Cross Me Off Your List (15 page)

Aralie and Emily sit across from me. Aralie
wasn’t kidding about making Emily her new best friend. From what I
gather, the Branson sisters don’t really have a lot of friends
outside of Saturn world, and Darby doesn’t seem to be part of their
inner circle. I skim the menu while Emily gushes over how amazing
the spicy fries are here.

After we place our orders, Emily surveys the
room before leaning forward on her elbows. “Okay, spill it. How did
you guys pull off crashing Dr. Richardson’s party?” she asks.

The color in Aralie’s face drains slowly,
like it’s running through a funnel. I’d jump to her defense if I
wasn’t completely frozen myself. How does Emily know?

“Reed,” I say, unable to get any more of the
sentence out.

Emily catches on to our panic and straightens
herself up, sitting properly. “Wait a sec,” she says. “I’m not
ratting you guys out or anything. The whole thing was brilliant.
Absolutely genius. Do you have any idea what that man’s family is
like? There is no redemption waiting for them.”

It suddenly occurs to me that I know nothing
of Dr. Richardson except that he insulted Noah that night outside
of the club. Theo happened to be around, said the guy was a jerk,
and we took it upon ourselves to strike revenge over one late-night
smartass remark. I’m not sure if Dr. Richardson is the one who
needs redemption. Maybe it’s us.

“We shouldn’t have done it,” I say. “It was
reckless and stupid, and we were out of line. I’d apologize if it
wouldn’t land us in jail.”

“Like hell you would,” Aralie snaps. “We were
only there because of your list. I just wanted out of the hotel,
and now I have to lose the best little black dress that’s ever
happened to me because of it.”

Yep. I’m definitely the one who needs
redemption. I should’ve just thrown my candy wrapper clothes away,
offered to work for Hilary, and just let her be the star of the
show. Then I wouldn’t have crashed a rich guy’s party, made enemies
all over Crescent Cove, and had a one-night stand with a boyband
guy.

“I’m sorry,” I say. The weight of this week
is seriously falling on my shoulders right now. “I’m sorry. That’s
really all I can say.”

Emily clears her throat. “No one is going to
find out, and aside from that idiot Pittman guy at the station, no
one really cares,” she says. “Dr. Richardson is probably telling
the story to everyone he comes across. He’s the bragging type. And
the only reason Deputy Pittman cares is because he wants to pin it
on A.J.”

No one speaks as the waiter brings out our
food and places it on our table. Aralie makes eye contact with me.
I think she wants to believe Emily, but at the same time, she can’t
afford for her name to be all over the media as having involvement
in this.

“Really, no one will ever know,” Emily
reassures us. “Dr. Richardson left his family, married some trophy
wife who is way too young for him and super plastic, and then he
felt guilty so he started buying his kids’ love. That family had it
coming.”

Aralie laughs. “Some people say that about my
family,” she says. “I’m so sick of hearing all this crap about
Chloe and cheating scandals. They don’t know my sister. Family
drama sucks.”

For once, I’m glad no one knows who I am. My
dad may work for a big company, and Emily would probably think my
mom is plastic too, but I’m not a Branson or a Richardson, and I’m
totally okay with that.

“Why do I get the vibe that you don’t want to
go to this party?” Noah asks from the driver’s seat. He glances
over at me, but I focus on the dashboard so I don’t have to make
eye contact.

As much as I love a beach party, this one
just feels all sorts of wrong. Miles lost today, and on top of
that, his Drenaline Surf brother Colby Taylor won the entire event,
just adding more salt on the wound. So why even have a party?

“Marisol?” Noah taps the brakes and pulls off
the street into a gas station parking lot. “Talk to me. I don’t
want to show up at this party and have people think something’s
wrong because you’re distant. People talk, especially in my
case.”

I turn my eyes to the trucker at the diesel
pump. He doesn’t look much older than me, and he probably shouldn’t
be lighting up a cigarette next to fuel. I wonder if he could just
throw me in as extra cargo and get me out of here.

“I’m just ready for spring break to be over,”
I admit. “I want to get out of Crescent Cove.”

“Is this about us? About what happened last
night?” Noah asks.

The truth is, I don’t even know. I don’t know
if there is an ‘us’ to have an issue with. I’m not sure if I want
an ‘us’ out of this. I don’t know if I can handle his world and the
tabloids and the way people judge you when they know nothing about
you. Is anything in this Saturn world real? Are any of these
couples actually happy or are any of the guys really like brothers?
I think the only thing that’s even felt real to me is Nat’s
obsessive crush on Benji. No denying that’s legit.

“I don’t know,” I say. I lean the seat back
and stare at the ceiling of the car. “This week has just been so
crazy, and I honestly can’t even keep up with it anymore. I feel
like I’m inside a hurricane, and it just keeps spiraling and I
can’t even latch on to an inside wall to catch my breath.”

Noah unfastens his seatbelt and angles his
body toward me. “Hey, I get it. Believe me. I live it every single
day,” he says. “I know this week has been crazy for you, even
though it’s been slow for me, but you’re not alone in this. I’m
here. I’m not bailing on you.”

“Not for this week anyway,” I say, realizing
the words in my head are actually spewing out of my mouth. Oh my
God. Make it stop.

“Is that what this is about?” Noah asks. “You
think I’m using you for someone to hang with for a week and then
I’m out?”

I sigh. “No. Yes. Maybe. I don’t know,” I
admit.

This isn’t like me. I’m not one to worry
about things. I just go with the flow. I live in the moment. I
don’t question my decisions. I hope this isn’t what Saturn life
does to you. I don’t want to be hesitant or leery about everything
that happens to me. I need to reach deep down inside of me and pull
out that girl who jumped out of the teacup last night, against
better judgment.
That’s
who I really am.

“You know what?” I say, before Noah can give
me a speech. “I’m okay. It’s just been a crazy week, and I think
the reality of it just overwhelmed me for a bit. I’m not used to
hanging with celebrities or pro athletes or being on the inside of
it all. But I’m okay. I just have to remember to stop and
breathe.”

“Do you want to skip this party? Go somewhere
else?” he offers.

I shake my head. “No, they’re all cool
people,” I say. “Plus, I have to have proof that I saw Jace’s band
play, so we’re going. If nothing else, I’m accomplishing this
list.”

Noah pulls the car back onto the street and
heads toward Horn Island. From my understanding, a lot of us are
actually taking up Emily’s invite. Aralie and Jules will be there.
According to Noah, Nat demanded to go, and Benji and Tank are
tagging along for some fresh air. Cannon, Jules’s bodyguard, was
volunteered to go as well in Big Tony’s place.

“Did you make that request just to get under
Jules’s skin?” I ask as Noah takes the exit into Horn Island.

He shakes his head. “No, for once,” he says.
“I’ve gotta find a replacement for Tony. He’s an okay guy, but he
doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t like the job. He feels like
he’s babysitting me, and he’s miserable the entire time. I’d rather
be trampled by Saturnites than drag him to a party. Cannon’s cool,
though.”

The GPS leads us down to an open stretch of
beach with a rustic beach home sitting a bit off the street. Cars
are parked in the driveway, the front lawn, and on the sand
surrounding the house. It’s a fairly open area, away from most
neighbors, and definitely rests in a nicer part of Horn Island. Who
knew there was a spot around here that wasn’t dirty?

“Damn,” Noah says, killing the engine on the
sand. “Kale’s got a nice spot out here.”

“It’s his parents’ house, remember?” I say.
“But he swears they let him have parties any time he wants, so who
cares?”

Tiki torches light the way around the house
to the backyard. A huge bonfire blazes in a pit, and a lot of
people sit around on coolers and driftwood logs. Lights are strung
around the yard and wrapped around the palm trees. It’s like a
mini-beach paradise out here.

Jace and his band, Sapphires and Sunsets, set
up equipment on a deck-turned-stage to the left, close enough to
run extension cords from the house. Some people are actually out in
the water, splashing around in the darkened sea.

The first familiar face I spot is one Noah
probably hoped to avoid tonight – his brother. Nat rushes over to
me and links his arm around mine.

“Holy. Fucking. Hell,” he says, slowly with
an emphasis on the drama. “These slutbags are wearing last season’s
bikinis, at least a size too small, with their butt cheeks jiggling
like freaking Jell-o. I just want to walk over to them and be like,
‘Put some damn clothes on, bitches.’”

He leads his brother and me over to where
he’s been sitting with Benji and Tank. On the quick stroll over, he
contradicts his rant by telling me how he’s all for positive body
image and he thinks people should feel sexy in their own skin.

“But you know, feeling sexy and looking
trashy are two totally different things,” he says. He grabs a beer
bottle from a cooler, although I know he’s not old enough to drink
in America. “You can have jiggly butt cheeks and still be a rock
star, but wear some damn booty shorts, not a thong.”

Noah grabs a beer, but I decline the offer.
Benji raises a glass to me, and I wonder why in the hell he’s
drinking a fruity girly drink and Nat is drinking beer. I know –
I’m stereotyping – but I can just imagine Nat saying something
about how girly drinks are better accessories or something. Nat
with beer just feels wrong.

I drop down onto the driftwood log that Benji
sits on. “Where’d you get that, and what does it taste like?” I
ask.

He hands me the glass. “Aralie brought it
over to Nat, but he didn’t like it, and I figured good alcohol
shouldn’t go to waste,” he says. “It’s some kind of strawberry
mango thing. Not too bad, though, surprisingly.”

Noah volunteers to find a girly drink for me,
so I hold his beer and sit with Benji and Tank. Jace’s band
performs their sound check, and we’re soon joined by Emily, Miles,
and Kale. They don’t seem to be strangers to Benji or Tank, so I
assume they’ve already made the rounds and met the Hooligans and
company.

“Is this just an open-invite kind of party?”
I ask Kale as he stretches out on the sand next to me.

He tosses a beer bottle into the bonfire. “I
don’t really invite anyone. Word just gets around, and people come
to hang out. For the most part, everyone brings beer and food. Horn
Island people are pretty considerate about that kind of stuff.
There’s only one name on my not-invited list.”

“One name in all of Horn Island?” Benji asks.
“Who’s the unlucky one?”

“Dominic Richardson,” Kale says, leaving a
pit in my stomach upon hearing the last name.

Someone shouts for Kale and asks where they
can find more ice, so he quickly excuses himself to go play host to
his own party. I exchange a quick glimpse with Emily. I don’t even
have to ask.

“Dominic used to be a Hooligan,” she says,
eyeing Miles before continuing. He gives her the nod of approval.
“He’s Dr. Richardson’s son. He grew up in Horn Island, but then his
dad started buying his way into Dominic’s life. He just changed and
became wrapped up in the superficial. He thinks he’s too good for
Horn Island now.”

Benji sips from the straw next to his paper
umbrella. Then he studies Emily’s face for a minute. “So where is
he now? And why isn’t he one of you guys anymore?”

Emily laughs. “I’m not a Hooligan,” she
confirms. “My boyfriend, yes. Me, no. That’s a lifestyle all its
own. But Dominic is at college, out of state. When he was a
Hooligan, he always referred to Kale as an ‘honorary Hooligan’
since he’s a transplant from Hawaii and not an actual Horn Island
kid. So Kale has a particular dislike for him, with good
reason.”

Noah returns as Emily tells us about how the
Hooligans took Kale in as one of them because he could surf circles
around everyone else they’d met in the area. I wonder if he wants
to get sponsored too, if that’s the ultimate dream for the
Hooligans as a whole.

“I took a sip,” Noah says, handing me the
glass. “Strawberry mango something is a pretty accurate way to put
it.”

I exchange the glass for his beer bottle and
taste test the pink liquid. Absolutely perfect. A bass plays behind
us, and the skinny kid behind it checks his microphone by meowing
into it. I feel like I’m already back at my high school.

I cuddle up closer to Noah. “So no one
attacked you and fangirled about your presence here?”

He shakes his head. “One girl asked for a
selfie, and I took one with her, but then she went back over to her
boyfriend and that was it. People are pretty chill here. I like
it.”

Miles and Emily disappear shortly after to
join Kale, who has taken up well with Aralie and Jules. I wouldn’t
be surprised if Aralie bought a house out here after this week. She
seems to fit in quite well with the locals, as much as it shocks
me. She seems a bit too rock star for such a low key place like
Horn Island or Crescent Cove, but I think she’s met her match with
the Hooligans.

Benji and Noah want to move closer to the
stage, and I agree since I need to capture the full essence of a
local band performance. Kale plugs in a string of lights that
outline the deck. A hazy glow casts over the band.