I blink, trying to clear my mind. Do all kisses make you hallucinate?
“Bea!”
“Atticus?” I say, pulling back from Carter. His cheeks are red and his eyes dark. He looks as lost as I feel.
I turn toward the house and see Atticus running in our direction. Worry slashes his face.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“It’s Katherine,” he pants, out of breath.
“Katherine?” I take a step forward.
“Come on,” he says. “She needs you.”
He takes my hand and I glace back at Carter, wondering if I’d just imagined that whole thing. That didn’t feel like a pretend kiss. It felt like a real kiss.
At least to me.
“She locked herself in there and won’t open the door.”
I’d raced up the beach and into the house after my brother. He didn’t stop to tell me what was going on, just finally stopping at the end of a long hallway with dark hardwood floors. I look over my shoulder and see Carter is close behind.
“Katherine?” he calls, knocking on the door. “It’s Atticus.”
“Go away,” she says, voice close to the door. Her voice slurs. “I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Is she drunk?” I ask.
Atticus clenches his jaw and nods.
“Bea? Bea? Is that you?”
When I don’t reply right away, Atticus leans against the door. “Yeah, babe, I brought her up here, just like you asked.”
“Buzzbuzz, come talk to me.” Her voice shifts to a fake loud whisper. “Your brother is going to dump me, Buzzbuzz.”
“Buzzbuzz?” Carter asks, eyebrow raised.
“You know like a bee? Bea?” I roll my eyes at him, but he fights a grin. “Shut up.” I look at my brother. “What did you do?”
Atticus’ eyes, which are the same shade as my own, open wide. He holds up his hands. “Nothing. I promise. I went to get her some water in the kitchen and when I came back she ran down here, shouting about me ruining her life and crying about breaking up.”
I give him a hard look. There’s no way I want to get in the middle of this, but Katherine sounds pretty messed up and my brother, although an idiot, seems pretty freaked out.
“Fine. But you owe me—big.” I walk over to the door and try the knob. It’s locked. “Katherine, open the door so I can come in.”
I hear her fingers fumble with the lock and Atticus shifts behind me. I look over at Carter. “Get him out of here, will you?”
Our eyes hold for a beat and I feel my cheeks warm at the thought of his lips on mine just minutes ago. Everything looks different in the light of the hallway. His hair is wild from the wind and I can’t imagine how much of a mess mine is. He’s still handsome—ridiculously so. I can only imagine he’s having second thoughts about everything that transpired between us on the beach. Not just the kiss but what he told me before about his mom. I can’t believe he trusted me with that.
My first kiss and it was with Carter Haines. How stupid could I be?
“Come on, dude,” he says to Atticus. “Give the girls a minute to work this out.”
When the boys leave I open the door and step in the bathroom. Well, bathroom is an understatement. It’s more like a lounge. There’s a white couch with pale blue pillows. A dressing table and a chandelier. The only thing messing up the scene is my former best friend lying in the middle of the floor with her shirt on backwards. Clutched to her chest is a rectangular picture frame.
I sink to my knees. “Girl, what is going on here? What happened to your shirt?”
She looks down and squints. “I got hot and tried to take it off. Atticus wouldn’t let me.”
“Well, sometimes my brother isn’t a complete moron.” I touch the frame. “What’s that?”
She looks down and smiles. “Shhh don’t tell. I found it down the hall and took it.”
I grab the frame and flip it over. It’s an autographed photo of Dean Turner. I burst out laughing. “You stole this?”
“I was trying to.” She touches Dean’s face. “He’s so pretty.”
“He really is.” I lean back against the couch and sigh. “What’s going on, Katherine?” I ask again. “You’re not a big drinker or is this part of the 'new' you?”
“I don’t know, Buzzbuzz. I just don’t know anymore. I made a fool of myself. I drank too much beer, because I was nervous, and then when I went to find your brother he was hugging Martha Pinkerman in the kitchen.”
I make a face. “Martha Pinkerman? Are you sure?” She’s a junior on the volleyball team. Loud and abrasive. “She’s not exactly Atticus’ type.”
“No,” Katherine says, struggling to get up. She uses my knees for leverage. “I’m not his type.”
She had me on that, or at least, three months ago I would have agreed. Atticus liked skinny blondes on the dance team, not my cute but quirky friend that likes art more than shaking her booty in front of a crowd. But that was before I saw them together, saw them in the prom photos and watched them hang out every day. As much as I hated it, apparently Katherine Stint is my brother’s type. And that’s been my problem. That’s why it hurt so much. Where do I fit in?
I take a deep breath and push past my own insecurities and say, “As much as it pains me to say it, you and my brother seem like a match made in heaven.”
She looks up at me with red, swollen eyes. “You really think that?”
“He cares about you, K.” The moment I say it, I realize how much truth is in that statement. “Like, really cares for you.” I exhale. “I mean, he was so worried about you that when he walked in on me and Carter kissing, he didn’t even blink.”
She jerks up, her face full of questions. “He did?”
“Yep.”
“Wow.” She leans against my side, reeking of beer. “Thanks, Buzzbuzz, sometimes I just feel unsure about it all. I never thought this would happen—that I’d find the guy of my dreams right under my nose.”
“Tell me about it,” I mutter.
She lifts her head and I’m pretty sure her eyes cross when she looks at me. “You mean Carter?”
“Not really, I meant you and Atticus, but yeah, I guess Carter applies here, too.”
“Right!” she shouts. “At first, I thought that relationship was crazy. That you were just trying to get back at me and Atticus but now I don’t know, lately things are different, lately…” She drifts off and snuggles her head on my shoulder mid-sentence.
“Lately what?” I ask, desperate to know. “Lately things are different how, Katherine?”
There’s no reply but a small sigh. I shift and see that her eyes are closed. She fell asleep.
I pull my phone out of the front pocket of my overalls and send Atticus a text to come get us. This party girl is pooped.
20
Bea
The ride home has a different vibe than the way over. Atticus carries Katherine in his arms as we rush out of the house, all of us ignoring the stares of the other party goers. No one will remember this in the morning, just like they probably won’t remember how Carter sticks close to me, resting his hand on my lower back as he guides me back to the car.
Katherine may be drunk, but I’m the one that’s really confused.
“Let me get that,” Carter says, running to open the door for Atticus. “You want to sit in the back and let Bea drive?”
My brother has the good sense not to laugh at the suggestion. “Bea doesn’t have a license.”
Carter narrows his eyes at me. “What?”
“I have a permit. I just haven’t taken the test yet.”
“Because she has no hours in,” Atticus says. He’s slipped in the back seat and holding up the keys. “Will you drive? I don’t want her to puke back here.”
Carter takes them. “Sure.”
“And just take us back to our house. Katherine can spend the night in Bea’s room.” He catches my eye. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah, of course.”
&nb
sp; There’s no way we could get Katherine into her parents' house unnoticed, and she’d be mortified if her younger siblings saw her like this. Dad is out of town and Mom is probably asleep or out in the studio.
The car ride back is quiet, and I feel awkward in the front seat next to Carter as he drives my brother’s car. My mind spins like a hamster on a wheel. What happened tonight? Why had Carter told me all that stuff? Why did he kiss me like that? Why did I let him? Are Katherine and I friends again?
Luckily the drive is short and when we get to the house, I go in first to look for Mom. I see the light on in the studio and step back out front, waving them in. “Hurry up.”
It takes both boys to get her up the stairs. She’s awake but moving slow and wobbly on her feet. It’s weird watching Carter and my brother work together. The last few years I’ve viewed them as more competitors than friends, but seeing him upstairs, I’m struck by the memory of Carter coming over here when we younger and he’d first moved in. By that point, Atticus was already the rising star at school and I was his dorky sister. We didn’t hang out much, even at home. But Carter? He’d been here. Played video games. A few sleepovers. It’s a weird, jarring thought. When had that changed?
I follow them up and down the upstairs hall and wait in the doorway as they help Katherine lie on my bed. Carter wisely grabs a trashcan and leaves it by the bed.
“I’ll get her situated,” I say, already knowing she’ll be horrified to learn all this in the morning. I also want them out of my room, well, more specifically, I want Carter out of my room. His curious eyes are already studying the pictures on my wall and the books and objects on my shelves.
The back door opens with a creak. “Atticus? Bea? You home?”
“Mom.” I look at my brother, feeling panic.
“I’ll go distract her. You get him out of here.”
He leaves the room and I hear his feet on the steps and his voice echo from downstairs.
Without speaking, Carter and I sneak downstairs. A week ago, my mother wouldn’t have questioned him being up here with Atticus. It would have been unusual but not inappropriate. Now that she’s aware we’re “dating,” she’d have a problem. At the bottom of the stairs I can hear Atticus talking about the party and how boring it was. I pause when I hear my mom ask, “Where’s your sister?”
“Saying goodnight to Carter.”
“This Carter thing…it’s new?”
“Yeah, apparently after you made her apologize to him the other day.” I’m frozen in my spot, aware of Carter behind me but also unable to move.
“What do you think about it?”
My brother hesitates, and I feel a wave of anxiety. Why do I care what he thinks? No one is worried about my opinion around here. But when he speaks I can’t help but listen. “At first I thought it was a bad idea or some kind of prank, but…”
“But what?” Mom asks.
“They genuinely seem to like one another and strangely, they both seem a little happier.”
A warm hand touches my back.
“Come on, eavesdropper.” Carter whispers, “We’re supposed to be using this time to escape.”
Outside, the air is fresh, and I take a deep breath, looking to settle my nerves. It doesn’t work.
“Well, that was a crazy night,” I say.
He nods. “We should probably talk about it.”
“What do you mean?”
His lips form a thin line and his eyes dart over my shoulder. I look back and see Atticus standing in the doorway. “Tomorrow?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Goodnight, Bea,” he says. He leans forward and kisses me on the forehead. It’s a good show for my brother.
My heart thunders as hard as it would’ve if he’d kissed me on the mouth.
“G-goodnight.”
He turns and walks across the yard, headed back to his own house. As I walk into my own, past my brother, I still feel the heat of that kiss on my skin.
21
Carter
After tossing and turning for hours, at daybreak I get up and head down to the lap pool. After everything that happened the night before, I feel more on edge than ever. Why had I told Clarke all that stuff? Why did I kiss her?
Deep down, I knew the answer to both.
I drop my towel on the lounge chair and dive in the water, finally fully waking up from the blast of cold against my skin. It’s not a training day, but I don’t really care. I need to burn some energy. It doesn’t take long for me to fall into the zone, past the place where worries don’t bother me. Except once again, that place of peace is interrupted.
By thoughts of Beatrice Clarke.
I’d kissed a lot of girls. More than kissed. But what transpired between us last night? That was a whole other level. I’d never shared a moment like that with anyone before. It wasn’t just physical. It was more than that. I’d told her about my past. My mom. And she didn’t run away. She didn’t ask me for anything, other than just accepting me, scars and all.
If Atticus hadn’t interrupted us, I’m not sure I would’ve stopped. I may still be standing by the ocean kissing that girl.
And the kiss… If she hadn’t told me it was her first, I never would have believed it. Not in a heartbeat—or a thousand heartbeats—like the ones pounding in my chest. It was beating as hard then as it is now, in the middle of swimming my eighth lap of backstroke. Everything about her made me feel strange—happy—content. Even now as I’m trying to count strokes to get my flip-turn timed right, I can’t help but remember the feeling of her lips against mine. The way she’d gently touched the scar on my back. My fingers touch the wall and I take a final breath. Halfway through the turn I sense the shadow over me, and as I push off the wall I see her standing by the edge of the pool.
For some reason I don’t stop, I just keep swimming, but training my eyes on her like I’ve been instructed. I use her as my constant. The thing that will keep me on a straight path. I touch the wall one last time and spin, flipping to my stomach. I ease into a breast stroke. Eyes forward. Goal ahead, but for once, that’s not the finish line. It’s the girl. As I approach, she sits on the edge of the pool, legs dangling in the water. I get to the wall, placing a hand on either side of her hips, and stand.
“Good morning,” I say, pretty thrilled to see her out here.
“You’re out here pretty early,” she says as I pull off my cap and shake my hair. She squeals as water lands on her and she pushes my chest with her cool fingers. She pulls them back like she’s been burned.
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“Me either,” she admits. “Apparently, Katherine is quite the snorer when she’s drunk.”
“How she doing?”
“She puked twice and my bathroom looks like a crime scene.” She kicks her feet. “I woke up Atticus and had him deal with it.”
She’s still in her pajamas—or what I assume are her pajamas. A thin pair of shorts and a T-shirt with a weird graphic of a photobooth on the front. Her hair is a mess of curls and if things were more defined between us—or less confusing—I’d kiss her again to see if what I’d felt the night before was real.
“I think we need to talk,” she says, as I’m musing about her lips.
I nod. “You’re probably right.”
“Last night was kind of wild,” she says. “All that…you know, stuff on the beach.”
Doubt floods me. “I’m sorry I dumped all that on you about my mom. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Her face drops. “No. I’m glad you told me. It…” She looks at the house and back at me. “It explains a lot and I’m grateful you shared all of that with me. I’m sorry you had to deal with it on your own for so long.”
Her hand reaches for me, touches my chin, and my skin lights on fire. I’m flooded with relief that she’s not running away. “When you stop talking so much, you’re a good listener, Clarke.”
She smiles. “I have my moments.”
“You really do.”
&
nbsp; Her smile fades. “It put everything in perspective, knowing that you’re fighting this fake reputation and then realizing I’m just compounding it with what we’re doing. It’s wearing on you and I’m not sure I want to be part of that. And it’s not just that, after everything that happened with Atticus and Katherine last night, I feel bad about lying to them.”
“Okay,” I say, not sure where this is going. “You want to tell them the truth about us?”
“I don’t know. I feel pretty childish having created this fake relationship to get back at them in the first place, but it seems like they’ve just started to believe it—believe that I can be something outside of what they’d always assumed.”
“You think they finally see you as an individual, not just Atticus' annoying sister and Katherine’s best friend.”
“Right. I’ve got a job, I don’t have to be this constant third wheel.” She glances up at me. “I have you—this super-hot, totally dangerous boyfriend.”
I smile and raise an eyebrow. “You think I’m super-hot, huh?”
Her eyes rake down my bare chest. “Yeah, duh.” Her cheeks turn red and she lift her gaze back to meet mine. “I’m just not sure how I feel about lying to them anymore.”
“Well,” I say, moving to lean against the poolside, “I understand that, but there’s two problems.”
“Explain.”
“If they find out you’re lying, won’t that destroy the progress you’ve made with them? Won’t they just think you’re everything they suspected?”
Her expression turns thoughtful. “Yeah, that’s a definite possibility. Atticus would love that. What’s the second problem?”
“My reputation. You saw how everyone was last night at the party. I need you to give me an excuse to stay away from all that, and then there’s Sabrina.”
She wrinkles her nose. “You think that’s still a problem?”
I laugh. “Yeah. You saw her at the pool yesterday, and I know Erin is watching. I need a buffer so I don’t lose this job.”
Bea and the Bad Boy: Young Adult Sweet Romance (Love in Ocean Grove Book 3) Page 10
