The Secrets We Held

by Blair, E. K.

  “So, why aren’t you out there?” I ask as the foghorn blows, signaling the end of the heat.

  “Because I don’t want to turn what I love into a chore.”

  I stifle a smile because I pretty much said the same thing to Brody earlier. Most want the sponsorships, the titles, the fame, and the money. Not me. Well, aside from a sponsorship. I’d take that any day.

  “What about you?”

  “Same reason.”

  He laughs under his breath, and I turn curious eyes to him.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Sure you’re not scared of looking like a poser?”

  I slug him in the arm.

  “Dude!” he whines, rubbing the sore spot. “Treat your boy a little more delicately.”

  “Delicately?” I laugh. “And you are not my boy.”

  “That hurts worse than your beating.”

  “I’m sure.”

  As the next group of guys paddle out, I lean back on to my elbows in the warm sand. Even though it’s overcast, the heat from the hidden sun radiates off my skin.

  A faint tapping draws my attention, and when I glance over at Trent, he’s clicking a vape pen to turn it on.

  When he slips the pen between his lips, he catches me staring and lowers it. “Pardon my manners,” he quips before holding it out to me. “Ladies first.”

  My eyes narrow.

  “What?” he defends. “I don’t need you accusing me of being sexist again.”

  “You’re a shit, you know that?”

  He nods. “Yep.”

  I grab the pen and take a pull. As I hand it back, I hold the fumes in my lungs long enough to feel the initial hint of the impending high.

  “So,” he says after he takes a hit, “you’re a Palm Beach snob.”

  “West Palm Beach.”

  “As if that makes much of a difference.”

  “Tell me something . . . are you capable of having a normal conversation without being insulting?”

  “Are you insulted because it’s the truth?”

  There’s no controlling my rolling eyes. “You’re annoying.”

  The corner of his lips lift.

  “And obnoxious.”

  “Look at who’s being insulting now.” He takes another pull from his pen.

  “Just calling it as I see it.”

  “Same here,” he says as he blows out the remaining fumes. “That being said, you should come out to dinner with us later.”

  Trying not to expose my slight elation, I give him a glare. “You’re inviting me out to dinner five seconds after calling me a snob?”

  “No, I’m inviting the guys, which you happen to be a part of. Unless you’d rather it just be you and me.” He wags his brows, and the foolish love-struck girl inside me is jumping up and down, but I stifle my excitement and fight back the smile that’s tugging on my lips. No way do I want him to know just how eager I am to spend more time with him, even if that time includes everyone else.

  “An evening alone with you throwing jabs at me? No thanks.”

  “For the record, you’re the only one who’s thrown a jab.” The guy actually rubs his arm to emphasize his point, but I shake my head and go back to watching the surfers.

  The next handful of hours pass as Trent and I watch the guys throw down their best in the water. Micah ranks impressively high, coming in fourth while Brody places a respectable twelfth. After taking a quick break to clean up, we do, in fact, join Trent and his friends for dinner. While the rest of us talk enthusiastically about the competition, Ady sits quietly, barely saying a word and hardly eating anything. After five minutes of watching her push food around her plate, I settle back in my chair.

  “You not into all the surf talk?” I ask, not wanting her to feel left out.

  She shrugs. “It’s okay, I guess. Between Micah and Trent, I’m used to it.”

  “Have you known them long?”

  “A couple of years. I met them when I moved to Tampa during my junior year.”

  “That must’ve sucked, having to change schools like that. Where did you move from?”

  “Texas.” She stabs a piece of broccoli with her fork. “What about you?”

  “She’s a Palm Beach snob,” Trent responds, butting into our conversation.

  “West,” I correct pointedly before turning back to Ady. “West Palm Beach. Your friend doesn’t seem to know the difference.”

  “Just ignore him,” she tells me, and when I look over at him, he shoots me a wink.

  “Is he always this charming?”

  “Sometimes he can be a pest.”

  “You mean this is him not being a pest?”

  “Don’t throw me under the bus, girl,” he playfully warns Ady, which causes her to laugh.

  She waves her fork at him. “You do that just fine on your own.”

  “So, what are you doing in Miami if you aren’t going to school?”

  Her gaze drops to her uneaten food, and she avoids eye contact with me as she answers, “I’m not sure what I want to study, so I’m just taking some time for myself right now.”

  Voices grow at the other end of the table, catching our attention before Brody announces, “Who’s down for going out?”

  Trent tosses his napkin onto the table. “I’m in.”

  “Where are we going?” another one of the guys asks.

  “We’re in Boca. Let’s find a club or something and celebrate.”

  Micah scoots his chair back. “Count me out.”

  “Yeah, me too. I’m tired,” Ady says, finally giving that uneaten piece of broccoli a rest.

  “You two suck,” Trent complains and then looks my way. “You bailing too?”

  “Not a chance.”

  With that, Trent stands and takes my hand, practically pulling me out of my seat before we all head out and pile into Brody’s car. Several of us squeeze into the back seat, and I have to bite my bottom lip to control my smile when Trent slips his arm around my shoulders. I know there’s nothing behind the gesture and that he only did it because we’re all cramped back here, but I foolishly pretend for a moment there’s something more behind it.

  Again, Trent pulls out his pen, but when he taps the button to turn it on, he huffs, “Shit, the battery is dead.”

  I unzip my clutch and pull out my own pen, tap the button, and watch Trent’s smile grow when the green light flashes.

  “I think I just fell in love.” He then snatches the pen and takes a hit.

  “With me or the pot?”

  It takes a few seconds of him holding in the vapor before he hands the pen back to me and answers, “The pot. Always the pot.” He tightens his arm around my shoulders and presses a kiss to the side of my head.

  I take two long pulls to tame the damn butterflies he just set off, settle back into his hold, and get stoned.

  I’m light and free from emotion when we file into the dimly lit club. Loud music thumps so hard it vibrates through my bones, and I almost miss when the girl behind the counter slips a black bracelet on Trent’s wrist.

  “How’d you get that?” I yell over the music as I hold up my hand, showing him the giant X written in Sharpie on the back of it, marking me as under twenty-one.

  He smiles, and I melt, all the while cursing him for being so perfect. Perfect lips, perfect teeth, perfect tan, and perfectly imperfect eyes. He then takes my hand and leads me over to the bar so he can order two shots, slipping me one when the bartender isn’t looking. We throw back the vodka, which only enhances my high.

  Music screams through my head as lights flash from all around, and the next thing I know, I’m on the dance floor. My arms fly above me, and I can’t even tell if I’m dancing on beat—not that I care because when I spin around, Trent is right there.

  He even dances perfectly.

  I sway a little too far back, and he grabs my wrists and pulls them around his neck, which is damp with sweat. Suddenly, all the emotions I tried to dull with the weed come barreling down on
me. With his hands on my hips, we move to the rhythm of the song within a sea of people.

  I’m so far outside of myself, wondering what it is about this asshole of a guy that I’m so drawn to. Guys rarely catch my eye, but somehow, this one has me hooked, and I don’t know why.

  His thumb comes to my forehead, and he drags it lightly along my hairline, but it isn’t until he slips it into his mouth that I realize he’s tasting my sweat.

  Holy shit, that’s hot!

  He tugs me in closer, and as we continue to move, his hands start to roam. I can’t deny how good it feels, and I so want to get lost in his touch, but then a flash of sobriety strikes out of nowhere.

  This guy only wants to get laid.

  I’m not a fuck and duck type of girl—I’m not a prude, but I’m also not that.

  “I’m getting lightheaded,” I lie as I push away from him, feeling super uncomfortable about where this is going.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I think I got too much sun,” I mutter, stepping back. When I do, I bump into the girl behind me. “Sorry.”

  “It was cloudy all day,” Trent calls out while I start making my way through the crowd.

  “Clouds are water vapor, not shields,” I shout back, appalled that I let him get that close to me when clearly he only has one thing on his mind.

  Maybe I’m overreacting, but my instincts are telling me I’m not.

  The last thing I need to be doing is acting like the bunnies I despise.

  KATE

  “Dad totally embarrassed me,” Audrina complains over the phone as I straighten my hair. “I was literally only thirty minutes past my curfew. You should have heard him. He laid into me right in front of Zach.”

  “You know how Mom and Dad are. They used to do the same thing to me.”

  “It was the first time I was late,” she stresses.

  “You don’t have to convince me. But try to see it from Dad’s point of view. He’s a cop and he sees a lot of bad things,” I explain. “Try to go easy on him. He’s only trying to protect you.”

  “I was with Zach.”

  “That doesn’t help, knowing his daughter is out late with some guy. I mean, come on. Can you blame him for being worried?”

  “Oh my God. Are you serious? It isn’t like that at all.”

  I unplug my flat iron, grab my cell, and head into my bedroom to change clothes. “So, what is it like between the two of you? Are you guys serious?”

  “Ahhh,” she exhales, and I know that if I had her on FaceTime instead of speakerphone, I would be able to see the love-struck, dreamy-eyes look on her face. “He is so hot.”

  I laugh. “Is that the only reason you’re dating him?”

  “No,” she defends and then goes on to tell me about how sweet he is and how he slips cute little notes in her locker. She gushes on and on, which isn’t surprising, and I’ve started to tune her out when she asks, “Do you think you can talk to Dad? This weekend is Stacy’s sweet sixteen party, and I’m grounded.”

  “If I do, then he will know you called me after he grounded you from the phone.”

  “It’s like I’m in prison.”

  “Far from it.” I shrug on a flowy top and slip into a pair of sandals. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow, but I can’t make any promises.”

  “What are you going to say?”

  “I don’t know. I have to think about it, but I gotta run. I’m meeting a friend for dinner.”

  “Don’t forget.”

  “I won’t.”

  After we hang up, I head into the living room where Piper and her big sister from her sorority are hanging out. She tried talking me into attending rush week, but the whole sorority thing didn’t appeal to me at all. Piper, on the other hand, loves Greek life.

  “You look nice,” she remarks as I grab my purse from the kitchen island. “You have a date I don’t know about?”

  “Please,” I say with a roll of my eyes. “I’m grabbing dinner with Ady.”

  “Ady?”

  “The girl I told you I met last month at the competition.”

  She doesn’t respond as she and her friend focus on their craft.

  “What are you even making?”

  “Outfits for the eighties-themed mixer,” her friend says as she holds up her T-shirt, which is covered in bright neon puff paint.

  “Nice.” The shirts they’re so excited about are hideous. “I’ll catch you later.”

  I take the elevator down to the parking garage, hop into my hatchback, and head over to Ady’s condo, which also happens to be Trent’s as well. I had no clue she lived with him and Micah until I went over there the other week. I was shocked to see him, but I was also secretly happy. It’s the reason I put a little more effort into my look tonight, but I would never admit that to anyone.

  For his part, it seems he has me stuck in the friend zone. He hangs out with Brody a lot, so he’s always around when we all hit the water, and since I’ve been spending time with Ady, Trent and I are starting to form a decent friendship.

  Before I get out of the car, I check my face in the rearview mirror one last time. When I arrive at their unit and knock on the door, I’m greeted with Trent yelling, “It’s open!”

  Inside, I find him sitting on the couch with a textbook on his lap. He doesn’t look up to acknowledge me as he taps his highlighter against his knee.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah,” he murmurs absentmindedly without even glancing in my direction.

  His distractedness is a letdown. I know better than to think Trent, from what little I know about him, would even notice the extra effort I put into my appearance. It was stupid to even think that he would, but I did it anyway.

  “Ady, come on,” I call out, wanting to leave, and head toward the hallway. Ady is staring into Micah’s room, and it doesn’t seem as if she heard me. “You ready?”

  “Yeah.” She pulls herself away from his door, and when she walks into the living room, she looks curiously at Trent. “What are you doing?”

  “Studying.”

  She cracks a smile. “Have you ever done that before?” she teases, but Trent isn’t amused.

  He drops the book onto the coffee table and tosses his highlighter to the floor. “Shit’s got me stressed out.”

  “What are you talking about? Nothing stresses you out,” she says.

  “My mom has been up my ass lately about her expectations of decent grades.”

  “Macroeconomics,” I read aloud when I pick up the book. “Who do you have?”

  He finally looks at me when he answers, “Carson. Tuesday and Thursday. Why?”

  I hand the book to him. “I have Carson Monday, Wednesday, and Friday,” I mention and take this opportunity to add, “So, if you need help . . .”

  “You actually understand this?”

  “Enough to be managing a B.”

  “I have a C . . . barely,” he says while thrusting an aggravating hand through his hair. “Can you stop by tomorrow morning? I don’t have class until noon.”

  The invitation strikes a match in my chest, and I forcibly hold back the smile that’s tugging on my lips. “Nine?”

  He nods, barely looking my way, and then heads into the kitchen with a casual, “Cool,” before he opens the fridge.

  And just like that, the flame in my chest snuffs, and no more do I have to fight my smile because now all I am is annoyed.

  “Let’s go.” Ady sighs, pushing me toward the door, well-aware of the tension.

  I haven’t mentioned anything about Trent to anyone aside from Ady. She didn’t even ask, she just knew. Apparently, I wasn’t hiding my crush very well, and she warned me that he isn’t the least bit interested in getting involved in a relationship with anyone. It should’ve deterred me, I wish it had, but it hasn’t and neither has being friend zoned.

  There’s nothing worse than pining over a guy who isn’t emotionally available. Yet, here I am, pining even though I am the one who walked away f
rom him in Boca.

  “You’re not actually going to tutor him, are you?” Ady asks as we drive to Lulu’s for dinner.

  I roll to a stop when I hit a red light and flick on the blinker. “Why not?”

  From my peripheral, I catch her giving me a knowing side eye.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” she says. “I just don’t want you to get any unrealistic expectations.”

  “It’s just a study session, that’s all.”

  “Uh-huh, right,” she snarks, which has me chuckling under my breath.

  It’s been nice hanging out with Ady lately. She’s so different from Piper and most of the girls around here. She isn’t one to talk a lot about herself or what is clearly going on between her and Micah. In fact, she isn’t much of a talker at all, at least not about anything that’s too personal.

  It isn’t long before we arrive at the restaurant. We order our dinner and chat about the upcoming spring semester, but when curiosity gets the better of me, I can’t help myself from asking, “So, what’s up with you and Micah?”

  Her eyes lift to mine. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, come on.” It is so obvious that Micah has a thing for her.

  “What?”

  “You’re kidding me, right? Tell me you aren’t blind to how he looks at you.”

  “Oh my god. No,” she squeaks. “It isn’t like that at all. Like, at all, at all.” I shoot her an unconvinced glare. “I’m serious. We’re just good friends. And if he’s giving me looks, it’s only looks of concern.”

  “Concern?”

  “I used to date his best friend,” she reveals. “We broke up right before I moved here.”

  “So, he’s your shoulder to cry on?”

  She shrugs off my comment. “Does it look like I’m crying on anyone’s shoulder?”

  She’s delusional, and I’m not buying it. The two of them are so close that, had I not known better, I would assume they were an official couple.

  “Well,” I say as I pick up my fork and pierce an asparagus spear, “it would be an attractive shoulder to cry on. You know? If you ever do decide you need a good cry.”

  KATE

  With clammy palms, I raise my hand to the door and knock.

  I’m nervous.