Weird.
The truth is that we were both keeping each other company for the two hours I had to kill. We fell into telling stories from our childhood. His were mostly about Norah and Gabe but a lot of times I’d been there too, younger, on the peripheral with Gabe’s brother Sidney.
“I just remember Norah getting mad at you and Gabe for ditching her. She came back to the condo and sat in her room the rest of the night, ignoring you both, and going to bed before midnight.”
“It was dark! We lost her!” But then he laughs. “It was always so easy to make your sister mad.”
“She always said that being friends with you two made her understand that all boys were idiots.” I sip my Slushie through the long, red straw. “Did you ever suspect they liked each other?”
He rests his elbow on the window edge. “Maybe? There were a couple of times they’d get flirty, and I was pretty sure if Gabe had the chance, he’d go for it. But guys are dogs. Sometimes we’ll take any chance we can get, you know?”
I roll my eyes, but he keeps talking, “Norah surprised me, but let it be known, girls tend to confuse me all the time, so that’s not big news.”
I stir my drink. “What happened with Delaney?”
I knew they dated for a while senior year.
“She moved to New York to chase her dreams. I didn’t fall into that category.”
“No?”
He shrugs his shoulders. “Not for her, at least.”
“You know what I remember the most?” I ask. He shakes his head. “I remember how you’d watch scary movies with me when no one else would.”
“Oh yeah,” he says, recognition lighting up his face. “I forgot about that. Your dad asked me to take you to see all the Stephen King movies.”
“He hates scary stuff.” I laugh. My dad is a softie with a love for PG superhero movies, not house pets that come back to life.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s an alarm I set to remind me to leave so my mother wouldn’t start looking for me. “I gotta go.”
“Please don’t tell me it’s a message from that awful guy the other night.”
“No. Thanks to you, he still thinks we’re dating.” I open the passenger door. “But I should also thank you, because Spencer seems like he’s more into me now than before.”
I slam the door and walk to the back of the truck. Before I can get there, Ben is lifting my bike off the bed. “He likes you more because you have a boyfriend?” I nod, not admitting it may be the fact he thinks I slept with him, too. Ben rolls his eyes. “This guy is a class act.”
I take the bike from him. “No one said I was looking for Mr. Perfect. Just a summer fling.”
He wrinkles his nose in disgust and mutters something indistinguishable under his breath.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing.”
I glare.
He scratches the back of his neck. “I just said you may not be looking for Mr. Perfect, Liv, but you deserve him. Don’t settle for a skeevy jerk.”
I want to be annoyed but, really, it’s kind of sweet in that protective-older-brother kind of way. Too bad it’s none of his business.
“Thanks for the drink,” I say.
“Anytime.”
I hop on my bike and ride home, parking my bike under the tree in the front yard. Inside, my mother is in the kitchen, clearly waiting on me to come home.
“How was your first day?” she asks, obviously trying not to sound too eager.
“Good.”
Her eyes search mine, wanting more. I’m not ready to give it to her.
“I’ve been thinking about your medication.” Here we go. The medication. My mother is obsessed with it. Three times a day, she asks if I’ve taken it. Three times a day, I say yes.
“What about it?” I ask, in a tight voice.
“You’ve been really consistent with it, and I think it’s time you took charge of it. I know you get mad when I ask you about it. So from now on, I’ll stop asking. But you’ll need to pick it up from the pharmacy and promise to take it every day.”
I nod. “I can do that.”
“I think you can, too.”
I head to my room feeling unusually satisfied with my day. I went to the beach, helped AJ through an almost shark attack, survived seeing Spencer again,
and lost a friend. My only friend. That part stinks.
I walk past the mirror and see the cherry red stain on my lips and stick out my tongue. It’s impossibly red, too, and a reminder that there’s one more reason my day wasn’t so bad, and his name is Ben Rowland.
12
Olivia
Group feels weird without Nicole. A strange sense of guilt settles on my shoulders as I join the makeshift circle and see her empty chair.
“Any idea where she is?” Spencer asks me before the others make it over from the snack table.
“Her mom sent her to some kind summer program.”
“Like a camp?” he asks. A line forms between his eyes and I want to smooth it out with my fingers.
“I guess.” She’d said therapeutic, but I didn’t want to gossip. I didn’t like it when people talked about my business. “How’s lifeguarding?”
“It’s not bad. My mother is convinced that being outside and sweating all summer will improve my mental health.”
“Sounds like our moms should hang out.” I laugh but then shake my head. “Or maybe not, they’ll just come up with more ways to torture us.”
He cracks a hard-earned smile, then says, “You like The Bubbleheads, right?”
“Yeah, I do.” I have a patch from the band on the strap of my bag.
“They’re coming on Friday to the amphitheater. I have an extra ticket. Do you want to come?”
My mind blanks because, yes (!) I want to go (!) but the last time we spoke he thought I was going out with Ben. Maybe he doesn’t care? Maybe I don’t care. I flash to Ben saying I need to wait for Mr. Perfect, but Ben hasn’t seen Spencer without his shirt on. He’s pretty darn close to perfect.
While I hesitate, he looks at me expectantly, hands rubbing his thighs. “As friends,” he blurts, “since you’re dating someone. If that’s okay.”
“Yeah,” I say, trying to keep it cool, trying not to process the fact he never asked me out before he knew I had a boyfriend. I mean, he vaguely told me about a party and I’d had high hopes for that, but a date? To see my favorite band (which he knew was my favorite band!!). “I’d love to go.”
He smiles again and scratches the back of his head. The others walk over and take their seats. I try as hard as I can to focus on Maya, but all I can think about is Friday night and the second chance I may have with the boy sitting next to me.
“I’ll text you about Friday.”
“Great,” I say, barely containing my smile. “Talk to you then.”
The smile lingers as I bike home, only fading when I realize that I have to ask my mother if I can go. She’ll ask who I’m going with. When I tell her about Spencer, the whole thing will fall apart. Hanging out with kids from group isn’t part of our summer deal.
I slow as I get to a four-way stop, waiting for a car to pass by. It’s quiet—group is in the late afternoon, so by the time we get out most of the traffic has died down. In the distance I hear a familiar rumble, and look both ways trying to pinpoint where it’s coming from. An idea forms in my mind and on a whim, I take a left instead of the right toward my house, cutting down one of the old dirt alleys. The roar of the motor bounces off the trees as I get closer and when I exit the alley, I look three houses down and see Ben’s silver truck pulling into the driveway of his parents' house.
I roll up to the driveway, out of breath and sweaty, as he opens the driver’s side door. He looks up in surprise and there’s an amused glint in his eyes when he says, “I knew you were stalking me.”
“Whatever,” I reply, because okay, I did just follow the sound of his truck through the neighborhood. That was more like high-level tracking than s
talking. “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t talking to your parents right now.”
“They’re out of town for a few days and it seemed like a good time to get some stuff from my room that I need.” He studies me. “What are you doing here? You know, besides stalking me.”
I wipe my forehead with my shirt and when I drop the fabric, I notice his eyes dart from my stomach back up. A weird feeling swirls in my belly and I feel hot from the inside. “I, uh, I need a favor.”
“A favor.”
In the spontaneity of the moment, I didn’t really think this through.
“Yes, but I don’t know if you’ll want to do it.”
“Well, now I’m curious.” He leans against the side of the truck, draping his arm over the side. I can’t help but notice the lean curve of his bicep and how it slopes into his broad shoulders. “Tell me more.”
“I got invited to a concert on Friday.” I leave Spencer’s name out of it. “And my mom is like, totally against me doing anything with anyone right now that she doesn’t know.”
“After you got busted the other night.”
“Among other things,” I mutter. “It’s not a big deal, just hanging out at the amphitheater with a friend. She just makes a big deal out of everything.”
“And what kind of favor do you want?”
I fidget with my ponytail. “I thought maybe if I told her I was going with you, she’d be cool with it.”
As soon as I say it, I realize how immature sounding it is. Ben is older by two years. Out of high school, living on his own while creating a business. I’m over here playing childish games and sneaking around on my mom. Although, to be fair, he is sneaking into his house right now to avoid his parents. Maybe I’m not the only immature one around here.
“You want me to take you to the concert?”
“I want you to pick me up and pretend you’re taking me to the concert. Really, you’ll just drop me at the gate. I’ll meet my friend there.”
He holds my gaze for a minute and then says, “Okay, yeah, I’ll do it.”
“Really?”
He nods.
That’s twice today I’m hit with good news. It feels like a lifeline after a couple bad weeks—or rather—years. I step away from my bike and run over to him, giving him a big, sweaty hug. “Thank you!”
His arms wrap around me, both hot after a long summer day. He should smell bad, I’m sure I do, but all I catch is the hint of laundry detergent and shampoo. The embrace lingers a beat or two longer than it should until his arms clench, tightening around me in a death squeeze.
“If I’d known doing you a favor would get me a hug, I would have done it days ago,” he says, clutching me against his surprisingly hard chest and stomach.
“Help!” I cry, knowing he’s being stupid. This is the Ben I grew up with. My sister’s best friend. My quasi-big brother. He releases his grip and carefully lowers me to the ground. I dramatically take in a gulp of air.
“Send me the details, okay?”
I nod, feeling a little disoriented from the hug, his scent, his really strong, muscular body. Where had that come from? I reach for my bike. “And thank you, again.”
“Anytime, Liv,” he says, watching me wheel my bike back to the street.
It’s the kind of thing people say, “anytime,” but as I ride toward home, I can’t help but think that Ben really means it.
13
Ben
Two days later I show up at the Saddler house at 6 p.m.--as instructed in a flurry of texts from Olivia--and knock on the door. I fidget with my keys, feeling inexplicably nervous. I’d changed shirts three times before I left my house. Shoes twice. I’m running my hand through my hair, trying to get that one stubborn piece that refuses to lie still to flatten, when Mrs. Saddler opens the door with a wide smile on her face. She pulls me into a hug.
“Don’t you look handsome,” she says, in my ear. “Thank you so much for taking Olivia to the concert tonight. You have no idea what it means to me.”
“It’s no problem. I’m happy to go.”
She waves me to follow her to the kitchen, where I see a large picnic basket on the counter.
“What’s all this?” I ask.
“Liv said you guys had seats on the lawn, and I know the big thing is bringing in dinner. Since you’re being a sweetheart and taking her to see this band she’s obsessed with, I went ahead and packed this for you.”
“Oh, wow, thanks.” I give her what I hope is a convincing smile. Olivia is not going to like this. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“No, you didn’t have to do this.” She grabs a stack of napkins and slips them in the basket. “I’m not sure how much Norah or your mom has told you over the years, but Liv has had a really hard time since middle school. Honestly, before that, really, but she’s doing better, like loads better. The years of isolation and depression has made it hard for her to make friends.” She squeezes my arm. “Having an old friend show up and take an interest in her, even if it’s out of the blue, is really great. I know Norah appreciates it since she’s been gone so much.”
I don’t know how to respond. I can’t let her know we’ve been spending time together. It’s just…weird.
“Any word from Norah and Gabe?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Yes,” she says and her eyes light up. “They’re done with the conventions on the coast and have a meeting in L.A. this weekend. They’ll be home next week for a few days. I’ll need you to keep Gabe busy while Norah and I deal with some wedding stuff.”
“I can do that,” I say. “It’s still a little hard to believe that they’re getting married.”
She shakes her head. “I think about the three of you running around all the time, Sidney and Olivia following on your tails. It’s hard to believe you’re all grown up.” She adds in paper plates. “Well, at least you three.”
There’s something in her tone that makes me understand what Olivia is facing. She’s worked hard to grow up and handle what she went through in middle school. She changed schools, goes to therapy, and has a solid volunteer job for the summer, yet her mom still treats her like a little kid. Which is why I’m here. She’s seventeen, a rising senior in high school, and her mom still thinks needs a chaperone.
Even if Olivia makes a few mistakes, including liking the wrong kind of guy, it’s just part of life and growing up.
Footsteps on the stairs bring me out of my thoughts and it takes me a minute to process Olivia standing in the kitchen doorway. She’s wearing a black, one-piece outfit. Not a dress, but shorts, revealing her long legs. Thin straps run over her shoulders and her waist is so small, for a second I consider trying to wrap my hands around her and to see if my fingers touch. Her blonde hair is smooth and braided. Her skin glows from being out in the sun with the kids she works with all day. Everything about her is stunning and I feel like I’ve been kicked in the gut.
“Oh, honey, you look fantastic. I love that romper.”
Olivia’s gaze avoids me and her eyes dart to the picnic basket. “What’s that?”
“A picnic,” I say, before her mother can speak, “for us, tonight.”
Her eyebrows raise and I’m finding it hard to look at her too closely. I knew Olivia was cute enough, but the girl in front of me is absolutely gorgeous.
“We should probably head out if we want to find parking,” I say, grabbing the basket. It’s loaded down. I don’t think her mother forgot anything. “Thanks for the food.”
“You two have fun.”
Outside, I walk over to the truck, opening the door. I slide the basket on the floor. When I go to help Olivia in the cab, two things happen. I get a whiff of her flowery perfume and I realize she’s wearing black high-top sneakers. Both hit me like a jolt, doubling down on how appealing and adorable she is at the same time and I step back. Like wayyyyy back.
What the heck am I doing? Thinking? Feeling?
I leave her to get in the car alone and try to get myself to
gether as I walk to the driver’s side. This is Olivia. Norah’s kid sister. She’s in high school. Two years younger, which used to feel like a really big deal, but suddenly doesn’t anymore. I glance at her through the mirror and catch a glimpse of her collarbone and the way her hair curls down along the column of her neck.
D'oh.
I need to get her to the concert and out of my car immediately.
I brace myself for her perfume and open the door, luckily being assaulted by the scent of food from the basket instead. I slide in the seat and insert the key. Her phone buzzes and as I back out of the driveway, she reads the message. It’s only when I stop at the stop sign that I realize her hands are shaking.
“What’s wrong?”
“Spencer bailed on me.” Her finger trembles as she scrolls through his message. “Said something came up and he gave the tickets away.”
Hot, confused anger flashes through me. “Spencer? That’s who you were meeting?”
I’m mad. Irrationally so. That kid is the worst and to think he’s so dumb he’d bail on her looking like this, makes me even hotter.
“Yes,” she says, dropping the phone in her lap. “I knew you’d be mad, so I didn’t tell you.”
I run my hands over my face. “Well you were right about that. Only a mega jerk backs out on a girl an hour before a concert.”
I don’t miss the tear running down her cheek and I feel worse. “You can take me home.”
I think of her mother and everything she just told me. There’s no way I can take her back. It won’t look good for either of us. I reach in the storage between the seats and hand her a stack of fast food napkins. “Look, just because Spencer is a tool, doesn’t mean our night has to be ruined.”
“Our night?” She rolls her eyes at me. “You were dropping me off. I’m the one that got stood up.”
“You got me involved in this, Liv, and I’m going to make one thing clear: that picnic and your mother’s efforts aren’t going to waste.”
“The concert’s sold out. I don’t want to go on some lame pity picnic.” She wipes her eye with one of the napkins. “No offense.”
Olivia and the Older Boy: Young Adult Sweet Romance (Love in Ocean Grove Book 5) Page 5
