More Than His Best Friend (More Than Best Friends Book 1)

by Sally Henson

  Cameron, of all people, told me to grow up. And no one called him out on it. They all stared at me as if I’d just sold all their secrets to the highest bidder. Lane didn’t even stick up for me. He’s supposed to be my best friend, and he thinks I’m childish.

  My eyes blur over with moisture. I lay my head down on the picture of the amazing ocean creatures and close my eyes for a few moments. Going over and over yesterday isn’t going to make it go away, so I’ll try to put that out of my mind and think on college and what I’m going to do with my childish dreams.

  Mom nudges my arm. “Regan?”

  “Yeah?” I must have fallen asleep because my face is smashed against the open book on the table. The page sticks to my cheek as I sit up.

  “It's three-thirty. You need to leave for the pool.”

  “Crap!” I snatch my stuff off the table, scurry past Mom, and fling open the door of the house, flying down the hallway to my bedroom. I’m supposed to be leaving right now, not getting ready.

  Swimsuit, on. Lifeguard T-shirt, on. Shorts…get some shorts.

  I find a pair of cut-off blue jeans and pull them on. A towel, comb, rubber bands, and wallet all get stuffed in my bag.

  In the kitchen, Mom's already back to work at the table sewing some bridesmaid dresses for one of her seamstress jobs.

  I grab an apple from the basket on the counter and a bottle of water from the fridge. “I need to get going, Mom, or I’ll be late for work.” I slip on my flip-flops, grab the keys, and head for the door.

  “Are you going to the diner afterward?”

  The energy in my body drains from my head down to my toes, leaving a pool of my confidence on the floor. “I don't plan on it."

  I'm not ready to see my friends yet. No one has called me. Not even Lane. Maybe I am a childish dreamer, but it still hurts.

  Even when I’m trying to support them and their dreams, I can't seem to get anything right.

  “Oh.” Mom halts her work, raising her eyebrows in surprise. “All right, sweetie. Call if you change your mind.”

  “Okay.” The door squeaks as I open it.

  “I love you.”

  “Love you, bye.” The screen door clatters against the frame as I sprint to the shed and hop in my mom’s old white Jeep Cherokee.

  My bag lands in the passenger seat with a thud. I crank the engine, back out of the shed, and speed down the rock driveway and onto the road.

  7

  Regan

  As I pull into the parking lot, an obnoxious, red Mustang GT with tinted windows and custom wheels glares at me. It even has this little sticker tattoo on the back end of its owner’s initials in fancy script. This spectacle was a sixteenth birthday gift.

  Okay, I'll admit I'm a little jealous that a sixteen-year-old has a more expensive car than both my parents' vehicles put together. Plus, I don't even own a car. The worst part? Seeing the red Mustang, unattended, in the parking lot means she is working tonight—with me.

  To avoid getting blamed for anything that could happen to her car, I make sure to park in the farthest spot away. With a heavy sigh, I gather my things in the passenger seat and trudge to the office. I can suffer through the night if we keep our exchanges to a minimum.

  As soon as I walk through the front gate, I’m greeted with the view of Stacey sitting in a white plastic chair inside the office. Her hair’s all done up in a fancy braid, she’s wearing makeup, and she’s completely focused on her phone.

  “Stacey,” I acknowledge her and grip the pen to sign in.

  “Regan,” she utters in her disdainful drawl.

  I snatch the checklist of things to do before the pool opens and after it closes. Of course, nothing is marked off yet. If it doesn’t involve sitting on her butt or messing around on her phone, Stacey doesn’t do it, so I have to.

  I take the list and head back to the girls’ locker room. This space is small, like the pool, and I guess it matches the small town of Stelmo pretty well too. When everything on the list has been checked, it’s time to take our assigned positions.

  Ms. Willis, the pool manager, sends Stacey and Jimmy out first. There are only three lifeguards and Ms. Willis on duty at one time. I stay in the office for the first rotation, checking people in, sell candy, and stuff, while the other two climb the guard chairs at the shallow and deep ends of the pool. Kids rush through the locker rooms to jump in the water. Some of them practically live here during the summer.

  When it’s time to rotate, I relieve Stacey at the shallow end. She crosses the concrete to take Jimmy’s place. I like to walk along the edge by my chair. It makes me feel more alert to the swimmers. As Stacey passes by the diving board, I glance at the light blue sky. It’s clear as can be right now. Star gazing would be amazing tonight. My eyes float back to the pool as I pace and keep my eye on a couple little boys. The stillness of the air makes it a perfect night for swimming too.

  A freckle-faced ball of energy is about to get my whistle for the third time tonight. “Logan! No running. Next time, you’ll have to sit out.”

  He crosses his arms, frowns at me, and jumps in. That kid always gives me a hard time.

  I glance at Stacey leaning against the fence, talking to her friends. She’s supposed to be watching the swimmers in the deep end. She never gets in trouble for hanging out with her friends while she’s working.

  One time, Tobi and Haylee came by and were waiting for me to get off work. They were drooling at the guys playing ball and wanted to settle who had the best shoulders on the court. When I walked back to the office, Ms. Willis got on my case about working instead of socializing.

  The thump-thump of a basketball hitting the concrete court behind me has my stomach tightening. My back’s to the court, so I can’t see who’s there, but I’ve heard vehicles pulling into the parking lot since I came out of the office.

  I check the giant clock hanging in the office. If Cameron’s going to play tonight, he’ll be here any minute.

  The low rumble of a truck pulling into the parking lot vibrates through the air. Probably him.

  The driver revs the engine, making the desired crackle from the exhaust pipes.

  Yep, it’s him.

  I wonder if he’s still mad at me. Why should I care? I’m still mad at him.

  Jimmy comes out of the office to take my chair. Stacey’s already off her throne at the deep end, making her way to the office. I stroll across the concrete to replace her and quickly scan the court to see who’s playing ball. When I’m almost to the other side of the pool, I spot Lane approaching the fence behind my post.

  My body automatically sighs and places a smile on my face. I'm glad to see him even though I'm not over the hurt from yesterday.

  He turns his cap backward and grasps the chain-link fence, wiggling his fingertips, luring me in. His eyes can be so intense, but right now they're soft and inviting.

  He leans his head against the wire and calls to me in a low voice, “Regan.” It's a lullaby I can't resist. He has an easiness about him that tames my fire.

  “Hello, Lane.” I glance back at the office to make sure Ms. Willis isn’t watching. Stacey's stare burns a hole in my back as she waits by her chair for me to relieve her.

  He waits patiently for me to come closer, his eyes never leaving mine. “Are you going to the diner after work?”

  I tilt my head and look down at the concrete. “No.”

  “Why not?” His voice is even softer, almost pleading.

  “I don't know.” I shrug, sounding like a whine-bag. “Look, I can't really talk right now. I'm working.”

  “After work, then.” He jogs to the court before I can reply that I don't want to talk.

  I push out a long breath and turn back to the guard chair.

  Stacey shoots me a dirty look before she heads toward the office.

  My eyes scroll to the diving boards, and then the water, pacing along the edge. I blow my whistle at Logan’s sister for dunking him. He probably deserved it, but she knows sh
e’s not supposed to. I continue watching the swimmers—doing my job, ignoring the sweet sound of Lane’s voice on repeat in my ears.

  8

  Lane

  I turn and high-tail it away from the fence before Regan can worm her way out of going to the diner. Everyone feels bad about yesterday. There’s no way I’m going to let her out of meeting up with the G5. Besides, I have a plan.

  Tonight is the night.

  Nick flicks the ball at me from under the hoop. “Cary.”

  I catch it, bounce it a few times, and secure it between my side and forearm.

  Nick continues, “What’s with the dopey look? You got a date with your girl?”

  I flash my usual grin whenever the guys question the status of Regan and me. Secretly, or maybe not-so secretly, I love it.

  Joey pipes up. “Yeah, what’s up with you two? You’re about to head off to Eastern.”

  I try to keep any emotion from my face and say, “Yeah, so?”

  Frak and his posse hover at the edge of the court. He leans over their shoulders and mumbles something I can’t make out. Judging by the sounds they’re making, I doubt I’d like what he said.

  His eyes meet my daggers as his lips pull into a smirk.

  Joey clasps his hands behind his head and continues, “I mean, what are you guys? I know someone who wants to ask her out, but they don’t want to make a move if…ya know.”

  I bounce the ball a couple times, harder than necessary, and glare at him like he just punched me in the nose. “Regan and I are close friends. We will continue to be close friends.”

  Cam’s in the very back of the group about to bust a gut, holding his laughter in. We say the girls are friends, but our body language says they’re off limits. It’s what we do. Cam and I have this thing. We protect the girls from douche bags. Meaning pretty much every dude in Stelmo.

  Joey throws the ball back to me and bobs his head up and down so fast I’m a little concerned he might give himself whiplash. “All right, man.”

  Poor kid. He may be six feet two inches tall, but he’s still a fresh-meat freshman to me.

  Nick takes a couple steps forward and wraps his arm around Joey’s shoulders. “Aw, don’t listen to him, Joey. He’s been giving the same song and dance for what, two, three years now? He’s all talk.”

  I chuckle, ’cause he’s right, even if he’s kind of ticking me off. “Whatever.”

  Cam tugs his shirt off, tosses it in the open window of his cab, and raises his hand high, signaling he’s ready to dunk on Nick.

  Nick smirks, arching his eyebrows in a quick flash as he looks past me toward the pool. “I’d drive home every weekend for that.”

  More guys have joined us on the court, and every single one of them snicker at Nick’s comment. Including Cam. I look behind me even though I know exactly who they’re staring at.

  Regan.

  I turn back and meet Nick’s challenge. “Yeah, I plan to.”

  “My cuz had some fun with her after graduation. Remember that night, Lane?” he asks, but I don’t think he really wants me to answer because he keeps on with his gibberish. “I’ve never seen Regan give the time of day to anyone like she did with Bobby. He definitely had her attention. Until you drug her away caveman style.”

  Of course, the guys laugh at his stupid joke. I wasn’t acting like a prehistoric male. I was protecting her. Sort of. That day was an eye-opener.

  I connect gazes with Cam. He nods. I nod.

  “Ha, you know what I think of you and your ‘cuz’?” I toss the ball up toward the hoop.

  Every set of eyes on that court follow it as Cam leaps for it and dunks over Nick.

  All kinds of slams from the guys pour over Nick.

  I raise my arms in front of me and motion with my fingers, adding, “Boom.”

  A mob surrounds Cameron, rubbing his head, patting him on the back. He soaks it all up and points to me, acknowledging our team work. I return the gesture. One upping Nick is always a good thing.

  I tear my shirt off and toss it on the grass, announcing, “We gonna start some action or stand around and BS?”

  After a couple games and several elbows to the ribs, the guys started dropping like flies. Most of them probably went home to shower and head out to a party or their girlfriend’s house.

  Cam stands and stretches in front of the rackety wooden bleachers. “I’m gonna check my phone.”

  I shoot him a smart aleck remark, “You askin’ permission?”

  He gives me the one finger salute and crosses the parking lot to his truck.

  I snort and lay back on the bottom row of the seats. It’s dark out, but the lights of the pool and basketball court keep the stars from shining. The flying insects swarming the light fixtures almost look like a cloud of dust hovering. It must be the stillness of the night air.

  I rest my hands behind my head. Ugh, I stink. Playing ball, getting hot and sweaty, wasn’t the best idea. I didn’t want to smell like a nasty locker room when I went home with Regan. That’s real attractive. You’re such a moron sometimes.

  How can I fix this? I bolt up and scan the area for a faucet. I see a water hydrant over by Cam’s truck. He’s leaning against his rear bumper focused on his phone. He’s been spending time with someone lately. Whenever I ask him about it, he dodges my questions. I jog over and stick my head under the faucet.

  “Dude!” Cam squawks, “What’re you doing?”

  I haven’t even turned the water on yet. “I was gonna wash off.”

  He leans back on his tailgate, crossing his arms. “What for?”

  I shrug. “I stink.”

  He smirks. “So? We’re just going to the diner with the girls.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I know exactly where I’m going and who I’m going with. Reeking like a junior high boy who doesn’t wear deodorant isn’t what I want Regan to notice, though.

  Cam’s grin widens. “So…”

  I hold my arms out to my sides, questioning him.

  “Summer’s almost over.” Cam keeps his grin.

  Is he waiting for me to give up? Because I’m not giving up.

  “Yeah, well, almost doesn’t count.”

  He chuckles, eyeing me for a second, and then opens his door. He swivels around and hands me a package of baby wipes. “Here.”

  I open my mouth to ask why in the world he would have something like this in his truck of all places, but he stops me.

  He scowls. “Don’t ask. You wanna use em’ or what?”

  Flipping the lid open, I pull out two or three or ten sheets and wipe myself down, grinning about all the different ways I could give him crap. When I’m done cleaning up, Cam hands me some body spray.

  I squirt some in the air and sniff. “Not bad,” I say, spraying a light mist on my sweat-free skin. Cam saved my butt, and I’m a little surprised since Regan’s at stake here. “Thanks.”

  “Yeah. I’m gonna head to Haylee’s and pick up the girls. See you at the diner.”

  “We’ll be there.” I toss him the can.

  Cam shoves it under his seat. “You made your move yet?”

  He’s the only one who knows I want Regan to be my girlfriend. Only because he was going to ask her out, too. At least he has the decency to give me until the end of summer before he tries. The clock is ticking double time.

  I blow out a breath and try not to sound pathetic. “Not yet.”

  He climbs in his truck and cranks the engine. His eyes widen at the cackle of the exhaust. I chuckle to myself. He’s the kid and his rumbling truck is the candy store.

  He leans through the open window and goads me, “You waited too long. The odds are in my favor.” Then he leaves me to my fate.

  I hope he’s wrong.

  9

  Regan

  I love being a lifeguard, but I can’t wait to get out of here tonight. The quicker I start cleaning, the faster I can get away from the girl with the golden gossip tongue. With the pool and locker rooms empty, I slip my flip-fl
ops on and grab the cleaner out of the cabinet in the office.

  Stacey follows me. “So, I heard you went swimming at the cliffs yesterday.”

  Why is she trailing me? I don’t like it one bit. “Did you?” I start scrubbing the floor with the brush.

  “I also heard you weren't alone.” She’s trying to tempt me to ask her what else she heard, but I’m not falling for it.

  Feigning shock, I say, “Stacey, as a lifeguard, you should know as part of our training we’re taught not to swim alone.”

  “How does Lane feel about your new boyfriend?”

  I keep scrubbing the floor, doing my best to ignore her.

  Every step I make, she steps with me. “You and Cameron look cute together.”

  I stop abruptly and whip my head up to look at her. “Me and Cameron?” A knot appears in my stomach and starts twisting. This is a new angle for her, and I don’t want to go there.

  “Cameron’s your new boy toy,” she states as if it's a well-known fact.

  I growl under my breath and get back to scrubbing in hopes of getting out of here as soon as possible. If it weren’t for Susanna and Abby, I’d teach her a lesson. They don't need any more trouble from Stacey and her family, so I keep my cool.

  I decide to taunt her a little, using a tone as if I were talking to a toddler. “Well, you're right, Stacey. Cameron is a boy, and he is my friend.”

  “I know you two were out at the cliffs yesterday. You were hanging all over each other. There's no use in denying it, Regan.” She cackles in her annoying way. “The apple doesn't fall too far from the family tree, does it?”

  So, that's what she was huddled up with her cronies about all evening. The apple I ate earlier sours in my stomach. Cameron and I are in her crosshairs.

  “Aw, is Lane jealous?” Her fake sympathy foams out of the corner of her mouth.