“Why?” I ask. “Gave up drinking?”
She shakes her head. “I gave up basically everything. Here, sit.”
She pats the spot on the sand next to her and I sit down. The smell of the ocean air on her skin is stronger, more intoxicating than the smell of the remains of her beer in the glass bottle. Shayna next to me is a salve to my burning need for the booze. Sitting next to her, I’m no longer thirsty.
“What do you mean you gave up everything?”
Shayna smoothes the fabric of her shirt down and then stares at it, avoiding my eyes. “It’s sort of a long story.”
I motion around the empty camp site. Nothing but crickets and waves crashing and stars. Not another soul around for miles. “We’ve sort of got all the time in the world, doll.”
“Right,” she says softly. “I guess we do.”
She peels the wrapper on the beer bottle for a few minutes before finally saying, “I think you’re right about something, Carter.”
“Oh yeah, what’s that?”
“I think this may be the only sane place left on earth. I don’t remember the last time I felt so relaxed while I was still basically sober.”
I so know that feeling. It’s why I spend so much time out here, but I can’t exactly tell Shayna that.
“It’s nice, right?” Is all I say.
“I feel like… for the first time in a long time, I made the right decision. That maybe coming here wasn’t the stupidest thing ever. At least I hope it wasn’t.”
“I think everyone needs a break.”
I watch her take another sip of her beer, I can’t help it. She notices. “Do you want one?”
“No,” I say firmly. I work my neck back and forth. “No, I’m okay. Thank you. Why… why’d you start drinking?”
“Ah, digging deep tonight are we, MacPherson?” she teases. “Good thing I’ve already had a couple or I might not be so apt to answer your questions.”
“You don’t have to answer anything you don’t want to.”
“I actually like it. I like the taste. But I didn’t start with drinking,” she says. “The first time I did anything was smoke pot… after my cotillion.”
“Sounds classy,” I joke. “But that’s not what I asked.” I reach over and brush a strand of blonde hair that matches the color of the sand out of her face. She leans into my palm for the briefest second before straightening back up.
“Before that. What changed to make you go from typical minister’s daughter to…” I let my words drop off. I was going to make a joke, but stop myself short. I wish I could take back the entire statement.
Shayna looks down at the sand. “I know what you’ve heard about me—what they say…”
“That’s not—I wasn’t going to say anything about that. I was going to make a stupid joke. It was… stupid.”
“It’s fine, Carter.” She waves me off. “I’ve dealt with the comments most of my life. Since middle school at least. And up until that point I was the typical minister’s daughter.”
“So what changed?”
“Isn’t that just what kids do? I mean, why did you start drinking? It’s not all sinister or anything.” she tries to smile, to downplay what I’m asking—maybe I’m pushing too much, psycho analyzing her the way I feel at meetings. But I know there’s more to this girl. There’s more to why she does what she does and who she is.
Shayna closes her eyes.
“I guess I’ve always felt different in some way. Like I didn’t fit in. But in seventh grade, that’s when everything went to hell. That’s when I perfected the game—when being someone else became my favorite past time. It’s so stupid, but when my small circle of friends—girls from church, girls that lived on my street—they all turned against me—because isn’t that what you do in middle school? At least with girls, I think that’s pretty normal. There was no reason really. I didn’t steal anyone’s boyfriend. I didn’t break any cardinal rule of middle school friendship. They just decided one day they hated me. We were at recess and they handed me a piece of notebook paper then ran off, leaving me standing alone. They’d taken a vote, “Who wants to still be friends with Shayna?” it read. There was only one ‘yes.’ To this day I don’t know who the yes was, but they’d given their answer loud and clear by leaving me on that blacktop alone.
For the rest of the year I felt alone. I never resorted to eating lunch in a teacher’s classroom or the bathroom or anything, but I’d sit with whoever let me. I made small talk and picked at my food while my old friends laughed. It wouldn’t have been so bad, but I never quite felt like I fit in at home, either. I didn’t believe the things that my parents did as fiercely. When my parents asked where all of my friends were on weekends, I couldn’t tell them. I was afraid they’d assume that I did something to lose all of those good girls as friends. So I’d have Mom drop me off at the mall, telling her I was meeting everyone there. Instead, I’d wander around for hours by myself.
I acted out. I wasn’t very nice to people, and really, what difference did it make? I had so few friends that it’s not like I had anything to lose.”
She opens her eyes and looks startled, like she hadn’t realized she’d been speaking the words out loud. That she just confessed something to me she maybe had never told anyone before.
Shayna twists a thin leather bracelet around her wrist.
“So that night at cotillion, when they offered me a hit, I went along with it. It wasn’t a big deal at the time, but I kept doing it—I kept doing everything because—because it was like I had something to prove. And that was that I didn’t need anyone. I was fine alone.” She gives a low laugh that isn’t amused and says, “So what if I had to dull my senses in order to even spend time in my own head?”
I inch in closer. We’ve been playing this game for two days. See how close we can get without crossing a line. Close enough to feel something, but not too close that you risk putting a crack in a wall. Not close enough to risk opening yourself up. I feel myself failing at the game now. “You’re not alone.”
“Oh yeah?” she says. “Wait till I’ve overstayed my welcome at your p—”
I press my index finger to her mouth. “You can stay with me as long as you want, Shayna.”
The temperature is dropping and she shivers next to me. “You cold?” I ask, already jumping up to grab a blanket. I wrap it around her shoulders and stoke the fire a little before sitting back down.
“Well thank you. I really appreciate that. Once Quinn gets home and I can visit with her, I guess I’ll take off after that. I don’t really have a plan, you know?”
I chuckle, wondering if she’s already trying to push back. If I already got too close.
“I sort of figured that part out. I’m serious though, you’re welcome to crash at my place as long as you need. I’m gone all day for work so it’s not an imposition at all.”
“Thank you, I may take you up on that. Just until I figure out my next move, of course.”
“Of course,” I nod and Shayna flashes the first real, dimpled smile of the night.
“That’s really nice of you, Carter, seriously.”
“Hey, that’s what you do for friends, right?”
She purses her lips and gives a quick nod. “Friends. Right.”
“I’ve got to ask, and you don’t have to answer Shayna, but what was the catalyst? What made you leave?” I half think it was some douchebag guy who stomped on her heart, but it seems like it may be more than that.
Shayna laughs. “In a way? Your sister.”
I swallow hard and shake my head in disbelief. “Did Quinn tell you to take off? That is so damn typical.”
“No, no, not at all. I just know that since she left Georgia—since she escaped the image that everyone back home had of her, the talking behind her back, the rumors… she’s been doing so well. It sounds stupid, I know, I just wanted a shot at that, too. I didn’t want to play by the rules of anyone else but myself.” Shayna traces shapes in the sand with her
finger.
“I get it,” I say.
“Do you remember last Christmas Eve?” she asks. She pulls her knees to her chest and rests her chin on them. “I mean, do you remember what we talked about?”
“I do,” I say. I remember every word of it, and have wondered if she did. She fell asleep before we really got to talk about anything yesterday. I mentioned that I’d found the word to describe it. She quickly changed the subject and went to bed, so I’m treading lightly here.
“So you remember how I said that I’ve always felt out of place and never really understood why? How I feel like I’m constantly seeking refuge in places outside of myself?” A flush creeps across her cheeks and even though I know it’s likely because she’s embarrassed to be admitting it again, the color makes her look freaking sexy as hell. I imagine what she’d look like after I kissed her the way she deserves and needs. If I’d be able to make her feel less alone. If I left her cheeks and neck red and raw if she’d still try to hide her real self, or if she’d finally let go.
“I remember all of that. You still feel that way?”
“And then some.”
“Is that why you came out here?”
“Carter, after you dropped me off that night, I should have gone to bed. It’d already been a shit night, you shot me down—”
“Hey, easy. I didn’t shoot you down, doll. I just didn’t think it was what you needed at the time. I wanted to—” She rocks back and forth and I can see the shape of her ass peeking out from those tiny cut-offs. God, I wanted to let something happen between us. “It just—it wasn’t the right time.”
She half rolls her eyes at me. “Whatever. The point is, I’d been rejected. I felt like shit and I went to the pool house since my parents had company and drank some more.”
She’d already had a pretty fair amount of booze when I left her that night, I want to lecture her about drinking too much, but it’s not my place and I’m the last god damn person on earth who should be moderating alcohol use to others.
“Okay,” is all I say.
“I got trashed, ruined my parents party and then I went to bed.”
It sounds like a rough night, but I’m not really following with how that lead to her showing up in Southern California months later. “Sounds like a pretty crap night.”
She nods her head slowly. “I decided to go and apologize later on, and heard them talking. They weren’t mad anymore, they were… scared.”
“Because you were caught drinking?” I ask. Shayna is still technically under the legal drinking age, but at least she’s out of high school now.
She shakes her head. “They were scared that I’d turn out…” she tilts her head as if she’s weighing her words carefully. “They didn’t want me to turn out like my parents.”
“Wait,” I say, holding my hand up. “I don’t understand.”
“My Mom and Dad, the mom and dad I’ve always known at least, were talking that night about how they didn’t want me to end up in trouble like my real parents. The ones they adopted me from.”
“So, you’re adopted? And you never knew?”
She gives a small nod. “I just found out that night. I wasn’t supposed to hear.”
“But you told them you did right, Shayna? You talked to them about it?”
She stares back at me, wordlessly, her eyes glassy with tears. I do the only thing I can do which is pull her in close and kiss the top of her head. “You haven’t told anyone?” I ask.
“No,” she says into my shoulder. Her body heaves and her sobs become heavier. I had to push. I had to fucking push. I was stupid enough to think that whatever she was hiding was something that I’d be equipped to handle, but this—I’ve got nothing.
She cries until the arm of my t-shirt is wet and streaked with black makeup, but I don’t give a shit.
She pulls back to wipe her face and says, “That’s not why I came though. After I heard them, things became… complicated.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. It’s a useless thing to say to her but I don’t know what else to say or how to fix this. “I can’t believe you’ve kept that to yourself for this long, Shayna. Why not tell them you knew?”
“You don’t understand,” she says. That’s an understatement. “If I would have let on that I knew, it would have changed things between us forever. They’d never treated me like a junkie’s kid before.”
“That’s because you’re not.”
She ignores me and says, “If I acknowledged that that’s what I was… I was afraid that that’s exactly what I’d become in their eyes. So I did what I had to do. I got my act together. I enrolled in school, I stopped drinking. I was in early at night. I dated the right guys.”
I cringe at the mention of another guy with her even if it’s not my right to. She’s mentioned over the last few months going out and I never pry—it’s not my business, I have nothing to offer her, but damn it gets under my skin. I can’t count the number of nights I’ve laid awake at night wondering what she’s doing—if she’s with another man.
I guess I know a thing or two about keeping secrets.
“How many dates are we talking about?” I ask. I try to make it come off as a joke, but I don’t know if even the thick layer of sarcasm can hide the jealousy.
Shayna perks up a little and grins. “So many. Dull. Boring. Dates.”
She leans in closer again. I can feel her sweet breath on my face. All I can do is focus on that mouth.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, my words tangled in my throat.
“Does the just friend’s thing still apply?” she asks.
It’s still not the right time. I forced her to open up. Made her get emotional. I shouldn’t give in but dammit she’s so close. I can feel the heat radiating off of her warm skin.
“Shayna, are you sure you want to start something?”
She answers by running her tongue along my bottom lip. Teasing me. Torturing me. She parts her lips and I grip her sides and pull her onto my lap, crushing my mouth onto hers. Finally. I kiss her hard until I swear I’m tasting blood. She slides her tongue lightly on the roof of my mouth and I lose it.
I push the blanket off of her shoulders and lean her back onto it, warming her with my mouth instead of the heavy fleece. I lick and kiss and suck every inch of exposed skin before I push her top over her head. It feels too slow in comparison with the panting of our breath, but I take my time, loving how my calloused hands feel on that soft, warm skin.
I lift her hair from her neck and suck that perfect divot behind her ear before I give the string that holds her bikini top on a tug, letting two perfect, full tits bounce free. A small moan escapes that sexy mouth as I lightly tug on her nipples until they are gorgeous, hard pebbles. I take one into my mouth and roll it around my tongue before I force myself to stop.
I pull back to take her all in. That gorgeous tanned skin, that tight body that I can’t wait to be inside of.
“Shayna,” I say through raggedy breaths. “Are you sure.”
She nods slowly, but she isn’t making eye contact. I want her to look me in the eye.
“Look at me, baby. We can stop.” Dear God I don’t want to stop, but I will.
She lifts her eyes to mine and parts her lips. “I want to. Please don’t stop.”
“Are you sure,” I ask again before reaching for my bag to grab a condom.
“I’m sure. I’ve just never done this before,” she says.
I pull back even though it’s the last thing I want to do.
“Wait, you’re a virgin?” I run my hand along my stubbly jaw. “Okay—”
She pulls her eyebrows together and shakes her head. “No, I’m not a virgin. I just… I’ve never been with anyone when it wasn’t just a one-time thing. And not that this will be more, it’s just—I’m going to wake up tomorrow and you’ll still be here and—shit, I’m making a mess of this—I just..” She shakes her head again, blonde hair swirling around. “Never mind, I’m good.”
&n
bsp; She perches up higher so that she can reach my mouth and kisses me softly.
“We don’t have to—”
“I want to. Really. Forget I said anything. Just let me make you feel good.” The last thing in the world I want is for this woman to think that she has to do anything for my sake. I want her. But I want to be the one making her feel good. I want to see that beautiful body buck under me, writhing with pleasure she hasn’t known before.
“Not a chance. Tonight is all about you, doll.” I lower her back down onto the blanket and flick the buttons of her jean shorts open, running my palm flat along her stomach. I nuzzle my face into her skin. “Good God, woman, you may kill me.”
I push her shorts and bikini bottoms down and she raises her hips to help. The movement, her hips rising up to meet me makes my dick throb. I slip two fingers inside of her. She’s so damn slick and hot and I can’t help but smile.
“Ready for me huh, doll?” I ask.
Shayna smirks and says, “That’s what you do for friends, right?”
“Ohhh,” I laugh. “You’ve got jokes? Now I’m not only going to make you wait, I’m going to make you beg.”
I awake to Carter kissing my shoulder and down the length of my arm. We’re sandy and my back aches like I’ve aged thirty years over night, but it doesn’t matter. It’s the first time I’ve ever woken up in someone’s arms—ever. I’ve always managed to slip out before the guy wakes up, or vice versa. I don’t care how sore I am, or how many times I’ll have to wash my hair to get the grit out, every second of that is worth this moment. This happiness. This feeling of security.
“We should get going,” he says. The softness of his tone goes to war against the feeling of disappointment in me at the thought of having to leave.
“Already? I thought we were going to stay two nights?”
“I know, I want to,” he says. He rubs a hand on the back of his neck. “But I’ve got to get back. We can come back another time. I promise.”
“Carter,” I say, rolling over to face him. “Is something wrong?”
He picks up my wrist and kisses the pulse point. “The only thing that’s wrong is that you’re about to put clothes on and that—that definitely feels wrong.”
Friend Is a Four Letter Word Page 8
