I'm not afraid to talk to him. What I'm afraid of is his reaction to seeing me. What if I try to talk to him and he ignores me? What if he says something dickheadish? Or worse, what if he's already with another girl? That would be too much for me to handle. I am sure of it.
"Listen." Whit sits up and I look over at her. "So I know this bouncer at a club a few miles away from campus. He said he could sneak us in through the back. I mean you have to be twenty one to get in, but he kind of has the hots for me so he'll do whatever I want him to. I'm gonna go tonight, you should totally come."
"I'll pass."
Whit stomps over to me and rips the pencil out of my hand. "You're coming."
"Give me my pencil back," I demand.
"Nope." Whit lifts her arm and wiggles the pencil, tapping her shoulder with it. "I'm not giving it back until you agree to come with me tonight."
"Whit, I really don't want to."
"This is non-negotiable. You either agree or I'll wait until you go to the bathroom and then I'll hide your book and your pencil."
I exhale and shake my head. "If I agree to this, just this one time will you leave me alone?"
"Maybe."
"Fine." I reach up and snatch my pencil from her hand. "I'll go out with you tonight just this once, okay."
A smug grin curls on her lips. "That's my girl." Whit puts her back to me and digs under her bed for something.
"What are you doing?"
Whit swipes her shower basket out from under her bed. "I'm going to take a shower." She lifts her arm up and sniffs her armpit. "Ugh. I reek." I laugh and shake my head as she walks to the door. "After my shower I'm going to take a nap. You should too, Robs."
"I'll think about it," I say, my nose back in my book.
"No seriously. You pulled an all-nighter. Tonight is going to be epic and I think you'll want to stay awake for it."
"You think?"
Whit sighs, "Robs, sarcasm? Seriously?"
"All right. I'll take a damn nap with you," I say gruffly. I know Whit and the only way to get her off my case is to agree with her when she has an idea.
"Great."
Whit stalks down the hall to the showers and I take another swig of my red bull. I have to agree with her on one thing; whether tonight turns out good or bad it's definitely going to be epic.
29
Love puts the fun in together, the sad in apart, and the joy in a heart. Author Unknown
The club is called The Hideaway and as Whit and I cross the street I notice that the line is wrapped around the side of the building. This definitely must be the place to be on a Saturday night.
"Are we going to have to wait in that line?" I ask Whit.
"Of course not," she says as she grabs my hand pulling me to the front of it. "I told you before, I have connections."
We come to a halt at the front of the line. The bouncer is a tall, chubby guy with sandy blonde hair. He clutches a clipboard with both of his massive hands, staring down at a list of names and Whit clears her throat, commanding his attention. He lifts his eyes and a hint of redness floods his cheeks. Whit bats her eyelashes and reveals a flirty grin. Then the bouncer whose name is Ted (and I know this because Whit told me on the way here) eyes the line of people before leaning close to Whit's ear. "Go around the side of the building. The exit door is open," he whispers. "I've left two wristbands under the rock that's holding the door open."
"Thanks, doll." Whit gives him a peck on the cheek and we walk around to the side of the building. Sure enough when we get there, the door is open and I notice the hint of pink from the wristband peeking out from under the rock.
I snatch the wristbands and we both put them on, walking through the side entrance. "That wasn't right," I tell Whit as she closes the door behind her.
She scrunches her eyebrows together. "What wasn't right?"
We walk down a long, darkened hall and the sound of thumping music vibrates the walls. "You shouldn't lead that guy on like that. It's obvious that he really, really likes you."
"Who says I'm leading him on?" She says with a devious grin.
I stop walking, grip her arm, and shake my head. "Are you forgetting that I know you better than I know myself?" Whit has a tendency to flirt with guys she's clearly not attracted to, to get something she wants. In his school she used to flirt with this kid named Marty Flannery who was even nerdier than me. He had translucent skin and was always blowing his nose and Whit would flirt with him to get all the answers to her math homework because she never did it.
"Look," Whit says. "Can we discuss this later? Listen to the chaos going on inside. We're missing out on all the fun because you're having a heartfelt moment." Whit pulls her arm out of my grasp. "And besides, you of all people should talk."
I know she's referring to the summer and my little love triangle with Drake and Elliot so I shoot her a nasty that says don't-even-go-there.
She takes one look at my face and changes the subject. "Can't we just forget about all the boy drama and enjoy ourselves?"
I nod, even though I'm still a little pissed off and follow her into the club.
It makes me mad that she'd even compare what happened with me and Elliot to this situation. For starters, Whit uses guys to get what she wants and I didn't. I didn't use Elliot or Drake. I was confused about my feelings for them, there's a difference. But I suppose she's right about one thing; I'm definitely not the right person to be handing out advice on guys.
When we reach the end of the hall, Whit comes to a sudden stop. She brought up Elliot and thoughts of him have my mind in a whirl. I'm staring at my feet, and reminiscing about his words, his touch, and his kiss and I'm totally not paying attention to Whit's movements. So when she stops, I smack into her back and she stumbles forward.
"Hey!" she snaps. "Watch it, Robs."
"Sorry," I mutter, eyes still on the floor. Then I left my head slowly and gasp at the sight of my surrounds. "Oh. My. God. This place is amazing."
Whit nods. "I know, right?"
The club is split into four sections. Lining each side of the massive, open space are VIP sections with red, crushed velvet couches, roped off entrances, and they are secluded by walls of glass. In the back portion of the club is a stage-like area with more of the velvet couches and bar that's whole counter is lit up.
Colored lights flash. Red, white, and purple. Music blasts through speakers that are hanging in all four corners of the room. The wide dance floor is packed with couples dancing, gyrating, and swaying back and forth to Jason DeRulo's Don't Wanna Go Home. There's another bar a few feet in front of us with a lit up counter just like the one in the back.
Whit grabs my hand and leads the way, stopping at an open spot at the bar. She faces me and shouts over the music. "I've got the first round! What do you want to drink?"
"I don't want anything!" I shout back then lean in close to her ear. "What if they card us?"
"Chill!" She lifts her hand and dangles her wrist with the pink wristband in my face. "We're cool."
The bartender approaches us and I tune Whit out as she orders us drinks. I pay close attention to the couples on the dance floor. Even though I assume most of them aren't actual couples the way they move so close to one another and touch each other so intimately seems so beautiful. Even if they are grinding together in a drunken haze.
Witnessing the PDA makes me think of the way I used to feel when Elliot's hand would glide over my bare skin. How his touch would make me shiver in delight and fill me with such an overwhelming sense of joy that I thought I might burst. I miss that feeling. I miss his touch. I miss his smile. I miss the way he used to bit his bottom lip when he was perplexed. I miss every part of him and I'm aching inside because of it. So when Whit hands me my drink, I bring it to my lips and chug it down with one gulp.
"Jesus, Robin!" Whit shouts over the noise. "You're supposed to sip your drink!"
I face the bar, ready to order another. It doesn't matter where I go or what I'm doing. Elliot is always there, taunting me with flashbacks of his beautiful face. His poetic words replay in my mind like a skipping record. And at times I swear I can almost feel his hands caressing me. The bartender comes over and I order three more drinks. Two for myself and one for Whit. I tell myself that if I can't forget about Elliot when I'm sober then maybe I can forget about him if I'm drunk.
So when the bartender comes over and hands me the three drinks. I pay for them and include a generous tip. Then I turn, handing Whit hers and down my next two in record time before ordering another.
After three more drinks I'm not really sure how much time has passed because I've reached the point where everything is starting to melt together. People's faces fade in and out of focus, the lights are a mixture of who the hell knows what color, and I can't even distinguish if the person singing the song that's blasting from the speakers is a man or a woman.
Whit laces her arm through mine and she pulls me out to the dance floor. We squeeze ourselves in between a few couples, making our way to a slight opening in the middle. I laugh as Whit takes my hand and spins me around in circle. It's like we're in own little world. It's like the entire club is abandoned and it's just us, having the time of our lives.
I spin Whit toward me in a sloppy ballroom style move and dip her backwards, trying to be slick. The only problem is that I'm way too wasted to try and be slick and when I dip her I can't get a firm grip on her and she falls from my grasp onto the floor. Her drink spills all over her shirt and I stifle back a laugh by throwing my hands over my mouth.
I expect her to be extremely pissed, to throw her hands up into the air and should obscenities, causing a scene. But she doesn't. Instead, she yanks on my arm and pulls me down to the floor with her. For a good ten minutes we both sit there on the dance floor in the middle of that packed club laughing our asses off while several dancing couples stop to look at us.
As I scan some of the disgruntled faces of guys and girls I realize that I don't care that they are staring. I don't care that I'm on the floor in the middle of the club laughing my ass off like a drunken idiot. This is the first time since summer vacation where I've felt like I've had fun. The first time that I've forgotten about Elliot, the way he makes me feel, the situation I created between me, his brother, and him, and the drama that came with that situation.
And it feels good.
Whit stands up first and stumbles a little. After she catches her balance she extends her hand to me and helps me to my feet. I stagger backward slightly, but Whit grips my arm tightly, steadying me. I'm still trying to contain my laughter, but I'm slap-happy and silly and so out of breath from laughing so hard that there's a throbbing pain in my side. I place my hand against my right ribcage, pressing onto it as Whit leans in toward my ear. "I'm going to get another drink," she shouts. "You game?"
The massive room starts to tilt from side to side and I have to blink a few times to see straight. I think I'm good as far as drinks go. "No," I tell her. "I'm gonna stay here."
"Okay! I'll be right back! Stay here!"
After Whit wanders off a slower song is played and I close my eyes, letting the music infect my soul. It fills me up with relaxation and serenity and I sway back and forth, losing myself in it.
It's amazing how music can make your mood shift. It's amazing how one minute you're bopping around to some pop song and the next a slow seductive number is played and you feel your body start to go limp. My eyes are closed and I snake my fingers through my hair. I'm completely tuned out to my surroundings and If I was sober I'd laugh at someone like me who is in the middle of the dance floor having a slow, romantic dance with herself.
But I'm not sober so who the hell cares.
I stretch my arms backward then do a lil spin, but during that spin my fingers connect with something and I hear a guy scream, "What the fuck?" Oops.
At first I don't really care that I might have spilled his drink or something. My mind is too far gone to feel any remorse for my actions. But when he rambles on and says, "It's all over my damn shirt." That's when I freeze. That's the moment when my spine stiffens and my heart plummets to the pit of my stomach.
I know that voice, a voice that has whispered seductive, sweet things into my ear. A voice that could make my heart go up in flames with one word. Elliot's voice.
Turning slowly, I feel like I'm suffocating when I lock eyes with him. His blue eyes are fierce, filled with anger, and he keeps glancing at the wet spot on his shirt then at my face. Seconds later a blonde girl slinks up beside him and slides her arms up his torso. "Everything okay, baby?"
Her sweet, high-pitched voice is deafening and for me it drowns out the loud music, the assortment of random voices, Elliot's bitching as he continues to complain about his shirt, and more than anything it cuts into the screaming sound off in my head. Everything okay, baby? I wish she was a radio so I could her turn off. But I can't. The words keep playing and playing and playing over and over again in my head. They're throbbing in my temples, jabbing at my brain.
And the way Elliot is looking at me makes me want curl up in the middle of the dance floor and cry. My lip starts to quiver, but I'm able to get a hold of myself. Instead, I turn off the emotion and say with a bit of bitchiness, "Are you seriously bitching over a stain on your shirt?" Elliot's mouth hangs open. "Grow a pair and quit whining like a little bitch."
The girl he's with steps forward and scoffs, "What the hell is your problem?"
Can't he speak for himself?
The room is spinning and Elliot's girlfriend's face is swirling around me really fast.
Then she multiplies. There's like ten of her. I blink and swallow, but I can feel my dinner rising up my throat. My eyes go wide and I clamp my hands over my mouth, but I can't hold it back. Then I add another stain to Elliot's attire when I throw up all over his brand new looking white tennis shoes.
30
Sometimes we make love with our eyes. Sometimes we make love with our hands. Sometimes we make love with our bodies. Always we make love with our hearts. Author Unknown
"Eww!" Someone groans.
"Did you see that?" Another person adds.
"Dude, that girl just lost her lunch all over that guy's shoes!" That one was the zinger.
I'm panting and embarrassed, but I think I'm about to be sick a second time. Elliot notices the look on my face, mutters something to the girl he's with, and then escorts me from the room to the ladies room. I barely make it through the first bathroom stall before I'm hugging the toilet, completely emptying the contents of my stomach. A piece of hair falls into my face and I feel someone's hands on me as they scoop up my hair and hold it away from my face. "Whit?"
"No." It's Elliot. He doesn't sound happy.
"This is the girl's bathroom," I tell him. "You shouldn't be in here." He sighs. He sounds frustrated and exhausted and it hurts me that he thinks he's doing me a favor. I swat behind me and smack his thigh. "Leave."
"I'm not leaving you. You're sick," he says. Normally I think that would sound sweet coming from a guy, but from him it sounds like he'd rather be shoveling shit from a pig pen than standing in the bathroom holding back my hair.
"I can take care of myself."
"Yeah. It looks like it."
"Go back to your girlfriend, Elliot. I'm fine."
"She's not my girlfriend and stop lying. You're not fine."
I try to push Elliot away, but he still he keeps his grip tight on my hair. After I throw up again he helps me to my feet and guides me over to the bathroom sink. "If she's not your girlfriend why did she call you babe?"
"Can we not talk about this?"
I don't really want to. The last thing I want to talk about is his relationship or according to him a non-relationship with another girl. I turn on the faucet, scoop some cold water, and rinse my mouth out. My stomach is still a little queasy, there's still a rancid aftertaste resting on my tongue, and I feel slightly dizzy, but I think I spewed out my drunkenness with my dinner.
Seconds later Whit stumbles into the bathroom. She catches her balance and positions herself against the wall, "Oh, heeeey, Robs!" She squeals, slurring her words. Her glazed, red eyes wander over to Elliot. She squints. "Elliot? Is that you?"
Elliot nods. "Hi Whitney."
"Oh," she giggles. "I forgot I have to pee." She stumbles away from the wall and crashes through the second bathroom stall. I turn the water on again so that Elliot doesn't have to listen to her trickling stream of urine. Plus I know Whit likes to have the water running. She says it helps the flow come out faster. Whit moans in relief and seconds later she staggers out of the stall.
She zigzags over to the sink and rams into it. Elliot grabs her by the arm and steadies her as she washes her hands. "Easy there," he says.
"Why thank you Elliot," she says in a sing-song voice as she dips her hands underneath the running water. "Dude, did you guys hear what happened? Some girl barfed all over this guy's shoes." Whit shakes her hands drying them and laughs. Then she drops her gaze, staring at Elliot's shoe. She turns to me. "Oh, shit. It was you."
\*\*\*\*
After Elliot cleans off his shoe he offers to drive us home and I politely decline. "No thanks. I'm pretty sure I can handle it from here." I'm not cool with drinking and driving, at all, but I don't think I can handle being in a confined space with Elliot right now. It might be the one thing that pushes me over the edge of insanity.
"You've been drinking, Robin," he assures me.
"So have you," I shoot back.
"No. You spilled my drink all over my shirt, remember?"
My reunion with Elliot has been anything, but happy and I'd planned on spending the entire ride home listening to sappy love songs and crying my eyes out.
"Just let him drive," Whit butts in.
Thank you, Whitney.
"It's settled then." Elliot snatches the keys from Whitney's hand. "I'm driving."
Elliot and I help Whit into the back seat of the car and she sprawls out, her mouth hanging open and starts snoring before I can even close the door. I climb into the passenger seat and fasten my seatbelt as Elliot hops into the driver's side.
Neither one of us talks for the entire ride back to our dorm. Elliot whistles softly, tapping his hands against the steering wheel and I spend most of the ride staring out the window. But there are moments where I can feel Elliot's eyes on me. His pools of gray-blue melt right through my skin and kick my already racing heart beat into overdrive.
Having him right next to me is difficult because I fight the better part of myself that's telling me to hurl my body over the seat and smother him with my kisses. Then I fight the other part of myself that wants to break down and sob. And I'm struggling. A tiny tear trickles down my cheek and I swat it away quickly before he has the chance to see it. I'm a sliver of a crack in a glass windshield. I'm spreading, and widening and soon I'll stretch all the way across.
The car comes to a stop in the student parking area of the dorm and I quickly wipe all of the emotion off my face and help Elliot carry Whit up to our dorm. Elliot waits outside the door while I undress Whit and put on her pajamas and after she's sound asleep I walk him out.
In front of the building, I kick a rock down the sidewalk, eyes on the ground, refusing to look into his mesmerizing eyes. "Thanks for driving us home."
"No problem," he says. "I wanted to make sure you guys got home okay."
I lift my eyes and glare at him. "Why?" His actions might have been thoughtful, but his attitude made it seem like he didn't care at all. "And what about your girlfriend? You left her at the club."
Elliot meets my gaze and narrows his eyes. "Again, she's not my girlfriend. She didn't come to the club with me and finally I don't see how that's any of your business."
I've reached my breaking point, the point of no return. He and I are about to have it out in front of the dorm and I don't care who sees us. "You're a hypocrite, you know that?" I snarl and jab my finger into his chest.
He swats my hand away. "Fuck this."
He turns to walk away and I grip onto his arm and spin him back toward me. "Does the truth hurt, Elliot?" I release his hand and shake my head. "You know what? Go ahead and go. It's what you do best."
A spark of pain resonates in his baby blues. "Do you know you broke me after what you did with my brother?" He's reached the point where he's shouting. "I couldn't eat! I couldn't sleep! I walked around for the rest of summer feeling lost and empty! I've never fallen so hard for someone in entire life! I loov---." He catches himself before he says the rest of his sentence.
"No! I wouldn't know any of that because you wouldn't talk to me!"
Me I'm thinking this is a crock of shit. So he's fallen for me. So he's about to say those three big words. When you love and care about someone you fight for it. You jump in head first and work out your issues along the way. You give love everything you have if you believe in it. All Elliot has ever done was walk away. When things got too tough he walked away. That's something I used to do, but I've learned that love isn't simple, it's complicated and crazy and more often than not it's worth the fight. "Elliot, you once told me I was just like Drake."
"Yeah, so. It's the truth."
"No," I gasp as a steady flow of tears stream from my eyes. I let out a crazy laugh. I'm falling apart in front of him, but at this point I don't give a shit. "You are! You're a coward, just like him!"
"I am not a coward!"
"You are!" I scream. "You're the biggest coward I've ever met in my entire life!"
Cowards walk away from things that frighten them instead of sticking around and fighting it out. In this case I was the fight and Elliot chickened out. He didn't even stick around long enough to try.
"You also said I can't say for sure that I love you, Robin, but I wish you'd let me try. What was that shit?"
"It wasn't shit!" He moves closer to me. Our bodies are almost touching and his eyes burn into mine. "That was the truth."
"It's not the truth," I say, my eyes still locked with his. "Because you didn't try, I did. I tried and tried and tried and you gave up on us!" Coward.
I turn to walk away and Elliot grabs my elbow. He lowers his voice. "I was afraid of you hurting me again. I never wanted to feel that kind of pain ever again. So I guess I am a coward." I face him and close my eyes as more tears spill down my cheeks. He cups my face and wipes the tears away with his thumbs. "But as much as I've tried to forget about us and what happened," he exhales, "seeing you again was like a wakeup call. Seeing you again tells me that I can't fight the way I feel about you anymore."
"Then don't," I whisper.
"I'm not going to."
I open my mouth to respond, but before I can Elliot presses his lips against mine. He envelopes me in his arms and kisses me hard. A kiss that's full of love, passion, and ferocity. A kiss that's full of beauty and unrequited bliss.
Our lips part and as the kiss deepens his tongue dances around in my mouth for a moment before he pulls out of the kiss, gazing lovingly into my eyes. "Robin, I'm---."
"Shut up," I tell him. "Just shut up and kiss me again."
I've wanted this for days, for weeks, for months. I've craved it like a drug addict who needs a quick fix.
And he does kiss me again. This time more hungrily. More sensually. More erotically.
Before I realize what's happening we're in his dorm. "Where's your roommate?" I ask, breathless and Elliot pulls my shirt over my head.
"He's never here." Elliot gasps as he rips his own shirt off.
His mouth rests against my cheekbone and his raspy breathing fills my ears. He lays me down his bed and he hovers above me. My hands slide up over his muscled abs and I pull him closer to me. His skin is smooth and soft and my fingertips trail down his back. He brushes his lips against my neck and I feel like I'm about to explode, so full of love and desire that I can't handle it.
I want to feel him inside of me, a passionate haze of himself thrusting into me, melting into me, and numbing me until I can't remember any other guy's name but his.
My legs tremble as he slides down my underwear and his fingers glide over my abdomen.
Then he stops, resting his lips against my ear and whispers, "I love you, Robin."
He moves away from my ear and I stare up at his face, illuminated by the light of the moon beaming in from the window. I pull him down to my level, his lips only centimeters away from mine. "I love you too, Elliot." I think I always have.
Sometimes love can happen in the blink of an eye. So fast that you barely notice it at first. It flickers like a tiny spark before roaring into a raging bonfire. And then it finally reaches that point you're covered in flames. I've been that way for a while. I feel like I've been burning forever.
Elliot presses into me and I choke on a sob. This moment is too perfect, so amazing, and beautiful and right that the only thing I can do is cry. Elliot looks at me a flash of concern in his eyes. "Am I hurting you, Robin?" He backs up slightly. "If I am I'll stop."
"No." I pull him closer and my lips flutter against his. I want his body to melt against mine. I want to be so lost in making love with him that I can't think clearly.
I cry harder and Elliot leans down kissing my tears away. "Please don't cry, Robin. You're breaking my heart."
He begins moving inside of me. He's gentle, careful, and delicate. And as he thrusts his hips move rhythmically and I gasp and bite my lip. This is sinful and delicious and mind altering.
Elliot picks up his pace and his breaths quicken. He rests his chin in the crook of my neck and his raspy breaths fill my ears. His hot breath trails over my earlobe working its' way down my spine and setting my body ablaze with burning desire. Then he smothers his mouth against mine and my lips part allowing his tongue to gently brush against mine. He pulls out of the kiss, resting his lips against mine and whispers. "You're so beautiful. I love you."
And I'm crying again, so in awe and so moved by his words that I can't respond.
He grips my thighs and I hike my hips up higher, meeting his thrust for thrust. He blankets me with his warm, chiseled body. He's a down comforter and I love being wrapped up in him. I hope he keeps me warm forever.
I turn my head to the side and exhale. Elliot places two of his fingers and turns my head so I'm facing him. "Look at me," he says.
And I want to tell him; believe me, it's not that I don't want to. It's that my emotions are all over the place and I don't want to be making love to him and staring into his eyes while sobbing like a child.
I've always thought there was something truly beautiful about sharing this part of yourself with someone, but I never expected it to hit me like this.
Is it possible to love someone too much?
Tears trickle down my cheeks and Elliot kisses them away. "Look at me, Robin," he murmurs as his moist, full lips brush against mine.
I choke on a sob and sigh, "I can't."
"You have to."
More tears. "Why?"
"You need to see how much I love you." He runs his fingers through my hair and they brush against my forehead. His touch makes my blood simmer and my skin tingle all over. "You need to see it in my eyes."
I blink back some more tears and they roll down the corners of my eyes. Elliot leaves a trail of kisses from my collar bone to my ear and I arch my back as a shiver of delight whips through me and Elliot snakes his arms around my back, pulling me closer.
Inside I'm screaming, kiss me again! Please!
And he does. He kisses me deeply and passionately. Two mouths molding together.
It's like he's a telepath, hearing my thoughts and giving me exactly what I've been craving. Then he places his forehead against mine, staring down at me with his steel blue eyes through a thick mass of long eyelashes. "Watch me," he breathes.
I do as I'm told. I gaze into his eyes and see the deep abyss of emotion. It stretches like a winding road on a mountain top and twists around cliffs and after that it's all downhill.
I see myself in his eyes.
I'm at the bottom of the hill waiting for him. He runs toward me and I see his radiant smile as he closes the gap between us. I hold my arms out, anticipating our bodies crashing together, swept up into a hopeless and loving embrace and now I understand why Elliot wanted me to look into his eyes.
The road was like a path he had to travel down to find himself, to realize what he wanted the most in the world. I am the end of his journey because what he wanted the most is me.
To him, I am his forever.
More tears flood my eyes and I try to suck them back, but I can't.
You know you're sick in love when a word, a touch, and a kiss can seriously move you to tears.
31
Anyone can catch your eye, but it takes someone special to catch your heart. Author Unknown
The next morning I wake up in Elliot's arms. He kisses my forehead and says, "Good morning beautiful."
I smile. "Good morning."
He leaves a trail of kisses from my temple to my lips and as much as it pains me to tear myself away from him I know I have to. I need to go back to my dorm and check on Whit. I kiss Elliot goodbye and he gives me his new cell number then I walk out of the dorm with a giddy feeling in my stomach, a warm feeling in my heart, and a huge grin on my face.
When I walk into my dorm room Whit is just waking up. "Ugh," she groans. "Now look who's doing the walk of shame."
I laugh. "Not exactly." I sit down on my bed and fold up my legs. "A little hung over, huh?"
Whit lies back down. "A little is an understatement." She goes on. "Seriously where were you? I wake up and you're MIA."
"I stayed with Elliot last night."
"How did I not see that one coming?"
I shrug. "Maybe because you were passed out."
Whit lets out a weak laugh. "So how was it?"
There's only a one word answer I can give her. "Amazing."
Whit's mouth hangs open as she tries to sit up. "No way. Nuh uh."
I frown at her. "What?"
"If you think for one second that you're going to be giving me a one word description of your first romantic rendezvous you're freaking high. Spill it, sister. I want all of the details."
I laugh and shake my head. I can't get anything past her. I begin to describe my night with Elliot in detail, starting after I put Whitney to bed. Whitney laughs and swoons and at the end of the conversation she says, "So you really love him, huh?"
I beam brightly. "Yeah, I do."
Love is a lot like humanity, neither one is perfect. I'd spent years obsessing over perfection. I'd spent years living inside a bubble thinking that perfection equals love, but it doesn't. It's not love unless it's messy and wild and flawed because nothing real is perfect.
And you can't spend your entire life searching for perfection or you just might pass up something real that's been in front of you the whole time.
Love is a symbol of eternity. It wipes out all sense of time, destroying all memory of a beginning and all fear of an end. Author Unknown
I'm in the campus library, cramming for an upcoming Biology exam.
Flipping through the pages of my book, I glance up for a moment and notice that there are only a couple of students in here. I'm glad. Even though the library is never really loud, it gets super noisy when there are a bunch of students occupying the tables. Rustling papers, books snapping shut, and hushed whispers echo through the massive room when it's crowded and I've been here for the last six hours because of that.
About two hours earlier every table was filled and I was having a hard time concentrating with all the added racket.
I glance down at my book again and the words are starting to blur, a bunch of black and white spots jumbled together.
Yeah, I think I'm going to call it a night.
I have one book to put away so I get up from the table and stalk toward the back of the room.
I locate the shelf I found it on and slide the book back into its spot. But the second I do a pair of hands grip my waist then slide down my thighs, shoving me into the stack of books. I place hands flat against a row of books and feel moist lips against my ear. "You know what they say about hooking up in the library," a deep seductive voice murmurs.
Spinning around, I face Elliot who is now leaning over me, both of his hands placed above my head, a carnal gleam in his beautiful blue eyes. I smirk, staring up at him and my heart starts racing. "That you have a good chance of getting caught."
He bites his lip and presses his body against mine, pinning me against the metal rack. "No." He skims my cheek with his fingertips and I gasp. "That it's hot."
Months have passed since we rekindled our summer romance and I can't get enough of him. I see him every day, but every day is not enough. I want to be with him 24/7. "Somebody missed me," I say in a playful tone as Elliot lifts me up and snakes my legs around his back before pressing my back harder into the shelf of books.
"Always," he whispers into my ear. Then he kisses me teasingly only slipping the tip of his tongue inside my mouth. No! This is torture. Just kiss me for real already. I want it so bad I can feel my lips pulsating in anticipation.
He gives me what I was and I run my fingers through his hair so lost in my love and desire for him to make love to me here in the library that I don't even care if we get caught. Actually, there's a thrill to it and as Elliot leaves a trail with his tongue from ear to my neck, not only can I feel the pleasure low in my stomach, but I can feel the adrenaline working its way through my veins.
Elliot exalts my senses, yet at the same time, binds them by blurring my vision, silencing the words on my lips, and numbing the buzzing in my head. He makes me forget about everything and sometimes it's like we live in our own little world.
His lips are next to my ear again and he whispers, "You want to, don't you?"
"Yes," I hiss. Oh, God do I want to.
"Hmm," he moans against my lips. "You know I like to give you what you want."
"Then do it already."
A nanosecond later he wraps his lips around mine and pulls up my skirt. I throw my head back against the shelf, holding back a groan that's wedged in my throat. Whenever I'm with Elliot I find that behind the good girl, there's also a bad girl and I love it when she comes out to play.
\*\*\*\*
After we leave the library, we walk hand in hand across the quad, both grinning and stealing glances back and forth.
Elliot makes me feel so many things; giddy, loved, and more than anything he makes me feel whole.
Elliot brings my hand to his lips, turns it up, and kisses my wrist. "What are you thinking about?"
It's impossible for me to express everything I'm thinking and feeling at the moment so I just say, "You."
Elliot smiles and my heart flutters at the sight of it. It's amazing how the pull of his lips can stun me into oblivion. He pulls me close and whispers, "And I you. Always."
Love is a journey, an insane, rocky journey that teaches you so much along the way.
Not only that, but it's like a precious stone hidden beneath a mountain of rubble in darkened cavern. Something so rare and so beautiful it has to be cherished once you've found it.
I glance up at Elliot, a wide grin on his lips, a gleam in his gray blue eyes. He's my precious stone. And I feel so lucky because I didn't even need to dig too deep in the rubble to find him.
And I know one thing for sure...
I'll love and cherish him forever.
Readers,
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
I just have to say that I don't think there are enough words to describe how much I value and appreciate you.
Thank you again. I hope you enjoyed If I Can't Have You.
Lauren Hammond is the Amazon Bestselling author of Asphodel and He Loves Me...He Loves You Not. She serves as the Executive Literary Manager for ADA Management Group, representing a group of extremely talented writers. When she's not writing she can be found at any random coffee shop or perusing the YA section at her local bookstore.

