by Angel Lawson
“Rose loved the Vikings, her cheer squad, her family and friends…she was looking forward to this season and would want the team to carry on without her. Except we’re not without her.” Coach Chandler touches his chest, above his heart. “She’s with each and every one of us. Each cheerleader, each member of the band, each spectator, and every player on the field.” He squeezes Finn’s shoulder.
“I can’t listen to this anymore.”
“Thank god,” Ozzy says, taking my hand.
The crowd is thick, and we’re boxed in. Ozzy looks around then his eyebrows rise. He heads straight to the bleachers and pulls me underneath. It’s a little dark under here, but the sound is muffled, just like the wind.
“I feel shitty for not staying to listen to that.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t. It’s over the top, even Rose would roll her eyes at this point.”
I laugh. He’s right. Rose liked to be the center of attention, but this has moved somewhere uncomfortably desperate.
“It looks like we may be trapped under here for a while,” he says.
“I’ve had worse company.”
He smiles down at me. “Yeah?”
I nod.
“Since we’ve got nowhere to go,” he rests his hand on a pillar next to my hand, and leans in, “do you want to talk about this?”
“What’s this?” I ask, but my heart flip-flops. I see the intention in his eyes. The way he holds my gaze for one second, then drops his eyes to my lips.
“This thing between us.”
I exhale. “I like you, Ozzy, a lot. Things are just in a crazy place right now, you know?”
“I do know. I also know that Rose Waller wouldn’t have felt an ounce of regret for doing what feels right, or good, in a time like this.”
He’s good.
“I’m not saying we have to be forever. I’m not saying we have to be anything, but things are fucking scary right now, Kenley, and I want to feel something other than fear.”
Damn, he’s really, really good.
With confidence I never knew Ozzy possessed, he slides his hand behind my neck, pulling me close. “Don’t you want to feel something good?”
I nod, his lips so close, and he brushes them against mine. They’re soft and warm, sending tingles down my limbs. I wrap my hands around his waist, and he deepens the kiss, darting his tongue into my mouth, creating a cascade of firework in my belly.
My whole life I’d wanted one boy to be my first kiss—I never expect it to come from his best friend instead—I really never expected it to be this good. I’d worry about what he thought about my lack of experience, but it’s clear from the way our bodies draw closer, and the way our lips fit together, and the way his fingers feel against my neck, and the way he keeps kissing and kissing and kissing me, that this is as good for him as it’s good for me.
All I want is to do this forever.
That’s how we spend the first football game of our senior year, under the bleachers, exploring one another. But most of all, we’re both just seeking something greater than fear.
26
Ozzy
Her lips are puffy. Her mouth red. Her smile adorable.
God, this girl is cute.
Like, I always knew she was cute. Always. But now that I’ve tasted her, felt her, I never want to let her go.
So I don’t. I latch my hand to hers and walk through the crowd. The game is over. We’d spent the entire time under the bleachers. I’d still be under there with her if I wasn’t terrified of getting a severe case of blue balls from the way her body pressed into mine, or being found by Mr. Mitchell, the custodian, long after everyone left.
She checks her phone.
“Finn texted. Said Ezra’s having a party at his house and that we should go.”
“Do you want to go?” I ask.
“Yeah, maybe.” She brushes a piece of hair out of her eyes and damn, I want to kiss her again. “It could be fun.”
“Yeah, sure. Uh, you didn’t drive, did you?”
“No, but maybe we could go wait by Ezra’s car? He’d drive us, don’t you think?”
There’s part of me that wants to just say no. Fuck this party because I’ve seen the way Finn’s looking at Kenley, and the way Ezra watches her. I finally got this girl to pay attention to me—to kiss me—and I want her all to myself. But I also know there’s something bigger at play here. The way we’ve all been brought together again by Rose’s disappearance. It’s more than me. It’s more than Rose. It’s about the four of us, and I can’t let my selfish needs come in between that.
“Yeah,” I say, pulling her hand to my mouth and kissing the back of it. “After this insane week? I think a party sounds like a pretty good idea.”
Ezra’s dad is rich.
Like, really rich.
You know the signs on park benches advertising lawyers that are dying to sue the pants off people? That’s Ezra Baxter, Sr. He’s known for representing victims of car accidents and worker’s compensation claims, but he made a ton of money in some case against MegaMart a few years ago. Like millions.
Since that windfall, Mr. Baxter travels all the time to conferences teaching other lawyers how to go for the big money. The original Mrs. Baxter, Ezra’s mom, moved to New York after the divorce. His dad instantly became the most wanted bachelor, but there’s a lack of young, beautiful, model-like women in a town like Thistle Cove, so it sounds like most his hook-ups are on the road. All of this means Ezra is left at home alone—a lot. The drug stuff started after his mom left. After a series of arrests, he got cut from the football team, spent more time in detention than anywhere else, and slipped into a bad boy persona pretty easily.
The one thing everyone likes about Ezra? His parties are legendary.
Or so I’ve heard. I’ve never been invited to one before.
I get a lot of stares from the regulars at Ezra’s parties. Whispers. Even a few smirking laughs. Why is Ozzy Drake here? With Kenley Keene? I should feel uncomfortable, but I don’t. Things have shifted dramatically for me—us—over the last week. Secrets have a way of doing that.
“Want a drink?” I ask Kenley, who’s looking a little overwhelmed.
“Yes, please.”
I take her hand, my favorite thing, well, beside her mouth, (or if we’re being honest, her perfect tits, although her ass his hot, too) and lead us across the living room. The bar is outside—a fancy setup with a stone fireplace and comfortable seating. There’s a keg and some kind of blue punch. Marcus Roland is currently drinking out of the keg nozzle. Well, drinking is an overstatement. Most of it is spilling down his face and onto the ground. I grab two cups and ladle in punch.
“Have you ever been here before?” I ask her as we sit on the hearth before the roaring fire.
“Not since his dad made all that money and they remodeled.”
“Me either.”
“I think the last time I went to Ezra’s house was in the sixth grade. He had a boy-girl birthday party. You were there, right?”
“Oh shit, you’re right,” I say, holding back a laugh at the memory. “That was an epic night of Seven Minutes in Heaven.”
She smiles. “Back in the good old days, or as I like to call them, P.J.”
I frown. “Pajamas?”
“Pre-Juliette.”
“Ah, right. You and Rose were enough girls for the three of us anyway.”
“Like you noticed we were girls.” She rolls her eyes.
“Trust me. We noticed. Why do you think we played Seven Minutes in Heaven? It was just an excuse to kiss you.”
“You mean one of us.”
I reach out and touch her cheek. “No, I mean you. Not that I wouldn’t have kissed Rose too, my virginal lips were indiscriminate, but I had eyes for one girl back then. And now.”
I can’t believe I just admitted that. I busy myself by taking a long gulp of my drink.
“I didn’t know you felt that way about me. Why didn’t you ever say anything?”<
br />
“Because you were in love with my best friend, and I thought he was in love with you.”
Something flickers in her eyes. “What about when he wasn’t your best friend anymore?”
“Things got complicated, Kenley, you know that.” She nods and takes a sip of her drink. We all lost a lot of time. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” she replies.
“Are you still in love with him?”
Immediately, I regret asking. Why would I want to know? She spent the night kissing me under the bleachers—not him. Shouldn’t that enough? I swallow the remainder of my drink and dare looking at her.
This time I do recognize the emotion in her eyes. Guilt. Sadness. Reality.
“I meant what I said under the bleachers, Ozzy. I like you.” Her outer thigh rests against mine. “But you’re right. Letting go of Finn has been hard for me and everything is so weird right now. I finally can talk to him again. And you. And even Ezra. I never expected that to happen.”
I reach out and take her hand, threading our fingers together.
“Then let’s explore the weirdness. And we’ll just be honest with each other, despite the fact that it seems to be really hard to do in this town.”
She laughs and leans over to kiss me on the cheek. It’s enough, and not enough, all at once, but I know I can’t rush this—rush her. I’ve waited years for this chance and I’ll give her all the space she needs to figure it out.
I just plan on continuing to kiss her while that happens.
27
Kenley
The downstairs bathroom has a long line. I press my back against the wall, pretending to be very busy with my phone, listening to my classmates talk about their new favorite subject: Rose.
“Do you really think she’s dead?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if someone pushed her.”
“Not cool. But I did hear about a secret boyfriend.”
“Secret? Jessica said Bryant’s cousin saw her in East Point last month going in a hotel with some guy.”
“Poor Finn.”
“Poor Finn? Lucky us. After all these years, he’s finally back on the market.”
“Coming through!” a voice calls, interrupting the gossip.
Bridget Flannery’s boyfriend Josh pushes her toward the bathroom. Her face is so pale and green there’s no way I’m going in after her.
I slip out of the line, but not before I hear a gag and vomit splattering on the tile floors.
I vaguely recall from the last time I was here that there’s a bathroom through the French doors off the pool. I walk down the sidewalk and try the door knob. It’s unlocked.
I step inside the dark room—suite is more accurate. There’s a small kitchenette and a sitting room. Two doors flank the back wall. One leading, I assume to the bathroom, another to a bedroom. There’s a thin light coming from under the bathroom door and I hear the sound of the faucet running. Someone else had the idea to sneak in here, too. I figure I’ll wait—at least there’s no puke.
I cross the room and open the refrigerator, hoping to find a water bottle, but there’s nothing in it but a bottle of green tea. I do find a glass in the cabinet and fill it with tap water. Anything to get the sickly-sweet taste of punch out of my mouth.
I continue to poke around the suite, checking out the flat-screen TV and updated speakers. On top of the TV cabinet is a framed photo. It’s a group shot out on the water; the Wallers, Holloways, & Chandlers all huddled in the frame. Ezra is in the middle. It looks recent—probably this summer out on Mr. Baxter’s boat.
I’d spent the day lifeguarding and watching fireworks with Alice after she got off work from the ice cream parlor.
I study the picture; the bright smiles and tanned skin. Coach Chandler’s long arms around everyone. He’s shirtless and more buff than I’d expect. I know my dad doesn’t look like that with his shirt off. The gold championship ring shines on his finger.
Whoever is in the bathroom is taking their sweet time, so I continue my tour in the next room. The bedroom, complete with a king-sized bed filled with big pillows and a soft comforter.
I walk over to the dresser and open the top drawer. I expect it to be empty, but it’s not. There’s one item inside; black lace panties.
“Ew,” I say to myself, shutting the drawer. I don’t want to think about who left those here. Either someone with Ezra or his dad. The first makes me a little jealous. The second icky. Especially after hearing about that SugarBabies site and seeing all the filthy messages those men like to send.
I exit the bedroom like my feet are on fire and just as I step in front of the bathroom door, it opens.
“Holy shit!” I shout, jumping straight in the air. I’m struck by three things.
The bright light streaming through the bathroom door, the warm, clean smell of soap and shampoo, and Finn standing in the doorway with only a towel wrapped around his waist.
I stumble back, half out of surprise, half out of shock (okay and maybe a little bit from that punch.)
Finn reaches out for me and catches my arm, holding me upright.
“You okay?”
“I’m, uh,” I divert my gaze from his sculpted chest, abs, and the fine trail of hair that vanishes below the towel. “I was looking for the, uh, bathroom.”
“Well, you found it. Let me grab my stuff.”
He walks back in the bathroom, giving me the opposite amazing view of his back. The ripped cords of muscle flex and twist as he bends down and grabs a purple duffle bag off the ground. His number is stamped on the side. He walks back out, brushing past me to toss the bag on the couch.
Holding my breath, I walk into the bathroom, shutting the door between us.
Jesus Christ.
I take my time. Peeing. Washing my hands. Adjusting my ponytail. Using the lotion that’s part of a nice supply left for guests on the counter. It’s only when I think I’ve gotten my shit together that I open the door, and step back into the room. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see that Finn has clothes on. Not that it makes him any less sexy. Now he’s in a tight-fitting gray T-shirt that more than hints at the perfect body underneath and jeans that hang low on his hip.
“Sorry about that. I smelled awful after the game and don’t like to use the locker room showers. The hot water runs out.”
“Sure. Yeah, totally understandable.” The words come out in a rush. I obviously do not have my shit together.
“Listen,” he says from the couch where he’s tying his shoe, “can we talk about the other night?”
The other night. We’ve said a lot of thing the past few days. More than we have in years, but there’s only one thing he could be talking about; when he confessed that he had feelings for me, always had.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I reply, hoping my voice sounds even.
He frowns. “Kenley, this may be the hardest week of my life and the only thing getting me through it is knowing that you and I are friends again.”
“It’s been nice.”
“I don’t want to fuck that up, so if that’s what you want—just friends—I’m okay with that.”
I nod, unable to really speak. It’s not all I want. I want more, but everything is moving way too fast.
He runs a hand through his damp hair. “I saw you out there with Ozzy. Is that new?”
A lump forms in my throat. “It is new, really new, and we’re just seeing how things go.”
He nods. “He’s a good guy, and I know he’ll treat you right.”
“He is, and I agree, he will.”
Tension ebbs between us. I’ve waited so long to hear Finn tell me he has feelings for me, but now isn’t the right time. For so many reasons. He walks to the door and opens it, allowing me to exit first. His hand touches my back as I pass him, and it sends an undeniable thrill up my spine. There’s a moment where I think of caving—pushing him back in that dark room and crossing every boundary that has ever existed between us. I don’t. It�
��s not fair to either of us, to Ozzy, or really, even to Rose.
“Isn’t this rich,” a catty voice calls from across the pool.
I look up and see Juliette. She’s wearing a black strapless romper—the shorts barely covering her butt. A red party cup is in her hand and she’s surrounded by half the football team and most of the cheer squad.
“Juliette, hey,” Finn says. I say nothing. Why would I? This girl is not my friend. Unfortunately, Finn feels the need to explain. “Just cleaning up after the game.”
“Did you need help reaching the hard spots?”
She smirks and laughter echoes over the pool deck. My face turns red and I start to walk back to the fireplace, hoping Ozzy is still there. Juliette arcs around the side of the pool and cuts me off.
“What are you doing here, anyway, Keene?”
“I was invited.” My voice comes out smaller than I’d like.
She laughs, mean eyes flicking to Finn. “Seriously, Rose is gone for five days and you’re already sniffing around someone else? Someone she hated? No wonder she’d stopped fucking you.”
Finn’s bag drops with a thud on the ground and he steps forward. “You don’t know a goddamned thing about me and Rose.”
“I know more than you think, sweetheart.” She smirks, then cuts her eyes back to me. “I know she’d be horrified to know you let this pathetic trash come in here.”
Finn looks like he may explode; his face red and a vein throbbing on his neck. I have no idea what to do. Luckily, someone else comes to the rescue.
“That’s enough, Juliette,” Ezra says, appearing from the back door of the house. He cleaned up after the game and looks good in a blue button-down and jeans. His skin is tanned and cheekbones sharp in the hazy light. I spot Ozzy a few feet behind him, watching the whole scene. “I invited Kenley, and if you have a problem with that, then you can take your pom-poms and leave.” Her jaw tightens, and she searches for a retort. Ezra doesn’t give her a chance. “What the fuck are you doing here anyway? I thought high school parties were lame, and you only ran with an older, more mature, crowd now.”
