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

by Sally Henson

  They yell the customary, “Go!” and I begin to accelerate until they signal to stay the speed. I'm going nearly forty miles per hour when Lane yells.

  Tobi's a daredevil, a risk-taker, and I admire her for that. She doesn't do stupid—not too often, anyway—mostly gutsy. Tobi gives the kill sign, pulling her hand straight across her throat.

  I slow to a stop, and they jump off on either side of the Jeep, laughing and carrying on. There are no houses along this road, so we don't need to worry about getting caught.

  It's time to switch. My turn with Tobi. She wants to keep the left side.

  We stand, counting in unison, “One, two, three, go!”

  My eyes must be as wide as saucers, a rush of adrenaline flowing through my veins as Lane accelerates. Tobi's laughing at me, and it’s so contagious I start giggling at her laughing at me. We try howling, but she can't even do that she's so out of breath. We don't get too far when Tobi gives the cut sign. She crumbles against the windshield, trying to catch her breath.

  “Regan, girl. You need a little help with your surfing skills. Especially your bad-ass surfer girl look. You're killing me!” Tobi’s trying to catch her breath. “I'll drive. I can't take it anymore.”

  We hop off the hood.

  “What's wrong with my surfer-girl look?” I question her.

  She looks at Lane, and they both burst out laughing.

  Lane struggles to spit out, “You've got the I'm-scared-to-death look, but you need a little work on the other.”

  Tobi orders, “All right, you two, hit the waves.”

  We both climb up. I move over to the left side, knowing Lane prefers the right.

  He takes my hand and clasps his fingers through mine, melding our hands together. Tobi revs the engine beneath us. Raising our entangled hands high in the air, he arches back and lets out a raw, animalistic howl.

  Tobi and I join him until we run out of breath. I look up at his glowing face. It resembles what I’m feeling: wild and crazy and excited. Adrenaline bubbles in my chest, waiting to shoot through my veins.

  A gust of wind moves quickly across my lips, drying them out. I swipe my tongue across my lips and press them together. Gently, Lane pulls me toward him. I follow his motion, and another jolt of adrenaline bolts through my body. He releases my fingers and places both of his hands on my hips—I freeze.

  Lane’s fingers press against my jean shorts, but the heat radiates to my skin underneath. Fog invades my brain, and my body grows weak, as if I climbed into a warm bath. He spins me so I’m facing away from him. I blink profusely trying to snap out of this daze.

  Still holding me, Lane steps forward—settling so close—placing us both centered between the windshield and hood of the Jeep. My breath catches and my spine stiffens at the same time. I look back over my shoulder at him, frantically searching for an explanation for his actions. His eyes are eager and brilliant as he beams down at me.

  My intuition tells me this is a fight or flight moment, but it’s my best friend here. Why would I flee? I turn back to steady my stance again as a nervous giggle escapes me.

  Lane leans his head down and whispers through my hair, “Ready, surfer-girl?” His voice is warm, soft, and low like it was earlier at the pool when he was calling me to the fence. It sends a shiver through me.

  I can still feel him breathing in my hair. Panic starts to well up in my chest. The slight breeze in my face is the only thing keeping me from hyperventilating at this point. Maybe I should move away.

  Looking through the windshield at Tobi, my eyes plead for help as Lane starts the countdown. Tobi's response to my unspoken plea, with dash lights bouncing off her nose and mouth, is two thumbs up, mouthing the words, “Okay.”

  “Go!” Lane’s voice fills the air, and Tobi presses on the gas.

  I whip my head around, focusing forward where the headlights meet the road, trying to concentrate on keeping my balance, feeling the wave of the road through the movement of the Jeep. As Tobi accelerates, the wind increases against my face.

  Lane shouts to even the speed. At least he hasn’t lost his mind about that.

  Rushing air blows my hair back, knotting the ends. After the initial shock of Lane's whisper, I feel at ease surfing with him holding me. I close my eyes and let the smell of cut hay lighten my thoughts. I wonder if surfing waves in the ocean feels anything like this.

  Five years from now, I could be standing on a warm sunny beach with the wind in my hair and my guy holding me exactly like this. Maybe, when we're both in college, maybe Lane would want to spend spring break with me in Florida.

  Warmth fills me at the thought. I can picture him shaking his hair walking toward me from the ocean as I sit on the beach, waves crashing into him. He flashes those dimples I love. I bat my eyes open and shake that image out of my head, trying to get my bearings.

  I notice the deceleration and look in the windshield at Tobi, questioning her. I'm not ready to stop.

  Her finger points out the windshield ahead of us. We're nearing Lane's house, which means our surfing for the night has come to an end.

  I'm not sure what just happened—what is happening—on top of the hood. I start to pull away to jump off, but Lane doesn't let go. Without turning around to look at him, I put my hands on top of his, still grasping my waist, to push them off.

  He holds on and mutters, “Wait,” then moves past me, leaping off the hood and quickly turns to face me with his arms up. He wants me to grab his hands so he can help me down.

  I cock my head to the side. “I can get down myself, Lane.”

  He doesn't waiver.

  I cross my arms and shift my weight to one leg. “I'm not a little girl.”

  He refuses to put his arms down and grabs me before I jump. “I can see that,” he says, and flashes a wry smile.

  My eyes narrow and I purse my lips.

  “Even in the dark,” he utters, low and quiet.

  I let him help me down so we can get in the car without an argument. Tobi bolts out of the front seat of the car and hops into the back seat. Hurriedly, I get behind the wheel and slam my door shut.

  “That was interesting,” Tobi mumbles from the backseat in a teasing voice.

  I ignore her.

  We wait for Lane to saunter around the car and slide in. I take off without a word.

  “That was great!” Tobi starts, handing Lane his shoes. “I think surfing did the trick for you tonight, Lane. You perked right up.” She's pleased with herself.

  He turns in his seat, smiling first at me and then Tobi. “Yeah. That's probably the best time I've ever had surfing.” He sounds more like my best friend than the guy who's been acting a little weird all summer.

  We turn up Lane's drive, talking about our mad skills as surfers. Lane's driveway winds through a wooded area, and the house sits off the road quite a bit.

  When I stop at the garage, Tobi asks Lane, “What's on the agenda for the rest of the week?”

  “I'm working every day this week. I might play ball a couple nights.”

  I turn to him. “How are you getting to work tomorrow with your truck in the shop?”

  “Mom's going to drop me. She's taking my sisters to the dentist or something.” The porch light turns on. “That's my cue.”

  I can tell he's not ready to get out.

  “Thanks for the ride.” His eyes sparkle in the darkness. He turns to Tobi, “And thanks for the surfing,” he says with a little laugh. “It did perk me right up.”

  I can't tell what expression he has on his face, but Tobi giggles and announces, “What can I say? I know how to have fun.”

  Lane slowly turns his back to me and gets out. He takes off his cap, bows, and says, “Goodnight, ladies.” There he is again. There's my best friend.

  The weight falls off my shoulders as soon as my Lane acts like his old self again. He watches and waves as we back the Jeep and roll down his drive.

  13

  Regan

  Tobi crawls over the cons
ole into the passenger seat. I crank up the radio. It only takes a few minutes to wind through the oil lease roads to my house. We pull into my drive and park in the shed. Mom's at the kitchen table reading when we walk through the door.

  “Well, hello, Tobi.” Mom's a little surprised to see her.

  “Hi, Sarah, how are you? I hope you don't mind me staying over tonight.” Tobi gives her a hug.

  “Of course not. I'm glad to see you. It's been too long since you've been over.”

  “Mom, I think we're going to sleep out in the gazebo tonight. The sky's clear and the stars are bright.” I hang the keys up on the hook by the door. “Tell Dad not to wake me up in the morning, please. I'll probably hear him leave anyway.”

  “I'll tell him.”

  “Night, Mom, love you.” I stop and give her a hug.

  “Goodnight, sweetie. I love you, too.” She tilts her head and raises her eyebrows. “No visitors and no leaving the yard.”

  “No problem. Come on, Tobi, let's get the stuff together.”

  “Goodnight, Tobi,” my mom calls.

  “Night,” she softly answers over her shoulder, as she follows me to my room. “Thanks again for letting me stay.”

  I pull out some old gray cotton shorts and a ratty old black T-shirt with cut-off sleeves and throw them to Tobi. She knows my house well and where we keep the extra toothbrushes and things in the bathroom. I get my PJs on, get the sleeping bags off the top shelf of my closet, and pull two pillows from my bed. We load all the stuff in our arms and quietly walk out to the gazebo.

  The gazebo is a great place to be on a cloudless, breezy, summer night. It's situated in an area where there are no tree limbs overhead. It's framed out from top to bottom, complete with a screen door. Dad bought screening by the roll to use for the walls and under the floor. It helps keep critters, bugs, and mosquitoes out.

  We find our way to the middle and dump everything on the floor. A crescent waxing moon provides some light, tonight. I switch the lantern on so we can get settled.

  “I'm getting tired,” I utter through a yawn as I turn off the lantern and set it on the floor. “Hey, I spent the day wrapped up in that Cousteau book I bought online from your house.” Another yawn.

  “Oh, yeah, the one you ordered a couple weeks ago. It's good, huh?” Tobi yawns, too. She sits down.

  “I haven't read much of the text, mostly the captions of the pictures. The photography is so amazing, better than my imagination.” I sit down and sigh. “I'm exhausted. So much has happened in the last two days.”

  Tobi flops back on her pillow, arms stretched above her head, twirling her long, blonde hair. “I know. I checked fence this morning and moved cows to a different pasture early this afternoon. The only thing I had time to eat for lunch was a protein bar and a bottle of water.”

  “You know you're impressive, right? I mean you work like crazy.” Tobi doesn't put work in categories of boys' work or girls' work, and neither does her dad. If it needs to be done, her dad expects her to figure out a way to make it happen.

  “The quicker I get the work done, the quicker I get to go play,” she mimics her dad's voice.

  I laugh at her and then twist my hair up in a knot on top my head and lay back on the sleeping bag.

  Tobi twists to her side. She furrows her brow and frowns. “Now that you've gotten over the shock, were those pictures Stacey showed you really that bad? I mean, how could they be? You and Cameron weren't up there by yourselves for more than five minutes before you jumped.”

  “Without looking at them again—yes, they were that bad. It looked like we were the only ones there, and that we were into each other. I mean really into each other.” Stay calm, Regan. Don't get yourself get worked up again.

  “Whoever took the pictures must have some camera,” she says, thoughtfully, considering something. “Or, hmm …” She gasps and sits up. “They took a video and captured stills from it!”

  “I never even thought about that. Who would spend so much time doing something like that to me and Cameron?” I don't go around trying to make enemies, but there’s one person I thought of who's spiteful enough to do it.

  Tobi and I growl at the same time, “Stacey!”

  I spring up and rattle, “There’s nothing that girl won't do to tear someone down.” I plop back on my pillow and continue, “I guess I shouldn't be surprised. I mean look how she drug Susanna through the gutter. It's like she lays off me for a while and just as I think she's matured, she starts again.”

  “We need to find out who was in that truck—if we really care enough about this to find out who took the video. My guess is that Stacey is (at the very least) the one who had the idea to capture the stills,” Tobi rattles off quickly.

  “Stacey didn't act like she had any gossip or news brewing about me when I went to work. It was only after work she brought anything up.” I recall my evening at work. “Whatever I do is only going to make it worse for Susanna. Cameron's right, for once. We have nothing to hide or be ashamed of.” Saying it out loud is a bit freeing.

  “Lane seemed a little upset about it.” Her half-statement, half-question begs a reply from me.

  “Yeah, he’s been off all night.” I shrug because I’m not sure what to make of his behavior this summer. “You know, I'm still upset over yesterday.” I glance at Tobi to see she's still fiddling with her hair. “Is that how you guys really think of me? Childish—a dreamer?” I try not to allow too much emotion to taint my voice. I want her to be honest without worrying that I'm this upset.

  “Childish? A dreamer? Where’d you get that idea? No one thinks you, of all people, are childish,” Tobi insists in her blunt, yet respectful way.

  “Mainly Cameron. He said holding on to dreams is irresponsible, that he had to put childish ways behind him. And Lane said something like that, too.” I replay the words that are still hurtful. “Lane clearly insinuated it applies to me as well. How’d he put it? We can have our dreams until a certain age, and then it's time to put childish ways behind us … something like that.” I trail off, continuing to remember his words.

  Tobi hurries to intercede, “I don't think they were insinuating you, they—”

  I cut her off. “Cameron said dreams are for children. He told me to grow up. Do you recall that?” I try to control my voice but the emotion comes out raw. “I'm not trying to push you to trash your responsibilities.”

  “Maybe we're caught in-between our dream and reality,” Tobi admits with remorse and sadness in her voice. “Maybe they took a little frustration out on you.” She breathes in deep and blows it out. “Maybe we need your support, Regan. God almighty knows we get enough life lectures from our parents. This is why we hang with our friends, right? It's a—a kind of escape.”

  “I do understand the struggle. Really, I do. I don't want any of you to give up. I'm afraid if you give up—I'm next.” This is what I've been carrying around but never quite understood until now. Almost frantic, what I've been holding in comes out, “I'm scared, Tobi. I'm scared to death that if you and Lane and Cameron all fold on your plans, your dreams for your future, that I will too and I can't handle staying in this gossip-infested town. The negativity is already such a weight—I'll never be able to be happy here. There's too much to fight.”

  Tobi rolls to her stomach, pulling herself up on her elbows. “Regan, look at me,” she orders calm and commanding. I sit up and face her. “You're not us. You will make it out of here. There's something great waiting for you in this big world.”

  I pull my legs to my chest and hold on for dear life. “How can it be waiting for me and not the rest of you? How will I be able to go on without you?” Tears well up and spill over my lashes. Tobi moves to my side. She puts her arms around me and leans her head against mine.

  “Some people have a certain something, a drive that pushes them to go for their dream. You have that, Regan. I see it in you all the time.”

  Sniffing, I wipe my tears. “What are you talking about?”
r />   She says slowly, “Stubborn—obstinate—bullheaded–-strong minded, you've heard people call you those things. Right?”

  Tentatively I answer, “Yeah.”

  “You don't quit or give up. You push through difficulties. You keep going. People use these words to describe you because it's true and it's also what's going to get you out of this one-horse town. And even though Stacey trashes you a lot, she knows you’re strong about you and uses gossip and Susanna to try to manipulate you. She's intimidated by you.”

  I laugh through my tears. “I don't think Stacey's scared of me.”

  “You are a threat to her, Regan. You're smart and she doesn't like that you’re her competition to be the top of the class. And she doesn't like that you won't bow down to her.”

  “I feel like I cower to her all the time. I'd like to rip her head off, but I keep my mouth shut.”

  “Well, you don't play her game. So, she keeps dishing it out. Forget about Stacey. You'll be gone in a couple years. It won't be easy. What's that saying, nothing good comes easy? But if you don't follow your heart, your dream, the Regan I know and love will shrivel up. You'll be someone else, someone that Lane or I won't recognize. You'll become one of the bitter gossips who constantly look back at their life wondering what if.”

  “Dang.” I sniff. “That was deep, Tobi.” I wipe my tears again. “But what about your dreams of being a medical researcher? You're worth reaching for it, you're smart enough, you're strong and tough and gutsy.” I pour out the truth to her, hoping she’ll want to keep fighting for her own dreams.

  She lowers her arms to her lap and pushes back her cuticles. “I don't know, Regan. I really am still considering it, but—don't get mad at me for this or judge me, okay?”

  I fold my legs under me for a better look at her. “Okay, no judging. But what?”

  Crickets and frogs sing in the background, but all I hear is the silent long pause in our conversation. “I'm not sure I really want it. I mean, I like the idea of it. It's sort of a romantic notion, I suppose, but—” she sighs. She hasn't looked up at me like she's avoiding me in some way. “I'm not certain I want it enough to give up what I could’ve here.”