Ellie’s mom was crying, kind of hysterically. The grandparents were hugging each other and praising Jesus. Wade—Ellie’s father—was talking to his son, while awkwardly holding my cat. Yes, my cat was here. Because Ben hadn’t shown up alone. He’d shown up with Mrs. Stone. I assumed he hadn’t wanted to leave her on Christmas and had brought her along for that reason. Apparently, my cat had to come too.
But I wasn’t worried about any of that. I was worried about Ellie. Because when she came out of the kitchen, a minute or two after her mother, there was a look of fear on her face that hit me like a punch in the stomach. Her eyes connected with mine from across the room and I knew. Susan had told her she was my realtor and that I’d bought a house in town. Had that decision pushed Ellie too far? Was all of this too much too soon?
“Ellie,” I said, leaving my place at the table, trying to cut through the crowded room to get to her.
“Not now,” she snapped, her anger apparent as she turned in the opposite direction. She disappeared down the steps that led to the basement—not even her brother, miraculously back from the dead, had kept her from staying in the same room I was in.
I didn’t know what to do. I’d never seen her look at me like that. Was I supposed to chase her or let her cool down? Clinching my fists, I just sort of rocked on the balls of my feet—doing nothing. My stomach felt hallow. My heart felt frantic. The room started spinning.
“I’m not sure what you did,” Noah said, suddenly by my side. “But here are some words of advice that Ellie told me once. If you’re not one-hundred percent sure of your feelings, right now, then you need to end everything before it goes any further.”
“I’m sure of my feelings. I’m in love with her,” I quickly retorted.
“Then what are you waiting for? Go after her.”
Not hesitating another second, I hurried down the steps to the basement. She wasn’t inside, so I rushed outside. The wind hit me like a slap in the face. Dammit, it was cold and Ellie especially hated the cold. What was she thinking? Racing across her driveway, I checked her car. She wasn’t there either. Shit, now I was starting to panic.
“Ellie,” I screamed into the black night air.
No answer
There was a skinny, wooden path that cut through the sand dunes and led in the direction of the ocean. Unsure where else to look, I sprinted down that path. There weren’t any lights and it was cloudy out tonight—the moon hidden in the sky—so when I came to the end of that boardwalk, I couldn’t see in the pitch black and nearly collided with a person.
“Ellie,” I gasped, stopping in front of her. “What are you doing?”
“Well, I thought I’d get some fresh air. But it’s fucking freezing out here. What are you doing? Why aren’t you inside?” Her teeth clattered as she spoke.
“I was looking for you.”
“Oh. I’m fine now. We should go back.” Crossing her arms tightly over her chest, she tried to walk around me, but the path was narrow and my body blocked her way.
“I love you,” I blurted out. Not exactly poetic, and probably just another thing that would push her away, but I couldn’t hold in the words a moment longer. She stopped trying to walk past me, but she didn’t respond to my words.
“And I bought a house,” I continued, rambling like a fool. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but my plan was to show it to you tomorrow morning. It wasn’t in great condition when I bought it and it has taken me this whole time to get it ready. So…is this all happening really fast? Maybe, but I don’t care. It feels right to me. It feels like nothing I’ve ever experienced. I’m not asking you to move in with me—although I wouldn’t be opposed to it if you wanted to. All I’m trying to say is that…I don’t need the next three months to figure out my feelings. I know I love you. I already know I want this to last indefinitely. And I already know that when filming for season three of Dragon Wars starts again, in the middle of God knows where, I want to bring you with me. So if this is completely one-sided and if you—”
“Stop,” she said, cutting me off. “Don’t say that last part before you know how I feel.”
Oh, God. If she told me she’d decided she liked women instead of men after all, I didn’t know what I’d do. “How do you feel?”
“I’m in love with you too.”
Oh God, there it was. My chest felt soft and slippery, warm even in this cold, as she said those words and then as she grabbed my neck to pull my lips to her lips. She kissed me and it felt like breathing. We were still on the same page. Everything was fine. Lifting her up in my arms, continuing to kiss her, I carried her in the opposite direction. I needed to get her inside where it was warm and safe.
Back inside, I could hear all the commotion still happening upstairs, and I knew we’d join the others in a moment, but for a few a precious minutes I had Ellie alone and to myself. Taking her hands in mine, I moved them under my shirt and pressed them against my stomach. I was warm and they were freezing against my skin. Ellie laughed at my attempt to warm her up, melting in against my body, holding me tight.
“Can I hear it again?” she whispered, all smiles now.
I realized now what had really been upsetting her earlier. She’d needed to hear it then. She needed to hear it again now too.
“I love you,” I told her.
THE END
PULLED UNDER
PULLED UNDER
(Kill Devil Hills #3)
SARAH DARLINGTON
PULLED UNDER (KILL DEVIL HILLS #3)
Copyright © 2015 Sarah Darlington
Cover Design by Sommer Stein of Perfect Pear Creative Covers
Editing by Kamaryn Kretz
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, and events portrayed in this book are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced throughout this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
To my wonderful husband, the boy I fell in love with at sixteen and the man I’m married to today. Still can’t get enough of you.
CHAPTER 1:
2 and a half years ago…
SYDNEY
Today was officially the worst day of my life. Call me melodramatic, but I thought I was going to die. Was it possible to die of heartbreak? I think maybe it was because the pain in my chest was insurmountable—like a giant boulder sitting on my heart, smashing it into a flat pancake.
Ironic, too, because John had made me pancakes for breakfast this morning. I’d woken up hopeful and excited, given that today was my sixteenth birthday. Today I was a woman…or at least that was what I’d always thought my Sweet Sixteen was supposed to feel like. John, my big brother and my guardian, had surprised me with breakfast. Homemade pancakes with blueberries—exactly the way our Nanny Kristen used to make for us when we were young. They were wonderful pancakes, surprisingly, since John was a horrible cook. Then I’d headed off to school.
And it all started off as a regular enough day—complete with Honors classes that were admittedly over my head, lunch with my favorite teacher, Ms. Whittle, and kids who didn’t know nor care what my name was. Needless to say, I was about as irrelevant at my school as irrelevant comes. But life was good. Because there was Ben.
Ben was that boy at our high school. Arguably the most handsome, most athletic, and most popular guy among a sea of frogs. The boy whom girls like me dreamed about and the one other boys wished they could be. And…he knew my name.
Just last Friday in our chemistry clas
s he’d asked me, and I quote, “Hey, Sydney, what did you get for number three?”
Oh swoon. Be still my beating heart.
Ben had amazing, sparkling blue eyes that were framed by long, dark lashes. He had dark brown—almost black—hair that was a little wavy and always perfectly disheveled—like a young, American Hugh Grant. Sigh. I could stare at him for hours. On my first day at Kill Devil Hills High School, two years ago, I’d fallen instantly in love with him. There was something about him. Somehow I knew; I knew with every ounce of my being that he was the guy for me. This wasn’t some imaginary infatuation in my mind. There were moments—small moments where I would think he felt it too. Like this past March, for example.
Sam Butler had bumped into me on the walk between English and Art. I’d been carrying a giant case of colored pencils, and Sam didn’t even notice me. I tripped, and I’ll never forget the sound of those pencils rolling in a million different directions. Not a single student in that hallway helped me. Everyone brushed past, stepping over the pencils, while shooting me snarky looks. It was beyond embarrassing. People laughed. I could feel my cheeks blaze red hot. Only one person did something—Ben. He quickly bent down to help me collect all the pencils. And afterward he said, “I’m Ben.”
And I said, “I know.”
It felt like a moment out of a Meg Ryan movie. He reached out to hand me my case of colored pencils, our fingers brushing slightly, and it was like ‘magic.’ My heart skipped and I swear Ben had felt it too.
Too bad he had a girlfriend. But I didn’t care. I loved him still. Maybe one day he would grow to love me, too. He’d realize she was all wrong for him and that I was right. A girl could dream. There was no harm in dreaming. I’d watched enough movies to know that dreams sometimes came true. Sometimes the nerdy, shy girl won the heart of the popular boy. It could happen. I had hope.
Until today…when my hopes and dreams had been smashed. Or, more accurately, pounded.
I’d forgotten my gym clothes in my PE locker. I always brought them home to be washed on Fridays and I never forgot—because who wanted smelly gym clothes? Not me. So after my final class, I’d hurried across the school to grab them. But Ms. Whittle had stopped me on my way—she’d brought another one of her favorite romantic comedies from home to let me borrow. We’d started talking about movies, and I lost track of time.
By the time I reached the locker room, it was deserted but, luckily, not locked. I tiptoed my way through the empty, musty-smelling room. It freaked me out being in there alone—it was too quiet without the usual sounds of gossip and giggles. Then I heard a moan. Like a sex moan! Not sure what I was doing or why I felt compelled to look, but I peeked around the corner, searching for the source of the moan. When I found it, my eyes saw the most horrific sight imaginable.
Sonya Fletcher. God, she was beautiful. Everything I wished I could be. Soft blonde hair, tiny frame, button nose, and perfectly perky breasts. Half the boys at our school worshiped her. Worse still, she was Ben’s girlfriend. And I saw her cry out in pleasure as a toned white butt pumped against her naked form. Her tan, lean legs were spread wide and locked around the waist of…Ben.
Unfortunately, it was Ben’s white naked butt and his penis that filled her vagina.
And it was my heart that hit the floor.
“God, I love you,” he grunted and pounded into her harder, both of them oblivious to the fact that I was watching. Then Ben pulled out, flipped her around, pushed her stomach against the white tile sink, and slid inside her from behind.
Oh my goodness!
A squeal left my lips, my virgin eyes bugging out of my head, and then I ran. I ran as fast and as hard as I could, tears streaking down my cheeks, the entire world around me suddenly duller than it had been before. What had I just seen? I texted John and told him a ‘friend’ was driving me home. I’d long since missed the bus. Lamely, Ms. Whittle ended up driving me home.
Reality was a bitch and today she’d slapped me across the face. And I hadn’t even grabbed my gym clothes…
Somehow in my mind, I’d never realized Ben and Sonya might be intimate like that. Especially like that. And now the image was burned into my brain. Meanwhile, I’d never even been kissed before. How lame was I? How could I ever compare to Sonya? I’m not sure I even wanted to anymore.
So…that had been earlier, and now here I sat at Chancy’s Claw. Birthday dinner time, woo-freaking-hoo. I didn’t know how I was going to get through this meal without barfing all over the table. The image of Ben and Sonya was still fresh in my mind, eating my brain like a starved, rabid zombie.
“Sydney,” John said, rapping his knuckles on the table so I’d stop staring off into space. “Just say the word and we’ll cancel this. Mom and Dad are still thirty minutes out. We can go home and order takeout. They’ll bitch but whatever.”
Leaning my head on the back of my plastic lawn-chair, I groaned. “They’re already going to bitch because we came here instead of somewhere nicer. Might as well suck it up and get this over with.”
“Is something else wrong?” Leave it to John to be persistent right now.
“Just the fact that high school sucks.”
A pained expression filled his face. And I instantly regretted saying that. John and I had a good thing going. He was my guardian, my parent, and my brother. He was ten years older than I, and he took care of me, thus preventing me from having to live with our real parents. I hated making him worry. He didn’t have to take care of me and it was wrong of me to burden him with my problems. Being forced to raise a teenager—that had to be difficult enough.
Two years ago, when John had simply asked, my parents had given me over like they were loaning someone a sweater. They were really just children themselves. Rich, impulsive, spoiled children. Their life was one long vacation, and they never took a moment of it seriously. They were fun people, but sucky parents. Neither worked. Instead they lived off the fruits of my grandfather’s labor. It wasn’t an ideal lifestyle for a child. So when I turned fourteen, John, who proved to be more mature than both of them combined, suggested that I come live with him. They’d jumped at his offer.
So that was how I ended up living with John in our family’s beach house in North Carolina. My parents visited us often enough, but in actuality he was my real parent. And I didn’t need to worry him with my silly teenage heartache and drama. He gave up so much for me, and I appreciated that more than anything. Living with him was so much better than the alternative.
“I just need some fresh air before they get here,” I explained, feigning a smile. “Would you order me a milkshake whenever the server comes over? I’m in a milkshake kind of mood.”
John nodded. So I slipped out of my seat. I cut through the restaurant toward the hostess stand and the front door. Outside, I walked around the building in search of a decent place to hide. It was frigid and windy, since Chancy’s was next to the ocean and it was February, but I found sanctuary by the dumpsters. No one would bother me here.
I sat down on a crate and for the second time today cried my eyes out. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Not to mention silly. How could I believe that Ben would ever want me? My hair was this weird dishwater blonde and my eyes some ugly pea-green color. I had freckles and glasses. My best friend was my teacher, for crying out loud! My butt was about as flat as John’s pancakes and my boobs even flatter. I spent all my time watching hopeless romances, living in a dream world waiting for Prince Charming to come rescue me from my mundane life. But this wasn’t Sixteen Candles and Jake Ryan wasn’t about to ditch his hot girlfriend for pathetic, naïve me.
I sniffled into my sleeve. God, I was so lame…crying by the dumpsters on my birthday.
“Um, is everything okay?” a voice asked.
Yikes! And apparently I wasn’t alone.
Using the heel of my hand to wipe the tears from my cheeks, I quickly turned my back away from the person who’d just walked outside through a door on the side of the building. From the corner of my eye,
I noticed that he wore a Chancy’s Claw employee t-shirt and was bringing out the trash. I knew his name too. Rhett Morgan. He graduated three or four years ago from my school. He never went to college and still frequented high school parties—or so I’d heard. That’s the thing about being invisible. I always heard everything because people often forgot I was around and talked openly in front of me. And Rhett Morgan…well, he was a constant topic of conversation at Kill Devil Hills High.
Even Ms. Whittle had spoken of the infamous Rhett once or twice. She’d mentioned something about how funny he was. I’d always kind of assumed Rhett had been her ‘Ben.’ That he’d been the popular, good-looking boy she’d worshiped from afar in high school. But Rhett wasn’t a boy. Nope, definitely a man, and definitely still standing outside with me. I hiccupped, trying to mentally shrink myself into a tiny ball. Maybe he’d go away if I ignored him.
I heard a heavy clank as he must have heaved the trash into the dumpster. Then, much to my horror, he came to sit beside me. He pulled out another crate and plopped down.
“You’re seriously crying,” he stated. He had a deep, husky voice—kind of soothing. “Was it something you ate?”
Looking up, I glared at him. “No,” I snapped. “It wasn’t something I ate.”
He smiled. “Figured. Got you to look at me, though.”
I huffed.
“So,” he said, running his hands across his thick, jean-covered thighs then resting them on his knees. “I just started as a bartender a week ago. People—well, drunks mostly, but that’s beside the point—they keep telling me all their personal problems. I’m quickly becoming a certified therapist. I’m probably better than a therapist—because who wants the opinions of some stiff in a suit? So how about you tell me what’s up? I’ll try to help.”
Kill Devil Hills: A Complete Beach Romance Series (4-Book Box Set) Page 37
