by Amber Garza
“Something like that.” I rake my hands down my face, my fist stinging. Shit, I’ll have to fix the dent in the wall before Mom sees it and starts cussing me out in Spanish. When I was a kid I thought it was funny when she did that, like she was a cartoon character or something, since I couldn’t understand a word she said. But now I don’t find it so funny. Frankly it’s terrifying, especially since Dad does understand her. And when she gets really riled up, I know he’ll punish my sorry ass. That will be a lot worse than Mom’s yelling.
“Well, maybe kick Trey and Carlos out. They’re idiots anyway.”
I chuckle under my breath. “Now you sound like Sloane.” My insides sour. “If only she felt the same way about Adam Stewart.” As hard as I try I can’t keep the venom out of my voice when I say his name. I swear I don’t dislike the guy. If I did, I certainly wouldn’t have invited him into the band. What the hell is wrong with me?
“Ah, so this is about Sloane.” Gabe steps inside the room. With a knowing smile, he sinks down onto the edge of my bed. “I knew this would happen one day.”
I cross my arms over my chest, eyeing him from where I stand near the wall. “Knew what would happen?” Mom and Dad’s voices float from in the kitchen, tea whistles on the stove. I’m glad they weren’t up here when I threw my little temper tantrum.
“I knew one day Sloane would get involved with some guy and you’d get jealous.”
My chin tightens. “They’re not involved, and I’m not jealous.”
“So what’s with the hole in your wall then?” Gabe’s gaze slides over my shoulder.
The dent in the wall taunts me, a glaring reminder of my loss of self-control. My quick temper is always getting me in trouble. “You should’ve seen him, Gabe. He was flirting with Sloane all night.”
Gabe flashes me an I-told-you-so look.
“It’s not what you think.” My gaze flickers to the window and slips across the street to Sloane’s house. “Adam is a player. Everyone knows that. I just don’t want to see Sloane get hurt.”
“So this is about protecting Sloane, huh?”
“Of course.” I bristle. “What else could it be about?”
Gabe raises his eyebrows, then shakes his head. “Nothing. If you say this is about protecting Sloane, then I’ll buy it.”
“It is. She’s my best friend. It’s my job to keep her safe.”
Gabe nods. “And you’re sure this guy is bad news? You’re positive he’s going to hurt her?”
It’s clear that Gabe is the intellectual brother. He spends all his time analyzing ever damn thing. Sometimes I like it, but right now it’s downright maddening. “Well, I don’t know if I’m positive.” I scratch the back of my neck.
“Take my advice. If you’re not sure, then back off.” Gabe stands. “You’ll only push her away.”
I nod, knowing he’s right. That’s another thing about Sloane. She’s stubborn as hell. Since she’s practically a part of this family, Gabe knows that as well as I do. After Gabe leaves the room I stare outside, finding Sloane’s window. Light shines from inside, but the blinds are closed so I can’t see her. I know she’s in there, though, probably daydreaming about Adam Stewart. God, I wish this didn’t bother me so much.
I keep telling myself it’s because I’m worried about her. That this is strictly me being her best friend and trying to protect her. But deep down I know that isn’t the reason at all.
3
sloane
“Shut up.” Becca pushes me in the shoulder. “Adam freaking Stewart really said that? You’ve gotta be kidding!”
I giggle, rolling over onto my back and staring up at the ceiling. Becca gapes at me from where she sits on the edge of my bed. “I know. It’s crazy.”
“Seriously.” She tucks a strand of chin-length blond hair behind her ear. “You’ve gotta make your move.”
“Make my move?” I throw my arm up, propping my elbow under my head. “I don’t think so. This is Adam Stewart we’re talking about.”
“Exactly. He could have a new girlfriend by tomorrow.” She claps her hands. “You’ve got a small window.”
“I’m not even sure I have a window. It’s not like he asked me out. He just asked if I was coming to the next practice.”
“From Adam, that’s huge.”
My stomach flutters like a million butterflies are filling it.
“So what are you gonna wear to the next practice?” Becca asks.
I sit up, scrunching my nose. “I hadn’t thought about it.”
“Well, you better.” She scoots off my bed and opens the closet door. Her short blond hair swishes around her head with each movement. She’s wearing a short jean skirt and a pink tank top. Her silver sandals sparkle from the sunlight that filters in the window. “What about this?” She yanks down a floral sundress. It’s one she helped me pick out last time we went shopping.
“Yeah.” I shrug. “Maybe.”
“Not maybe.” She drops it on my bed. “This is what you should wear. And curl your hair.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I joke.
“Hey, Sloane,” Cruz appears in the doorway. When he steps inside he looks at Becca and frowns. “Oh. Hey. Becca.”
“Don’t look so excited to see me.” She rolls her eyes.
I hate the tension between the two of them. The reason Becca and I became friends was because she was dating Cruz. After they broke up, Becca and I stayed connected, a fact that Cruz is not too pleased about. If only they could find a way to get along, it would make my life a lot easier.
“I didn’t know you two were hanging out.” Cruz shifts uncomfortably from one foot to another.
“No, it’s fine. I have to go anyway.” Becca gives me a pointed look. “Do what I said. Wear the dress, and keep me posted.”
I nod as she brushes past Cruz and down the hallway. The front door opens and closes with a click.
“What was that about?” Cruz pushes off the wall and walks inside. He glances down at the dress strewn across my bed.
“She was just trying to help me pick out an outfit to wear at your next practice.”
“You know you don’t have to look good for me.” He plops down on the bed, leaning into me.
I smile.
“Ah, but it’s not me you’re trying to impress, is it?” He reaches out, fingering the dress. “This looks like an Adam Stewart kind of dress.”
My cheeks warm.
Cruz turns to me. “Look, Sloane, do you really think it’s smart to get involved with Adam?”
“Who said anything about getting involved?” I shake my head. “It’s not like he’d ever be interested in me anyway.”
“Why wouldn’t he be?”
I hop off the bed, moving toward the window. A yellow rope hangs from the tree outside. Cruz and I used to have a tire swing, until my dad took it down when Cruz pushed me too hard and I fell off, breaking my arm. “Because he’s Adam Stewart, and I’m Sloane Martin.”
“So?” I hear the creak of the bed over my shoulder.
“So, he can have any girl he wants.”
“And why can’t that be you?” Cruz stands behind me. “You never give yourself enough credit.”
I chuckle under my breath. “You have to say nice things about me. You’re my best friend.” Spinning around, I smile. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I’m just having fun with this while I can.”
Cruz smiles back, but it looks forced.
“What are you worried about?” I ask him.
“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“That’s sweet, but I’ll be fine.” I puff out my chest. “I’m tough.”
“Oh, yeah?” He tickles my waist, and a stream of laughter escapes through my lips. “Not that tough.”
I writhe out of his grasp, slipping under his arm and racing for the door. “That doesn’t prove I’m not tough, it only proves that I’m ticklish.” Hugging myself I lean against the doorway.
“Remember when we were like seven and I tickled y
ou so hard you peed your pants?”
I frown. “I thought we swore never to speak of that again.”
“No. I swore I’d never talk to anyone else about it.” Cruz moves toward me. “And I haven’t.”
That’s what I love about Cruz. He always keeps his promises. It doesn’t matter how many friends or girlfriends he’s had over the years, he never divulges my secrets to anyone. Even when he was dating Becca he always put our friendship first.
“Just be careful, okay?” Cruz narrows his chocolate brown eyes.
“Okay.” I nod, grateful to finally know what’s bothering him. I’ve been worried about it ever since the last practice. He’s never acted that way before, but now it makes perfect sense. He’s just being his usual overprotective self. In second grade a boy named Raul had been picking on me at recess, kicking sand in my face and bumping into me on purpose, that sort of thing. Cruz got so angry he got into a fistfight with him one recess. He ended up getting in a lot of trouble, and I felt so bad. But I remember him saying that he’d do it all over again if he had to. Needless to say, Raul never bothered me again. And I’d always seen Cruz as my protector. Therefore, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that he’d be the same way with guys I date or are interested in.
“Wanna go to the lake today? It’s supposed to be over a hundred degrees later.”
“Sure.” I shrug.
“Cool. I’ll grab my stuff and be back in fifteen.” Cruz saunters around me and heads down the hallway.
“Hey, you driving or am I?” I love offering to drive. Cruz is six months older than me so he’s had his license for a little while. I just got mine a month ago.
Cruz grins from over his shoulder as he reaches for the front door knob. “I’ll drive. I’d like to live long enough to see the lake.” He throws me a wink.
“Shut up.” I roll my eyes as he steps outside. The first time I took Cruz for a ride in my car I almost got into an accident. In my defense, the car came out of nowhere and was driving well over the speed limit. None of that seemed to matter to Cruz, though, when I swerved away from the car and into the opposite lane, causing us to almost get hit head on. However, I’ve pointed out to him many times that it takes a lot of skill to avoid two accidents in the matter of two seconds. I mean, I saved our lives! But he’s been scared to drive with me ever since.
After the door closes behind him I duck back into my room and head to my dresser. I locate my purple bikini and quickly change into it. Being best friends with a guy means that I have to know how to get ready a lot faster than other girls. When Cruz says fifteen minutes he’s usually back in five. He doesn’t need very long to change into a pair of swim trunks. I throw a cover up over my swimsuit and grab a towel out of the hall closet. As I’m tossing it into my beach bag, Cruz returns. What did I tell you? It hasn’t even been ten minutes.
I text Mom to let her know where I’ll be, and then Cruz and I head outside. Cruz was right. The sun is scorching hot, and it’s not even noon yet. Unrelenting, it beats down on us as we head across the street to Cruz’s car. I slip into the passenger side, the vinyl seat burning my thighs. I pick my legs up off the seat as Cruz hops into the driver’s seat and turns on the engine. Thankfully he cranks the air conditioning as he pulls away from the curb. I relish the cold air as it spills from the vents and feathers over my skin.
By the time we turn the corner, the seat is cool enough for me to lower my legs. Holding the beach bag in my lap, I stare out the window at the quiet suburban neighborhoods. Cruz puts on some music and a familiar rock band plays in the background. Under his breath, Cruz sings along as he drives. When we were kids, Cruz was always singing. He hummed while we played outside. He knew all the theme songs to the television shows we watched, and he used to make up songs for games we played. It used to drive me nuts. Now I find it endearing.
“Hey.” I turn to him. “Did I tell you that we got Mateo’s wedding invitation in the mail yesterday?”
“No, but I knew he sent them out.” He smiles. “So, does that mean you’re coming?”
“I wouldn’t miss your brother’s wedding. You know that.”
Cruz turns a corner. “I still can’t believe he’s getting married.”
“I can. It’s Mateo. He’s had a girlfriend since he was in diapers.” I laugh.
Cruz chuckles. “That’s true. I guess it does make sense. Now if Julian gets married, then we’ll know something’s wrong.”
My stomach knots. “How is Julian?”
He shrugs, keeping his gaze trained out the front window, but I can see the slight twinge of his jaw that happens when he’s upset. “Who knows?”
I bite my lip. Julian is the wild child of the Vargas boys. Mateo is the oldest and most responsible. Gabriel is only two years older than Cruz, and he’s the intellect of the group. He’s been offered academic scholarships from several prestigious universities. Julian barely graduated from high school, and shortly after he moved out with a girlfriend. Everyone knows that he’s on drugs and mixed up with some pretty bad guys. It’s been a source of a lot of heartbreak for the family, especially Cruz’s mom.
I can’t even imagine. Regan gave my parents a little grief in high school, but just typical teenage rebellion stuff. Still, it killed my parents, and it was enough to keep me from doing it.
Cruz parks in the lot near the bridge and shuts off the engine. The minute cold air isn’t pouring out of the vents, it’s freaking hot again. I wipe my brow as I step out of the car. The water is sure going to feel good. After flinging the beach bag over my shoulder, I slam the door closed and join Cruz. Together we head to the sidewalk, cross the street and head toward the lake. Our feet crunch on rocks and dirt as we make our way down the path.
Even though bushes obscure our vision, I can tell it’s busy down here today. Splashing, chatting and squealing sounds all around us. Cruz sweeps his arm out, pulling back a couple of twigs so I can step through. He follows behind and we make our way down to the water. Colorful beach towels line the sand, a makeshift kaleidoscope.
When we find an empty spot, I drop my bag and spread out a towel. In the distance a guy hurls a girl into the water. Her scream pierces the air. Shaking my head, I drop on the towel. Peering up at Cruz, I give him a stern look.
“Don’t you even think about it.” The last time we were here he did the same thing to me.
“What?” As he sinks down onto his towel, he flashes me an innocent look.
“Oh, please. When have you ever been innocent?”
He cocks his head to the side. Then he smiles, shrugging. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m not making any promises.”
“No,” I say firmly. “The water is freezing. I want to go in on my own terms today.”
“Stop being such a wimp.” He swats my arm.
“I knew it was a mistake to become best friends with a boy,” I joke with him just as I have for years.
“Whatever. You know you love me.” He winks as he peels off his shirt, discarding it in the sand. My gaze lingers on his taut tanned chest. Over the years, many girls have asked how I could be platonic friends with Cruz. In fact, rumors have constantly spread that we are more than just friends. It’s like no one can believe that a guy and girl can be best friends only. And I sort of get it. I mean, it’s no secret that Cruz is hot. I’d have to be blind not to notice. But I guess I’ve become desensitized to it. To me he’s just Cruz. Nothing more, nothing less.
“Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”
My head snaps up to Cruz’s face, and he wears an amused expression.
“Shut up.”
“It’s okay. You can stare if you want.” He flexes. “I know it’s nice.”
“You wish.” I giggle, but my face warms a bit. Turning away from him, I search in my bag for the sunblock. Cruz may not have to worry about his dark skin burning, but I have to worry about mine. When we were younger Cruz used to tease me for my pale skin, calling me Casper the Friendly Ghost, as if I wasn’t already aware of the di
fference in our coloring. After locating the bottle, I pull it out. I squirt some on my arms and shoulders and rub it in.
“Here.” Cruz reaches for the sunblock. “I’ll get your back.”
I sit still as he rubs his palms over my flesh. My gaze scours the lake, and my stomach leaps. “Oh, my god.”
“I’ve put sunblock on you a million times, but I’ve never elicited this kind of response from you, Sloane. I must be getting better.”
I roll my eyes at Cruz’s joke. “No. Look.” With my index finger I point out at the lake. “Adam’s here.”
“Adam Stewart?” His hand stills on my back.
“Yeah. Right there. See?” I stare at Adam as he bobs in the water, his dark hair slick, liquid beading on his skin. He’s wearing sunglasses so I can’t see his eyes, but I can picture them, and it makes my stomach twist.
“Oh. Yeah, that’s him.” Cruz sounds bored. “Guess you better get in the water and try to accidentally bump into him or some shit like that. Then you can act all surprised as if you had no idea he was here.”
I throw him a confused look. “What are you talking about?”
“Isn’t that what girls do?”
Leaning back, I bite my lip. “I don’t know. I’m new to this whole flirting thing.”
Cruz tosses the sunblock to me, and I catch it in my palm. “That’s good. It’s better if you just be yourself. Don’t play games. Trust me.” He winks.
“Is that why you broke up with Becca? Because she played too many games?”
“Ugh. Becca.” Cruz groans. “That girl was so high maintenance and needy. And yeah, she did play games.” He shakes his head. “I can’t believe you’re friends with her.”
“It’s your fault.” I nudge him in the shoulder. “You’re the one who brought her into our lives.”
“That doesn’t mean she has to stay.”
I shrug. “I like her. Besides, she’s my first girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend?” Cruz lifts his brows. “Is there something you need to tell me?”
