Until We Break

by Jamie Howard

  By the time they serve dinner, my frayed nerves have dulled a smidge. I’ve already seen Nick, and it took every ounce of control I had not to completely fall apart when he kissed me on the cheek. How could I have been so blind when it came to him?

  People try to talk to me at dinner, even Luke makes an effort, but I can’t manage more than a few short sentences. I even notice that he’s talking to my dad, but I’m not tuned in enough to tell if that conversation is going well. I’m sure it is. My dad’s a big softie and one of the nicest people you’ll ever meet. Even if he knew all the awful details of Luke’s upbringing, it wouldn’t matter to him. Mom always said I get my big bleeding heart from him, and up until Nick squashed my oversize organ beneath the heel of his shoe, I always loved that part of me. Now I want to lock it in a box and throw away the key so no one can hurt it, ever again.

  After dinner, someone calls me away, and we talk about all the parties I’ve missed at the Point this summer. No one seems to notice that I’m not really there, that I’m walking around in a fog. I try to snap myself out of it, but being here is more than I can handle right now.

  All I can think about is how the basic facts of my life have been altered. We’re no longer Nick and Sloane. It’s like saying that hydrogen and oxygen molecules don’t go together to make water, or that two plus two does not in fact equal four. It just doesn’t compute. The future we planned together with our families has been obliterated. Being here is like peeking through a window of what might have been and watching as my dream gets dismantled brick by brick.

  Sometime after my sixth glass of champagne, Nick tries to corner me. He advances toward me until I’m backed up against a wall. His dark brown eyes, which are almost black, stare down into mine, and although his lips are moving, I can’t make out any of the words. I try to walk away, but his fingers clamp around my upper arm, biting into my skin. Luke appears from out of nowhere like my knight in shining black tuxedo. Or something like that. How had I not noticed how hot he looked before? That tux fits him like a glove.

  They both wear smiles on their faces, but I can tell from their body language that their words are anything but. Hostility floats in the air like cigar smoke, and I nearly choke on it.

  Taking me by the arm, Luke leads me through the patio doors and out onto the veranda. Ushering me up to the banister, he bends down until his eyes are even with mine. I think he’s calling my name.

  He shakes me. “Sloane? Is anyone home?”

  Suddenly it’s like someone unmuted my surroundings, and sounds come rushing back to me. I can hear the sweet strains of a violin, the rhythmic crash of the waves, and even a seagull calling as it flies by. I rub a hand across my forehead. “Sorry, I’m here.”

  “Are you okay?”

  Am I? I’ve spent a month at Gran’s wallowing over Nick. He slept around, he broke my heart, and I get to feel like crap. How is that fair?

  This is crap. Complete and total crap. I bet since we broke up he’s been making his rounds again. What an asshole.

  God, and I’m nearly as bad. How stupid am I? I’m wasting away my summer, and for what?

  Just like that I manage to flip the switch in my brain. And there’s Luke, still leaning down so he can look me straight in the eye. He actually looks pretty concerned. It’s almost like he might actually care about me. Hah, that must be the champagne talking. My eyes dip to his lips, up to his eyes, and back down again. He’s so close, it would be simple to bridge the gap between us.

  This could be a really bad idea or a really good one. I’m not sure.

  Without really thinking it through, I wrap my hands around either side of his neck, my thumbs brushing against his cheeks, and kiss him. Not tentatively. Nope. I dive in headfirst.

  I’ve really shocked him now. I saw it in his eyes the moment before I closed mine. He really wasn’t expecting that at all.

  When I graze my teeth along his lower lip, he opens his mouth to me, and I slip my tongue inside. He tastes like coffee and chocolate. I take a step or two forward and ease myself into him, enjoying the way the heat from his body seeps through the thin fabric of my dress.

  His hands graze up my sides to my shoulders, and then he pushes me away.

  Hmm … that’s not how I saw this going. Luke Evans, the guy who’s slept with pretty much every of-age girl in Briscoll Bay is rejecting me. If my heart weren’t surrounded in a fluffy champagne bubble right now, I’m sure that would hurt.

  “This isn’t a good idea, Sloane.” He unbends and stretches up to his full height. Rubbing a hand through his hair, he takes a few steps away and then comes back to me, still waiting for me to say something.

  Wait, am I supposed to agree with him? Because I kissed him, which implied that I did think this was a good idea.

  “Yes,” I say.

  He shakes his head. “Yes, what?”

  “I … don’t know.”

  His eyebrows draw together until a thin line creases the middle of his forehead. He opens his mouth to say something, thinks better of it, and closes it again. Shaking the thought away, he says, “Can you point me in the direction of a bathroom?”

  The bathroom? I can’t keep up with this conversation. “Sure. Go back into the foyer, up the stairs, and down the hall to the right. Second door on your left.”

  “Thanks.” Turning on a heel, he disappears.

  I rest my elbows on the banister and then bury my face in my hands. Well, that was mortifying, humiliating—one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. I might be the only girl in the entire state who Luke has deemed unacceptable. I’m not sure how much worse it can get.

  Chapter 15

  Luke

  I splash cold water on my face. I deserve a fucking medal for that. A medal the size of Canada. No, Russia.

  I should have seen it coming, but when she glanced at my lips, I chalked my wandering thoughts up to wishful thinking. She couldn’t have taken me more by surprise if she’d tried.

  She still smells like coconuts, and I was right. She tasted as good as she smells. Just like the strawberry cheesecake she had for dessert.

  The only reason she did it is because she’s tipsy and upset. Normally I’m a big enough dick to not let that bother me, but this is Sloane. I can’t take advantage of her like that. Sloane’s different. She’s not like all the other girls who use me like their on-demand vibrator.

  I glance at myself in the mirror and shake my head. If it wouldn’t have caused such a scene, I would have put Nick’s head through a wall. When that bastard cornered her, she went so pale that I thought she was going to pass out. I wanted to wipe the smirk right off that pretty-boy face of his. Preferably by pounding my fist into his face.

  What a cocksucker.

  Outside the bathroom, I pause and try to get my bearings. I should’ve had Sloane draw me a freaking map. I think I came from the right?

  Nope, fail. I turn back around, and just as I reach the top of the stairs, voices stop me in my tracks. I retreat a step back into the darkened hallway.

  “Lucinda Avery, I’ve raised you better than that. You turn right back around. We’re having this conversation whether you like it or not.” That voice is definitely Bunny’s, and I’ve already met Sloane’s Mom, Lucy. For being mother and daughter, the two of them are nothing alike. While Bunny says everything that pops into her head, Lucy is much quieter, delicate and refined like a china doll. Blaire is like a miniature version of her, looks-wise at least, while Sloane gets her fair coloring from her father. Now he was a surprise. Not at all the pompous prick I was expecting.

  Heels click against the marble floor. “I hardly think now is the time or place, Mother.”

  “That’s too damn bad.” It’s one of the rare times that I’ve ever heard Bunny angry. Snarky, always, but never angry.

  “Do you think it’ll make any difference if it comes from me? If I tell her, she’s going to hate me.”

  Who are they talking about? Sloane or Blaire?

  “I’ll
tell her if you’d prefer. The guy is a lowlife, whoring bastard. Sloane deserves better than this, and she needs to hear it before this goes any further.”

  It’s like someone dropped a bowling ball in my stomach. They’re talking about me. I’m the lowlife, whoring bastard, and they want to convince Sloane of that fact before anything happens between us.

  If I hadn’t heard it with my own ears I wouldn’t believe it. Bunny has always been friendly to me, offering me extra pie on the house and giving me a break when I don’t have quite enough cash to settle my bill. The odd jobs I’d mentioned to Sloane about doing when money was tight? Nearly half of them were from Bunny. I guess she didn’t have any problems with me until I started hanging around Sloane.

  “Mother—”

  Skirts rustle as someone moves. “Don’t ‘Mother’ me. Just do it, Lucy, or I will.”

  I peek around the corner as Bunny stomps off. Lucy’s head hangs, but she shakes it off, straightens her spine, and disappears back inside the room.

  I shouldn’t have expected anything less. Elitist bitches, all of them.

  The taste in my mouth is so bitter that I want to rinse it out with an entire bottle of tequila. No, what I really want is to get out of here. Now.

  I take the stairs two at a time, shoving past a group of people standing near the entrance of the ballroom. I spot Sloane over by Blaire, glittering in the lights like a sparkly snowflake.

  As I make my way to her, I drink her in. Does she have to be so goddamned beautiful? Once Lucy and Bunny get hold of her she’ll probably never speak to me again. At least she won’t have the added embarrassment of making a drunken mistake with me on her conscience. I’d seen to that.

  When she sees me, her eyes dart away. She doesn’t even want to look at me; she already regrets it. I swallow down my disappointment.

  “I’ve gotta get out of here, Sloane. I’ve had enough for one night. Can you call me a cab or something?”

  Blaire frowns at me, and I focus on her face. At least she’s looking me in the eyes.

  “I’m not going to call you a cab,” Sloane says. “Just take my car. I’ll get a ride back with Blaire.”

  I want to refuse. I don’t want her charity. But I probably don’t have enough cash on me to pay a cabbie to take me all the way back home. It’s too bad I can’t pay him with my tuxedo. That would more than cover the fare.

  “Fine,” I say. “I’ll see you around.”

  She just nods, like she doesn’t give a crap whether she sees me again or not. And damn, but I can’t stop myself from wishing I didn’t give a crap, either.

  Chapter 16

  Sloane

  “Sloane, are you awake?” Blaire knocks on my door again.

  “No. Go away.” I bury my face farther into the pillow, enjoying the waft of laundry detergent that breezes through my nose.

  The door swings open and Blaire bounces onto my bed. I flop onto my back and brush down the jade comforter that was pulled up to my eyeballs.

  She gazes out the window at the ocean, the light spilling through it illuminating her face. “Despite the killer view, I still can’t believe you didn’t fight me for the bigger bedroom.”

  I shrug. There’s something comforting about the smaller bedroom—the way the bed is tucked underneath the sloping ceilings of the room so that the walls surround it completely on three sides. And she’s right: the view is killer. Every morning and every night, the sun bathes the room in vivid, vibrant colors that make it seem like I’m living inside a watercolor painting. It’s absolutely breathtaking.

  “So, do you want to talk about it?”

  I give up any ideas I had about going back to sleep, and sit up. I swipe my hair over my shoulder and run my fingers through it, trying to work out some of the knots. “Talk about what?”

  “Whatever it was that happened between you and Luke at the party.”

  “Why do you think something happened between us?”

  She cocks her head to the side as she studies me. “I don’t know, you’ve just been different—not necessarily bad different, just different.”

  My epiphany about Nick put me in better spirits, but every once in a while my thoughts drift toward Luke and I cringe. I still can’t believe what an ass I made of myself. If I were someone with less self-confidence, I would’ve been crushed that he rejected me. While it definitely stings—more than I care to admit—it isn’t the end of the world. It’s just mortifying.

  “Sorry to disappoint, but my attitude change has more to do with letting go of Nick than anything to do with Luke.”

  She scoops up one of my throw pillows and plays with the tassels. “So nothing happened with you and Luke?”

  The way she’s not looking at me, or specifically not looking at me, is highly suspicious. “C’mon, Blaire, out with it.”

  She laughs and chucks the pillow at me, hitting me in the chest. “Well, if you’re not gonna tap that, I definitely want to. It would be a shame if one of us didn’t. It would be like going to Paris and not visiting the Eiffel Tower.”

  Any secret hopes I may have harbored about having a fling with Luke were smashed to pieces the moment he rejected me. Still, the thought of him and Blaire naked together makes me want to gag.

  “Honestly, I don’t get the attraction.” Lie. “He probably tastes like tramps.” Another one. “But, hey, if that’s your thing, don’t let me stand in your way. I don’t care.” There we had it, the trifecta.

  “You’re sure?” she asks, her eyes trying to drill holes in my brain.

  “Positive.”

  We established early on that Luke and I would be friends. So, that’s what we’ll be. This ridiculous attraction I’ve been battling? Well, it looks like that battle’s over and I lost. Or won, depending on how you want to look at it. In the meantime, I’ll try to have a good time this summer. Just because Luke isn’t interested in me doesn’t mean someone else won’t be.

  * * *

  I scrub a towel through my hair, trying to get out every last grain of sand I’ve accumulated from spending the entire day on the beach with Blaire. There’s a knock on the door, and my feet slap against the wood of the stairs as I go down them. “I’ll get it!”

  Tossing the towel into a chair, I pull the door open.

  “Cash?”

  He drags his toe across the boards of the porch and then looks up at me. “Hi, Sloane.”

  I poke my head out of the doorway and look around. He’s here alone, and there’s a note in his voice that has my brows pulling together. “What’s wrong?”

  His lips compress in a thin line and he scratches at his arm. “Do you think, maybe, I could stay here tonight?”

  “Of course you can.” I pull back the door without hesitation and herd him into the living room. Blaire pops her head out of the kitchen and gives me a look. I shrug.

  Joining him on the couch, I ask, “Is your mom not home?”

  That made the frown worse. “No, she is, but she’s … hanging out with a friend.” His eyes dart to mine and then away again. “I usually go to Charlie’s, but they’re out of town. I tried calling Luke, but he didn’t answer. I think he lost his phone.” He pauses, eyes focused on the inch of carpet between his dangling feet. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

  I scoot toward him and throw my arm around his shoulder, squeezing him. “You’re always welcome here, bud.”

  Blaire skips into the room with a pile of board games underneath her arm, followed closely by Gran, who comes bearing ice cream and whipped cream.

  “Hey, Cash,” Blaire says. “You like board games?”

  “Yeah!” The shadows that lurk in his eyes evaporate, and a smile breaks across his face.

  Gran catches my eye and smiles before pushing a carton of ice cream in Cash’s direction. He reaches for the can of whipped cream, shoving it in his mouth and pushing down on the trigger. The sweet white foam fills his mouth with a hiss. Stealing the can from him, I do the same, while Blaire breaks out Chutes and
Ladders.

  “You ever played before?” I ask him.

  “M-hmm.” He makes a grab for one of the game pieces and moves it to the start. “Luke and I have game night every Tuesday. This week we played Sorry, but we played Chutes and Ladders last week.”

  Gran pats down her bathrobe pockets, shifting another tub of ice cream from one leg to the other. “Forgot the spoons.”

  “On it,” Blaire says, hopping up. “Anything else we need?”

  I glance over the table. “Napkins?”

  “Hot fudge!” Cash shouts.

  Blaire grins over at him. “You got it.”

  Cash kneels down in front of the coffee table, his fingers fidgeting with the game pieces and arranging them in a straight line. Energy is already vibrating off him, and we haven’t even given him any added sugar. Oh, boy.

  He spins toward me. “You should come over again, next week, for game night!”

  “I…” My brain falters, trying to think of the easiest way out of his invitation. Luke didn’t want me over their house the first time I was there. Somehow I think he wants me there now even less.

  “‘Again’?” Gran asks.

  “Ah, yeah. You know when I dropped Luke off at his house the other week?”

  “I’m old, Sloane, not senile. You didn’t mention that you stayed.”

  No, I hadn’t, and with good reason, too. The first being that I got the distinct impression that Luke didn’t have people over often. He never told me not to mention being there, but I was trying to respect his privacy. He never broadcast details about his homelife, and I wasn’t about to do it for him. I also didn’t want Gran or Blaire to read any more into the situation than was actually there. Kinda like she was doing right now.

  “Sloane made me breakfast,” Cash interjects.

  “Did she?” Gran asks, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she narrows them in my direction. “I didn’t realize she could cook.”

  Cash wrinkles up his nose. “She can’t. Her and Luke made a mess in the kitchen. There were eggs everywhere.” Shifting over toward Gran’s chair, he lowers his voice. “I don’t know what was so funny, but they wouldn’t stop laughing.” He shakes his head at me, giving me a disapproving look. I have to bite my lip to keep the smile at bay.