I swim to the surface, the kids cheering by the edge of the pool. I'm fully aware that he’s only a few feet away and he swims over, circling his arm around me, pulling me close.
“You’re dead, Carter Haines,” I tell him, knowing it’s a pretty empty threat. I push back at his chest while treading water, but he holds tight.
He looks over my shoulder and in a fast move tucks his hand behind my head and pulls me in for a kiss. His lips are warm against the cool, rainy air and my whole body heats instantly. It’s not a passionate kiss. Not like the one on the beach. It’s different. Confident. Maybe more like one a boyfriend would give a girlfriend. The kids love this even more than me getting tossed in the water, and whoop and holler at the PDA. My cheeks are fire red and I manage to get out of his grip while he smiles cheekily.
It’s not until I swim away that I see the two girls standing by the locker room door. Sabrina and her friend.
That’s why he’d kissed me.
Carter’s already out of the water when I get to the side of the pool. He offers me a hand and pulls me out, then wraps a towel around my shoulder.
“You okay?” he asks. “You’re not mad, are you? This rain is making me crazy and I just needed to blow off a little steam.”
“No, I’m not mad,” I say, shivering from the cool air. He places his hands on my arms and rubs up and down, warming me up. That feeling in my chest tugs at me again and I know I’m getting in too deep. I glance back at the locker room, but the girls are gone. “I think we need to talk. Want to come over tonight after work?”
He tilts his head in question but replies, “I’ve got practice, too, but sure, that sounds good.”
He brushes his hair off his forehead and gives me a quick smile before heading back across the pool deck. I barely notice the kids surrounding me, their dozens of questions about “Lifeguard Carter” and the fact I’m freezing. I’m too caught up in the swirl of my own emotions; the changing way I feel about Carter and the thin line he’s walking. One step in the wrong direction and he’s back in trouble.
I definitely never thought I’d be the one that could get Carter sent to boarding school. And I never thought I’d consider taking the risk anyway.
26
Carter
Since I’d stayed late to get some laps in after the pool closed, I didn’t see Beatrice again after the water balloon fight that day. I don’t know exactly what came over me when I kissed her. She’s been so mad, so flustered, and I knew I liked seeing her that way. Liked her wound up and full of spirit.
But I’d also known I’d crossed a line—a made-up one, that related back to the fact we weren’t really dating. Something that was harder and harder to remember. When she’d pulled away, I thought she’d be even more upset, but she looked over her shoulder and saw Sabrina by the locker rooms. I hadn’t seen her before I’d kissed Bea, but I quickly realized that’s why she thought I’d done it. I took the excuse, not wanting to reveal that our deal had nothing to do with the fact I’d taken the chance. It was nothing more than basic hormones and my increasing interest in her that pushed me to do it.
It was after the kiss that she invited me over. Said she wants to talk; about what, I have no clue.
My phone rings as I’m pulling a shirt over my head. I pick it up and answer, “Hello.”
“Hey man, it’s Jackson.”
I place the phone in the crook of my ear. “What’s up?”
“I’m having some people over tonight. Lots of beer. Plenty of girls.”
“That sounds cool,” I say, tugging on my jeans, “but I’ve got plans.”
“Oh yeah? A date?”
“Something like that,” I say, not wanting to tell him about Bea. I know he saw us together at his party, but me hanging out with the same girl for longer than a night or two is out of character. The last thing I need is these people in my business.
“Well, I don’t want to interrupt you, but if you get bored come on over, okay?”
“Sure, sounds good.” I hang up and toss my phone on the bed. There’s a sense of relief that I’ve got other stuff to do. Better stuff.
My dad walks past my bedroom a few minutes later after I’ve spent way too much time on my hair. I even changed shirts twice. Looking good had never been a concern of mine. I just tossed on the nearest, cleanest outfit, but Beatrice is inching under my skin and I feel the need to make an effort.
“Get your practice in today?” he asks, pausing in the doorway.
“Yep.”
“And the meet is tomorrow night?”
“Yeah, at The Club, six o’clock.”
“I should be there this week.”
I don’t comment. He doesn’t leave, instead leaning against the door frame.
“Headed somewhere?”
“Just next door to hang out for a while.”
“With Atticus?” he asks. Even he knows we don’t get along great.
“Uh, no, his sister.”
He watches me closely. “Is there something going on with her?”
I slide a belt through the loops on my jeans. “We work together. Atticus, too, and his girlfriend.”
“You’re not goofing around at work, are you?” Something in the way he says it makes me feel like he’s got inside information. I’m surrounded by spies and tattle-tales.
“I’m a lifeguard at the country club. It’s been raining for four days straight, which means no one is there but even if they are I supervise the pool deck, check the chemicals, make sure the bathrooms are tidy and that kind of stuff. There’s no goofing around.” I brush my fingers through my hair once again. Why can’t I get this piece of hair to lie flat?
“Well, the Clarke girl seems nice, make sure you’re a gentleman.”
I give him an exasperated look. He holds up his hands. “I know. There are just some things I feel like I’m required to say as a father.”
The last word hangs in the air and awkward tension builds between us. Father. Sperm donor. Wannabe Coach. Whatever.
I grab my wallet off the bed and walk to the door. For some unknown reason I’m compelled to stop and say, “Beatrice is a special girl, I’m not going to do anything to hurt her.”
He nods and then tightens his jaw like he wants to say something more. I breeze past him, uninterested in what he has to say. I’m too old, it’s too late, there’s a million places I’d rather be than here.
But most of all, right now, I want to be next door.
27
Bea
Once every three months, usually when she’s having an artistic block, my mother goes on a baking spree. It was obvious when Maria dropped me off, she’s in the middle of an episode. The whole house smells like sugar and every available surface in the kitchen is covered in flour. I use her distraction in my favor and I’ve just told my mother that Carter is coming over to hang out for a while when Atticus breezes in, scanning the counter for baked goods.
“Katherine is coming over tonight to watch a movie,” he says, phone in his hand. “I’m ordering Pie Whole. Do you guys want anything?”
Mom looks pleased. “Your sister just said Carter is coming over. I’m sure he’d like some of whatever you order.”
“Oh, uh,” I say, not planning on a second double date so soon. “I don’t know. We needed to talk about something.”
Atticus frowns. “What did he do?”
“Do?” I ask. Mom stops and rubs her forehead, leaving a streak of white.
“Carter? I knew he was going to do something. Did he cheat on you? Blow you off?” My brother lowers his voice. “Did he try something inappropriate?”
“Dude!” I shout, a little thrown off that he’d actually say all that. “No. He didn’t do any of those things. We just need to talk about something that happened at work—something,” I stress, “that doesn’t concern you.”
“Bea, your brother is just looking out for you.”
Here we go.
“I don’t need looking out for.” The doorbell
rings. “Carter and I are fine.”
I walk to the door and open it. He stands on the other side with his hands tucked in his pockets, looking clean and handsome, smelling of soap and a warm summer afternoon. Yeah, Carter’s fine. I may be losing my mind.
“Fair warning,” I say as he enters the house, “the family thinks we’re having problems and it’s probably your fault.”
He raises an eyebrow and although there’s an amused grin lifting his lips, I see a dark flicker in his eyes. “Tell me something new,” he mumbles.
“Also,” I say with an eyeroll, “Katherine and Atticus are planning on hanging out here tonight, too, so if you want to do something different, we can.”
“You’re the one that added hanging out at your house on our 'to do' list when we started this. No backing out now.”
I groan at the fact his memory is so good. Why can’t he be dumb and cute like I thought he was before this started? Now I know he’s just cute.
“Okay, well my mom is in the kitchen in the middle of some baking mania. Atticus is ordering pizza and waiting for Katherine. Do you want to go up to the entertainment room and pick out a movie so they don’t get to choose? Because Atticus will pick Iron Man for the millionth time and Katherine may try to sneak in a rom-com.” He wrinkles his nose at both and it makes me laugh. “I do like a movie with action, but a little less Tony Stark.”
He follows me upstairs and I’m super aware that he’s so close behind me. I didn’t dress up—not really. Just a pair off cut of jean shorts and a new tank top I got at Bazinga! with an image from Photobooth Society on the front. It’s more skin than I would have shown a month ago, but I’ve relaxed enough that I’m finding a way to add in a bit more of my own personal style while also not looking like I just got out of bed.
I approach the entertainment room door and pause, bracing myself.
“Why do you look sick?” Carter asks.
“Because behind that door is the scene of the crime.”
He frowns and the furrow on his brow makes him dark, broody, and cute. “Crime?”
“Katherine and Atticus. This is where they were when I found them,” I swallow, “compromised.”
Carter’s expression softens. “It really bothered you that much, huh?”
“You have no idea.” I take a deep breath and push open the door. I’ve only been in here a few times since that day. “I know it’s dumb and seems immature, I just really wasn’t expecting it. I mean, Atticus? Gross.”
I can’t help but notice Carter watching me closely and I subconsciously step back, feeling the doorframe against my back. He reaches out and brushes hair off my cheek. “I have a feeling it definitely bothers him as much to see you with me.”
“Well, that was the plan, right?”
His dark eyes hold mine and I feel myself getting lost in that same confusing, exciting place. The place where the lines are blurred between fake and real. His lips are so red, so soft-looking, and I can’t pretend they don’t feel as good as they look. “Yeah, the plan…about that.”
“Right,” I say, trying to make myself focus. I need to tell him what I heard in the locker room today. How being with me is just as much of a risk as anything else. That, if he wants to protect himself, we should probably stop this. “I asked you over to talk.”
I get over my issues with the room and walk in, feeling my nerves raw and on edge. I’ve never been so conflicted. I know I need to tell him everything I heard, but I also find myself more and more compelled to be with him. Near him.
I sit on the couch and expect him to sit a respectable distance away. He doesn’t, and when I look at the inch separating us, he notices and says, “Your brother is coming up here, right?”
“Yeah, so?”
“Trust me, if you want to keep selling this relationship, then this is how couples sit.”
His phone buzzes and he grimaces, pulling it out to check. He reads over the text quickly, ignores it and stashes it back in his pocket. “It’s just Jackson. He’s having a pool party tonight and seems desperate for me to come.”
“Oh. Do you want to go?”
“Not in the slightest.”
My insides are warring. “So listen, about the couple thing.” His body tenses. I feel it. Or maybe mine does? “I was in the locker room today and overheard Sabrina talking to a friend.”
His jaw tightens. “Okay. What did she say?”
“Well, as you know, she’s definitely is interested in you.” I can’t repeat what she said. Not to his face. It was completely inappropriate. “And despite all our efforts, I think your job is still at risk.”
“How? I’m barely talking to her. I get Katherine to intervene if she comes over. I can’t be rude or I’ll get in trouble for that.” He leans back and runs his hand nervously through his hair.
“I know, unfortunately it goes a little deeper than all that,” I start, knowing he needs all the information. That by rejecting her for me, we’re causing as much of a problem. Maybe worse. As I gather the nerve to tell him, Atticus and Katherine’s voices echo off the landing. The smell of pizza beats them to the room. Just before they enter, Carter and I share a look and his fingers slip into mine.
“Hey guys,” Katherine says with nervous enthusiasm. To give her credit, she keeps trying.
“Hi,” I say with equal apprehension. Carter gives them a both a quick smile. Who would think that Carter Haines would be the more socially appropriate of the two of us?
“So, Iron Man, right?” Atticus says, right on cue, setting the pizza on the coffee table. He and Katherine sit on the opposite side of the sectional.
“Nope,” I say, picking up the remote. “Not tonight, twin.”
I start up the movie, Kingsmen, both action, humor, and the handsome Taron Eggerton. Carter smiles and leans over, “This is one of my favorite movies.”
“Really?” I ask, genuinely surprised.
Atticus dims the lights and the guys pile paper plates high with pizza. There’s a small refrigerator up here with soda and Katherine gathers a selection and places them across the table. Carter picks orange and I go for grape and suddenly the tension from everything else vanishes as we watch the movie. Two couples, two normal couples, watching a movie together.
At least that’s how things were going until I shift in my seat a little, stretching out my back. Carter reaches for my feet and pulls them into his lap. I look up at him, surprised, but his gaze is forward, focused on the movie.
My feet are bare and Carter slowly begins to knead them with his long, nimble fingers. As the Kingsmen fight to save the world on the screen, I’m caught in a battle of my own. The fact this little foot massage feels amazing. The fact my brother and ex-best friend are a few feet away, caught up in their own relationship that suddenly I don’t care so much about. And the ultimate fact I’d invited Carter over tonight to tell him why we need to break up.
One word I never would have used to describe Carter Haines is gentle or sweet. But that’s the side he’s showing me now, with the little innocent touches. The problem for me is that each one is packed with an electrical current that jolts across my skin and causes my heart to skip a beat.
Although I know Carter is doing all of this for show, the shadowy light of the room makes it feel like we’re all alone, and when he shifts my feet off his lap and throws his arm around my shoulder, I don’t resist. He smells too good. Feels too warm, and my heart knows intimately that he’s still dangerous—just in a way I never expected.
I’m falling for him.
For his act. For his game.
My chest pounds faster with every passing minute and my palm, which he is gently rubbing with his thumb, is most likely clammy and damp. His other hand hangs by my arm, trailing across the exposed skin. When Atticus says, “We’re going to get some dessert from the kitchen, do you want some?” I feel underwater, barely aware that I’ve shaken my head until I hear Carter reply, “Nah, we’ll wait up here,” and he pauses the TV.
I hold my breath until we're alone.
There’s barely a heartbeat as their shoes echo down the hall and Carter has my face in his hands. There’s a moment of hesitation, an ask, but he doesn’t need to. I’m in. Fully.
No safe words tonight.
Our lips burn like embers left smoldering too long. Scorching, blindingly, hot. It’s not our first kiss, or even the second, but each time we do this I’m in awe of how good he is at it. How he knows how to lead but draw me in. How his fingers tug at the hair behind my neck just enough to show me that he’s as into this as much as I am. He shifts away from my mouth, kissing my jaw, my ear, my neck, and I find myself doing the same.
Kissing, I’ve learned, lives up to the hype.
Something wild comes over me, something feral, and I hitch my leg over his. He pulls back, breathing heavy, eyes glassy, cheeks red. He places a hand on my knee and pushes it slowly away.
“I think we better stop,” he says.
“Sorry. I don’t know…” A different kind of red-heat boils under my skin and I’m more thankful than ever that it’s dark. I move away quickly, embarrassed. He reaches for my hand and holds me still.
“Don’t apologize.” He exhales and runs a hand through his hair. “I’m just well aware of my limits and that was getting close. If Atticus walked in on that…”
Speak of the devil. My brother appears in the doorway, holding a plate of baked goods. He eyes us suspiciously, but there’s nothing going on but the lingering guilt I’m sure is written all over my face. Katherine catches my eye and there’s a knowing look. I’m about to burst, to drag her out of the room and tell her everything. All of it—from top to bottom—the bottom being what just occurred between us on the couch. But I can’t. She’ll know I’m a pathetic liar.
“We brought you some sweets,” she says, handing us a second plate. “Your mom made those tarts you like so much.”
Bea and the Bad Boy: Young Adult Sweet Romance (Love in Ocean Grove Book 3) Page 13
