Authors: Jules Barnard
I scrub my legs, my chest, attempting to wipe away the memories and diminish the wet T-shirt look. With the lacy bra I chose this morning, it’s definitely nippy out.
“Nice one,” Zach shouts as Lewis approaches from the water. “What happened, man?”
Lewis runs a hand through his wet hair, shaking rivulets off his arm and smiling down at the sand. His gaze flickers to me. “Large wave came when I wasn’t looking.”
When he gazes at me like that, all secretive and sexy, I can’t focus, let alone be mad at him.
I
wasn’t looking. I lost control and confronted Lewis. It felt good to tell him what I thought—aside from the dunking backlash. I still can’t believe I did it. He just … he incites me. Why does the one person who makes me feel anything have a girlfriend—or a not-a-girlfriend. Whatever. Why is he so complicated?
I grab my green tote and pull my wet hair into a hairband. “Nessa, I gotta change. Do you mind if we go?”
“Not at all.”
Zach high-fives Nessa. “Catch you later, pipsqueak.”
Lewis watches me collect my things. It drives me crazy and I pretend not to notice.
“Thanks for the paddleboard ride,” I tell him. That sounds stupid, given what happened, but I have nothing better and I feel like I should say something.
He nods and takes a deep breath, like he’s bracing for something, or trying to hold it back.
Nessa and I make it to the parking lot before I glance in his direction. Zach is chatting with the blondes who checked him out earlier. Lewis is there too, but his gaze is miles away on the lake.
“Why don’t I call Zach?” Nessa says. “He won’t mind, really. It’s not a big deal.”
I stare at the steering wheel. This is seriously happening? Because my humiliation wasn’t complete? I sort of thought it was after the club incident. The paddleboard proved me wrong, and now this?
Fuuuck.
My AAA membership has expired and my car won’t start—and by
won’t start
, I mean it’s dead. Won’t turn over, or even cough for me. “Yeah, okay,” I tell her.
Nessa pulls out her phone and types a text. “Zach’s on his way. He’s still close. See?” She smiles. “No biggie.”
It is a big deal. A very big deal, because Lewis walks up, along with Zach.
I stood up to Lewis. Sure, I immediately took a digger, but it was a start at addressing the issue between us. Forced to ask said guy for assistance afterward? Kind of ruins the moment. The dunking in ice-cold water did as well, but this seals it.
To make matters worse, Lewis is wearing a T-shirt and a baseball hat that hides his eyes. Why does the brim hiding those mysterious eyes make my stomach tingle?
I roll down the window and Lewis leans across the frame, because of course, he takes control of the situation, even though we called Zach.
“Start it up.”
I turn the ignition and nothing happens.
He tosses a set of keys to Zach. “Grab the Jeep, will you? I’ve got jumper cables in the back.”
Zach hands his paddleboard to Nessa, who stepped out of the car when the guys arrived. He laughs when she nearly topples under the weight of the board that’s twice her size. She fumbles with the long paddle, finally balancing both paddle and board in her arms. “Be right back,” Zach calls.
Lewis strums his fingers lightly along the door, glancing at the interior, the dark eyes that disturb me no longer hidden when they’re this close. “You leave on a light?”
Does he think I’m a moron?
I fell all over the nightclub hammered two nights ago and dunked us today, so yes, he probably does. “No.”
Lewis stares like he doesn’t believe me and continues to drum his fingers. I’d like to grab one and pull it back. Incite—that’s what he does. He’s an inciter of women. Look at Mira. She’s so crazy for him, she’s all jacked up.
A red Jeep roars in front of my car with Zach in the driver’s seat. Lewis walks to the back and returns with cables. He asks me to pop the hood.
Several minutes later, Lewis and Zach confer in a manly discussion involving subtle head nods, gesticulations toward my beater car, and a few glances at Nessa and me after the jumper cables don’t work.
Lewis opens the driver’s side door at the same time Zach grabs the paddleboard from Nessa. “Your car needs a tow.”
There go last night’s tips. I could ask my mom for money to fix the car, but I won’t.
“Zach is giving Nessa a ride. I’ll drive you home.” He punches a number in his phone and informs the person on the other line of our location.
I’m driving with Lewis?
Alone?
“Shouldn’t I wait for the tow truck?”
He shoves the phone back in his pocket. “No need. My friend will have it towed to his shop. We’ll swing by and drop off the keys. He’ll call when he figures out what’s wrong with it.”
I glance at Nessa elbowing Zach playfully as they walk toward the beach, the paddleboard and paddle balanced easily above Zach’s head.
This is all wrong. “Why is Nessa going with Zach?”
“He lives near her. It’s easier this way.” Lewis gestures for me to get out of my car. I grab my tote, scoot out, and he closes the car door behind me. I follow him to the Jeep and he opens the passenger side door.
I peer in, completely uncertain about this arrangement, and not sure how to get out of it. Spending more alone time with Lewis doesn’t seem wise. “What happened to your truck?”
“This is my weekend car.”
Oh, right, because he’s extremely hot, makes enough money to own two cars—one of them a brand-new Jeep—and he’s a Good Samaritan who rescues drunken women and destitute girls with broken-down cars.
But he has a complicated not-a-girlfriend and that’s the one thing I can’t look past.
Despite my hesitancy, I go with Lewis. We drop off my keys with the mechanic, and Lewis introduces me to his friend. The guy is nice and promises to pick up my car and contact me within the hour. If I end up getting it fixed through his garage, there’s no charge for the tow, which my savings account appreciates.
The drive to my place is quiet. Neither Lewis nor I talk and I’m hyperaware of his every movement. A wide wrist draped across the top of the steering wheel, the elbow of his other arm resting on the center console so close to my side.
“Cold?”
I glance at the goose bumps on my arms.
Lewis adjusts the air conditioning, but the chill that ran through me had nothing to do with damp clothes.
Logic dictates I stay away from Lewis and the complicated relationship he’s in with Mira, but a part of me wonders,
What if?
Lewis helped me with my car and he took the blame for the paddleboard incident. He’s not a bad guy and technically he doesn’t have a girlfriend, so my initial judgment of him was off.
We pull into my driveway. “Thanks for calling your mechanic friend, and for everything,” I tell him.
He lets out a sigh; it’s forced and heavy, like something’s weighing on his mind. “You have my number. Call me if you need a ride, or for whatever.”
That’s right. He typed his number into my phone so I’ll have a ride the next time I get wasted. Excellent.
It’s not Lewis’s job to take care of me. I’m not his girlfriend or his friend—wait, am I? We’re more than acquaintances, and there’s the unspoken stuff that makes it feel like we’re much more than friends.
“Okay,” I tell him and let myself out. The air is warm, but my clothes are wet and clinging. I beat a hasty retreat to the front door and hear Lewis’s car rev lightly, the gravel stirring behind me. I force myself not to look back.
I walk inside and shut the door, slumping against the cool wood surface and closing my eyes. Today kind of sucked, with the dunking and my car breaking down, but it was also kind of amazing. Being with Lewis feels amazing, which is a problem. Even though he says she isn’t his girlfriend, I don’t understand what’s going on with them.
I barely get my bearings when Cali comes at me like a hurricane, strawberry blond hair waving to and fro, making her head appear twice as large and fiery, like the look in her eye. “What the hell, Gen?” She points vigorously at the window. “What are you doing with that guy?”
Holy shit. She’s gone off the deep end.
Lewis and I aren’t dating. He gave me a ride home after my car croaked. Running into him was coincidental, though in all honesty, I
was
just allowing myself a moment of pride for not jumping him when my bodily instincts dictated it. “He’s not that bad, Cali. Simmer down. It’s not what you think.”
God, now I sound like Lewis. Cali’s acting more crazed than normal, but is she right? Am I letting down my guard too soon?
“You’re doing it all over. Did you learn nothing the first time? Get a clue, Gen, this guy is using you!”
Okay, now I’m pissed. I may have made errors in judgment when it came to men in the past, but I never allowed someone to use me. As soon as I figured out a guy was a dipshit, I cut him loose.
“And you know so much about men? Did you know Eric hit on me? He wanted to sleep with me, Cali.”
“What?”
Shit, that’s not how I wanted to tell her.
I had every intention of telling Cali what Eric did. I should have told her when it happened, but he made me feel so dirty. I wanted to forget about it, though I knew I couldn’t. I was waiting for the right moment and somehow it never came. Now …
Cali’s face is a mix of shock and anger. I waited too long—I wasn’t thinking.
I plead with my eyes. “I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner.”
My cell phone vibrates in the side pocket of my tote. It buzzes twice more within seconds. I glance at the screen.
Mom: Darling, we’re here! Pick you up in ten for golf.
Christ, I forgot about my mom. She’s here for her visit and I promised her nine holes before work.
Cali’s expression narrows, her face flushed. She’s so angry. She has a right to her anger, but I never asked her ex to hit on me. It wasn’t my fault. I never wanted it.
Maybe getting out of the house and cooling off is a good thing. I quickly reply to my mom that I’ll be ready and jam my phone in my bag. I stride into the bedroom and strip off my wet shorts.
Cali follows and stands in the doorway, glaring.
“I tried to tell you, Cali, but it was when you were happy with him. After you and Eric broke up, I told myself I’d be kicking you when you were down. I didn’t want to cause you more pain. I panicked and more time passed …”
“What are you talking about?”
I tear off my damp T-shirt and pull a clean one over my head. “Do you remember when I drove Eric to the store to pick up sunscreen while you were in the shower the first weekend in town?” She nods. “He came up behind me when we were there and wrapped his arms around my waist. He kissed my neck. I was still getting over the A-hole and not thinking clearly. It freaked me out. I worried you’d get the wrong idea and believe I led Eric on. You don’t know what it’s like.”
I’m like the creeper magnet.
“Are you kidding me? You’re seriously telling me guys lusting after you is a hardship that forces you to betray your
best
—
fucking
—
friend.
”
Tears fill my eyes and I blink them back. “That’s not what happened. That’s not what I’m saying.”
“What are you saying?”
I’ve ruined everything. Maybe Cali’s right and it is my fault. I’m the common denominator in all this—Cali’s ex, my mother’s groupies and their wandering hands.
“He said he’d always been attracted to me—” Why does the truth sound so horrible? I should stop talking, but somehow my mouth won’t cooperate, as if I’ve been given a truth serum, the words spilling out like a faucet. “—that things were fizzling between you two and that you had basically become friends.”
The expression on Cali’s face is dejected, betrayed. She drops her head into her hands. I grab the windowsill when what I really want is to wrap my arms around my best friend, but I don’t think she’d welcome that right now.
My chest feels tight and achy. I was right to keep this from her. No one wants the truth, not even me. Every word out of my mouth makes things worse. I should leave.
Cali looks up, pointedly. “What did you say to him?”
“No! I said no! I never wanted that. He made me feel … dirty. I would never …”
She turns away, her rejection so sharp I suck in my breath. After a moment, I walk up to her. “Cali, we need to talk, but I have to go or I’ll be late for work.” I don’t mention my plans with my mother. Cali and I both know I never leave this early, but I need to step away from this—to think. “I’m so sorry, okay?”
Maybe time apart will help me find some way of reassuring her. A way to fix all this.
Hugging my bag, stuffed with golf shoes and extra clothes, I wait at the curb for my mom and wonder if Cali will ever forgive me.
Am I worth forgiving? I betrayed my best friend by keeping this from her—it wasn’t intentional, but it happened—and I’m attracted to Lewis and it’s wrong, with his complicated side relationship.
I want him, knowing it’s wrong, and that’s worse.
“Jesus, Mom. You shanked it into the next county.”
I knock my iron on the heel of my shoe and squint against the sun, searching for my mom’s hot pink breast-cancer ball. My hand aches from gripping the club too hard, tense after my argument with Cali. I spot the ball in a small rise surrounded by two feet of rough. I thought the balls my mom brought were obnoxious, but I’ve changed my mind. We’d never find them if they weren’t neon.
She turns prettily to the side, inching up her black mom-visor. She’s in a tight, hot pink Nike golf shirt (to match her balls) and blinding white shorts that hit an inch or two below her crotch. My mom is a
terrible
golfer, so of course she spends a small fortune on expensive clothes and subjects the world to her play at least once a week. I’m wearing cutoff baby blue skinny jeans that fall mid-thigh and golf shoes I purchased from Marshall’s for $19.99.
“I don’t see it,” she says, her attention on the fairway. “Are you sure it’s not up ahead?”
Fred glances at me conspiratorially. He’s in khaki golf pants and a striped blue polo, but Fred shoots in the seventies, so his expensive wardrobe is justified. “Come on, honey,” he tells my mom. “Go ahead and take a mulligan.”